They’d made a reservation for dinner and were taken to an outside table lit with candles. Lights shimmered through the garden trellises, arbours and shrubs but an underlying tension crackled around them.
Eden sat next to Spike and they giggled over something. When Mitch appeared with a tray of drinks, he thumped Eden’s glass of wine on the table, sloshing some over the top of the glass and creating an ugly stain on the cloth. There was an empty space next to Eden but he plonked himself further along the table by Renelle. Madelaine wore a summer dress in a pale, floaty material, her make-up as immaculate as ever, but she constantly stroked her left arm with her other hand, and when Helen looked more carefully she noted the shadows under Madelaine’s eyes.
‘A toast to old friends,’ said Spike, when they were all seated. They clinked glasses, but to Helen it sounded a note off-key.
As Helen ate her stuffed mushroom entrée she intercepted a couple of anxious glances from Madelaine towards Gareth. This place seemed to be affecting everyone.
‘What are the jazz clubs like in Cardiff?’ Eden directed her question to Laurence.
‘Pretty good, actually.’
‘Met any nice Welsh girls?’ This from Spike.
‘One or two, but no one special. Not that it matters. I’m transferring to London. Promotion.’ The last word was said with a note of defiance.
‘That’s brilliant,’ said Madelaine. ‘Not specifically London, but the promotion. Congratulations, it shows they appreciate your skills and the work you do.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You kept that quiet,’ added Spike.
‘I only found out this week.’
Once they’d finished their entrées and the waitress took away the plates they all changed seats. It caused some confusion when she returned with their main meals but it didn’t appear to improve the underlying mood. Helen sighed to herself. Perhaps the wine was accentuating her worrying nature and she was imagining the tension. Why did she always fret over whether people were getting on? The weekend wasn’t her suggestion. Wasn’t her responsibility.
Gareth and Madelaine were now at opposite ends of the table, but prior to that they’d only spoken briefly to each other. Maybe they’d had an argument back at the hotel. They seemed fine earlier. She must stop reading so much into things.
‘So, Laurence, tell us more about your promotion.’ Spike returned to the earlier subject as he speared a piece of his steak.
‘Nothing much to tell. I’ll be running an IT operations team. I’ve been doing a lot of the stuff already, but it’s the company head office so a much larger team. The move’s not for another eight weeks.’ He adroitly flicked the conversation to Eden, asking how things were with her since she’d moved.
‘It’s going well. Not quite the role I wanted, but I’m in London now, so I can’t complain. I’ll prove my worth soon enough.’
‘Breaking the Philpot life insurance fraud story with that private detective was a stroke of genius on your part,’ said Spike. He raised his glass to Eden and took a drink.
‘It put me in the news as well as writing the story, but the end result was the new job.’ Eden raised her glass to Spike in response.
‘How’s your meal?’ Gareth asked Helen in an undertone.
She had selected grilled fish with roast vegetables, and while the meal was beautifully cooked she wasn’t enjoying it as much as she should. She felt the tension emanating from Gareth next to her. Was it about the group in general or something specific? Eden threw another narrow-eyed stare at Mitch and Renelle, who still sat next to each other, and Helen’s chest tightened. She put down her fork and took a sip of wine. Not even that relaxed her. Yet again, she wondered what it was about this group that brought out the worst in each of them.
‘What about you, Mitch?’ said Laurence. ‘You changed jobs as well.’
Mitch spoke in a quiet, even tone. ‘Marshall Holt offered me a role some time back but I stayed in Manchester until Eden was able to move. Fortunately, the company was still open to me making the change. You and I will be able to catch up with Gareth more often now we’ll all be in the city.’
‘How about me?’ asked Spike.
‘Of course, you as well.’ Laurence got in before anyone else could reply. ‘It’s just that you’re often working away or travelling.’
Helen breathed out a quiet sigh at Laurence’s mollifying reply.
‘It looks as though we’re well into job talk,’ said Gareth to Helen. ‘How are you enjoying work at the private school?’ His voice was pitched lower as he asked her the question, but his glance skittered around the group. Before she could answer Spike leaned across the table.
‘So, Renelle, you didn’t say much earlier about Ed Geary. How are you getting on with him? He’s got an eye for a pretty face and he seemed keen on you when we last spoke.’
‘Ed’s fine to work with,’ said Renelle. ‘He’s very professional and a lot more polite than other people I could mention.’
‘So not sleeping together yet like you and Dirty Damien? Do you keep in touch with him, or is he still with his wife?’
‘Nothing ever happened with him.’ Renelle’s voice rose in volume. ‘Isn’t it about time you grew up, Spike?’
‘Never, causing mischief is much more fun.’
‘You are pathetic.’ Renelle pushed her plate to one side before stalking away from the table.
‘We can’t even enjoy a weekend together without you causing trouble.’ Mitch’s hand clenched into a fist and Helen held her breath, certain he would punch Spike. She imagined this dinner erupting into a fight with plates and cutlery flying around. Mitch’s mouth was compressed so tightly he could barely talk. ‘You’re not worth the trouble.’ His chair tumbled backwards as he stood and strode towards the bar.
Helen shivered as a nervous chill skimmed down her back.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, this is ridiculous.’ Eden swiped Spike across his shoulder. ‘And I hold you to blame.’
Madelaine fumbled with her bag and then caught hold of Eden’s arm. ‘Let’s get some air.’
No one made any comment about the fact they were sitting outside.
‘I’ll get some more drinks.’ Spike checked around the rest of the group, but no one would meet his glance before he sauntered off towards the part of the restaurant housing the bar.
Helen needed a few minutes alone and walked into the building to find the ladies toilets. The weekend was fast turning into what she’d dreaded. A woman from another table stood at one of the basins touching up her make-up, but all the cubicles were empty. When Helen came out of the ladies, she wandered into the gardens at the side of the building using another door. Roses climbed along trellises fixed to the garden walls, filling the air with their scent. Why couldn’t everything be this peaceful?
As she wandered back to the table, Helen hoped the others might have decided to call it an evening and be ready to return to the hotel, but Spike had organised two delicious looking dessert platters as well as the drinks. She was the last to return but as she took the seat next to Madelaine, she felt the tension around them like a tangible presence. Gareth and Laurence talked more loudly than necessary, trying to make things appear normal. They picked at the sweet course, and Helen poured herself a glass of sparkling water, feeling the tightness of a headache around her forehead. Lightning sparked across the sky, startling them and momentarily bleaching all colour in its glare. A moment later, thunder boomed.
Helen’s breath hitched in her chest at the shock. The guys laughed, covering their surprise. There were a few uneasy giggles and comments from other tables.
Madelaine gripped the edge of the table and stood. The cloth caught and knocked a glass of wine, spilling the red liquid across the white tablecloth.
‘I’m leaving.’ She hurried away from the table towards the trees.
‘Madelaine, wait. It was only thunder.’ Gareth pushed back his chair and rushed after her, but she’d already disappeared across the
lawn and into the woods.
‘Did you break your promise and say something?’ In the flickering light, Eden loomed over Renelle.
‘Of course not.’
Helen glanced between them.
‘Why can’t I believe you?’ Eden threw Renelle a livid glance before dashing off as fast as her heels on the grass would allow.
‘What was that about?’ asked Mitch.
Renelle turned to him, a confused expression clouding her face. ‘I’m not sure.’
The lawns and woods sloped towards the area of the stone circles like a bowl. From where they sat in the gardens of the restaurant, the noise from the village was muted, but the car engine roaring into life from the direction of the hotel and the screech of tyres were clearly audible in comparison.
Everyone froze, puzzled at the sudden change in mood, until they heard the roar of a motorbike.
‘That’s my Harley. Who’s taken it?’ Laurence jerked away from the table and ran towards the woods.
‘What the–’ Spike sprinted after Laurence.
Helen glanced around. What should they do? Mitch was already out of the garden, following the others, Renelle close behind him. Helen choked back a cry as she rose from her chair.
In the darkness of the woods the trees leaned in towards her, branches grabbing at her as she ran. Sobs caught in her throat as roots twisted upwards, catching her heels. Stumbling through the stone circles, lightning flashed again, followed immediately by a roll of thunder. Shivers rolled along her body as fat drops of rain splattered her.
She lurched out of the trees, gasping for breath. In the hotel car park, Spike revved the engine of his car. Eden jumped in the passenger seat and they took off along the road.
‘Always bloody Spike,’ yelled Mitch.
‘Where are your car keys?’ Laurence asked.
Mitch pulled them out of his pocket.
‘What are you going to do?’ Helen looked from Laurence to Mitch.
‘I guess Madelaine took off in the car and Gareth took my Harley to follow her,’ said Laurence. ‘Either of them could end up in a ditch. Madelaine was drinking a lot.’
‘I guess we might as well join this crazy car chase,’ said Mitch.
Renelle leapt in the front passenger seat of Mitch’s old sports car. Laurence clambered into the tiny space behind the front seats, his knees up under his chin. Mitch gave Helen an apologetic shrug, ‘Sorry, no more room.’ He followed the direction Spike and Eden had taken a moment or so before.
The rain was heavier now and Helen couldn’t stop shivering as she unlocked the front door of the hotel. She quickly changed and made herself a cup of tea. During the next hour she wandered between the entrance hallway and her room waiting for the others to return while the rain continued to pour down. Eventually, tiring of that she turned on the television in her room and flicked through the channels. She settled on a late night chat show and, worried that she might miss the others returning, she pulled one of the chairs over to the window. She was too anxious to concentrate on anything the host and guests chatted about, her gaze frequently turning to the dark night and rain running down the windows. A high-body-count film started after the chat show and she muted the volume but kept the television on. She tried reading the book she’d brought with her but couldn’t get beyond the same few paragraphs and gave up with that after a while, picking up one of the local tourist magazines left on the set of drawers.
At some point the rain stopped, and as Helen’s eyes were starting to droop car headlights shone across the room as a vehicle pulled into the car park. Someone was back.
She ran downstairs and opened the heavy front door as Mitch, Renelle and Laurence clambered out of his car.
‘What happened? Did you find them?’
Laurence shook his head. ‘I take it they aren’t back?’
‘No.’
‘We drove around for ages, got lost on those back roads with the high hedges,’ said Mitch. ‘Couldn’t see anything most of the time so I didn’t think there was much point in staying out any longer.’
‘I rang everyone’s mobile while you were away. Gareth’s went straight to voicemail. Eden’s phone is in your room, and neither Madelaine nor Spike answered. What shall we do?’ Helen clenched her hands together in a fist to stop them shaking. Did Gareth know how to ride a motorcycle? The local roads were a maze of narrow twists and turns that all looked the same, and few had any lights. He could be lying in a ditch. ‘Should we phone the hospitals?’
‘My guess is that Gareth caught up with Madelaine and they’ve probably gone somewhere quiet to talk.’
‘What about Eden and Spike?’
Mitch’s jaw tightened at the mention of Spike’s name.
‘Spike can drink most people under the table, and come to that so can Eden but she wasn’t driving. Perhaps they caught up with Gareth and Madelaine, made sure they were okay and then went off for another drink.’
‘We could check the other bars in the village,’ said Laurence.
‘No point,’ said Mitch. ‘Spike would choose somewhere further away so we can’t interrupt them. Don’t worry about your bike. Gareth’s careful. He’ll bring it back.’
‘I’m not worried about that, just about them being safe.’
They hung around in the hallway, the silence getting harder to bear. Helen tried Gareth’s mobile again but no one answered. After another awkward pause, Laurence spoke.
‘Nothing much we can do. I guess bed’s the best option now.’ He moved towards the stairs before turning back. ‘But if anyone rings, let me know.’
Renelle moved a step closer to Mitch, looking up at him from under her lashes. ‘I can’t imagine anything I said tonight contributed to–’ She made a gesture with her hands.
‘I don’t know what’s up with Madelaine. First of all I thought she was ill, but in that case she’d go back to their room rather than driving off. I’m sure it wasn’t anything anyone said, least of all you. To be honest, I’ve had all I can take of this weekend.’ Mitch stared beyond Helen towards the open front door of the hotel. ‘Oh bloody hell. I’ve just remembered we didn’t pay at the restaurant tonight.’
In other circumstances, Helen might have been horrified or laughed hysterically at how it must have looked to other people, small groups of them running into the trees without paying their bill. She was about to say they could settle up the next morning when Mitch pulled the car keys out of his pocket.
‘I can’t face the walk even though it’s stopped raining. I’ll drive round and see if they’re still open. I doubt any of the others are there, but you never know.’
‘I’ll keep you company,’ said Renelle, putting her arm through Mitch’s.
A wave of tiredness swept over Helen. She wanted to be on her own. Although she’d drunk more than she usually did, she felt completely sober after the evening’s events. ‘I’m going to my room.’ She didn’t wait for a reply and climbed the stairs.
It was at least an hour before Mitch and Renelle returned, but none of the others. Helen didn’t think she would sleep. She alternated between lying wide awake in bed and staring out of the window into the darkness. However, at some point tiredness and alcohol overwhelmed her and she fell asleep.
When Helen woke next it was light. She showered quickly and went to investigate. The door to Gareth and Madelaine’s room stood open but it was empty, with no sign of their bags. The reception area downstairs was deserted. Outside in the parking area, Laurence’s bike was now back, but there was no sign of Gareth’s car. As the Harley was there, Gareth must have returned during the night and presumably he and Madelaine had left in their car. But why leave without saying goodbye to everyone?
No one else was around so Helen decided to buy herself a coffee and something to eat in the village. She wandered through the trees and stopped for a while at the standing stones. It was still early and she had the place to herself. She sat on the stone that Madelaine had lain on the previous afternoon and tried to rec
reate the sense of magic and happiness she’d experienced there the day before, but all she felt was the sense of foreboding that had dogged her since the previous evening. How things had changed in a few short hours.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and tried Gareth’s number again. It rang, but no answer. Madelaine’s went straight to voicemail. Helen sent Gareth a text and was relieved when a reply pinged back a few minutes later.
Sorry I haven’t answered. Things not great. M and I back in London.
At least they were both okay, although the weekend had ended unpleasantly and earlier than she expected.
When she heard the shouts of children approaching, Helen pulled her bag on her shoulder and headed through to the village.
This early on a Sunday morning there was only one café open, but there weren’t many people around. The café only had space for six small tables, three of which were taken by individuals, but the group ahead of her were ordering takeaway drinks. Helen checked the contents of the food cabinet. It might be a long day. Goodness knows how she’d get home now Gareth and Madelaine had gone. Should she eat here or take something back to the hotel? Although she was preoccupied, the conversation between the group ahead of her and the two café assistants filtered through.
‘Excuse me. Did you say there was an accident last night?’
The woman making coffee nodded. ‘Yes. A hit and run. Cathy Doyle, a local teenage girl. So dreadful the people didn’t stop.’
‘Tourists don’t appreciate how narrow and windy the roads around here are,’ added a man from the group at the counter.
‘Is she badly hurt?’
‘She was killed,’ said the woman. ‘Her poor parents…’
The Worst Lie Page 7