She waited, watching as they thought about what she’d said, puzzled lines creasing their foreheads, eyes blinking rapidly, neither of them wanting to be the first to ask, what do you mean? Wind whistled around the outside of the car, but inside, there was a silence heavy with expectation.
Into it, she dropped what should have been said a long time ago. ‘Matt Peters didn’t commit suicide.’
36
Beth waited for one of them to speak. The final lie, her lie. It was time the whole truth was out to put a stop to all the misplaced guilt.
Megan frowned and exchanged confused glances with Joanne before both looked at Beth. ‘I don’t understand,’ Megan said. ‘Are you saying he’s still alive? That it wasn’t his body they found?’
Beth watched Joanne’s eyes brighten as she clutched at this hope, her hands clasped together under her chin, as if she were saying a prayer. ‘Is that it?’ Joanne asked and there was the same note of hope in her voice. ‘Seriously? Did he run away? Is that it?’
Looking at the suddenly alert women she’d known half her life, Beth wanted to laugh, scream and have the same hysterics as Joanne had had earlier. It would be so much easier if she could say, yes, that Matt Peters was sunning himself on some tropical island surrounded by a bevy of beautiful women. She could say it; she was a very, very good liar. She saw their expressions fill with expectation, looking relieved, almost happy, ready to believe, desperate to believe that the huge burden from their past could be so easily erased. Her mind spinning, she rested her forehead against the seat. She could say it. What was so wonderful about the truth anyway? It certainly hadn’t worked for Megan and Trudy.
Raising her head, Beth met her friends’ eyes. She could have spun a tale about it not being his body they’d found, that he’d been seen since in Jamaica or somewhere. It might have worked except for one big problem: Joanne’s email. The shit was going to hit the fan when that came out and Beth didn’t want to be around for it.
Anyway, lies had got them into this mess in the first place. ‘That night, Megan,’ Beth said. ‘You were so convincing, I never for a moment doubted what had happened to you.’ She reached out to Megan, grabbing her hand when she saw her mouth twist in anguish. ‘I’m not judging, not at all, I’m just trying to explain. I rang you every day, remember? You always sounded so sad, so lost.’ Beth turned her focus onto Joanne. ‘And I saw that guilt was eating away at you, Jo. Maybe I should have told you then that I knew you’d lied but, there was a bit of me that thought it served you right for not stopping Megan from going off with that man.’
Wind had reached a crescendo, battering the small light Suzuki and drowning out Megan’s sobs. They sat, the three of them, linked by hands, shared memories and deep regrets. ‘I came back a day later,’ Beth said so quietly her words were almost lost.
‘What?’ Joanne said, leaning forward, Megan’s hand clenched once more in hers. ‘What did you just say?’
‘I came back,’ Beth said again, raising her voice to be heard. ‘You were both so sad, so lost, I couldn’t rest until I’d made him pay.’
She saw a look of puzzled disbelief appear on her friends’ faces. ‘He might have come across as a loyal family man to you, Megan, but I had no problem persuading him to come for a moonlight walk with me.’ Beth gave a harsh laugh. ‘You know better than any of us, Jo, how much you can persuade a man to do with the promise of a great blow job.’
Lifting her free hand, she jerked her thumb towards the coastal path. ‘I brought him here. He was a bit impatient to get down to the nitty-gritty and tried to persuade me to do it in the car, but I told him I had a thing about doing it in the open air and persuaded him to walk with me. It was a lovely night; balmy with a clear sky sparkling with stars.’ Her laugh was cynical. ‘A night for romance, really, but he was only interested in one thing. He kept grabbing my hand and holding it against his bulging dick.’
‘Oh God,’ Megan gasped, her hand going to her mouth. ‘Oh God, don’t tell me–’
‘Don’t tell you?’ Beth interrupted her. She saw the truth dawning in Megan’s expressive eyes and squeezed her hand. ‘It’s time it came out. It was easy, actually, he was so obsessed with what I was going to do for him, his brain firmly lodged in his genitals, that he wasn’t even aware we’d wandered off the path towards the cliff edge.’ Beth’s eyes narrowed. ‘I remember he was fiddling with his zipper, desperate to release his erection. I whispered into his ear that it was almost time and asked him to take a couple of steps backward.’ Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. ‘He didn’t hesitate. For a fraction of a second, he seemed to hang there suspended, his eyes wide in absolute horror, hands reaching out for me, his mouth opening in a pathetic scream for help and then, puff, he was gone. I was convinced I heard the splash his body made when it hit the water but I was probably imagining it.’
‘You killed him!’ Joanne’s voice was hardly more than a whisper. ‘All these years, I thought I was to blame, and no matter how many times I tried to convince myself that he deserved to die for what he’d done to Megan and for causing his wife such pain, in the back of my mind the guilt at being responsible for his death ate at me. All these years!’ She looked at Beth with tear-filled eyes that narrowed with anger.
‘We never spoke about it so I didn’t know you’d gone down and talked to his wife, did I?’ Beth said defensively. ‘If you’d told me, I’d probably have–’
‘Probably?’ Joanne said with a sneer stretching her mouth. ‘You’d probably have told me you’d murdered a man? Lured him up here and pushed him off the cliff. I think not!’
Beth gave a sad half-smile of acknowledgement. ‘No, maybe not.’
Megan looked bleak and stunned.
‘That’s why I couldn’t let you kill yourself today, Megan. Or you, Joanne,’ Beth said, reaching out to grab Joanne’s hand and hold it tightly. ‘The guilt is all mine. And if anyone is going to finish it tonight, it’s going to be me. I’ve nothing else to lose.’ She looked directly at Megan. ‘You were right, my Fed rep rang before we left. They’re charging me with intentionally encouraging something or other.’ She waved a hand. ‘Whatever it is, they’re waiting for me to turn myself in. I’ll do time, probably a lot of it, there’s no question.’ She glanced through the window at the dark threatening sky. ‘This is a good place to end it.’
Without another word, Beth released both their hands and opened the car door. Instantly, the door was grabbed by the wind and wrenched from her hand. Ignoring it, and the alarmed shouts from her friends, she crossed to the coastal path and ran along it, battling the wind to stay on her feet. She knew the exact spot she was looking for. It had stuck in her memory, just a few yards beyond an information board where the path widened slightly.
Twenty years had passed but she found it without a problem.
‘Stop,’ Megan said, hurrying to catch up behind her, Joanne trailing a few yards to the rear. ‘There’s no need for this.’
Beth smiled and unbuttoned her coat. ‘Go back to the car, this is right for me.’
‘You won’t be able to,’ Megan said. ‘I couldn’t. I stood there for ages.’ She looked out to where foam-topped waves raced across a heaving grey sea and back to where Beth was removing her shoes. ‘Joanne,’ she said desperately, ‘tell her!’
Joanne laughed, a wild look in her eyes. ‘I couldn’t do it either, Megan, but maybe together?’ She unbuttoned her jacket as she spoke, folding it neatly and laying it down at the side of the path. She picked up Beth’s discarded coat and, folding it, laid it beside hers.
Beth smiled at her. ‘Tidy to the end, Joanne.’
‘Can’t let our standards slip,’ her friend replied, unbuttoning her shirt, wincing as she pulled a scab free, looking at the blood on her arm with a wry smile. ‘At least I’ll never have to explain the scars.’
Laughing, Beth pulled off her jumper, dropped it on top of her coat and then undid her bra. With a chuckle, she held it up. Watching as the cups filled with wind, she let i
t go and laughed as it blew away to dance in the breeze before dropping down, down and out of view. Naked, goosebumps rising on her arms and legs as the rain lashed, ropes of wet hair swirling in the wind, she watched Megan shuffle from foot to foot, mixed emotions crossing her face.
And then with a sigh, she shouted, ‘I couldn’t live without Trudy anyway.’
In all the years they’d been friends, Beth had never seen Megan naked. Even now, when she’d peeled off her sodden outer clothes, she was shy about taking off her bra and the surprisingly sexy thong she wore. Unlike Beth, she held her underwear tightly, folding and placing them under her clothes. ‘I don’t want people to think I wasn’t wearing any,’ she said with such a serious look that Beth smiled, leaned closer and kissed her cold wet cheek.
When the wind threatened to blow their clothes away, Joanne insisted on moving them to a nearby natural indentation surrounded by grassy clumps. Beth wanted to shout at her that it didn’t matter but, instead, she wiped the rain from her eyes and watched Joanne fold all their clothes neatly and place their shoes tidily on top to anchor them. Beth laughed when she picked up her red flats and raised an eyebrow at the scuffed heels.
‘I never did get you into Louboutins, did I?’ Joanne said, putting the shoe down neatly.
‘You failed dismally in your mission to smarten me up,’ Beth said, slipping an arm around Megan’s waist. ‘Luckily, Megan was smart enough for the two of us.’
Beth watched Joanne scrutinise the piles of clothes.
‘It’s not quite right,’ she said and then, with a wink for Megan and Beth, she reached down, pulled a sleeve from the middle pile and tied it to a sleeve from the pile on either side so the three were linked. ‘Better,’ she said then stepped backward.
All three were shivering. Beth looked up and down the coastal path. Rain still fell heavily and it was hard to see more than a few hundred yards. It was unlikely anyone was going to be walking along the path, unlikely anyone would try to stop them.
‘This is it, isn’t it,’ Beth said, reaching to pull first Megan and then Joanne into a hug.
The three women stood like that for several minutes, their hair intertwining, their arms wrapped around one another, rain running down their naked bodies. But there were no worried looks, no awkward words of doubt. Each face was set, resolved, determined.
‘What will they think when they see them?’ Megan said, nodding to the tidy piles.
‘Perhaps that there were three friends who’d had enough?’ Joanne suggested.
Beth stared at their clothes. Joanne had not just tied loosely; she’d knotted the sleeves together. ‘They’ll think that there were three women who shared something that kept them together, in life and in death,’ she said. Pulling away, she turned slowly, making a complete circle and taking in a final look at their surroundings. She slicked her wet hair back and with a dreamy expression looked out to sea. ‘Time to go,’ she said, reaching a hand out to her friends.
‘Just one more thing,’ Megan said. ‘I wasn’t sure whether I should take it with me or not.’ She held her left hand to her mouth and kissed the engagement ring before sliding it from her finger, and with a final lingering look, dropped it into her shoe. ‘That’s it.’ She took Beth’s right hand.
Joanne took Beth’s left one and together they walked across the rough ground to the edge of the cliff, the howling wind buffeting them, rain lashing their bodies. In front of them, the grey sea and sky blended together so that there was no beginning, no end.
‘Goodbye,’ Beth said, squeezing their hands.
Megan squeezed back. ‘God speed.’
Joanne waved towards the sea with her free hand. ‘Despite everything, it’s been great,’ she said, ‘but now our future awaits.’
They smiled at each other one last time and took another step forward, their toes curling around the edge of the cliff, their hair blown back by the force of the wind, rain continuing to wash them so that their bodies were slick.
Beth gave a final squeeze to each of the hands she held. ‘Still time to change our minds,’ she said and felt their hands tighten in response. It seemed nobody was having second thoughts.
‘Okay,’ she shouted into the wind, ‘let’s go.’
And they went soaring.
37
The call came through at 8am. A man walking his dog had seen something strange on the coastal path just outside Capel-le-Ferne and phoned it in. The duty sergeant seeing PC Bourke trying to avoid his eyes, barked, ‘Bourke!’ He waited until the man raised his head to look at him before saying in a more controlled voice, ‘Go and find out what this guy is talking about. He won’t say anything other than “It’s strange”. He’s waiting for you in the coastal path car park outside town.’
PC Miller hid a grin as Bourke scowled. They’d been sitting around since they came on shift an hour before, Bourke citing paperwork every time Miller said they should go and see what was happening in the world. It would be good to get out and find out what had concerned the man. Something strange could be anything. Recently, she’d been called out for a dead animal that was frightening children and for obscene and offensive graffiti scrawled across the noticeboards along the cliff path.
Bourke was probably the laziest officer she’d ever had the misfortune to work with in her short year as a police constable. She listened to him grumble all the way to the car where he insisted, as usual, on doing the driving. It didn’t bother her, she much preferred to sit looking out the window at the scenery, this part of the country still being new to her. Not that there was much to see that morning, the heavy cloud hiding the sun, slowing the daybreak. At least, she thought, the rain had stopped and the wind had died down to a gentle breeze.
Ten minutes later, they pulled into the car park, seeing the man waving frantically as if they, for some reason, were going to pass him by. Bourke pulled over and stopped beside him.
‘Mr Rumsey?’ Miller said, getting out. She knew Bourke would stay in his seat unless she needed him, which suited her just fine.
The man who stood waiting was trying to control a large dog straining at the leash, tongue lolling, breath coming in large odorous pants, slobber hanging from the corners of its wide mouth. ‘Yes, that’s me,’ Rumsey said and indicated the path just behind. ‘It’s not far, shall I show you?’
‘If you wouldn’t mind, sir,’ Miller said politely and fell into step beside him, steering clear of the dog. Not that she minded dogs, but she wasn’t keen on slobber. Rumsey, she was glad to see, was right about the distance. It was only a few hundred yards from the car park. She stopped him with a raised hand as he pointed towards something unidentifiable a few feet ahead. ‘Did you touch anything?’
‘No,’ he hurried to say. ‘I had Brandy on the leash, he was heading towards it but I pulled him away. I knew immediately there was something not right.’
Miller could see why as they moved a little closer. Just beside the path, in a small natural hollow, sat three piles of clothes. Each was tidily done, the garments folded and placed one on top of the other. Finishing off each, a pair of shoes sat neatly facing the same direction. They’d been there a while. The clothes were wet, the shoes holding a layer of rainwater. Debris had blown in to decorate the piles with dead leaves, twigs and even a crumpled crisp packet.
‘Is it okay if I go?’ Rumsey asked. ‘It’s exhausting holding Brandy like this.’
Miller saw the strain on his face that was due in some measure to the dog’s continuous attempt to get away and the knowledge that was clear in the sadness of his eyes. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said gently. ‘We will need to get a statement, if you leave my colleague your address we can come and take it later, if you’d prefer.’
With a final glance at the sad collection, Rumsey headed back to the car park, leaving her alone. Squatting down, she looked more closely at the clothes, drawing a quick breath when she noticed something odd. At first, she thought it was accidental that the piles of clothes seemed to be joined, somethi
ng done perhaps by the wind. But, after examining them from each side and noting the unusual neatness, she realised a sleeve had been unfolded and extended to touch a sleeve from the next pile. Not just touching, they were knotted so that each was linked to the other. ‘Like holding hands,’ Miller muttered, standing up.
Looking down, she saw that the shoes had more than rainwater in them. Items of jewellery had been put inside, the early morning sun making what looked like a diamond ring in one shoe sparkle. Miller squatted down again. Three women. Friends.
Raising her eyes, Miller looked across to the sea where white-topped waves raced in the breeze. She’d been taught not to leap to conclusions but it seemed clear what this was. A suicide pact. Three friends had come here and had jumped. From their belongings, she could tell at least two of the women were well-to-do. Miller wondered if she’d ever discover why they did such a terrible thing.
Taking out her phone, she took a few photos. She’d send them to the detectives who would be investigating. They’d come out themselves, of course, but just in case, it was always good to have photos of what they found on arrival. Three women. Miller wondered again what their story was, what had driven them to such a sad end. There was only one car in the car park; she guessed that belonged to one of them. It would give the investigators a head start in identifying who they were. She was relieved it wasn’t her job to notify family and friends.
She stood, the wind picking up once more to toss her short hair and howl in her ears. Brushing the hair from her eyes, she took a last look at the clothes before walking away, turning back with wide eyes as she heard a sibilant whisper that seemed to drift on the wind. She wasn’t a woman given to flights of fancy but, later, she would tell her partner that she was sure the word she’d heard hissed was lies.
The Three Women Page 22