2004 - The Reunion

by Sue Walker

  Innes thought quickly. She’d seen nothing of this. Would she have noticed it in the newspapers? It wasn’t the sort of thing she’d read about. Too gloomy. She always avoided articles about things like that. And would the little girl’s name have registered? Probably not. She had no idea Simon lived in St Monans until very recently. Whatever, the news was a sickening blow. She became aware that the woman was waiting for an answer and, despite her continuing nausea, the lie came smoothly. “Eh…no…that’s just it…I, eh…I’ve been away overseas for a long while. I was looking up Simon after…after not seeing him for a few years.”

  The neighbour seemed satisfied. “Oh, dear, then you’re in for an even bigger shock. Not only was wee Katie abducted, she was missing for weeks. We all thought she was dead. Anyway, out of the blue, she was released. But the effect on the family. Dr Calder’s wife hasn’t been living with him here for a long time. Nor the wee girls either. I’m wondering if the strain, you know? If the strain made him just end it all over the wall? I know it’s what the authorities are thinking.”

  Innes tried to stand up, the woman’s helping hand at her elbow. “Thing is, dear, the police will probably want to speak to you. About when you last spoke to him. All that.”

  Jesus! That was the last thing she wanted or needed! “Yes…okay. I’ll just need to go back to my car for something. Thank you for being so kind. Bye for now.”

  She knew that it was the sheer fear of what had happened and the terror of being asked by the police to give answers as to exactly what she was doing here that spurred her on. Despite the ongoing nausea, she slipped down the narrow alley to where she’d left her car. As far as she knew, no one except the kind neighbour had even noticed her. With shaking hands, she turned the ignition key and manoeuvred her way through the winding village roads as quickly as possible, tyres screeching as she made her panicky way back to Edinburgh, one thought racing again and again around her head. Danny, Abby, now Simon.

  Why?

  FOURTY-TWO

  Monday, 23rd, 2.15 a.m.

  I have felt unable to go near this—my precious journal—for some while. Eut tonight, for the first time in so long, I have felt drawn to putting pen to paper once again. The reason is straightforward. Danny left this morning after staying here with me for a few days. To both our surprise, Dannj and I have become quite close over the past months. He offers me an odd kind of comfort but comfort all the same. And without Rachel, and Lily and Katie, I need whatever comfort another human being can offer.

  But, that apart, of late, a strange situation has occurred. One laced with heavy irony! Danny has been seeing Isabella Velasco! He didn’t tell me at first. Possibly because when I had initially made such a suggestion to him he had rejected it out of hand. He also admitted taking a copy of my address list. I laughed. I didn’t mind. Maybe seeing in black and white when he could actually get hold of Isabella proved too hard for him to resist. Danny tells me that he and Alex had discussed his contacting Abby during their drive back to Edinburgh that dreadful night we all met up here. I suspect she was just teasing him, but he seems to have taken the suggestion seriously. I was alarmed to begin with. And then curious. What was she like now? How did she react to being ‘found’? Most importantly, what were her memories of That Time?

  Danny had laughed at my initial interrogation of him. But he said I wasn’t to worry, as everything was okay. Isabella was absolutely fine. “Solid’ is the word he used. Odd. But I knew what he meant. Anyway, he told me how he’d met her at Stornoway Airport, and, as she’d walked into the little terminal building, he’d almost passed out. She was more beautiful than ever! Had the same voice, though a bit deeper. “Devastating’, he bad called her!

  It wasn’t until last night that Danny dropped the bombshell. He said that he’d met Isabella more than just the once. More than twice. In fact he’d been seeing a lot of her and something had happened. Something wonderful. They were in love! In love! Incredible!

  But Danny is troubled now. He’s found the greatest happiness with a woman he says he always loved. It could’ve been a fairy-tale, he said. A dream come true. Parted after all these years, then they find each other, and amazing! It’s love!

  However, Danny is a tormented man now. A difficult time is ahead for him, poor soul. I have listened to what both he and Alex have said about me holding back. But I predict that Danny will want to do the Right Thing by Abby. He’s said as much.

  For now, I’ll let him take the lead. And then follow.

  Alex allowed herself a generous sip from her single malt and flicked forward to a more recent page.

  Tuesday, 14th, 5.20 a.m.

  Danny’s dead! I have never felt so overwhelmingly sad and afraid since Katie was taken. He’s chosen to take his own life, deprive himself of the love of Isabella! I cannot believe it. The price for loving her was too high to pay. He’d said it was a punishment—loving Isabella. Like my Katie being taken. I understand what he meant—the skewed logic in that.

  But I am pulled. He seemed so sure, so determined to talk to Abby. To share the deepest part of himself. Said he’d decided and thought he could do it. What changed his mind, I wonder? What happened? And to choose the sea? Danny was terrified of water! It was a phobia he’d talked about in the Unit, and he’d mentioned it again recently when he joked about it being crazy to live on an island if you hated water! It looks like he punished himself in the cruellest way imaginable.

  What am I to do? Should I contact Isabella? No! That would be wrong, since how could I explain Danny’s death to her? I could give her the reasons why. But it would ruin her life, surely. No, I need to think. And speak with Alex again. I can’t help but feel she enjoyed breaking the news to me. Alex hates me, I’m sure of it. Thinks me weak, spineless. Well, let her think that.

  Alex allowed herself a twisted smile at that. Shit, these were a goldmine! She wished she’d been able to make off with more from Simon’s place, but she’d got the main stuff. All the recent dangerous stuff. And those nursing notes. Very interesting. Where the hell had he got these? That worried her. If there was some source of old Unit notes, they could come back to haunt her. She shrugged the worry off for the time being. And then there was the photo. He’d kept a copy too. Not entirely a surprise. What was a surprise was that he didn’t bring it out at their reunion with Danny. It’s the sort of thing she thought Si would have done. Oh, look, here we are all jolly together!

  She heard the trees stirring in the wind. Outside all was blackness. She moved away from the window towards the fire. It might be spring but it was cold. She shivered. She glanced back over to the windows. Funny, it was like someone had been staring over her shoulder from outside. Ridiculous.

  Friday, 28th, 2.25 a.m.

  > This day joins three others during my time on this earth in being the very worst in my wretched existence. Isabella has killed herself! Alex told me. Again, ever the happy messenger of hellish news! I’ve read the newspaper reports online tonight. Abby too has drowned! She too has taken her own life away. To Heaven rather than Hell, I dearly hope.

  I could have stopped her. I’m sure of it. If only Fd been given the chance. But this is it now. There is no more time to dilly-dally. Alex is against going to the authorities and telling them everything, but I think procrastination has caused a heavy price to be paid. It is time.

  At last we are all being visited by the ever-present Nemesis, except Alex who continues to try and resist the inevitable. But not for long, I fear. I will have to try a—

  Alex put the book down. She knew why she’d found his journal open at this entry. Why he’d left the rest unread and got up so abruptly. She stood and wandered over to the window again. The wind was really up now. She opened the French window and allowed the wind to hurl its gusts into the room, immediately causing the flames of the fire to flicker manically.

  I will have to try a—. At this point she knew Simon had left his study and opened his front door, grabbing a waterproof as he let the door slam be
hind him. The gale had whipped at his face as he’d walked down to the bottom of his garden. And he couldn’t help but feel the sting and taste the salt-spray from the waves swirling against the rocks below.

  The tears had surely hurt his eyes as they pricked their way through his lids and down his cheeks. Slowly he’d begun to beat a soft tattoo against the wall with his bare fist. He’d been aware that he was drawing blood but had felt no pain as he leaned forward against the wall, watching each wave dashing itself to oblivion.

  The powerful tug on both his ankles had been swift but painless. And as Simon had toppled forwards, the wind had twisted his body so that his last glimpse was of the pale yellow light burning like a beacon from his beloved study into the stormy night.

  Illuminating the face of his killer.

  FOURTY-THREE

  Innes had managed to get some sleep—with the help of medication. Bringing the tablets with her to Scodand had been a reluctant but, in retrospect, sensible precaution. As soon as she’d got back to die hotel, she’d had an emergency session with Liv on the phone. Just what she’d needed. No ‘get a grip, Innes’ type of advice. Rather, a lengthy exploration of what Simon’s death meant for her and what, in relation to the other deaths, it might mean in the wider world. The talk hadn’t brought any great enlightenment about the latter. Neither she nor guru Liv knew why Simon was dead, so all remained merely dispiriting speculation. But the morning had brought an even greater resolve for Innes, replacing the initial and lasting shock of her visit to St Monans. She was going to get hold of Alex Baxendale. The only living Unit person left she’d yet to make contact with.

  As she drove the few miles to Alex’s house she thought about the phone call. Alex had answered quickly.

  “Alex?”

  “Yes.” The reply clipped. Brisk. Unfriendly even.

  “It’s Innes Haldane. I hope you remember wh—”

  “Yes, of course I do.” And then she’d remained silent. No inquiry as to how she’d got the number. Nothing.

  “Eh…I…oh, it’s too long to tell you everything. I’m not sure if you know but everyone’s dead…I mean Unit people…I mean Simon’s dead. He died yesterday. And Danny’s dead. And Isabella. I…I think we should meet. I hope you don’t think I’m stupid calling b—”

  “I know about them. You’d better come here. Tonight. Eight o’clock.”

  As she approached Alex’s quiet, leafy neighbourhood of vast detached houses in dieir own grounds—uncomfortably reminiscent of die Unit building—Innes felt relief in some way that she’d contacted Alex. She had a feeling that Alex knew somediing that could help her understand what had been going on, maybe cut a way dirough all this mess for her. On the other hand, of all the Unit patients it was Alex who had left her most puzzled. She had seemed utterly unknowable in die Unit, and Innes had to admit that she’d noticed very litde, if any, change for the better in Alex during their time together in that place. It was as if Alex used to relish playing a kind of psychological cat-and-mouse game with Dr Laurie. They both knew what was going on, and the rest of the group were left as mere spectators rather than as participants in what was meant to be a group learning and healing experience.

  The memory increased the apprehension churning in her stomach as she rang the bell. The door was opened with a wrench and there she was, sharply outlined by the porch light. Dressed in a dark blue silk shirt and matching trousers, Alex Baxendale looked well, prosperous, formidably attractive in a rather hard and brittle way. Innes would never have recognized her in a thousand years. The contrast from die butch skinhead of old as far as it was possible to get.

  “Come in, Innes.”

  Alex Baxendale’s eyes were on her: a quick but thorough assessment. Innes allowed herself to be guided down a long hallway and into what was the living room, minimally but comfortably furnished with two soft leather sofas and chairs. A blue and gold rug lay underfoot, covering well-maintained wooden flooring. Unlike others who seemed to be blind to their surroundings when in a state of near panic, she always noticed every detail. A kind of displacement activity, she presumed, to keep the nerves at bay. With limited success.

  She caught Alex’s smile. More of a secretive smirk. “Please, Innes. Sit down. Drink?”

  Innes nodded slowly, desperate to appear composed. If Alex was going to be the vision of cool, calm and collected, she would have to try to match her. Not rush into things. “Whisky would be good, please. I feel I need it, under the circumstances. It’s an understatement to say ‘it’s been a while’, don’t you think?” She knew she sounded stilted. Robot-like. And she waited nervously for a response.

  But Alex remained silent as she busied herself at the drinks cabinet. Perhaps she hadn’t heard her? Innes kept quiet and waited. In a moment Alex moved back to her, handed over the drink and headed slowly to the sofa opposite. She made herself utterly relaxed, as if home alone, shoes kicked off, bare feet tucked underneath her.

  Alex was playing games, Innes thought, and bloody-mindedly resolved to keep quiet. She watched Alex take another sip of her drink, unrushed, and then she answered. “Yes, twenty…six, twenty-seven years, isn’t it? Amazing.” She neither looked nor sounded very amazed, and Innes awaited her next move. A stiff slug of her drink, and Alex continued. “Look, Innes. I won’t piss about. I must say that I’m more than a bit surprised to hear from you. Please tell me how, and why, you’ve tracked me down.”

  Innes had resisted all offers of second and third drinks. Alex could put it away, all right. And hold it. What surprised her most, though, was Alex’s seemingly calm, unruffled manner. After all that Innes had told her, there wasn’t a chink in Alex’s self-possession. It was utterly unnerving. But maybe that was because Alex knew so much already, a fact she had made clear to Innes in ah increasingly haughty tone during the past hour.

  But the main shock was when Alex had, quite unselfconsciously, pulled up the sleeves of her shirt to reveal the traces of those scars. Though Alex seemed oblivious to the scars, the sight of them had taken Innes by surprise, reminding her of the other, younger, so different Alex of old. Innes had forgotten all about the scars, but they’d been much talked about in the Unit, both covertly, among gossiping patients, and openly, in group sessions. In the Unit days she had always found those marks, so livid and ugly, symbolic surely of profound psychic pain. Stomach-churningly awful. What in God’s name could lead someone to inflict such agony and permanent disfigurement on themselves? For Innes, this issue had never been satisfactorily dealt with when they were all patients. Of course now, modern pop psychology had lots of fancy PC names and descriptions for it, as she’d seen outlined in the quasi-learned articles she’d read in the quality papers. All well and good in theory, but actually seeing the living proof of this, still evident on a grown, immaculately groomed woman, made Innes catch her breath. Alex might present a cool, balanced front, but it was those wretched scars that somehow gave the lie to it all.

  “So you see, Innes, I, Danny and Simon had kept in touch on and off over the years. Isabella only got back in touch recently, primarily with Danny. I only met her once, in fact. I don’t know why she got back in touch. No idea. Anyway, I was obviously shocked and saddened to hear of Abby’s recent suicide. All these deaths are sad, but, I can assure you, the deaths are not linked. How on earth could they be, for goodness sake? Quite frankly, your theories about the Unit being involved are quite wrong. Simon had had a terrible time of it this last year, what with the abduction of his daughter and the breakdown of his marriage. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like he took his own life. Abby had been depressed, in a mid-life-crisis type of way, for a while. Maybe that’s why she called you, who knows? I mean, she always was rather buttoned-up with her emotions. That was part of why she was in the Unit in the first place. It’s perfectly possible that this emotional suppression re-emerged later in her life, isn’t it? And Danny? Well, I believe that was a pure accident and it was found to be so at the inquiry. Pure accident. Unfortunate. But nothing m
ore sinister.”

  “Look Innes. The Unit is a long time ago. I’ve put it behind me. Apart from occasionally meeting up with some of the others, the Unit has not played a large part in my life. If you don’t mind me saying so, perhaps it is you who needs to think about how you’ve viewed that time in your past. Perhaps you’ve invested it with more significance, symbolism even, than it actually deserves. We were just a bunch of unbalanced teenagers. That’s all. And some of us happened to keep in touch, in a loose, casual way. And some of us perhaps kept the experience buried within ourselves. And finally, some of us died. It happens.”

  She couldn’t help herself from being slightly unnerved by Alex’s uncannily incisive ability to so accurately assess her own shameful attitude to her Unit days. But her utterances smacked of a prepared speech. Still, Innes remained silent and let Alex get on with what was fast becoming a lecture. “You see, I feel that I must counter at least part of your extreme anxiety with a bit of down-to-earth common sense of my own. I have no problem with the fact that some of the group have died. People do commit suicide. Bad things do happen to people, like Simon’s little girl being abducted. And as for Lydia? Well, who knows the truth there except that she’d been depressed, apparently. I’m sure it’s true that some of us may never have got over, really got over our problems. I have severe doubts about the efficacy of the Unit. I’m surprised it stayed open so long. The thing is, none of us has any answers. Because there are none. Or at least there is no one ‘big answer’. That’s life, I’m afraid. Really.”

  Innes wanted to leave immediately. The room was closing in. She was finding it impossible to keep her eyes from straying to those faint scars on Alex’s forearms. And the realization that Alex had been in touch with others from the Unit, seemed to really know some of them as adults, was shattering. She couldn’t quite pin down why, although part of her felt more than a passing hint of jealousy. It went deeper than that. Maybe if she’d answered Abby’s call, not only might she have helped Abby but perhaps they would have become friends. Jointly made some sense of their past?