Last Witness
Page 29
Amanda climbed out of the car and reached Shane just as he dropped a single match into the dampened pile. Flames quickly burst to life, a brilliant flash of amber and orange against the bleak night.
‘We should pretend it’s one of our beach bonfires,’ Shane joked as he placed his arm around Amanda’s waist. She leaned against his side and watched the flames. They tore through her coat and caused the fingers of the plastic gloves to curl and blacken.
‘Do you think it’s really over now?’ The heat from the fire fell against the couple in radiating waves. Amanda peered up at Shane, saw the flames reflected in his green gaze.
He cleared his throat and hugged her tighter. ‘Yeah, of course.’
‘I don’t want someone calling me in four or five years telling me that they know what I’ve done. That they are coming for me.’
‘That won’t happen.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I won’t let it.’
The fire didn’t crackle. It just roared softly as he continued to pillage the piles of clothes offered up to its fury.
‘Do you think that Will thought it was really over for him? That he’d outrun his past?’
Shane considered this for a moment. ‘I think he did, yeah. Else he wouldn’t have planted so many roots. But he did – he got married, he bought a home. He was planning for a future, Amanda.’
‘Do you think he ever intended to return to Evangeline and Ewan?’
‘I can’t answer that.’
‘I used to like that he was this collection of secrets all jumbled together. It made him seem so mysterious,’ a bittersweet smile spread across Amanda’s face.
‘And now?’
‘I like that I know you. I know you almost as well as I know myself. There’s no surprises between us.’
‘You don’t think that will get boring?’ Worry crept into Shane’s voice as he turned to face her, cradling her face with his hands.
‘No,’ she pressed her lips against his. ‘I don’t.’
They kissed as the evidence burned. They lingered in the woods until it was just ash which Shane then scattered to the wind.
‘So, are you ready?’ he was walking back towards the car. The sky was full of a thousand stars and the smell of smoke still lingered in the air.
Amanda felt strangely at peace. As though since Will had left she’d been shackled to his secrets and now those restraints had been removed. ‘Ready?’
‘To go home?’ Shane nodded at his car.
The mileage on the car. Speed cameras. Amanda looked at the vehicle and saw a thousand new ways she could be caught. She felt like she was standing in snow, desperately trying to cover her tracks but in doing so she just created new ones. But she refused to live on a knife edge. If Will had managed to exist beneath the vast shadow of his past and all his previous wrongdoings then so could she.
‘Yeah,’ Amanda smiled and it felt genuine. ‘I’m ready to go home.’
Six Months Later
Amanda stood at the French doors her eyes fixed on the distant ashen sea while her hands were clasped around a floral porcelain mug filled with fresh coffee.
‘Will it snow soon?’ Ewan popped up at her side, dressed as a Power Ranger. He pressed his little palms against the doors and widened his eyes as he peered out at the landscape.
Beyond the garden of the small bungalow the world fell away and plummeted towards the sea. The sky was ripe with swollen silver clouds and there was a bite in the air which hinted at the imminent arrival of snow.
‘If it snows I promise we’ll go and build snowmen on the beach,’ Shane offered with a smile from where he sat on the sofa behind them, reading a book and toasting his toes in front of the log fire.
‘Snowmen! Yay!’ Ewan bounced on the spot and then sprinted back into the centre of the living room and his pile of toys which were haphazardly arranged on the rug beside the hearth. Amanda continued to linger by the doors. There were still boxes along the far wall demanding her attention. But the unpacking could wait. It was Sunday and Sundays were family days. In a few hours they’d walk the short distance to her mother’s cottage and when Corrine opened the front door the smell of roasted beef would instantly greet them. ‘So when do you think it will snow?’ Ewan tilted his head at the man reading on the sofa.
‘Any day now, champ. Just be patient.’
‘If it snows do I have to go to school?’ This question was divided between Amanda and Shane.
‘I guess that depends on how much it snows,’ Shane replied, turning the page in his book.
‘Well then I hope it snows loads and loads so that I get to stay home.’
Home.
The word tugged on Amanda’s heart, drawing her away from the doors and towards the warmth of the fire. Tender flames tangled together in the black Victorian fireplace. They wound themselves around the freshest log like a pack of snakes trying to constrict it.
Shane leaned forward to squeeze Amanda’s hand. He’d heard it too. The declaration of home. Right from Ewan’s lips. The little boy was finally settled into his new routine, his new way of life. The adoption papers were filed away in Amanda’s study. He was truly theirs. Truly home.
Sometimes he awoke from a dream asking for his mother. Occasionally he even asked for Will, although that was happening less frequently. His father seemed to be slipping out of his memories. Amanda fondly ruffled Ewan’s hair and stooped down to grab the nearest toy.
‘Who’s this again?’ she shook the toy, causing its wheels to rattle.
‘That’s Lightning McQueen,’ Ewan explained, puffing out his chest. He gingerly took the toy from her and rolled it across the carpet, making engine sounds. ‘He’s one of the fastest cars around. Wanna see?’ Ewan leapt up, his Thomas the Tank Engine slippers softly pattering across the floor as he hurried in the direction of the kitchen and its tiled surfaces. ‘Come on,’ he called to no one in particular.
‘I’m coming.’ Shane marked the place in his book and followed after the little boy.
Amanda looked around her home. Everything still smelt new – from the sofas to the plush rug beneath her feet. Even the furniture was new. Shane had spent an entire weekend piecing it all together and cursing the invention of flat-packs. But his hard work had paid off. The little bungalow was now a home; warm and inviting. Ewan’s bedroom looked out towards the sea and Amanda had painted the walls a vibrant shade of blue and adorned it with Marvel decals. Ewan loved it. He had bounced up and down on his bed when he was first allowed inside, bursting with gratitude.
Amanda and Shane’s room also overlooked the sea. The bed they shared was adjacent to the window, allowing her stunning views of moonlight dancing on distant waves as she drifted off to sleep.
‘Look how fast he is,’ Ewan’s bright voice floated in from the kitchen.
Amanda smiled and sipped at her coffee. She stepped closer to the fireplace, letting her hand rest upon the mantle. There was still so much unpacking to do. Every room was filled with boxes. But there was one box Amanda had opened up immediately when they moved in. Carefully placed towards the top of it were two framed pictures. They now stood at either end of her mantelpiece like a pair of bookends holding the fire between them.
In the picture closest to the kitchen, Amanda stood beside Will, smiling madly like she’d just won the lottery. He was smart in his suit and she was pretty in her modest dress. Whenever Amanda looked at the picture her heart skipped a beat. Will was so alive in the image, so handsome.
‘This is your dad,’ Amanda had explained to Ewan as she positioned the picture.
‘It’s a wedding picture.’
‘It is.’
‘Of you and my dad.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So you were married to my dad?’
‘I was.’
‘Then what about my mummy?’
Amanda knew that one day she’d have to sit Ewan down and explain what had happened to his parents. But she wanted to spare hi
m the grief of such a conversation for as long as she could.
‘He was married to your mummy too. For a time.’
‘Oh.’ Ewan had studied the picture at length as if hoping that his father would somehow reveal some of his secrets to him through his captured smile.
‘You don’t think it will confuse him, having that picture up?’ Shane had queried that night as they lay in bed together.
‘No, I don’t,’ Amanda curled against his chest, loving the feel of his beating heart. ‘I think it’s good for Ewan to see it. Will was his father. He should know about Will’s past because it’s ultimately part of Ewan’s story.’
And the topic had been dropped.
Amanda wandered towards the second picture on her mantelpiece. She was again wearing a wedding dress only this one was lace and it swept behind her in a pretty fishtail. There was a suited man beside her but it wasn’t Will. Shane’s green eyes sparkled, jumping out of the photograph, bright with joy. He wore a pale grey suit and had his hands on Amanda’s hips as he looked deep into her eyes. Behind them the sun was rising over a gentle ocean, turning the sky the colour of pink rose petals.
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Acknowledgements
A huge thanks needs to go out to the amazing Aria team; Caroline, Sarah, Yasemin and Nia. They continue to be extremely supportive of me and my work and I’m so grateful for all their guidance.
To my very patient husband, Sam, thanks for listening to all my frantic rambles whenever I ran plot ideas past you.
Lauren Graham – you kept me doubly entertained whilst writing Last Witness. I embarked on an epic Gilmore Girls marathon when I started the book, I also read your new novel Talking as Fast as I Can and you always managed to put a smile on my face. You truly are an inspiration.
Thanks as always to Rollo, my insanely adorable cavalier for keeping my feet warm while I wrote at my laptop and for always sensing when I needed a cuddle.
Finally to everyone who read Wrong Number and connected with Amanda and her story. I love hearing from readers, I love hearing about if you were a Team Shane or a Team Will. I value your support and enthusiasm for the series so, so much. Every Tweet and email you send me about my books is genuinely cherished. Thank you.
xoxo
About Carys Jones
CARYS JONES loves nothing more than to write and create stories which ignite the reader's imagination. Based in Shropshire, England, Carys lives with her husband, two guinea pigs and her adored canine companion Rollo.
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Addictive Fiction
First published in the UK in 2017 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Carys Jones, 2017
The moral right of Carys Jones to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (E) 9781786692498
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