On the landing, I tap on Zoe’s door. ‘You all right?’ I call gently.
Zoe opens the door and although she’s not crying, I notice her eyes are red-rimmed and she’s holding a scrunched-up tissue in her hand. I give a sympathetic smile. ‘Ignore Andrea. You know what she’s like. Gobby. Especially after alcohol.’
‘It’s OK. I should be used to her by now, but sometimes she pisses me off.’
‘Try to get some sleep. It’s late. As soon as it’s light in the morning, we’ll get out of here. I think what happened to Joanne is getting to us all.’ I give Zoe a hug and we say our goodnights.
The floorboards creak as I make my way across the landing into my own room. It’s hard to take in everything that has happened. I can’t wait to get away from this place. I have a sudden overwhelming yearning for Seb. He told me he loved me last week. I’d felt embarrassed for some reason. I had wanted to tell him that I loved him too but hadn’t been able to bring myself to say it. For some reason, I’d had a pang of guilt. Not guilt for Darren; no, I’d stopped loving him as a wife a long time ago. The guilt was towards Alfie. I’m in love with a man who isn’t his father. A man who my son hasn’t exactly welcomed into our lives with open arms. If I tell Seb I love him, then it will mean our relationship has officially taken on a new meaning at a deeper level. I’m scared of the implications. How the dynamics will change and, ultimately, the impact it will have on my already difficult relationship with Alfie.
Tonight, however, I have no such feelings of guilt. At a time when I feel scared and lonely, it’s Seb who I want to hold me and to tell me everything will be OK. At this moment, I don’t care what Alfie thinks; he’ll be an adult soon and, as Andrea says, off to university. I don’t want to waste any more time not loving and not being loved. I make up my mind to tell Seb how much I love him the very next time I see or speak to him, whichever is first. Who knows where that might lead? If anything has come out of Joanne’s death, it is the realisation that time and life are precious and not to be wasted.
I gaze out of the window into the night, onyx shadows against a dappled background making for some strange and indistinguishable shapes. Nothing looks the same as it does in daylight. The wind has picked up and the shapes morph from one distorted arrangement to another.
Again, I have that feeling of not being alone, of being watched. Something out there is dangerous and hostile. I can sense it. I don’t know what it is, but my blood runs cold. I snap the curtains shut and climb into bed. I’m over-tired and my senses are on high alert. I need to relax and go to sleep.
I eye the pocket of my rucksack where the little white pills rest. One won’t hurt. I need something to take the edge off my nerves, something to help me relax. Ironically, my heart beats a little faster at the prospect and without giving it any further consideration, I slice the foil with my fingernail and pop the tablet into my mouth, swallowing it down without the aid of water.
I pull the duvet up to my chin. I close my eyes and begin the relaxation methods I have learned. Breathe in. Breathe out. I think about each part of my body, the function it performs, letting each muscle relax, right from my neck to my toes, one by one. I concentrate on the here and now, not letting my mind wander to all the fears and worries around me. I bring my thoughts back when I feel them drifting into dangerous territory.
It’s beginning to work. I can feel myself easing into the early stages of sleep. And then Andrea bowls in through the door like a SWAT team. The door hits the stopper and bounces against Andrea’s foot.
‘Shit! Sorry,’ she hisses. Andrea is trying to whisper but making a lousy job of it. I keep my eyes closed in the hope she will think I’m still asleep. Wrong. ‘Carys. Carys, are you awake?’
I can hear her footsteps travel between our two beds. I open my eyes. ‘No, I’m not asleep. What is it?’
‘I want to talk to you.’
‘Can’t it wait until the morning?’
‘No. It can’t. Please, Carys.’
‘It had better be worth it,’ I say, sitting up. The quicker we get this conversation over with, the quicker I can go to sleep.
‘Do you believe Zoe?’ Andrea rocks slightly on the edge of her bed.
‘About what?’
‘About not having an affair with a married man and that married man not being Tris.’
‘I don’t know. I can’t think straight this evening,’ I confess. ‘And you can’t either. Whether Zoe’s telling the truth or not isn’t that important, not in the scheme of things.’
‘Of course it is! She’s lying and I know it. Her and Tris are definitely having an affair.’
‘But you’ve no proof. I’m sure Tris wouldn’t be unfaithful to Joanne anyway. Not with her friend. And Zoe wouldn’t do that to Joanne.’ I lie back down, wishing I’d never engaged in this conversation. ‘Go to sleep.’
‘I wouldn’t put it past Tris. I told you what a randy bugger he was that Christmas, remember?’
‘Maybe he’s been flirting with Zoe and Joanne has got the wrong end of the stick,’ I say in an attempt to placate Andrea.
‘I don’t think so.’
I’m about to defend Tris and Zoe, but I stop before I speak. What if there is some truth in it? The last thing I want is to admit to Andrea that she might be right, because if I do, then that means I also have to admit to her that there’s some truth in what happened between Darren and Ruby. I choose my next words carefully. ‘I honestly think it’s Joanne getting everything out of proportion. Like she has with you and the gym, and the way she said I killed Darren. We both know that’s ridiculous. Maybe Tris and Zoe flirted a couple of times and Joanne saw them and read more into it.’
‘It’s possible,’ says Andrea. She rubs her forehead with her fingers. ‘I’m so tired. I probably shouldn’t have had that last vodka.’
‘Shouldn’t have had the last three vodkas, more like.’
She stands and wobbles slightly on her feet. ‘You know Tris would never leave Joanne, even if he was having an affair with Zoe.’
‘Shh, keep your voice down.’ I glance towards the door, which is slightly ajar, and hope Zoe is fast asleep. ‘No, I don’t think he would either. They’ve been together a long time.’
‘You know as well as I do, that doesn’t mean anything.’ Andrea gives me a look. ‘But you’re right, Tris wouldn’t leave Joanne. Because, no matter what his feelings are for Zoe, his feelings for money are stronger.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s surprising what you hear at the gym,’ says Andrea, whose speech is remarkably coherent, considering her earlier vodka intake. She plonks herself down on the end of my bed and leans over. ‘I heard two guys from the bank talking. They were in the coffee bar and I was in my office, but had the little fanlight open above my desk which happens to open right above where these guys were talking. Anyway, one of them was saying how much debt Tris was in with the bank and the other was saying how much money Joanne had. Obviously not enough to buy the gym with me, but a fair sum. They said that Tris would have to persuade Joanne to bail him out.’
‘So, why didn’t Tris ask her to help him? Surely she would?’
‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Joanne was making him sweat on it. It’s the sort of thing she’d do purely for the sadistic pleasure she’d get from it.’
‘I don’t know what to think,’ I say with a sigh.
‘What if Tris was only staying with Joanne because leaving her would be too expensive? What if he and Zoe are having an affair? What if Zoe loves him but he doesn’t love her enough to leave the security of his family?’
‘Andrea, stop. You’re rambling. You’ve had too much to drink,’ I say. ‘I’ve honestly had enough of all this. You need some sleep. We all do.’ I pull the duvet up and snuggle down. ‘Go to bed.’
Andrea makes a few protests, accusing me of being a misery. While she fumbles around getting ready for bed, I can hear her muttering to herself. I can’t understand what she’s saying but I can hear Zoe’s name being mentioned every now and then and it’s clear whatever is being said isn’t favourable.
Andrea makes it successfully to bed and after about ten minutes her breathing regulates and deepens as she finally succumbs to sleep. I, on the other hand, am now wide awake. Despite Andrea being worse for wear, her accusations fill my head. Is she right about Tris and Zoe? Has Tris got money worries? Is that why he stayed with Joanne?’
Inevitably, my mind turns to Darren and Ruby. I always thought Joanne believed Darren’s version of events, just as I had. Now I wonder if I’d got that wrong. What had happened to make her think differently?
I have no answers. Nothing makes sense.
My mind makes the jump from Darren and Ruby to Alfie. It’s a never-ending loop. One always leads to the other. Not always in the same order, but always those three. I think of how much Alfie has gone through.
Did it all start with Ruby? Were our lives destined to play out the way they have right from the start, all those years ago when I first met Joanne, when she and Tris had got married and Darren and I were dating? We’d met through the hiking club Joanne and I were members of. If I hadn’t joined, I would never have met Joanne. Would that have meant that none of the trouble with Ruby would have happened? Would Alfie still be the confident, happy-go-lucky teenager I always thought he was?
How far would I have to turn the clock back to stop the chain of events?
And now, after all that, after everything that has happened between our two families, Alfie is finding comfort in the Aldridge household. That hurts. I’m his mother and I want to be the one to comfort him, the one he turns to when things get too hard. Alfie and I have a shared tragedy and yet he doesn’t want me. Every day I feel he’s moving further and further away from me.
Tears prick my eyes. This is no good. I can’t cope with these thoughts at the best of times. Thinking about the disintegration of my relationship with my only child in the middle of the night, stuck in a croft, God knows where, while Joanne lies dead, wrapped in a duvet in the shed, is not a good idea.
I skulk my way round the end of the bed, grabbing my jumper on the way, and slip out of the room. I pause on the landing to pull my jumper over my head and wish I’d grabbed a pair of socks but don’t want to go back in and risk waking Andrea.
It’s then I realise I can hear a voice coming from downstairs. It’s only a low murmur, but definitely someone speaking. Zoe must be downstairs. Who the hell is she talking to? Maybe she’s found the phones.
Excited by this prospect, I take the stairs light-footedly and head for the kitchen. When I reach the dining room I see that the door to the kitchen is closed. The handle squeaks as I pull on it.
Zoe jumps and lets out a squeal. ‘Oh God, Carys!’ she gasps, her hand flying to her throat. ‘You scared the life out of me.’
‘Sorry, I was coming down for a glass of water. Who were you talking to?’ It’s then I notice Zoe is holding something in her other hand which she is shielding with her leg.
‘I … er … I found this,’ she says, holding out her hand. ‘It’s a walkie-talkie.’
‘Where did you find that?’ I move swiftly to her side and take the handset. ‘Does it work? Have you been able to speak to anyone?’
‘No. I don’t even know if it’s working.’
The hope that was rising within me dies instantly. ‘Where was it?’
‘At the back of the pantry. I couldn’t sleep after the things Andrea said, so I thought I might as well get up and have another look for the phones.’
‘You haven’t found them?’
‘No. Only this. I had a go at twiddling with the knob there to tune it in, or whatever you do with a walkie-talkie, but it’s stuck.’
I try to move the dial but it won’t budge. ‘What were you doing then, just holding the button and speaking?’
Zoe nods. ‘Yeah, I didn’t know what else to do.’
I depress the button on the side and hold it down. I put the handset to my mouth. ‘Hello? Hello? Can anybody hear me?’
‘Release the button now,’ says Zoe.
We wait for a reply but can only hear static. ‘What is it with the bloody radios around here?’ I say in frustration. ‘First the CB won’t work and now this.’
‘I suppose there has to be someone on the other end to hear us. I don’t even know how far this thing works.’ Zoe runs her hand through her hair. ‘I want to go home. I wish we’d never come.’
‘Hey, hey, don’t be upsetting yourself,’ I say, putting an arm around her shoulder. ‘Hang in there for a few more hours. As soon as it’s light, we’re getting out of here. I promise.’
‘You sound like some sort of action hero.’
‘Let’s give this thing another go,’ I say, hoping I sound upbeat. ‘Hello? Can anybody hear me? We need help. It’s an emergency.’ I stop speaking and look at Zoe. She motions for me to try again. ‘This is an emergency. Is there anyone there?’ I release the button and we both lean closer to the handset. Suddenly, the crackle is disrupted and we hear a voice speaking to us.
‘Hello. This is the park ranger station. We can hear you. Can you hear us? Over.’
We both give a squeal of excitement. ‘Hello. We can hear you. Over.’
‘Is everything all right?’ The Scottish accent is distinguishable, despite the transmission breaking up slightly.
‘No! We’re on holiday. Staying in a holiday home. There’s been an accident. We need help. We need the police. Over.’ I don’t know how much to say over the airwaves. The relief is flooding through me. We are speaking to someone. We are not alone.
‘Are your injuries serious? Over.’
I look at Zoe before replying. ‘Yes. Someone has … has died. Over.’
‘Can you repeat that, please? Over.’
‘Our friend has had an accident and she’s dead.’ I can feel a lump in my throat. ‘Please can you send someone to help us. We’re stuck in this croft and need help. Over.’ My voice breaks at this point as the emotion and enormity of what has happened suddenly seem much more real now that I’m say-ing the words to someone else.
‘How many of you are there? Over.’
‘Three. Over.’
‘And are you safe? Is anyone else injured? Over.’
‘We’re safe. No other injuries. Over.’
‘OK. I’ll contact the police as soon as I can. They will send someone out to you. You need to stay where you are until then. Over.’
‘What time will that be? Over.’ I grasp Zoe’s hand and nod. Everything is going to be all right.
‘I can’t say exactly. But someone will be with you as soon as they can. Over.’
My initial excitement is dulled. I want someone out here now. ‘You did hear me, that there’s been a death? Over.’
‘Aye, I did. I’m sure the police will make this a priority,’ he replies. ‘Now, I don’t want to scare you, but you need to make sure all the doors are locked. There’s been a few break-ins of holiday homes recently. Lock the doors and stay inside. Do you understand? Over.’
‘Understood. Over.’ I don’t bother to explain that’s exactly what we have done.
‘Good. I’ll keep you up to date. As soon as I hear anything, I’ll be in touch. Keep the radio with you. Understood? Over.’
‘Understood. Over.’
‘OK. Don’t worry, help is on the way. Over and out.’
The crackling sound is back and the ranger has gone.
‘Thank God for that,’ says Zoe. ‘You don’t know how happy I am. I could bloody cry.’
‘I wonder if this is the walkie-talkie Joanne had on the walk. Maybe she hid it in the pantry for some reason. What luck, you finding this.’
Zoe takes the handset and turns it in her hand. ‘It must be set to this channel on purpose. It must be the emergency channel to the park ranger. I reckon it has to be the one Joanne said she had.’ She slips the walkie-talkie into her pocket. ‘I’ll take it up with me in case he calls us.’
‘Perhaps now I’ll be able to sleep,’ I say, taking a glass and filling it from the tap. ‘You should try to get some sleep too. Hopefully, we won’t have to wait long before help arrives.’
We make our way upstairs and say goodnight to each other on the landing.
Andrea is still fast asleep when I enter the bedroom. She doesn’t look like she’s moved. I pause to check her breathing and, satisfied she’s OK, I climb into my bed.
As I rest my head on the pillow and replay the conversation with the ranger in my mind, I feel I am missing something but can’t think what. My mind wanders into an uneasy sleep, one where I wake several times and, without making a conscious effort, recall the conversation again. Still I can’t work out what is bothering me.