‘It’s broken,’ I say, as we all squeeze through the doorway. I lock the door behind us, leaving the key in the lock. Then I change my mind and place the key on the worktop near the kettle.
‘Can you fix it?’ asks Andrea.
In the few seconds it takes for me to come inside, I debate whether to tell them the truth about the wire. Something inside my head is urging caution but in the end I dismiss the notion, the crazy notion that it could be one of them sabotaging the radio because that would mean one of them didn’t want the police coming. And the only reason they wouldn’t want the police involved at this stage is because they were responsible for killing Joanne. However, I then find myself arguing that, sooner or later, the police are going to get involved, so what could they have to gain by delaying the inevitable? And it’s this thought that bothers me. Is something else about to happen?
I realise I must have hesitated a fraction too long. Andrea is pressing me for an answer.
‘Broken? How would that happen?’ she asks.
I let out a sigh, dismayed by my own wild imagination. These are my friends. Neither Andrea nor Zoe would do anything like this on purpose. No. I’m letting myself get carried away.
‘Come on, spit it out,’ says Zoe. ‘What’s happened to the cable?’
‘It’s been cut,’ I say. ‘On purpose.’
They both look incredulously at me as they take in what I’ve said. ‘Cut? You’re sure about that?’ asks Andrea eventually.
‘Certain.’
‘What the fuck is going on around here?’ Andrea runs her fingers through her hair.
‘What are we going to do?’ says Zoe. There is a touch of hysteria in her voice, her eyes widen with every word. ‘I want to get out of here.’
‘And how exactly do you plan to do that?’ says Andrea, impatience rising to the surface.
‘Can’t we walk out of here together? Right now?’
‘That’s the worst idea,’ I say. ‘Look, let’s all sit down and think this through rationally.’ I usher Zoe into the living room, grabbing a bottle of lemonade as I go. Andrea follows but has different ideas about the choice of drink and immediately pours out three vodkas.
We perch on the edge of our seats; I’m sitting next to Zoe, while Andrea positions herself opposite.
‘So, what’s your masterplan?’ she asks, pushing the vodka glasses to each of us.
‘I wouldn’t call it a masterplan. I think we should stay here the night. It’s safer indoors than out,’ I say, topping my glass up with lemonade. ‘Out there, we have no idea where we’re going, what sort of terrain it is. Visibility is poor. We could easily stumble and hurt ourselves, or worse, fall down an embankment or go hideously off course.’
‘I don’t like it here,’ says Zoe.
‘Neither do I, but we haven’t got a choice. The doors are all locked. No one can get in or out. We only need to get through the night and as soon as it’s light, we can set off.’
‘You’re not actually making me feel better by saying no one can get in.’ Zoe pouts and takes a swig of her vodka.
‘I was trying to make you feel better,’ I say with a smile. ‘Sorry it didn’t work.’
‘Do you think there is someone out there who wants to harm us?’ asks Zoe.
‘If there is, I can’t think why. Besides, they’ve had plenty of opportunities to bump us all off, and they haven’t.’
‘Don’t be so flippant,’ snaps Zoe.
Andrea leans forward, swirling the clear liquid around in her glass. ‘I don’t buy it. I don’t believe there’s someone out there.’ She looks up from under her eyelashes.
‘You think it’s one of us?’ Zoe flings herself back in the sofa.
‘Stop it,’ I say. ‘We’re going round in circles. I’m sure what Andrea means is that Joanne’s death was an accident and we’re all getting worked up for no reason.’ I purposefully look at Andrea, willing her to agree, if only to calm Zoe down.
‘Of course that’s what I mean,’ says Andrea. ‘Look, I’m as gutted and upset about Joanne as anyone, but I’m sure it happened exactly the way Carys says.’
‘How do you explain the cut wire then?’ says Zoe.
‘Simple,’ replies Andrea. ‘It was probably broken or cut before we even got here. The owners knew about it and that’s why the radio was in the shed: so no one would think it worked and try to use it.’
It’s a logical explanation and I’m inclined to agree with Andrea. Zoe doesn’t seem quite so reassured. ‘What about our phones?’
‘That’s Joanne’s joke. She must have hidden them. Shame we can’t find them,’ says Andrea.
‘OK, so first thing in the morning, we’re out of here,’ says Zoe. ‘Agreed?’
Both Andrea and I agree.
We sit in silence for a moment, lost in our own thoughts, and as I allow my gaze to rest on the log basket, I realise it’s empty.
‘I suppose I’d better fetch some more logs,’ I say, getting up. Much as I would like to leave it, I remember Joanne saying the hot water was heated by the fire.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Andrea offers, but I can tell from her tone of voice she isn’t enthusiastic.
‘No, it’s OK. The logs are only out by the back door.’ I sound rather more casual than I feel but putting on a brave face, I rise and take the empty log basket with me. I head out to the kitchen, stopping in the hallway to slip my feet into a pair of wellington boots by the door.
Armed with the torch, I venture outside. It’s pitch-black now, apart from the lonely beam of light coming from the torch. The logs are neatly stacked against the wall of the croft under a little pitched roof about three feet high.
I can just about make out the shape of the shed through the darkness and have a fleeting moment of nausea as I think of Joanne’s body lying in the cold damp building.
Suddenly I have a distinct sensation that I’m not alone. Under the thickness of my jumper and fleece, I can feel goosebumps prick my arms and spread across the back of my neck. I spin around. Something is close to me. I can’t see anything.
I can hear my own breathing quicken and recognise the signs: I’m on the verge of a panic attack. One where everything around me starts to close in. Where I feel compressed by empty spaces. Where the air around me is sucked away, leaving a void of nothingness.
Shit. I don’t think I can ward it off. I can hear myself humming out loud. I can’t identify the tune but think it’s an old school hymn. I snatch a couple of logs from under the wooden shelter, constantly glancing over my shoulder.
I’m singing out loud now. It’s ‘Jerusalem’. We used to sing it every morning in school assembly. Funny how these things stay with you. I don’t consider myself particularly religious, despite a Church of England education, but when I feel most afraid I find myself digging into some deeply instilled idea there is a God out there and if I sing loud enough, he will protect me.
I throw the third log without looking. It misses the basket and bounces off the rim, on to my foot. I can’t focus on the pain. All I can do is concentrate on keeping the urge to flee at bay long enough to allow me to get inside and lock the bloody door.
I hurtle into the kitchen, dropping the basket on to the tiled floor. I slam the door shut and lock it, then snatch the key out. Panting for breath, I lean against the worktop.
‘You OK?’
Zoe’s voice makes me jump. I feel embarrassed at my overreaction. ‘Yeah, sure. Just didn’t want to hang around out there. It’s cold.’ I rub my arms as if to prove my point. Leaving the key by the kettle, I carry the logs into the living room, Zoe following behind with the dossier Joanne complied under her arm.
‘I made you a hot chocolate,’ says Zoe, sitting down on the sofa. ‘I’ve got one too, but Andrea declined.’ She gives a disapproving school-teacher look to Andrea.
‘I aim to sleep like the proverbial log tonight,’ says Andrea.
‘I don’t know how you can say that. I won’t be able to sleep at all, not after everything that’s happened,’ says Zoe. She takes a sip of her hot chocolate and then, placing it on the chest, flicks the edge of the incriminating notebook she has brought in with her.
I sit down and pick up my drink. ‘Thanks for this. I’ll probably go to bed quite soon.’ I suddenly feel exhausted. It’s been a long and difficult day, not only physically but mentally as well. My head is so full of thoughts and feelings, I’m not sure I have room for much else tonight.
‘Do you think Joanne hated us?’ asks Andrea. She’s resting in the deep folds of the corduroy sofa. ‘I mean, to have arranged all this, gone to all this trouble, she couldn’t have liked us, could she?’
‘I was thinking that myself,’ admits Zoe. ‘I’d thought this weekend was all about us bonding. I thought Joanne had missed us all being so close and this was her way of saying sorry for being paranoid.’
‘But was she paranoid?’ says Andrea. She has the look of the devil in her eyes. She swirls the liquid around in her glass before downing the last drop. ‘She must genuinely think I swindled her out of the gym. Whether it’s true or not doesn’t matter. What counts is what Joanne believed.’
‘And the point of all this?’ I ask, rather impatiently. I don’t want to go down this route again.
‘I’m still working out who has the most to lose from Joanne revealing our secrets,’ says Andrea.
I can feel my impatience turning into annoyance. ‘I thought we agreed we’d stop this speculation. You’ve had too much to drink, it’s late, we’re all spun out by what’s happened and we should all go to bed,’ I say. ‘Sitting here picking over the details of what Joanne may or may not have against each of us, isn’t actually going to help in getting us out of here in the morning. Sleep, however, will.’
I plonk my cup down on the coffee table and a slop of hot chocolate hits the floor. I mutter several unnecessary swear words as I get up and fetch some kitchen roll to clean it up.
‘I think we should be honest, that’s all,’ Andrea calls after me. I ignore her and take my time finding the kitchen roll before coming into the room. As I wipe the hot chocolate from the floor, Andrea leans forwards. ‘Just between us, what exactly did happen between Darren and Ruby?’
‘Give it a rest, Andrea,’ I say.
‘And what about you, Zoe? You never confirmed nor denied you’re having an affair with Tris.’
‘Like Carys said, give it a rest.’
‘Ooh, getting touchy, are we? Well, seeing as we’re all stuck here for the night, I’m going to tell you the truth about me and Joanne and what went on about buying the gym. Then it will be your turn to confess all.’
‘I’m not playing this game,’ I say, screwing up the kitchen roll and tossing it into the hearth.
‘It’s not a fucking game,’ says Andrea, her eyes boring into mine. ‘Not when one of us has ended up dead. So, I suggest we all stop being so secretive and tell the truth.’
‘Go on then,’ I say, even though I have no intention whatsoever of telling the truth.
Andrea waits for me to resume my position next to Zoe and then begins. ‘When the gym came up for sale, Joanne and I talked about buying it together as a joint venture. Unfortunately, she couldn’t raise the funds. She asked Tris about getting a loan against the house, but he was reluctant to do so and he didn’t want to take any money from his business. Anyway, while they were trying to work out what to do, aka arguing about it, the owner was putting pressure on us to close the deal. He was threatening to take up someone else’s offer. I told Joanne I couldn’t wait any longer and I didn’t want to miss out. She asked if I would buy it outright and then sell half back to her, which she would pay using a bank loan.’
‘But I’m guessing that never happened,’ I say.
‘No. To be honest, I didn’t feel comfortable with it. If Joanne defaulted on the payments, then I would be out of pocket. She and Tris had some awful rows about it. And …’ she pauses. ‘Well, put it this way, I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure their marriage was very stable.’ She looks at Zoe, who shifts in her seat. ‘If their marriage went tits up, then I could get stung for the repayments. Joanne might not have any money, Tris might not continue with the payments. No, it was too big a risk. So I went ahead and did the deal on my own.’
‘But surely, if you could afford it on your own, you would have been able to cover any payments Joanne might miss,’ says Zoe.
‘Yeah, but what if Joanne didn’t tell me she’d missed payments, what if the debt collectors came in? As a joint venture, we’d both be equally responsible and, much as I loved Joanne, I wasn’t taking on her debts and getting stung for interest. Or she might sell her share of the business without me knowing. No, it was too risky.’
‘Wow. You really are the hard-nosed businesswoman,’ I say. ‘When you and Joanne discussed this, was it amicable?’
‘Fuck was it!’ scoffs Andrea. ‘She came round the house to talk to me about it and it descended into a slanging match.’
‘I still don’t understand what Joanne thought she had on you,’ says Zoe. ‘You’re telling us all this, but it’s no big deal.’ Zoe picks up the notebook and flicks to the page about Andrea. ‘Joanne thinks you committed fraud.’
‘It’s bullshit. Joanne wanted to humiliate me. To get some sort of personal satisfaction from making me feel uncomfortable. Perhaps she was going to tell us what she thought of us and then fuck off and leave us here. So maybe what happened to her was karma.’
I shoot Andrea a look. She’s knocking back the vodka way too fast now and her sharp tongue is going freelance.
‘That’s out of order,’ says Zoe.
‘I don’t care,’ says Andrea. ‘Anyway, when we speak to the police about this, they’ll see I have nothing to hide and that I had nothing to gain from seeing her dead.’ Andrea gives me a smile of satisfaction. ‘Can either of you say that?’
‘I’ve no reason to harm her,’ I say. ‘As in your case, Joanne was making something out of nothing.’
‘You’re not being straight,’ says Andrea. ‘Why would Joanne randomly suggest there was something going on with Darren and Ruby? It has to have come from somewhere. Is it linked with Darren’s death?’
The simmering anger inside of me erupts. ‘Give it a rest!’ I shout, louder than I intend. ‘Who the hell knows what was going on in Joanne’s mind?’ I pause, close my eyes for a moment while I rein in my temper. When I speak, my voice is under control. ‘Like you said, she was making something out of nothing.’
‘Keep calm, I was only thinking out loud,’ says Andrea.
‘Well don’t.’
Andrea turns her attention to Zoe. ‘It would be unfair of me not to ask you,’ she says. ‘But there’s no smoke without fire. Why did Joanne think you were having an affair with Tris? Is it still going on? Or was it only a one-night stand? Perhaps it’s you who has most to lose by this coming out.’
Zoe jumps to her feet, her half-drunk hot chocolate suffering a worse fate than mine and spilling all over the floor. ‘You, Andrea, need to know when to shut the fuck up,’ she hisses. She snatches at the kitchen roll and tears several sheets off to soak up the spillage.
‘Another touchy one,’ says Andrea.
Zoe finishes mopping and stands up. ‘I’m going to bed. When you’re sober in the morning, you can apologise for being a drunken, shit-stirring bitch.’ With that, she stomps out of the room and up the stairs. Her feet are heavy on the floorboards above. The little croft almost shakes as she slams her bedroom door shut.
I look at Andrea and shake my head.
‘What?’ she says with mock innocence. ‘Just getting to the truth.’
I rise. ‘She’s right, you are a shit-stirrer at times. I’m going to bed. Sober up and I’ll see you in the morning.’ I leave the room to the sound of Andrea giggling to herself.