The Heatwave

by Katerina Diamond

  Her parents were going away this weekend and were trusting her to stay home alone for the most part. Except she wouldn’t be alone as Felicity was staying over. No doubt Felicity would turn on the charm and her visit would be completely dominated by trying to get Tim’s attention. What’s more, she would succeed. Jasmine had seen it a hundred times before. Felicity liked to stay at Jasmine’s house and play happy families whenever she could. Jasmine rarely went to stay at hers. Carol, Felicity’s mother, was not really a mother at all, more like a sibling who had been forced into babysitting and rebelled against that at every opportunity. At her house there were always drug paraphernalia on the table and no shortage of drinks. You wouldn’t know any of this to look at Felicity – she did a remarkable job of acting confident – but sometimes she was a little over-eager, a little too overbearing with it, trying too hard to be like everyone else.

  After what had happened at the fair Jasmine’s parents had obviously decided that Tim was trustworthy enough to be left alone with her for two nights. Since Jasmine had turned fourteen, they had these little weekends away every few months. They had always said she needed the opportunity to show them she could be trusted. Usually she just set up a projector in their old back yard and she and Felicity would watch horror movies together. It wasn’t herself she was worried about this time though, it was Tim. Every time she decided he was on the level, he did or said something to make her think otherwise. Were her parents completely oblivious to his strange behaviour?

  She heard her parents leave for work before she stepped outside of her room. She didn’t want to speak to them. All they wanted to talk about these last couple of days were her feelings and whether she was sure she didn’t need to see a counsellor about what happened to Mr Morrell. She could tell they were glad he was dead, too. She wasn’t mad at them for being concerned but she found it strange that they hadn’t picked up on how odd Tim was. Half scared and half excited by Tim’s presence, she had started to make up little scenarios in her head of Tim finding ways to spend time with her, finding ways to be in the room with her.

  When she came downstairs the kitchen was empty, but her mother had left a toasted sandwich on the counter for her. There was a note on the fridge, a list of instructions for the weekend. She would read it later. She picked up the sandwich and went to stand by the French doors to the garden. She watched the guest house from the corner of her eye while she ate. To her surprise the door opened and Tim came outside. She wasn’t ready for this. He walked over to the house and stared straight at her. He had a very leisurely stride, swinging his arms and tilting his head to the side as he moved, always squinting a little. He knocked on the door and Jasmine opened it.

  ‘Your dad asked me to check if you had rehearsals tonight or something and need me to take you after school?’

  ‘No. They haven’t started yet; I told him that already. I’ll be home at the usual time. My friend Felicity is coming to stay tonight.’

  ‘Great.’ He pushed the door to close it.

  ‘Do you want some breakfast?’ Jasmine blurted without thinking. She wanted to ask him about the night at the fair and this was the first opportunity she had had. ‘I could make you a cheese toastie.’

  ‘Thanks, that would be nice.’

  She walked over to the cupboard and pulled the toasted sandwich maker out. It was still a little warm from when her mother had used it earlier. Tim walked over to the counter and leaned against it, folding his arms. His biceps bulged a little and she tried not to look. He was fit but not muscular. His slender body was at least a foot taller than her own and she wondered if that was why he seemed to lean back in any scenario, to seem smaller and less intimidating. His eyes were always slightly narrowed, almost squinting, like he was scrutinising everything; it was another thing about him that made her suspicious.

  She buttered the bread, all the while aware of him watching her.

  ‘Did you go back out after you brought me home the night of the fair?’ she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  ‘No. I went to bed. Why would I go back out?’

  ‘I don’t know, I just wondered if you saw Mr Morrell again after you found me with him.’

  She looked at him, trying to see if he was giving anything away but he never did and now was no exception.

  ‘I saw you at the fair talking to someone, then you disappeared again. Then what happened with Mr Morrell happened. It was really lucky you turning up when you did.’

  ‘Do you think I’m following you? Why would I do that?’ He stood up straighter, making her feel smaller, more vulnerable. She looked at him again and he was looking straight at her, which made her think maybe she was being paranoid about the whole thing. Mr Morrell’s appearance out of nowhere was more suspicious than Tim’s; the teacher was probably lying in wait for a chance to talk to her. Maybe her constant suspicion of Tim was unfair and just a by-product of her encounters with Morrell.

  ‘Do you want tomato in it?’

  ‘No. I like the roof of my mouth as it is, thanks,’ he said, his voice softening, shifting the tone of the conversation.

  She laughed a little and he smiled, and all she could do was concentrate on breathing because she wanted to hold her breath. The sandwich was in the toaster and they were both waiting for the cheese to drip out of the sides, which was how she knew it was done. Jasmine looked at the clock. She was going to miss her bus, but she didn’t care if she was late. The silence was awkward; she could feel him trying to look anywhere but at her. She wondered why that was. The dynamic between them was strange, as though they were both slightly wary of one another. He was trying to read her as much as she was trying to read him. Although she knew it didn’t make sense and although she knew there was something dangerous about him, it didn’t feel directed at her. He deserved the benefit of the doubt, didn’t he?

  She put the sandwich on the plate and looked at the clock again. She had less than five minutes to get her bag, get her shoes on and get to the bus stop. She was dreading putting on the school blazer, which didn’t seem to be made for either hot or cold weather.

  ‘You keep looking at that clock. Am I making you late?’ Tim asked as she handed him the sandwich.

  ‘I’ll get the next bus,’ she replied as their eyes connected for a brief moment. His eyes were a dark blue today, like a thunder cloud. They seemed to be different every time she caught them.

  ‘I can drive you.’

  The thought of sitting next to him in the car excited her, like she was doing something she shouldn’t. She felt like she was at the beginning of one of her daydreams as this was how they started, a situation that she hadn’t engineered where they got to be alone together in a confined space.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Let’s go.’

  She followed behind and watched him. He checked up and down the street before getting in his car. She wondered what he was looking for. As he changed gears, she noticed he was wearing a handwoven friendship bracelet. Jasmine thought that was the kind of gift you would be given by a girl, so her mind went into overdrive. Did he have a girlfriend? She had never even seen him speaking on the phone, but who knew what he did when he was alone in his room. Or the bracelet could be from a sister. Before she could ask about it, they were at the school. Felicity was standing at the gate and her eyes widened as she saw Jasmine get out of Tim’s car. Tim got out too, and leaned against the door jamb.

  ‘Who’s your friend?’ Tim asked, his crocodile smile in full effect.

  ‘I’m Flick,’ Felicity said. ‘Are you Jazz’s lodger?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Jasmine couldn’t help but feel tense at this interaction; Felicity always did know how to wrap males around her finger and Tim was someone Jasmine wanted to keep just for herself. Something sank inside her as they looked at each other; there was an instant ember there. At home, she hadn’t really been able to tell what she felt about Tim – she was torn between being grateful that he had intervened with Mr M
orrell and being suspicious of his stranger behaviours. Seeing the way he was sparking with Felicity invoked a new feeling entirely. She was jealous.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ Jasmine said to Tim, obviously hoping he would take his leave. He did a little salute as though he understood her instruction. She looked away quickly and he got back in the car and started the engine. Felicity pretend-screamed in excitement as Jasmine approached her, and she hoped that Tim couldn’t hear. She was so embarrassed, but when she turned back to look, his car was gone. He didn’t watch Jasmine to the last possible second like she watched him.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Now

  I sit in front of the beach huts by Jacob’s Ladder. I have my big shades on. The beach doesn’t seem as clean as I remember it, but there is no arguing that the view is stunning. There is something about the sea, it’s magnetic. I had forgotten, in my haste to get away from it, what it felt like to be near it. Our house is near Brothers Water lake, named after two boys who drowned there. Although it’s a morbid name it’s a pretty place, especially in the spring when the flowers on the banks are in bloom. The sea is a different beast though, less quiet, less contained, less predictable. It’s warm today so it’s calm, but I have seen it at its angriest and most spiteful. Underestimate it at your peril.

  Watching people with their children makes me think of my own. Chris still hasn’t called me. I think he’s making a point. I wish he would tell me what it is. I check the local news on my phone, but there’s still no identification of the body they found in the woods, just regurgitations of other accounts that I have already seen. They have been digging up there all through the night. I look for any mention of a brown car being spotted, hoping to find something to corroborate what I think I have seen. There are mentions of a car in the press but one cites it as maroon and another beige, both adding to my confusion. I am surprised the discovery of the body hasn’t made the national news, but the usual political shenanigans are overshadowing every other thing on the planet. As the media whip themselves into a frenzy about who said what to whom, Mandy Green’s murder goes unmentioned since that first report. If I hadn’t been watching the news at that exact moment I wouldn’t have known about this and I wouldn’t have come here. A part of me wishes I had never seen it at all.

  I haven’t touched any alcohol today. I was stupid yesterday, self-indulgent, afraid of the past. Meeting with Jason proved I didn’t need to be afraid, that people remember only what applies to them, which I am guilty of myself. I lied when I told Jason I didn’t remember the party where everyone played spin the bottle. I didn’t want him to think too much about me and who I used to be. The me he remembers had a terrible reputation at school. It took a long time to reinvent myself after leaving.

  Knowing what it’s like in the summer, I came to the beach at Jacob’s Ladder. It’s where most people go to swim as there is sand when the sea pulls back away from the pebbles while the tide is out. I scan the beach for familiar faces, no longer afraid of being discovered. Although Jason was high when I spoke to him, I think the meeting went well and proved that maybe I have been afraid unduly. I notice some women around my age gathered with a group of children and toddlers and watch them intently, getting closer so that I can hear their names. The one in the middle is called Claire; I remember her. We were never friends but she may remember me enough to talk to me.

  I take off my shoes and get up to walk towards the sea, past the women and through a toddler’s sandcastle.

  ‘Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,’ I say as I kick through one of the towers.

  The child immediately bursts into tears at the sight of the destroyed moat and towers.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, it’s nothing, really.’ The woman, Claire, jumps up and rushes over to him, quickly scooping him up and smiling at me.

  ‘I didn’t even notice it,’ I lie.

  ‘This is going to sound really weird, but do I know you? You seem really familiar,’ Claire says, checking me up and down.

  ‘I don’t know, I’m not local.’ I swallow hard and hope she doesn’t just dismiss me. I feel like she is more likely to open up to me if she doesn’t think I’m interrogating her.

  ‘No, there’s definitely something familiar about you. My name is Claire Thorpe, I used to be Claire Woods. Did you go to school with me?’

  ‘Oh, maybe. I used to live here. My name’s Felicity …’

  ‘Felicity! Flick! I knew I remembered you. They used to call you Fuck, because when you wrote your name out in cursive that’s what it looked like.’ Claire blushes as she speaks. ‘Why do I remember that? God, I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ I laugh; I had actually forgotten about that.

  ‘Why don’t you come sit with us?’ she asks, gesturing to another woman with a small child, who waves back at us when she sees Claire pointing. I smile at the other woman.

  ‘OK.’

  I sit with these two women I barely knew at school, hoping they are more interested in talking about themselves than asking me questions. Claire has straightened blonde hair to her shoulders and a full face of make-up; she obviously has no intention of getting in the sea. The other woman has a similar haircut; they probably have the same hairdresser. I feel a little jealous as I miss having a best friend; it’s been a long time – unless you count Chris, which I do but it really isn’t the same. They both have small children and I think about my own, and how young I was when I had Daisy. I wish I had brought Daisy and Lloyd with me. I feel sad that I have to keep this part of myself from them.

  ‘Do you remember Flick?’ Claire says to her friend, who I don’t recognise at all. ‘Flick, this is Jenny Rawlings.’

  ‘A bit, I guess. We didn’t really talk much,’ Jenny says, one eye on her toddler, who is trying to steal another child’s pebble collection, despite the millions of pebbles in the immediate vicinity.

  ‘Are you down for the summer?’ Claire asks.

  ‘No, just a week.’

  ‘Well, you picked a hell of a week. It’s been all drama all the time,’ Claire says excitedly.

  ‘I noticed, it’s crazy.’

  ‘Our Neil said they have had loads of overtime and they have even brought in some outside police to deal with all the stuff they have going on,’ Jenny tells me, clearly desperate to do some gossiping.

  ‘Where did you move to then?’ Claire asks.

  ‘I moved to The Lake District. Got married, had two kids, the whole shebang.’

  ‘Wow. I went to a wedding up at Lake Windermere a few years ago and it was absolutely stunning. You lucky thing,’ Claire says. She is a lot friendlier than I remember her being at school. But in school you stick to your cliques and just assume no one knows what you are going through. Of course, in my case, it was true.

  ‘Your husband’s in the police?’ I say to Jenny, finally processing what she said before.

  ‘Well, partner, we aren’t married. Yeah, he’s a police officer.’

  ‘Is he working on the missing girl case?’

  ‘Everyone is. They thought they found her up at the Bully Woods, but it was someone else.’

  ‘I heard on the radio. No identification?’ I say. I can see that Jenny is excited at being questioned, like she is the holder of something precious and rare, like she is some kind of dealer. She leans in, a twinkle in her eye. Whispering as though she has never told anyone this before, which we all know isn’t true.

  ‘I shouldn’t say but seeing as you aren’t from round here anyway, I guess there’s no harm. It was someone who had been there a few years so it couldn’t be her.’

  I hope this isn’t the limit of her information as I already knew that bit of gossip. Thankfully, I can see that she has more.

  ‘Do they know who it is?’

  ‘Not exactly, but they did find some dog tags. Neil didn’t get a look at them so that’s all I know,’ Jenny says excitedly.

  I feel a little sick as I hear about the dog tags. That could be a coincidence, surely.


  ‘There’s no way it’s Mandy Green, that’s all I know. Maybe there’s a whole load of bodies up there in those woods,’ Claire says.

  ‘Don’t be so morbid!’ Jenny laughs.

  ‘Was it a girl’s body?’ I don’t want to press her any more about the dog tags directly; I think it would look weird. I’m almost certain Jenny is telling us absolutely everything she knows just to keep our focus on her. I get the impression she is very rarely the centre of attention.

  ‘Probably. Who knows? The killer must have dropped the tags in there,’ Jenny says dismissively, waving her hand. She watches as her child destroys another child’s sandcastle.

  ‘Do you keep in touch with anyone else from school?’ Claire asks me.

  ‘No, not at all.’

  ‘What about that girl you were always hanging around with – the little hippy chick?’ Jenny says.

  ‘That was Jasmine Burgess. Oh, I remember her. She was the one who had that affair with the English teacher. What was his name?’ Claire says.

  ‘Nah, he assaulted her, didn’t he? #MeToo and all that. Do you ever see her?’ Jenny asks.

  ‘I haven’t spoken to anyone from school since I moved away. Apart from Jason Evans, I spoke to him yesterday.’

  ‘Oh, he was an oddball for sure. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who took that Mandy Green girl,’ Jenny says confidently.

  ‘Have the police even questioned him?’ Claire asks.

  ‘Didn’t need to. One of the guys in Neil’s squad was in a pool tournament with him on the night she went missing. He probably would have been suspect number one otherwise,’ Jenny confides.

  ‘So he had a proper alibi and you still think it was him? That hardly seems fair,’ I say, trying not to sound too judgmental.

  ‘Well, they thought that teacher took Hannah Torrence, but they never found a body and he didn’t confess before committing suicide. I was just never convinced. That teacher got a bit of a raw deal if you ask me. I reckon it’s possible Jason did it. Kind of suspicious how Jason was the last person to see Hannah alive. I never liked him, to be honest.’ Jenny says and Claire nods sagely, as if they have figured something out that no one else has thought of.