Twenty-One
Then
Jake’s body zings with recklessness as Lainy walks away. He’s already defied his parents by deciding to stay out past his curfew. He’d better make it count. Maybe this is just the push he needs to make his move on Rose. If he doesn’t kiss her then he’ll be grounded for nothing.
‘Will you get into trouble for staying out late?’ Rose twirls a few strands of hair around her finger and it’s sexy as hell.
‘Maybe.’ Jake shrugs. He wants to tell her that she’s worth getting into trouble for, but he’s worried it will come off as corny. That she’ll laugh at him.
‘I didn’t have you down as such a rebel.’ Rose giggles and her eyes flash.
‘Ha, I’m not. Not really. But I’m almost sixteen. Old enough to make my own decisions.’
‘Aren’t you sixteen yet?’ Her eyes widen.
‘My birthday’s next month.’
‘Aw, so you’re the baby of the year!’
Jake isn’t happy with her pronouncement. It’s always annoyed him that he’s the youngest of their year group. Especially as he feels like he’s the most adult of them all. Most of his year behave like immature toddlers.
‘Don’t look like that,’ Rose says. ‘It’s cute that you’re the youngest. I was sixteen last year so I’m one of the oldest.
‘Age doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a number.’ He says it more sharply than he intended, but thankfully she doesn’t take offence.
‘That’s deep.’ Rose tilts her head.
Desperate to change the subject, Jake decides it’s now or never. He shifts position so he’s facing her. Heart pounding, palms sweating, he can’t afford to overthink this. Jake fixes her with what he hopes is a meaningful gaze. ‘I really like you, Rose.’
She doesn’t reply, so Jake leans forward to kiss her, his whole body fizzing with anticipation.
But his lips don’t meet hers. They find nothing but air. Rose has jerked back as though electrocuted, her eyes wide with surprise, and a brief flash of something else – revulsion. Jake’s belly roils as though he’s been kicked in his lower intestine. A sharp ache that precedes a whole jumbled mess of other emotions.
Rose quickly covers her shock with a fake laugh, like shattered glass.
‘I’m… uh…’ Jake stammers and then springs to his feet. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll go.’
But Rose is on her feet too, pulling at his arm. ‘No, don’t go. I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean for… I’m sorry that you thought… Oh I’m so silly.’
‘Honestly, it’s no problem,’ he says through tight lips, anger and humiliation flooding his veins. ‘I got it wrong,’ he grunts. ‘I thought you liked me, but it’s no big deal. I’ll go. Save us both the awkwardness.’
‘Stay,’ she pleads. ‘Please. It won’t be awkward. Look, I’m flattered. We’ll pretend it never happened. And anyway, I need to talk to you about something.’
‘About what?’ he asks brusquely. The last thing he wants to do is carry on talking to Rose after her rejection. It’s painful to even look at her now. To imagine what she must be thinking. She’s bound to tell her mates what happened. It’ll be all round town this summer. He won’t be able to show his face.
‘Look, Jake,’ she says seriously, her smile gone. ‘I really thought we were just friends. I hope you’ll keep on being my friend and things won’t get weird between us.’
She sits back down on the rock and pushes her hair off her face. Hair that he will never touch, a face that he will never stroke, never kiss.
‘Yeah. Friends. Sure.’ He knows he sounds sullen. Sulky, even.
‘Promise me.’
He flexes his fingers and stares out to sea, letting the gentle crash of the waves take him out of the present for just a moment.
‘Jake?’
‘What?’ He turns back to her enquiring eyes. ‘Oh. Yeah. Sure. I promise.’
‘Good.’ She smiles with relief and pats the rock next to her.
‘I’m gonna go get another drink,’ he says, suddenly desperate to escape. To forget tonight ever happened.
‘I just need you for two more minutes,’ she wheedles, ‘and then I’ll let you go.’
He sighs and sits back on the rock. ‘What do you need me for?’
‘Well –’ her cheeks flush and she stares down into her lap – ‘it’s actually a bit awkward now.’
‘So I’ll go.’ He makes to stand up again, but she pulls him back down.
‘No, silly. Stay. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. But maybe I shouldn’t.’ Her cheeks flush.
Jake grits his teeth. ‘It’s fine, just tell me.’ He actually doesn’t care what it is she wants to say. He actually just wants to leave Rose Cassidy sitting on a rock and never see her again.
‘Okay.’ She gives another giggle. ‘I’ll just come out with it. The reason I wanted to talk to you, well, not the only reason, but… Oh, listen to me, I’m babbling.’ She takes a breath. ‘I wanted to ask your advice…’
‘About what?’
‘Well, you know Owen in our year, right?’
‘Owen Pearson? Yeah, I know him.’ Jake wonders what’s she’s asking about him for. Maybe she knows something about him. Something bad. Something from his past. That would be good. That would at least mean that tonight wasn’t a total bust.
‘I just wondered…’ she begins, ‘is there anyone he likes?’
‘Likes?’ Jake echoes stupidly.
‘Yeah, you know. Likes, as in fancies?’ Rose twists her fingers in her lap.
Jake isn’t really concentrating on her words. His mind is still bloated with disappointment from her rejection of him.
‘Jake?’ She looks up at him with an embarrassed smile. ‘Do you know if Owen fancies anyone?’
‘No idea.’ Jake doesn’t mention the fact that he has a strong suspicion Owen fancies his sister.
Rose gives another awkward laugh. ‘Because the thing is, I really like him, and I wondered if you might put in a good word, or maybe find out what he thinks about me?’
Jake’s blood grows hot in his veins. Can Rose really be telling him that she fancies Owen bloody Pearson? Has she lost her mind? Doesn’t she know what an absolute arrogant twat Pearson is? And how can she be confiding all this to him after he’s just bared his soul to her? This is the ultimate humiliation.
It hits Jake that this is the only reason Rose has been talking to him this evening. Not because she likes him as a friend, but because she fancies Owen. He’s been used.
Jake doesn’t even trust himself to speak right now. Unsure what will come out of his mouth. He gets to his feet and walks away, footsteps stiff, like his muscles have been encased in lead.
‘Jake? Jake, are you okay? Where are you going? Did you hear what I asked you? Are you going to talk to him for me?’
But Jake doesn’t reply. Her voice has become an annoyance that he can’t bear to listen to any more. This evening has been a total shitfest. He can’t believe Rose likes that loser Owen Pearson. What a monumentally crap start to the holidays.
He heads towards the fire where everyone else seems to have gathered, their voices bright and brittle, echoing in his ears. He stops short as he notices that Mark is snogging someone. His sister? But no… it’s not Lainy he’s kissing – it’s Cath. Mark is with Cath! Jake marches over to his friend and pulls him away from her.
‘What are you doing? I thought you liked my sister? I thought you were walking her home?’ His voice is rough, aggressive. He knows his anger is nothing to do with Mark, and everything to do with Rose liking Owen. But he can’t help himself. He wants to start something. He wants to punch something. Or someone.
Mark obviously senses that Jake is seriously pissed off, because he raises his hands and takes a step back. ‘Hey! What’s your problem?’
‘What’s going on?’ Cath cries. ‘Jake?’
‘My problem,’ Jake says, ‘is that you said you would keep an eye on Lainy, but you’re sucking the f
ace off this tart instead.’
‘Fuck off, Townsend,’ Cath cries. ‘I’m not a tart.’
‘Where is she, then? Where’s Lainy?’ Jake snarls. The fire crackles and spits, the heat from the flames warming one side of his face.
‘I dunno,’ Mark says. ‘She went off. Look, she’s not interested in me. That’s not my fault.’
Jake balls his right fist. He wants to punch Mark so badly. His arm trembles with the desire to draw blood. But then he realises that his fourteen-year-old sister is somewhere up there on the dark cliff path on her own. His parents are going to kill him when they realise he’s let her walk back alone. If he runs now, he might just catch up to her before she reaches home.
‘Forget it.’ Jake unclenches his fist. ‘You’re a waste of space, Tamworth. Thanks for nothing.’
Mark shakes his head, white-faced and shaken, while Cath stands by his side glowering.
Jake gives them both a dirty look before taking off, sprinting across the beach into the darkness, towards the cliff path.
Twenty-Two
Now
Back at the house, Tom and I almost fall through the front door, suddenly exhausted after everything that’s happened. Lainy greets us in the kitchen. She’s sitting at the table with a glass of wine.
‘Sorry,’ she says, tapping the side of her glass. ‘I know I probably shouldn’t be drinking. I should be alert, but my brain was racing, and I needed something to calm me down.’
‘You don’t need to apologise.’ I sit opposite her. ‘You can definitely pour me a glass though.’
‘Me too,’ Tom adds. ‘Are the girls okay?’
‘Fine,’ Lainy says, getting a couple more glasses out of the cupboard. ‘They both went out like lights. All that fresh air.’
Tom sits too and we fill Lainy in on our visit to the Grey Dolphin.
‘He ran off?’ she says with a sceptical look on her face. ‘Are you sure? Maybe he didn’t see you and was heading somewhere else.’
‘No,’ Tom says, taking a large sip of his wine. ‘He looked up, saw us, froze for a second and then legged it.’
‘Yep.’ I nod in agreement. ‘That pretty much sums up what happened.’
‘But that makes no sense,’ she persists.
‘Maybe he thought we were someone else,’ I say, having just thought of it. ‘He might owe money to somebody, or something like that.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘What was Mark like?’ Tom asks. ‘Back then.’
She shrugs and then inhales deeply. ‘A bit of an oddball, if the truth be known. Not dangerous or anything. Just a bit creepy I suppose. But he was Jake’s best friend, so I put up with him. Cath thought the sun shone out of his behind. Well, she did back then. Not so sure she’s too fond of him these days. He might be completely different now. I haven’t seen him since we were teens. We didn’t keep in touch.’
‘Did he keep in touch with Jake?’
‘Not that I know of. Faye, you look absolutely done in. Are you hungry? You barely touched your dinner earlier.’
‘No thanks, I couldn’t eat a thing.’
‘But you have to eat something. You’ll collapse if you don’t.’
‘Maybe later.’ The thought of putting food in my mouth makes me feel queasy. The wine is all I can handle.
‘Lainy’s right,’ Tom says. ‘You should eat. I’m going to make some toast. Want some?’
I shake my head. ‘Maybe I’ll just go up. Get some rest.’
‘Good idea,’ Tom says. ‘You’ll be no good to anyone if you don’t take care of yourself. We’ll wake you if we hear anything.’
I drain my glass, take my handbag and leave the kitchen, checking my texts as I trudge up the stairs. Although there are still five of us left in the house, it feels empty. And I feel completely alone.
I lied when I said I was going upstairs to sleep. How can I get any rest, let alone sleep? And I know they’re only trying to help, but I can’t cope with their well-meaning words. It must be as exhausting for my in-laws to keep thinking of different ways to reassure me as it is for me to accept their words of comfort.
My mind circles like a creature chasing its tail. I switch on the light, shut the bedroom door behind me and lean against it, closing my eyes for a moment. But it doesn’t matter whether my eyes are open or closed, I still keep picturing Jake and Dylan’s faces in my mind’s eye. Faces that are either lifeless, or terrified. And I don’t know which of the images is worse.
I open my eyes once more and let my gaze travel over the closed curtains, to the huge unmade bed. There’s no way I’m climbing under the covers. I don’t think I could even bring myself to lie on top of it. Instead, I sink down onto the floor with my back propped up against the door. I’ll stay here until Tom and Lainy go to bed and then I’ll creep back downstairs. Sit in the kitchen. Drink more wine.
The low rumble of their voices vibrates through the ceiling. I think about all the other people who have stayed in this house. Did they enjoy wonderful family holidays here? Or was this place a catalyst that changed their lives? Maybe the house is cursed. Maybe whoever stays here is destined to suffer bad luck and have evil befall them. I give myself a little shake. That red wine must be making me think foolish thoughts. There’s nothing cursed about this house. The only thing cursed around here is me.
* * *
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting with my back to the door, only that I heard Tom and Lainy go to bed some time ago and my legs are numb from sitting in one spot. I should have brought more wine up with me. Perhaps it would have helped me to pass out.
I should get up. Do something. What good is sitting here if I can’t sleep? But I stay rooted to the spot, unable to stir myself.
Sometime later I check my phone, surprised to see it’s already 2 a.m. I must have zoned out for a while. Not sleep as such, but… something else. With a sudden burst of clarity, I realise that I can’t sit here any longer. My mouth tastes sour and dry. I ease myself up and tiptoe to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I should probably have a shower, but the noise might wake Tom and Lainy and I don’t have the energy for conversation right now. Instead, I creep downstairs, scribble a note to say I’ve gone for an early morning walk (only a slight stretching of the truth), and leave the house.
The air is warm but with a hint of freshness that acts like a wake-up call to my brain. I inhale a lungful of tangy sea air and start walking, unsure of where I’m headed. Uncaring of the direction I choose.
* * *
Putting one foot in front of the other, that’s what I’ve been doing for the past couple of hours. After a short time walking along deserted residential cliff roads, I found myself up on the headland once more. I concentrate on the sound of my trainers on the gravel pathway. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Sometimes my foot hits an uneven patch – a stone or a grassy tussock – and the regularity of my footsteps is interrupted, breaking the steady rhythm.
It’s still dark. Still the early hours of the morning. I force my eyes to widen, ignoring their scratchy tiredness, their urge to close. My brain races but I don’t allow it to settle on anything. I push out all my thoughts. All I allow in there is the crunch of the gravel and the juddering whirr of the search helicopter sweeping the headland and making loops out to sea.
Search-and-rescue teams in high-vis jackets carry torches, sweeping the cliffs below and the woods above. The hiss and chatter of their radios permeates the night air. All these people out looking for my family. I keep my head down, unwilling to catch anyone’s eye. In case they ask me who I am. What I’m doing. I simply concentrate on navigating the path in the weak moonlight. Just walking.
I check my phone again, but there are no messages. The time reads a little after 4 a.m. At least out here I’m not tossing and turning in bed, suffering from my night terrors. I suddenly realise the helicopter has gone. Perhaps to refuel, perhaps to search further along the coast. The whirring from above is replaced by the crash of the waves on the rocks. I stop
for a moment and stare out at the dark ocean, at the ripples of reflected moonlight. Where is Dylan right now? Please let him not be scared. Please let him be okay. I wrench my gaze from the water and turn too quickly, catching my foot on a rock. I swear under my breath and feel a tear drip down my cheek.
Exhaustion overwhelms me. I sit on the rocky ground and drop my head into my hands. What have I done? Coming to Swanage was supposed to be something good. Instead, it’s… well, it feels like the worst mistake of my life. This hollowness in my heart feels endless.
I can’t stay here. I don’t know what time the sun will rise, and I don’t want to be up on the headland when it gets light. The dawn of a new day without my husband. Without my son. Besides, I should try to get at least an hour or two of sleep. Who am I kidding? I will never be able to sleep. Not until this is over. Until I can wrap my arms around my baby. I stand and turn, focus on the path ahead, and start walking back.
I don’t keep track of how long the journey down off the headland takes, but as I finally put my key in the lock, I notice a faint, pink glow behind the house – dawn; although it’s not yet light enough for the street lights to go off. I’ve been out all night. My body is stiff and slightly chilly, my face dry, eyelids drooping.
‘Faye?’ Tom stands in the hallway wearing pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt. He scratches his chest sleepily and yawns.
‘Hi.’ I step inside and close the door behind me, the darkness more absolute inside the house than out.
‘What are you—’
‘Just went out for an early morning walk. Didn’t you see my note?’ I don’t want him to know I’ve been out all night. He and Lainy will only worry more.
‘No, I didn’t notice it. Still half asleep. Cup of tea?’ he asks.
I was planning on going back upstairs, but his offer sounds good. ‘Yes please. Any news?’
He shakes his head. ‘I’m sure the search will be easier once it gets light.’
The Marriage Betrayal Page 10