The Heatwave

by Katerina Diamond

  ‘I saw Jason that night at the fair, I went on a ride with him. She definitely left before him,’ I lie. I am reminded of why we didn’t hang out with these girls at school. Even with a rock-solid alibi Jason has already been convicted in the court of public opinion. I hope he’s in the process of selling everything and moving away from here. I know it was the best thing I ever did. Once you get tagged with a label it becomes very hard to shake.

  ‘So, are you married to anyone we might know?’

  ‘No, no one from round here.’ I pull up a photo of Chris on my phone – he always calls himself my trophy husband. Chris is surprisingly good-looking for such a kind man. He has no ego, no agenda, he’s just really nice. It’s one of the things that makes me so paranoid about losing him to another woman. He wouldn’t have a clue if someone was putting the moves on him. He takes people at face value because that’s how he is, no hidden secrets, no mendacious layers under the veneer. He is just a good guy. I smile as I look at his face. I miss him.

  ‘Very cute,’ Claire says with raised eyebrows. I can see she wants to say something else but she thinks better of it. In my mind I hear her asking what on earth he is doing with someone like me although that’s probably not what she was going to say at all. I look at his face; it’s a picture I took of him at the breakfast table. Nothing special about that day, he was just sitting with a piece of toast in his hand staring out of the window and I took the picture without him knowing. I often look at that picture and wonder what he was thinking. I was this wild crazy person when he met me, like a stray dog that he took in and looked after. My saviour, my protector. So many people in my life turned out to be someone different to who I thought they were, including myself. Not Chris though, never Chris.

  I put my phone in my pocket and slip my shoes back on before standing up.

  ‘It’s been really great catching up, but I have to go into town,’ I tell them. I have already got more information than I expected.

  ‘Great to see you too,’ Jenny and Claire say in unison, clearly pleased that I have decided to leave.

  I wave a little and then make my way across the pebbles and back onto the concrete before going up the wooden steps to the gardens above. It’s funny how everything seems smaller now that I am older. These stairs seemed never-ending when I was younger, like a ladder to the sky, which was obviously why it was called Jacob’s Ladder. Maybe it’s because my home is in the vast expanse of The Lake District and this town, this county, is so full of nooks and crannys that it’s hard to see further than a few hundred feet at any given time, unless you are looking straight out to sea.

  The gardens are exactly as I remember. The small café busy as ever in these summer months. Throughout the gardens are hidden benches and there is one in particular I want to find. At school it was known as the kissing bench, because it was hidden.

  I find the bench and sit on it. Names I don’t recognise are carved into the wood on every available space. I wonder if it’s even the same bench at all. It doesn’t matter though, it doesn’t matter that the names or even that the bench is different. This is the bench I had my first ever kiss on. It was a good kiss, messy and awkward but a fond memory nonetheless. I stroke the wood and feel the balance restoring inside me. I spent so long hating this place and the people here that I forget that it’s just a place. It’s just geography, nothing else. The things that made it bad were nothing to do with the trees, the coast, the pebbles on the beach, the shops or the houses. None of that was the reason I ran away. There are places I haven’t been yet because I am afraid. It’s not the places I fear though, it’s the memories that come with them. Just being here in this garden proves how much I can hide from myself. If someone had asked me just last week what the gardens looked like I could have given an overall picture, but being here has brought my memory of it to life. I can almost hear the voices of people I knew in the past and when I close my eyes I am right back there, just before my whole life fell apart.

  I move from the bench and walk out onto the clifftop terrace that looks out over the sea. I never did like heights. I place my hand on the rocks and move forward until my hips are pressed against the rocky wall, the jagged stone edges digging into me. I feel the cold stone against my fingers as I grip and lean forwards, stepping on one of the black box lights that illuminate the walls at night. I’m feeling dizzy as I look at the slimy green rocks below. The tide is out but in my mind I see the water crashing against the side of the cliff, a memory clawing to the surface. My mouth feels dry and I find myself leaning further over the side, a part of me wanting to hurtle myself to the ground below to stop this madness. I think about the dog tags and know that I am running out of ways to avoid the places I need to revisit the most, scared of who I may encounter there. The more I find out, the more I want to run again.

  I snap back to the present when I hear a woman cry out and feel a hand on my dress, pulling me backwards. I let go of the wall and tumble backwards, relieved when my bottom hits the paved path.

  ‘Are you all right, love?’ she says to me, her wide eyes and flushed cheeks far too close to me. ‘You looked like you was going over.’

  ‘I was just looking at the waves,’ I say unconvincingly, knowing that my face is ashen.

  ‘Let me help you get to a bench or something.’

  I get to my feet and smile, trying to look less out of sorts than I feel. Past the woman’s head at the far end of the path I see someone looking at me, except they aren’t looking, they are watching. I push past the lady who helped me and walk towards the figure. She calls out after me angrily but I just keep moving, my hip sore from the fall, the faintest limp slowing me down. The person is gone down the steps and around the corner before I can reach them. These labyrinthine gardens are hard to navigate if you don’t know your way around. I reach one corner and see the person disappear just ahead of me out through the gate and across the road to the car park. I am almost at the exit; I lose sight of the figure so I run faster, ignoring the bruise on my rump. I rush out and onto the road. I am stopped by the screech of tyres braking just a split second before the car hits me; it stopped but not soon enough. I feel myself fly through the air and land on the tarmac. My head hurts and my vision is blurred. I see people rushing towards me; I try to sit up but I am winded. The woman driving the red Mini Cooper that just hit me is crying as she checks my head for blood. I know I’m not seriously hurt but I may be concussed. The first thing I think is how glad I am that I hadn’t been drinking today; if I had died it would have got back to Chris and I promised him I would try to control myself.

  I manage to sit up, and through the legs of the people fussing over me and checking that I am OK I can see a car pulling out of the car park. It’s a brown car. I see it more clearly this time. I know that car. The dog tags, the car. It’s all pointing to one irrefutable answer.

  He’s back, and he knows what I did.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  In my hotel room I try to call Chris but it goes to voicemail. I managed to get out of going to the hospital by agreeing to let the woman who hit me drop me back at the hotel. I insisted I was fine but now that I am here alone I can feel where the car hit me. I really want to talk to the children. I feel like if I don’t do it now I may never get the chance again. I have places I need to go, places I can’t avoid any longer. I let this place get the better of me, I let myself get the better of me. I have the news on, waiting for the local segment to start, waiting to see if they have identified the body they found in the woods.

  Some story about an outbreak of food poisoning at the county show, another story about some business closures further south and finally a small segment on the body discovered in the woods. The police are looking for leads. They are still searching in the woods for Mandy Green. No information on the identification, just the news that the body had been there more than sixteen years, by the looks of it. Could it be Hannah? Were we all about to find out what had happened to her? I always suspected I knew but this w
asn’t the ending I was expecting.

  Maybe it’s not connected at all but how likely was that? How many killers are in this town?

  At the moment I only know of one. Me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Then

  She didn’t know how to feel about Felicity coming over tonight. As they walked towards the house together, Jasmine regretted inviting her. She acted like a tool sometimes and Jasmine wished there was a way to control her, but there wasn’t. Felicity’s home life meant she was in permanent self-destruct mode. Jasmine hoped Tim was out tonight and that they didn’t see him. She just wanted him to be only for her. Not to mention the fact that she didn’t know what he was capable of, how far he would go.

  Jasmine watched Felicity with fascination sometimes as she wrapped the boys in their class around her finger. It wasn’t about the way she looked or anything like that, it was something in her, like she was transmitting something invisible that drove them crazy. She was like catnip.

  They went inside and the house was empty. She noticed the breakfast plates from earlier had been cleaned and put away. Tim must have done it while she was at school. Felicity kicked her shoes off and flopped on the bench. Jasmine sat next to her.

  ‘I wish my parents would go away. I would throw such a killer party. Should we invite a bunch of people round?’ Felicity asked.

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘Or tomorrow. We’ve got the whole weekend.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s a great idea,’ Jasmine said, although she had to admit there might be safety in numbers. Having other people there might make things easier.

  ‘It’ll give you an excuse to get all dressed up.’

  ‘What do I need to get dressed up for?’

  ‘Oh Tim, thank you for coming to my party,’ Felicity said, mimicking Jasmine too loudly before erupting in a giggle.

  Jasmine slapped Felicity on the thigh and she yelped. Jasmine felt she deserved it; she had said it loudly, with the intention of Tim hearing. She was trying to embarrass her and it wouldn’t be the first time.

  ‘He’s just a lodger, that’s all. I don’t even like him.’

  ‘Sure you don’t.’ Felicity’s eyes widened excitedly as she spoke.

  ‘I don’t!’ Jasmine said in a voice a few octaves higher than absolutely necessary.

  ‘Thanks for having me over, you have no idea how much I appreciate it. I think Mum and Dan are on the brink of splitting up.’

  ‘Because of you?’

  ‘Oh God no, she doesn’t give a damn about that. He says things in front of her and she barely reacts. I like her so much better when she’s single.’

  ‘Do you think you’ll ever get married? I look at my parents and I can’t imagine being like them. They seem to always know what they are doing.’

  ‘I’m definitely getting married, as soon as I can. I don’t think I’ve got it in me to go to university or anything like that. I’d like to marry someone brilliant and live as far away from here as I can. I always fancied Scotland, find myself a rich man who wants a pretty wife.’

  ‘You would really leave?’

  ‘I see the kids that stay behind, they all end up the same, either selling dope at the school gates or in the same pub every single weekend until their livers finally pack up. I don’t want that.’

  ‘You think you could stay married to one man for ever ever?’

  ‘If he was the right man. Not like the idiots my mother goes for. Someone sweet and considerate. Someone who looks after me.’

  ‘What about kids?’ Jasmine said.

  ‘Sure, why not. I wouldn’t have just one though, that’s cruel. I hate being an only child. Don’t you?’

  ‘Sometimes. I guess.’

  ‘Imagine having a big brother or someone to talk to when your parents were being unreasonable. Not your parents, obviously; your parents are perfect,’ Felicity said as she stood up.

  ‘No one’s perfect,’ Jasmine replied before grabbing her bag.

  ‘Look, I basically want your life. Your parents are amazing and they clearly love each other. Who wouldn’t want what you have? The amount of times I’ve wished we could switch places. You have no idea how lucky you are, Jazz. I would kill to be you.’

  She went upstairs to get changed. Jasmine pulled out some black cropped jeans and a V-neck T-shirt. She didn’t want Felicity to think she was dressing to impress, so she kept it low key. Felicity burst into her room a few moments later and stripped off. She wasn’t as shy as Jasmine. If Jasmine didn’t know better, she would say she was deliberately doing it in front of the window. She didn’t want to have to compete with Felicity when it came to Tim’s attention. She was a bit taller than her, and Jasmine felt like she had the edge when it came to anything boy-related.

  Felicity put on a baggy maroon sweatshirt dress. She had cut the ribbing from the neck so that it hung off one shoulder and even though it wasn’t fitted it was definitely sexy, and the contrast with her black hair and rosy cheeks made it even more so. Jasmine tried to put that out of her mind. She didn’t know how Felicity could wear that sweater in this summer heat; her own thin T-shirt was already clinging to her damp skin.

  They went downstairs and Felicity put some music on the stereo in the kitchen. She opened the French doors and then started to dance and jump around to the music. Jasmine had known her a long time and she had never done this before. She knew it was all for Tim’s benefit. She didn’t even know if Tim was in the guest house or not; his curtains were always closed, no matter what time of day it was. Felicity pulled a bottle of vodka out of her school bag.

  ‘I took it from home, my mum won’t give a shit. I’ll just stick it back filled with water. Get me a Coke or something, would you?’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Jasmine asked, smiling, looking over to the guest house and hoping that Tim wouldn’t come out. Jasmine got a bottle of Coke from the fridge and poured out two glasses, then Felicity filled them to the top with vodka. Felicity went out onto the deck and sat at the table. Jasmine brought the vodkas out and sat with her. Jasmine took a sip; the vodka was so strong she couldn’t help but wince a little. It wasn’t refreshing. Jasmine couldn’t relax because she had a bad feeling about Felicity being there. Something bad was going to happen tonight, she could tell. Jasmine was so angry at herself for inviting her round now. Her parents had said they didn’t want her to be alone all weekend, but she couldn’t have gone to Felicity’s. The atmosphere there was always so tense and the place reeked of cigarettes and booze. Not that Jasmine was precious or anything, but it was more comfortable here.

  The door to the guest house opened and Tim leaned against the frame, holding a bottle of beer. He looked Felicity up and down before lifting the bottle up and wrapping his lips around the end. Jasmine hoped the sound of her breath catching wasn’t as audible as it felt. The butterflies in her stomach thrashed, indiscernible from nerves. The feeling of uneasiness she felt around him was amplified in Felicity’s presence. He squinted as he walked over to them and placed his beer on the table. He barely looked at Jasmine, and she saw his eyes flit across Felicity’s exposed shoulder. There was something peculiar about the way he reacted to Felicity being there. She felt complicit in it, as though she had brought her friend for him to play with. She observed the way he looked at Felicity, the same way a cat looks at a small defenceless bird. Is that what she had done? Why hadn’t she told Felicity about what happened at the fair? Why hadn’t she told her what she suspected Tim had done? She should have told her parents, too. They never should have left her alone with him and she never should have put Felicity in harm’s way. Why did she bring her here? She felt sick.

  Tim sat with them; he was laughing at the lame anecdotes that Felicity was telling them. Jasmine didn’t think half of them were true, but she smiled and nodded anyway. Occasionally Tim glanced over to Jasmine and the look on his face was so strange that she couldn’t tell what it meant. His smile dropped and he looked almost sad for just a split second before h
e started laughing at something Felicity did again. The nausea in Jasmine’s stomach was not helped by the vodka, but she didn’t want to be completely sober right now as she watched what was unfolding in front of her. The more she drank, the more resentful she felt. Maybe the fact that she was afraid of Tim made him more appealing to her; her fear and attraction had somehow mutated into one, almost dependent on each other. She knew she was being melodramatic, but she wanted to run away and hide. In a way this felt like a show for her benefit, but what did Tim have to gain by getting with Felicity, apart from the obvious? In the back of her mind she couldn’t help wondering why he had never behaved this way with her. Felicity wasn’t prettier than her, she knew she wasn’t. She just had something that Jasmine didn’t, confidence maybe.

  Tim’s beer ran out and he went back to his little house to get another one. Felicity leaned back in her chair with a look of accomplishment on her face. Jasmine really wanted her to go home, but she was stuck for now. Jasmine knew that Felicity was only rebelling against her own situation, acting out to feel different, to feel like someone else. It was a recurring theme. It wasn’t her fault; Jasmine had been to her house enough to know that she would probably feel the same way in Felicity’s place.

  The truth was, she was jealous. Over the last couple of weeks Jasmine and Tim had forged a special bond. Knowing that he might be a murderer, this worried Jasmine. She always wondered when she was reading her true crime books how these duos found each other, how they could meet and then know that they had a shared destiny, something huge that pulled them together, like a magnet. She could feel that magnetism from him and it scared her. Jasmine knew she had made too much of a point of saying she didn’t fancy him at all, and she actually hadn’t realised how much she did like him until she was in direct competition with her friend. She only had herself to blame for what was happening. Tim returned to the garden and he was holding a joint. Felicity looked excited at the prospect.