One Week after Cass’s visit.
Friday
“Are we ever going to see this boyfriend of yours?” Tiffany from my art class nudges me as we are pressed together, trying to get served at the local pub nearest to my school. Pretty much the whole of the year finished their final exams today, and we descended en masse to the Nags Head to celebrate. I smile wide and bright before I answer. I spoke to Cass last night and he gave me the best news ever.
“He’s coming back next month, for good.” I give a little bounce on my toes, because my body literally can’t contain the excitement. We’ve spoken at length, every day since he came over, and last night he told me he had sorted everything and had renegotiated his ‘situation’. He’d decided on the flight back that he wasn’t prepared to put me though the whole engagement charade, not even for a pretend moment. To say I was relieved would’ve been an understatement of the century. Tiffany pouts and huffs. “That’s no good. We’ve finished school now, Tia. It’s the summer holidays, work, and University. I’ll never get to see him now.”
“Yes, you will.” Tiffany’s boyfriend Carl leans over her shoulder having heard the best part of our conversation and offers his thoughts and suggestions. “When we collect the results in August, we’ll all head back to his castle for a big ol’ party, ain’t that right, Tia?”
“Oh, yeah, sure! Mrs Kruse would love to open up her ‘castle’ to me and my friends, and it’s not really a castle.” I shrug, because Tartarus Hall is probably actually bigger than most castles.
“Aw, you called us your friends.” Carl steps around Tiffany and hangs his heavy arm over my shoulder, pulling me in for a rough side-hug. He squeezes the breath from my lungs, it feels good, almost normal, and then his next comment reminds me I’m anything but. “We all thought you were allergic to friends.”
“Um, no…I’m not like that.” I can feel my cheeks flush with heat, where embarrassment is fighting with awkwardness. Fortunately, this time the general noise and crowd in the pub means no one is paying me any attention, and Tiffany interrupts before I have to answer further.
“Here, Tia, have a pint.” She hands me a tall straight glass with a frothy white top. I start to shake my head, but she pushes the beer into my hand and scolds me with a lightly mocking tone.
“It’s a village pub, Tia. It’s practically in Middle Earth, we’re so far from the cops, and besides, you’re eighteen soon, and no one’s going to tell.” I smile and take a sip, foam coating my top lip.
“Thanks.” I’m not sure I like the taste, but I like the feeling of being included. That’s a first.
“That’s pretty, is that from him?” She waggles her dark brows playfully, her brow-piercing catches the light as it bounces with her facial excitement. She lifts the long sleeve of my school blouse and tugs on my very precious bracelet.
“Oh, no, it’s a gift from his grandfather, I’m only wearing it for the exams. Kind of hoping it’s going to bring me luck. I need straight A’s.” I pull the sleeve back down to cover it, not wanting to draw any unwelcome attention, not that I think there are any thieves or muggers in my year, but I am far from knowing everyone here to make that judgment, and if Oskar taught me anything, it’s a healthy distrust of everything.
“Well, if you can’t get an A in Art, what hope do the rest of us have?” Tiffany groans and rolls her eyes with exasperation. She’s an excellent seamstress and designer, and she will no doubt get an A in Fashion, but straight Art is not her forte.
“Come on, join me outside for a smoke.” She tips her head toward the front door, and I follow where she clears a path through the crowd to the seating area out front. An excess of students have spilled out of the pub in search of some elbow room and fresh air. The latter is unlikely as the number of people smoking fills the small car park; a soft cloud seems to rest just above our heads, and there is an odd mix of aromas that I don’t recognise as tobacco. Tiffany offers me a hand rolled cigarette and snickers when I raise my brow with suspicion. Weed, really?
“Just to take the edge off.” She winks conspiratorially, and I am just about to brave my first puff of anything, when I freeze.
In the distance, I can hear the sirens, and the guilt of a crime not yet committed hits me, and I shake my head. Tiffany taps the end of her joint out in the nearest ashtray and pockets the evidence. As the convoy of cars screeches to a halt in the small pub car park I am also glad I don’t actually have the pint of beer in my hand, although the number of officers would indicate a much more serious crime than underage drinking. There are three police cars and a blacked out Range Rover that I recognise from the number plate as Mrs Kruse’s car, strange.
“There she is!” Mrs Kruse points her finger directly at me, and the crowd of students gathered outside on this late afternoon all stop what they’re doing and turn to face me. Tiffany’s jaw drops, and she takes a step back like I am suddenly infectious. I shrug and shake my head with confusion. Stunned into silence, I manage to walk toward the police officer as he approaches. It’s very obviously me he’s after.
“Are you Tia Parker?” The officer flips his pocket book open and shut before I reply.
“Yes.” I look over at Mrs Kruse who now is laughing lightly with one of the officers and what looks like a plain clothes detective. Her hand rests on his arm like they are more than familiar, and he is standing very much in her personal space, with a protective arm hovering close to her shoulders.
“Where did you get that?” He points to the bracelet peeking below my cuff. My other hand instantly flies to cover it.
“This?” I ask, although he can no longer see the piece of jewellery, as my hand is hiding it from view.
“It belongs to you?” His tone is disbelieving, and he smirks.
“Yes, of course.” My affronted tone causes a knowing grin to distort his impassive face. He sniffs out and tuts, like he’s just heard a tired joke for the hundredth time.
“Then may I ask where you bought it from?” He sounds so bored I wonder if he will even hear my reply so I speak very clearly, slowly, and just shy of shouting.
“I didn’t buy it; it was a gift.” I bite my lips into a tight line. His accusatory tone is like a slap to the face.
“There is no need to patronise me, Miss Parker. It’s a simple question that doesn’t require attitude,” he retorts. I wasn’t even trying for patronising. “That’s a rather expensive gift for a housekeeper’s daughter, wouldn’t you say?” I don’t like the way he emphasises the word gift, but I have to agree with the sentiment.
“Yes, it is, and that’s why I was reluctant to accept it at first. However, Oskar insisted. May I ask what’s this about?” I try to adjust my tone, but it has no effect. The officer steps forward, handcuffs in hand and spins me on the spot so I am facing away from him. He snatches my hands one at a time and secures the handcuffs behind my back.
“You’re under arrest for the theft of that piece jewellery to start with, but from what Mrs Kruse claims, theft isn’t the only crime we will be investigating.” He pulls me away from the students silently staring at me, roughly leading me to the first police car.
“What the hell!” I struggle out from his hold and step away. I turn back to face him, rage boiling my blood and all I can see is red. I scream out. “Oskar gave this to me! I didn’t steal shit! Ask him yourself if you don’t believe me!” My voice is pitched with fury, and even to my own ears I sound more than a little hysterical, but this is ridiculous.
“He’s dead.” The police officer states, and I can feel all the blood drain from my body. Agony rushes through my veins as whatever blood remains chills to ice with this revelation.
“What?” I mouth out along with a silent sob that buckles me over. I raise my head to look over at Mrs Kruse for confirmation. Her face is plastered with a sneer that leaves me cold, sick, and devastated. She walks over to me, looking down her nose, and from her most favourite view, she speaks.
“You are a liar and a thief,” she states as a matter of fact, then with a performance worthy of any Academy Award, she crushes her hand to her chest and wails, sobs bursting from her as she wobbles on her feet only to be steadied by the officers at her side. “You are very likely the reason my dear father-in-law passed away so unexpectedly last night.” She buries her head in the chest of the plain clothes officer, only even from here I can see her lips tip in a cruel smile.
“Where were you last night, Miss…Miss?” I don’t hear the rest of his questions. I close my eyes, my ears rush with blood, and I can feel myself falling, and I can’t stop. I know I won’t stop until I hit the very bottom. Until I’m in Hell.