The Heatwave

by Katerina Diamond

  Chapter Twenty

  The beach was, as Jasmine had suspected, a nightmare. The first few hours were fairly normal, but as the day went on and the news spread the looks and whispers got more obvious. The only thing that was stopping Jasmine from going home was the fact that her father had decided to work from home for the rest of the week just to make sure she was OK. She couldn’t handle being around him all day.

  ‘Want a drink?’ Felicity asked, pulling a bottle of vodka out of her bag.

  ‘Jesus, Flick, you’ll drown if you go in the sea drunk.’

  ‘Your loss,’ Felicity said, knocking back the vodka as though it were water.

  Felicity wore a red bikini and was getting just the amount of attention she wanted with it. A group of boys hovered nearby with music blasting also looking to get noticed. Felicity kept positioning herself in a way to get them to notice her and it was working. She stood up and walked over to the bin, throwing away something that didn’t require the journey, but it gave her an opportunity to pass the boys and make sure they were fully aware of her.

  She stood in front of Jasmine and scooped her jet black hair onto her head into a messy bun.

  ‘Oh my God, Flick, you are shameless. I just want to chill and sit here for a bit.’

  ‘Why do you care if he’s dead? He’s messed up things for you much more than you messed up things for him.’

  ‘How do you figure that?’

  ‘Well, he’s out of it now, isn’t he? You’ve still got to deal with this shit.’

  ‘You really think he killed himself?’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Felicity asked, tilting her head to one side, still with one eye on the boys. ‘He just couldn’t live without you,’ she said in a fake sad voice.

  Jasmine rolled her eyes and suppressed a smile. It didn’t feel right to be smiling today. She couldn’t talk about this with Felicity – because Felicity’s home life was genuinely quite unpleasant, she viewed most of Jasmine’s problems as trivialities. Not to mention the fact that that vodka probably wasn’t the first drink she had had today.

  ‘Is this what you do all summer when I’m away?’

  ‘There’s nothing else to do bar sitting at home and trying and stop Mum’s new boyfriend from coming on to me. If I’m going to get pawed I’d rather it was by someone my own age. You feel me? I know you do.’

  ‘Flick!’ Jasmine exclaimed, aware that Felicity was trying to lighten the mood the only way she knew how.

  ‘It’s too bloody hot. Are you coming in the sea?’ Felicity shouted across to Jasmine, loud enough so the boys could hear.

  ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ Jasmine asked, nodding at the half-empty bottle of vodka lying on Felicity’s towel.

  ‘Help yourself if you want some. You need to relax a little!’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

  ‘Well, come in when you’re ready. You’re going to look like a roast turkey if you stay out in this sun much longer.’

  ‘Will do, if I don’t go home,’ Jasmine said, saluting at Felicity as she hobbled across the pebbles towards the sea. Three of the boys followed after her with their paddle boards, all a slightly alarming pink colour from being outside for too long. Felicity was right though, this was the only thing to do most of the time.

  Jasmine wasn’t sure she could take any more beach time. It was too hot for a start, but the looks she kept spying from the corner of her eye were really pissing her off. If it was just the kids her own age giving her daggers she might have been able to cope, but Mr Morrell’s fiancée was there. She worked in a newsagent in town, and Jasmine knew what she looked like from when she had come to events at the school. They hadn’t been engaged long when the incident happened last year. Now, his fiancée was on the beach looking wistfully out to sea and Jasmine could see she had been crying. Jasmine lay on a towel, the pebbles digging into her, occasionally looking over and seeing the woman’s distraught and disapproving face.

  Jasmine tried to suppress her nagging guilt about what Mr Morrell had done. She had told the police the truth about what happened with her former teacher at the fair; she had always told the truth about him. But by the end of the interrogation she’d felt as though she were the one who had committed the crime. The constant questions: Did he touch you? What did he say? Did you accidentally make him feel like that? She couldn’t deal with that again. Jasmine knew that she hadn’t made him take his own life, if that was even what had happened. Even if Tim had done something to him, she refused to feel like it was her fault in any way. She hadn’t asked anyone to hurt him. She hadn’t wanted any of this.

  She glanced up at the cliffs. Even though he hadn’t died here she could imagine him falling. How hard would it be to push someone off a cliff? And the pebbles below would put paid to any evidence on the skin. Not to mention Mr Morrell’s recent history. Suicide would fit, wouldn’t it? A nice, neat little box to put away and forget about, less scandalous than a murder.

  Jasmine heard the crunch of the pebbles getting louder as someone walked towards her.

  ‘Jasmine? Can I speak with you a moment?’ Morrell’s fiancée asked softly.

  Jasmine heard the voices of the people around them simmer to a whisper, all waiting to see how she responded. She could tell they would all be watching her, waiting to see what might happen, hoping someone was going to get slapped in the face. Jasmine glanced at Felicity’s vodka bottle and wished she had taken a drink after all.

  ‘OK?’ Jasmine said, sitting up.

  ‘I hope you aren’t being given too hard a time today.’

  Jasmine was surprised by her kind tone; she had been expecting something else entirely. She wondered if she had any ability to read people at all.

  ‘It’s been a bit of a weird day,’ Jasmine said, not knowing what else to say.

  ‘If you need to talk then you can get in touch with me on my mobile. I know they really put you through the wringer last year because of what happened,’ she said, handing Jasmine a scrap of paper with her name and a number scrawled on it.

  ‘Thanks. I’m so sorry for your loss.’

  ‘He was out of order last year, I know he was. I saw the video of what happened. I don’t want you to think that what he did back then was OK and I also don’t want you to blame yourself for him taking his own life. He’s been depressed for a while.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jasmine repeated, looking at the piece of paper with the woman’s name on it. Elizabeth.

  The tears appeared before she even had a chance to think about it. It meant something to hear those words from his fiancée, a woman who had no reason to be nice to her at all.

  Maybe she was wrong; maybe people didn’t blame her. Maybe she didn’t understand people and she was actually projecting her own fears onto them. She was exhausted. She had spent the last hour and ten minutes paranoid that this woman hated her and it wasn’t the case at all. Were other people good at this stuff? She decided to go home. She could call Felicity when she got there, as she didn’t fancy drawing attention to herself by shouting out to the sea. It was too hot to stay out in the sun for any longer. Even though she was wearing factor fifty she could still feel her skin burning on her knees and shoulders. She grabbed her things and walked back up the slope, through the back gate onto the main road towards home.

  She didn’t want to be around anyone right now. But that wasn’t entirely true. She felt like the only person on her side was Tim. He didn’t tell her parents about what had happened at the fair even though it had got him into trouble. He had saved her from Mr Morrell. He was the only person she felt safe with, which was strange because she could tell he was dangerous. She couldn’t understand why she wanted to see him when she thought he might have killed someone for her. Deep down inside him there was a big secret, and though she could see that it was there, she couldn’t see what it was. She wanted to know though; she wanted to know him better. She could feel him pulling her towards home, towards him. No one else made sense right now.

 
Chapter Twenty-One

  Now

  I spend the afternoon into the evening talking to Jason. We walk along to the fort and stop in a café, where we drink multiple coffees on the terrace. He tells me he has never been married but he briefly dated a girl who had been in the year below us in school. She cheated on him and is now married with three children. He talks about it as though he has dodged a bullet, but I can see that he is lonely. He seems reluctant to let me go and, if I am honest, I’m reluctant to leave him alone. I guess he wishes his life had gone differently too. In a way, when Hannah went missing it was the beginning of the end for a lot of us. It certainly shook the town and the way everyone perceived our little sanctuary. Suddenly curfews were imposed, whereas before we could walk home in the dark with no one batting an eye, our parents confident that this sleepy little oasis held no hidden monsters. Whether they were in denial or whether they were just naive, I don’t think I will ever really know. Possibly a mixture of both. All I know is that nothing could have prepared me for what happened. That’s why when the summer was over I ran and never stopped.

  Jason was one of the ones left behind, and even though he now has no ties, he doesn’t speak like a person with any designs on leaving the place. Even given the way he was treated in the couple of days after Hannah disappeared, until the police discovered her wallet and clothing fibres in Mr Morrell’s car. Jason tells me that one of the other teachers at our school has gone to prison for having indecent images of children on his computer. Mr Goss. I remember him, so friendly, always trying to be everyone’s friend. You really never know what’s going on inside people. Even when you think you know them they turn out to be someone else. Something else. I want more for Jason than this. I feel responsible somehow. As if I have the answers. As if my secrets are the reason he is still here.

  ‘What do you think happened to Hannah?’ I ask, seeing no point in not being direct.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve thought about it a million times. I don’t believe she would have got into a car with that guy, she wasn’t stupid.’

  ‘You don’t think he killed her?’

  ‘I mean, maybe … I don’t know, I really don’t. I don’t even think she knew who he was. That’s like self-preservation 101, isn’t it? Don’t get into a car with a bloke you don’t know?’

  ‘Or a woman,’ I add. I don’t know why.

  ‘I know some people still think it was me that did it.’

  ‘Why do you stay here?’

  ‘I don’t have any qualifications. I failed my exams. This is the best it gets for me.’

  ‘Do you own your house?’

  ‘Totally and utterly. My parents paid the mortgage off a few years before they died and business has been better in the last couple of years, since cycling became a super trendy thing to do.’

  ‘So sell it all and go. Just start again where no one knows you. That’s what I would do. That’s what I did do.’

  ‘And you’re happy?’

  ‘Now there’s a question. I know one thing though. Getting away from here was the best thing I ever did,’ I say, and although I don’t regret leaving for a second, I realise I never really got away. A part of me will always remain here; coming back made me see I could never escape completely. I hope things will be different for Jason though; he doesn’t have the same demons that I have.

  ‘Where would I go? What would I do?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know the answer to that, but cycling is something that people do all over the world. I remember seeing a documentary about a town in Wisconsin that is one of the most bike-friendly places on earth. My husband is into biking, too, so we watch things like that. I think it was called Madison. I bet you could go there.’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’

  ‘What is keeping you here, Jason? What exactly are you doing here? Sell your stuff and get out. A handsome young English man in America – I bet you would do great over there. Just think about it,’ I say, knowing that he has no intention of doing so. This place has its hooks in him; he will never get away. At least I tried, at least I planted the seed.

  I pull out my phone and look for a real estate agent in Madison.

  ‘You really think that’s possible?’

  ‘Look at this. I don’t know the city at all but this house is two hundred thousand; I bet your place is worth much more than that – there isn’t much around here that isn’t. Sell the business too and you’ll have enough to plonk yourself there instead of here and you have a brand new life ready to go. The great lakes are there too. It would be amazing.’

  I show him my phone, displaying a colonial-looking, grey, two-bedroom house with one of those porch verandas with a swing seat that always make me so jealous.

  He laughs and a big smile breaks out across his face. He actually needed someone to point out to him that he deserved more than this existence of getting high on his own in the back of an empty bike shop.

  ‘Are you really here?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Today has been weird, almost like a dream. A few hours with you and I feel completely different. If only we had been friends all those years ago. Maybe things could have been different. No one has had this profound an effect on me in such a short space of time.’

  ‘I promise I’m real.’

  ‘Well, thank you, Felicity “Icantrememberyourlastname”, I think you might be my guardian angel or something. A beacon of light in the monotony of my daily existence.’

  ‘I just think you could do so much more. Don’t settle for what life gives you.’

  He leans over and kisses me on the mouth, tender but not sleazy in any way, like a full stop at the end of a sentence. I don’t know why but I don’t recoil. He pulls away and looks down, embarrassed.

  ‘Sorry, I just wanted to check you were really here. Cheeky, I know.’

  ‘Well, it was nice seeing you again, Jason. I have to get back to my hotel now.’

  ‘I have to go play Warcraft with my guild,’ he says with a grin. ‘You know, you’ve changed a lot. You’re not like the girls who stayed here, you seem more alive somehow.’

  If only he knew how wrong he was.

  My first interaction with someone from the past has been a positive one and I really wasn’t expecting it to go that way. In my mind I had built this place up as my own personal axis of evil, where everything and everyone was out to get me.

  I am tired and I am hungry. I watch as Jason disappears around the corner and head back towards town to get another drink.

  In the pub I get a sandwich for dinner; it’s a fancy one served on a wooden board with a smattering of leaves on the side. I look at my phone; no calls from Chris today. That voice in the back of my head tells me he’s just keeping me around out of sympathy, even though I know that’s stupid. I don’t want to indulge in my self-doubt right now, so I go back to the bar and order a drink, just a half of beer this time. When I get there the bar staff, a young man with a name badge that says Paul and a woman my age called Flora, are chatting in hushed tones.

  ‘Do they know who it is?’ Flora asks.

  ‘It’s got to be her, hasn’t it?’ Paul replies.

  ‘How sure are you about it?’

  ‘I told you my brother works in the pub there and there’s police everywhere. They found a body.’

  The words ring out in my ears. Am I too late? I had hoped that maybe I could have found out something first; like maybe I could have saved her if I just figured out what was going on.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I interrupt, ‘did you say they found a body? Do you mean the Green girl?’

  ‘Yes, they had the cadaver dogs up at the Bulverton Woods and they found something,’ Paul responds.

  ‘Is it her?’ I ask.

  ‘Who else is it going to be?’ Paul says.

  It could be anyone. I don’t think anyone realises the secrets buried in this little valley town.

  I pay for my food and leave. I remember what a nightmare it is to get taxis around
here so I rush back to the hotel to pick up the car. I know I shouldn’t drive, I know I am over the limit, but I need to know what they found in the woods. I don’t know how close I can even get, but I have to try.

  I jog most of the way to the hotel, which isn’t the greatest idea after a day of vodka and beer. My head feels fuzzy. I take the keys and get in the car. At least there is a bottle of water in the space between the seats. It’s half finished and I don’t know how long it’s been in the car, but I don’t really care about the bacteria at this point. I drink the water in the hope that it will sober me up a little. I don’t feel drunk, but I know how much I have had over the course of the day. I didn’t think I would need to drive.

  I pull out of the hotel car park and into the road, past the terrace where I was sitting with Jason and up the road towards the Bulverton Woods. I don’t know why I feel so urgent about getting there when she is already dead, but I need to know for sure that she is gone, that there is no hope for her. Maybe one of the police officers will speak to me. The traffic on the way to the woods is tight and slows at the bottleneck with All Saints Road. I can feel myself getting closer to both the woods and the street my old family home is on. I wanted to avoid seeing it if I could. I know I shouldn’t, but I close my eyes as I drive past the turning, tears falling. I can’t help but wonder what it looks like now; I wonder if the years of neglect have been unkind. A part of me hopes the place has been swallowed into the ground.