by Alex Barclay
Patrick studied the drawing. ‘Detailed.’
‘Well,’ said Edie. ‘I ticked every box on my wish list.’
‘You ticked every box on my wish list too,’ said Patrick.
Edie looked up at him. He wasn’t looking at the drawing – he was looking at her.
She laughed. He looked back at the plans. ‘Looks really impressive.’
Edie turned over the page. ‘My rough drawing of the site.’
‘Oh,’ said Patrick. ‘You’ve moved it.’
‘Yes,’ said Edie. ‘I was worried about it being on the same side as the chapel – that there would be too much going on, but I had a chat with the architect, and he suggested a different design that creates this symmetry with it, and now has sea views from the gym, pool, and relaxation room. When you see the actual plans, it’ll make more sense.’
Patrick frowned. ‘Have you thought about the implications of the archaeological survey?’
Edie looked at him. ‘What?’
‘Well, it’s a site of historical importance, and if you’re going to go digging there you have to get an archaeological survey, and that has to go in with the planning application or they won’t look at it.’
‘Johnny’s dealing with all that,’ said Edie. ‘Hopefully.’
‘More than “hopefully” …’ said Patrick. ‘Because if they find anything under there, no works can go ahead, unless an archaeological team goes in, and …’ He paused. ‘I know people who have been held up months, even years. It can end up costing a fortune – and you’ll have to bear that cost.’
Edie looked at him, horrified.
‘Did Johnny mention anything to you?’ said Patrick.
‘No,’ said Edie. ‘No. But I’m sure he’s got a pretty good handle on it.’
38
Patrick walked out of the honesty bar towards the bathroom, then crossed the hall in long, light strides, taking the stairs up to the first floor two at a time. He went into the library and over to the window. He stood with his hands in his pockets, scanning the grounds.
Laura stuck her head around the corner of the bar. ‘Johnny? Can I have a word?’ She tilted her head out the door. He got up slowly, and walked towards her.
‘I don’t want to freak you out,’ said Laura, ‘but I think there’s something going on with Edie. I think she’s lost the plot. I don’t know what happened, but she came flying out of the office into me and she’d been bawling her eyes out. She was in an awful state. I got the fright of my life. She managed to get her shit together to ask me to get her water, but that was just to get me out of the way. I couldn’t have been gone two minutes and she was out the gap.’
‘Do you know where she went?’ said Johnny.
‘Out the back door!’ said Laura. ‘Her shoes were thrown in a heap in the middle of the floor in the boot room, there were jackets pulled off hooks. I went after her, but it’s pitch dark out there, so I said I was better off getting you.’
‘What the fuck?’ said Johnny. ‘I was only talking to her about ten minutes before she went down there. What the fuck could have happened in that space of time?’ He frowned.
Laura shrugged.
‘Could she have gone to the house?’ said Johnny.
‘I don’t know,’ said Laura. ‘Like I said, she was gone by the time I got back. Do you want me to do anything? Do you want me to go check the house? What way do I go?’
‘No, no,’ said Johnny. ‘Stay where you are.’ He paused. ‘Unless … did you get a key to the suite? Do you still want to go to bed?’
‘No, no,’ said Laura. ‘Not until I know Edie’s OK.’
Johnny ran into the house and called Edie’s name. He searched every room. As he was coming out of their bedroom, he paused, and went back in again. He went over to the chest of drawers, crouched down and pulled open the bottom one. He reached into the back of it and pulled out two black long-sleeved polo shirts. He shook one of them out and held it up. It was a medium fit with a turned-down collar that sat high on the neck and three black buttons. A Brooks Brothers tag hung from the label. He folded it up roughly and shoved the shirts back in the drawer. He glanced down at his feet and saw a Brooks Brothers gift receipt. His hand trembled as he picked it up. He paused, then went back over to the drawers, opening the bottom one wide enough to slip it inside.
He paused and looked at himself in the mirror. Then he ran down the stairs, out the back door, and down to the end of the garden. He unlocked the gate, then left. There was a small stand of trees with a path that ran around the edge of it and a signpost that pointed to the fairy garden.
39
Murph and Laura sat in silence by the fire in the bar. Clare was curled up on an armchair, an interiors magazine open on her lap, her eyes closed, her head lolling forward. The magazine slid to the floor. Murph and Laura looked over. Clare lifted her head, briefly, then settled herself again.
‘Where did Patrick say he was going?’ said Murph.
‘Out to help Johnny look for Edie,’ said Laura.
Murph raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s a bit … helpful, isn’t it? Are we assholes?’ He paused. ‘You didn’t tell Patrick she’d lost the plot, did you? I don’t think she’d be into that.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ said Laura. ‘I just said that I thought the stress of the night might have got to her.’ She shrugged. ‘And, same as Johnny, he said she seemed fine when they were talking to her.’
‘It probably hit her all of a sudden, God love her,’ said Murph. ‘Val showing up … and having to keep her shit together for that. And the drink’s probably wearing off at this stage, which is no help.’ He paused. ‘Should we be doing something? Like, I’m here thinking: We’ll get all kitted up, head out into that, meanwhile Edie arrives back from a long spell in the jacks while we’re fluting around in the rain looking for her?’
Laura looked at him. ‘Or is that just way easier than thinking there’s some madman out there?’
Patrick was crouched on the path of the fairy garden, examining the underside of an ornamental rock. He put it back on the wood chips, next to a toadstool. He heard a shout behind him and turned to see the beam of a torch flickering through the trees, growing in intensity.
He stood up when he saw Johnny striding towards him.
‘You fucking prick,’ said Johnny, slamming his hands against Patrick’s chest. ‘Are you fucking my wife?’
Patrick stepped back from him, raised his hands, palms out. ‘What?’
‘You know – I was thinking about this all week,’ said Johnny. ‘Helen bumping into you in Cork, randomly inviting you here tonight, when no one’s laid eyes on you in years. So I made a few enquiries. And I know that Helen hasn’t been in Cork since the last time I brought her there, so what the—’
‘I am not “fucking your wife”,’ said Patrick.
‘I heard you earlier, calling her Edes – where did you hear that?’
‘What?’ said Patrick. ‘No, I didn’t, did I? Maybe because you did. I didn’t even realize—’
Johnny shoved him hard. Patrick didn’t move. Johnny staggered backwards, then straightened.
Patrick looked at him. ‘Please, don’t,’ he said. ‘Don’t … embarr—’
‘You prick!’ said Johnny, charging forward. He swung wide with his fist and the force sent him staggering sideways. He lost his footing, his hand briefly hitting the ground, before he pushed himself upright. He stood in front of Patrick, heaving for breath, wiping the back of his hand across his brow.
‘Is that a nice Brooks Brothers shirt you have on you tonight, is it?’ said Johnny.
Patrick frowned. ‘No. It’s Tom Ford.’
Johnny blinked, put his hands on his hips, let out a few breaths.
‘Johnny,’ said Patrick gently, lowering his hands. ‘Your wife’s gone missing. I’m out looking for her and you’re … what? What are you doing?’
Johnny stared at him.
‘Deciding I’m “fucking” her?’ said Patrick. ‘Aren�
��t you concerned for your wife? And her wellbeing? Or just your own? Someone has been killed here tonight. Nobody knows who did it. Edie has disappeared—’
‘Disappeared,’ said Johnny. ‘She’s hardly disappeared.’
‘Well, she’s been gone for the past half hour,’ said Patrick. ‘And you’re here asking me am I fucking her? How do you think that looks?’ He shrugged. ‘How could I not think that Edie is having some kind of breakdown tonight because she thinks – or maybe she knows – that her husband killed a man?’
40
Johnny stepped towards Patrick, stabbing a finger at him. ‘Edie knows damn fucking well I’m not capable of anything like that.’
Patrick raised his eyebrows. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure. Where has she gone, then? If she “knows” you didn’t do it, surely she’d “know” that there’s somebody out there who did. Would she run out into the night on her own if there was a killer on the loose?’
‘Why the fuck are you out looking for her?’ said Johnny. ‘And why did you come here?’
‘No,’ said Patrick. ‘She mentioned earlier she likes to come here when she’s under pressure. And while I was here, I came across a curious thing. Terry told you that the power to the site wasn’t cut because your fairy lights were still on, but your fairy lights are solar-powered. I’m just saying – if Terry installed them, then he was lying tonight. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.’
Johnny frowned.
Patrick levelled him with a look. ‘The reality is you’re coked out of your mind.’
Johnny stared at him.
‘You’re paranoid,’ said Patrick. ‘It’s been ramping up and ramping up all night, we all watched it happen, and there wasn’t a thing we could do about it, except try not to provoke the beast—’
‘Fuck you, you sanctimonious prick,’ said Johnny.
‘It’s not sanctimony,’ said Patrick. ‘Whatever you’re into. But, unfortunately, whatever you’re into has thrown a grenade into the group, and sent your wife running for cover. There’s no other explanation.’
‘There are loads of other explanations,’ said Johnny.
‘Well, hold on to those,’ said Patrick, ‘because Edie is still out there and the clock is ticking. So whether we need to save your wife from a killer or from losing her mind, standing here staring at each other because you can’t keep your nose out of—’
‘You’re acting like I’m some fucking—’
‘OK – answer this, then. Did you do some more? Did you come out to your special fairy house, put your little key in the lock and pick up your supply? Unless the well’s run dry. I heard what your neighbour was telling everyone about the dealer who’s going around trashing places when people don’t pay up. Is that what happened to your chapel windows? Did the penny drop when your neighbour was giving you that Neighbourhood Watch announcement? Were you thinking that when Terry Hyland’s body showed up tonight? That your “supplier” might have come back to teach you another lesson and Terry was in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or maybe it was you. Maybe we were too quick to dismiss your coked-up madness as coked-up madness and not a coked-up veneer over the blind panic of a man who’s beaten another man to death. Is that what sent Edie running for cover?’
‘I didn’t fucking touch Terry Hyland!’ said Johnny.
Patrick stared at him, his eyes flat.
‘Why are you still here, if that’s what you think?’ said Johnny. ‘Why didn’t you get in your car and fuck off out of here?’
Patrick shot out a laugh. ‘Because it’s too late now, Johnny, boy. Like all the rest of us, I’ve been sucked into the “Bail Out Johnny” Show. So while you were squealing like a pig as the Big Bad Guard was huffing and puffing at your window, myself and Murph were trying to change the fucking ending. And while you were welcoming her in to sit by the fire, we were heading out into the dark night for you to throw a dead man into your ripped-out confession box. And while you were prancing around under the fairy lights, deciding I’m “fucking your wife”, I was actually out trying to find her. Because the only person fucking your wife, Johnny, is you.’
Johnny stared at him.
‘Is there anything you won’t fuck up?’ said Patrick. ‘Is there any plate you won’t flip up into the air when there’s something being handed to you on it? Do you like the sound when they break?’ He paused. ‘Do you know what you’re like? You’re like a man with a container of kerosene in his hand, and there’s a hole in the bottom, and he’s walking around in circles by the light of a flaming match, trying to figure out why he’s in a ring of fire the whole time.’
41
Clare woke up and looked around the bar. Murph was asleep on the opposite sofa, his head back, his mouth open, two buttons popped on his shirt. Laura was asleep on his shoulder.
Clare got to her feet, and picked up her handbag off the floor. She pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote:
GONE TO BED – TAKING SUITE 4. CLARE xx
She hung her bag on her shoulder, picked up her shoes, and left the note on the table in front of Laura and Murph.
Helen was sitting in bed with Patrick’s notebook open in front of her. Tears streamed down her face. She was staring at two pages – another face with Xs for eyes, this one with a big semicircle smile. There was a drawing of a sailboat beside it, just like the one Clare designed for her father’s company logo. There was a chain drawn from the top of the page to meet it. Underneath it was written:
YOU WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO CARE ENOUGH
ABOUT ENOUGH PEOPLE
TO CHANGE THE NIGHT
YOU ONLY CARED ABOUT YOURSELF
Edie walked out of the bathroom, her eyes swollen and vacant, her cheeks streaked with mascara. She walked over to Helen and sat down on the bed. Tears were streaming down Helen’s face. Edie reached down and squeezed her hands, then slid the notebook out from under them, closed it, and pushed it to the other side of the bed.
Helen looked up at her, her eyes wide. ‘You have to go,’ she said. ‘Go now—’
‘I’m not leaving you!’ said Edie. ‘No way.’
‘Look at me,’ said Helen. ‘You have to. You have to get help. I’m so sorry, Edie, and I know you don’t want to hear this, and it’s unbearable, but …’ She paused. ‘Let’s think of Patrick as … a different person—’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Edie. ‘Say it. Say whatever you want to say. He’s Patrick, and I loved him, and I fell in love with him, and oh, God. What have I done? What have I done? To all of us?’ She held her hands to her face and wept into them.
‘Edie – listen to me!’ said Helen, her voice dropping to a low hiss. ‘Listen to me! For God’s sake!’
Edie, startled, looked up at her.
Helen’s eyes were steely. ‘The brutal truth is … you’re not safe. That man wants to kill you.’
Johnny stood opposite Patrick, ‘So … so … what … what do you think we should do about Terry?’
Patrick shook his head. ‘You’re asking me, now—’
Johnny nodded. ‘You’re … right. You’re right about what you said. My head’s fucked. It’s fucked.’
‘Well, I was going to suggest,’ said Patrick, ‘because of the power cut and the damaged cable in the chapel … that it’s not beyond the bounds of possibility that a fire could have started. So … that’s what we do. It doesn’t have to burn for long – just long enough that it covers up his injuries.
‘If Terry came up with some plan to screw up your night, Johnny, you better hope that he didn’t share it with any of his drinking buddies, because that will come all the way back to you. That would push any man over the edge.’ He glanced over his shoulder towards the cliff.
Johnny followed his gaze. Then they locked eyes.
‘Do you think the two of us could manage it?’ said Patrick.
‘Of course we could,’ said Johnny.
‘It’s fairly wild out there,’ said Patrick.
‘But there’s a handrail
,’ said Johnny.
‘A handrail and a high wind,’ said Patrick.
‘We only need to go down a few steps,’ said Johnny. ‘If he cracked his head open on the jetty, the blood would have been washed away by the rain anyway. It doesn’t matter where he goes in.’
‘Laura’s going to be the problem,’ said Patrick.
Johnny waited.
‘So if we’re doing this,’ said Patrick. ‘We’re doing this alone.’
They started towards the chapel.
42
Murph jerked awake on the sofa, his body spasming. Laura woke up and pulled herself away from him.
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ she said.
‘Sorry – Jesus,’ he said. ‘Nightmares.’
‘All the time?’
‘Not all the time, Laura – no,’ he said. ‘Just when I close my eyes.’
‘No wonder you can’t keep a woman.’
‘Where’s Clare?’ said Murph, looking around.
‘I couldn’t give a fiddler’s,’ said Laura.
‘Ah, pet,’ said Murph, ‘there’s no need—’
‘Yes, there is,’ said Laura. ‘Stupid bitch.’
‘You can’t be carrying around all that anger with you,’ said Murph. ‘That’s like drinking a bottle of Ritz and expecting someone else to get drunk and puke on their shoes.’
They both sat up at the edge of the sofa.
‘Mystery solved,’ said Murph. He picked up the note, and handed it to Laura.
Laura threw it back down. ‘Well, of course, she’s just fucked off. She’s unreal.’
‘What will we do?’ said Murph. ‘You were looking for a key yourself!’
‘That was before Edie went missing!’
‘Well, we were still here, having a snooze.’
‘That was an accident!’ said Laura.