by Heidi Perks
He sighs, resigned. ‘If you want me to bury her I’ll need tools.’
‘We can’t do that. Not with the police still crawling all over the island.’
‘What choice do we have?’ he says gruffly and then adds, ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this again. First for her mother, now …’
‘Now for me? Is that what you were about to say? After everything I’ve done for you, Bob.’
There is a moment’s silence before he answers. ‘Yes. I know.’
‘We’ve always been in this together,’ Annie goes on. ‘You and me. I’m your godmother …’ This hangs in the air before sinking in to me. How had I never known how close they were? How much one might do for the other?
‘I know,’ he says again, resigned. ‘I know. Anyway, it’ll be fine. The police won’t be looking for another body.’
‘But they will when they know Stella is missing. She has people who’ll notice.’
‘I’ll make sure she won’t be found.’
‘Like Iona was,’ Annie whispers.
‘This time—’
‘This time don’t bury her right outside my garden.’
‘You know why I did that,’ he says, like a scolded child.
My throat tightens as the words register. Not only did Bob bury Iona; he chose the exact spot on purpose, so that if anyone found her, fingers would point at my family.
‘You did it for revenge,’ Annie says. ‘But look where it’s got us.’
‘I did it because Maria accused me of hurting my daughter,’ he growls and my body tenses so hard I fear any moment I will cry out with the pressure.
I sense Bob getting to his feet as he says, ‘I’ll get my things.’
‘Okay,’ Annie says finally. That one word cracks in half, a give-away that she wishes it hadn’t come to this. Bob leaves the room before Annie adds, so quietly I can barely hear, ‘Oh, what have I done, Stella?’
I need to get to the window before they come back. I push myself up again, on to my knees, a slow movement that makes my head splinter with pain. The room whips around me and I hang my head forward. Objects come in and out of focus. I know if I stand I’ll likely be sick.
Outside the door Annie’s footsteps pad back and forth and then finally stop. I freeze too. Slowly the key turns in the door and I slide down again, back on to the floor. Light trickles in with a cold blast of air.
I hear her pause, an intake of breath as she creeps closer to me, bending down. Finally she rests a hand gently against my head, her fingers sliding into my hair, stroking it softly. It’s such a caring gesture that I can’t help but open my eyes, and when I do she’s staring right at me.
She gasps, pulling back. There are tears in her eyes and I wonder if I could talk her round from whatever she plans to do. This is, after all, what I am good at. My job is to talk to people, to reason, find solutions when it feels like there aren’t any.
But even I know there aren’t and so it’s only a brief thought. I have seen all too clearly that Annie’s prepared to do whatever she has to to remove the threat, and that is all I am to her now.
Annie is off guard because she didn’t expect me to open my eyes and stare into hers. This is my chance. I could hurl myself into her, knock her off balance.
I go to push myself up again but I am too weak, too slow, and with one hand she grabs for the carriage clock as the front door slams open and someone behind us yells.
It only takes a second for her to pause, glance towards the hallway, and in that time I manage to push up further, leaning unsteadily on one hand as I use the other to grab the clock from her grip.
Her eyes are bright with fear as she turns back to me and I open my mouth to tell her we can sort this out because deep down it’s what I still want, but already my hand is drawing back and instinct is taking over as it crashes down.
Annie yelps, sinking back against the bookcase. Only a tiny trickle of blood seeps out of a small cut at the side of her head.
Oh God, what have I done?
My arm is weak and what I’d thought of as a crash must have only just scraped her skin, and now there are noises in the hallway. I missed my chance.
‘Hello?’ someone calls.
I can’t see through to the hall, unlike Annie who turns to look. I open my mouth but no words come out.
‘Annie? Oh my God. Stella, what happened? Are you hurt?’
A figure is in the room, crouching in front of us. Only now do I see it’s Meg.
‘Need help,’ I manage.
‘Yes. Yes. I’ll get help,’ she says but she doesn’t move as her frightened eyes glance from me to Annie.
‘Who did this to you?’ she says, grabbing my hand and squeezing it as there’s another sound from the hallway. Annie’s gaze trails over Meg and then towards the noise.
I know it is Bob. I see it in the way Annie draws in a long breath, her eyelids fluttering half closed with what looks like relief.
No. Please don’t, Bob. Not Meg, who is innocent in all this. Who is only fifteen and has turned up at Annie’s house for a reason I can’t explain but somehow I think she came looking for me. Not Meg, who is continuing to study me with concern, waiting for me to tell her who put me in this state.
It was her, I plead with my eyes, the old lady lying next to me. But we’re all in danger now.
I squeeze Meg’s hand back. I don’t want her to see him standing in the hallway but at the same time I should prepare her for what’s coming.
But then Annie does the one thing I least expect. She gives a small shake of her head. Only a flicker, but enough to tell him, don’t come any further.
I hold my breath until it burns my lungs. Until there is a creak of a floorboard and then nothing more and finally Annie looks away.
‘Okay, I’m getting help,’ Meg says.
I have no idea why Annie’s done what she just did.
‘Don’t go,’ I say as Meg reaches into a deep pocket and pulls out a walkie-talkie.
‘Stupid thing,’ she mutters, ‘my mum makes me take it everywhere because there’s no phone reception.’
As it crackles and Meg pulls away her hand, getting to her feet, talking to Emma in short, sharp bursts of urgent conversation, I want to laugh out loud with relief. But I don’t. Instead my eyelids droop and I drift into some semi-state of consciousness, aware much later of a pillow plumped under my head, a blanket wrapped over my body, hands held lightly against my forehead as we’re told help is on the way.
Every time I open my eyes Annie is still beside me. She hasn’t moved or spoken but her eyes snap around the room, occasionally settling on me. I consider what she will tell the police when they arrive, how she will spin what has happened, but for now she says nothing.
I pass out again and the next time I wake there are more voices murmuring around me.
‘Stella, can you hear me? I’m a paramedic. We’re going to take you back to the mainland and get you checked out in hospital, can you understand?’
I nod.
‘Okay. We’re going to lift you on to a stretcher—’
‘Annie—’ I say.
‘Your friend’s being taken care of, no need to worry.’
I try to shake my head. ‘She did this to me.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
Bright lights drill through my eyelids. My mouth is sore, my head banging. ‘Where am I?’ I croak at a figure hovering in the corner of the room.
As she approaches she says, ‘Poole Hospital. It’s good to see you awake, love. How are you feeling?’
‘Tired. Sick,’ I tell the nurse. ‘What day is it?’
‘Monday morning.’
I try looking out of the window at the light streaming in between the blinds. Piece by piece the night comes back to me. ‘Annie,’ I say, ‘the woman I was with.’
‘She’s fine, dear, don’t worry about anyone but yourself at the moment.’
‘No.’ I try shaking my head but it hurts too much. ‘She drugged me.’
> ‘Oh.’ The nurse looks perplexed. ‘Actually, there’s a detective waiting to speak to you. I can keep him at bay—’
‘No,’ I say again, ‘I want to talk to him.’
‘Well, only if you’re up to it.’ She hesitates. ‘Your memory will be patchy and you need to take it easy.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘And I’ll be keeping an eye on you,’ she says sternly, as she leaves the room.
Moments later Detective Harwood appears. ‘Ms Harvey.’ He smiles grimly as he walks over to the bed. ‘It’s been a bit of a night for you by all accounts.’ He pulls out a plastic chair. He looks worried. There’s a thick crease in his forehead where his eyebrows are pinched together. ‘Are you okay to talk?’
‘Yes. What’s happening with Annie?’ I ask.
‘She’s in the hospital.’
‘She drugged me. You can’t let her go.’
Harwood nods. Still his eyebrows are knitted together. His gaze roams my face, trailing down to a tube I’ve only just noticed is attached to my arm. ‘We’re going to need to take a statement from you. Are you up to doing that?’
I sense his impatience but there are too many things I don’t have straight in my head. Not least the fact that as soon as I start talking I’ll expose my family for what they’ve done. I need to speak to Bonnie first. ‘I’m not sure.’
He nods, squeezing his lips together, and I can see he’s weighing how much to push me, which immediately makes me think of Danny. If I don’t speak now, will he be charged with murder?
‘Oh God,’ I groan, closing my eyes.
‘Do you need the nurse?’
‘No. I just— My brother didn’t kill Iona.’ When I open my eyes again he is staring at me, his mouth parted. ‘I’ll make a statement now if I have to.’
Harwood’s face relaxes. He tells me he’ll need to record the interview and, as he sorts out the equipment, my mind is plagued with visions of my dad being arrested, Bonnie falling apart at the truth, my relationship with my sister irrevocably breaking.
I think of the woman in the story with her two sons. We’d argued it out in training. I’d said she should have told the truth and stood by her murdered son, but now I see that wasn’t an option when the other was still alive.
It’s not so clear-cut for me. Three of my family’s lives are hanging on threads and I’m the one holding the string.
Harwood tells me he is ready and asks me to start at the beginning of the evening.
Instead I dive into the middle and say, ‘Annie Webb drugged me.’
‘There was a high level of midazolam found in you and traces on one of the glasses. It’s used as a sedative,’ he adds when I look blank. ‘We’re aware of this, but it would be really helpful if you can tell me what happened in the lead-up to that.’
‘She told me she’d killed Iona,’ I say. My heart is pitter-pattering quickly, inside my chest. ‘And I found a note in her kitchen drawer. She was the one who sent me the threats. I don’t know what happened to the note.’
‘We found one partially written in her office,’ he tells me.
‘I thought of Annie as an aunt,’ I say sadly. Tears prick at my eyes. ‘I thought I could trust her. Has she admitted it? It wasn’t Danny.’
‘Ms Harvey, I really need you to start at the beginning of the evening.’ He’s trying to stay patient.
‘But Danny—’
‘Your brother’s already been released,’ Harwood says. ‘We didn’t have enough evidence to charge him and there were too many inconsistencies in his version of events.’
‘Oh!’ I hold a hand over my mouth. ‘He’s free?’
He nods. ‘We’ll be keeping an eye on him but he’s free.’ Harwood shuffles to the edge of his chair. ‘I know this isn’t great timing for you, but we really need you to tell us what happened. Annie Webb isn’t talking. She’s neither confirmed nor denied anything at the moment.’
‘She hasn’t admitted she did it?’
‘She hasn’t said a word. That’s why we need you to tell us exactly what you remember. Why she told you she killed Iona.’
‘She—’ I break off, screwing my eyes up.
Harwood nods encouragement. He thinks I’ve stopped because my memories are patchy, just like the nurse told me they would be.
In reality they’re crystal clear. I remember every part of my conversation with Annie, from her telling me Mum pushed Iona off a cliff to Annie having to clean up the mess Mum made. ‘She’s not said anything?’ I ask.
He shakes his head, pursing his lips, edging closer. He’s so eager for the story and I could tell him exactly what he wants to hear. In doing so I could implicate Bob, but then I’d also be pulling my own family’s lives apart in an instant.
I think back to the nurse’s helpful warning. ‘I’m sorry. It’s all so patchy. If she told me I don’t remember.’
Harwood doesn’t move. He’s pressed forward so much that he’s almost touching the side of the bed. The air between us is heavy and it’s a relief when he finally pulls back.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be more useful,’ I say as the nurse appears in the doorway.
‘Ms Harvey, we’re going to need to talk again,’ Harwood sighs, reminding me this is by no means over.
‘I know,’ I murmur. I understand it’s far from finished. But there are two conversations I need to have first, before my patchy memory returns, though I don’t relish the thought of speaking to Bonnie or Dad.
The nurse bustles Harwood out of the room as my phone rings on the table beside the bed. It’s Freya. She must have been trying to get hold of me since I hadn’t updated her about my search for Ange, because I have a few missed calls from her.
‘Oh my God,’ she screeches when I pick up the phone. ‘I knew something must have gone wrong when you didn’t call me back yesterday, but this—’ She breaks off dramatically. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ I tell her.
‘I heard they’re talking to Annie Webb.’ Her voice quietens. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she murmurs. ‘Did you find Ange yesterday?’
‘Yes.’
‘And? Did she say any more about the sister?’
‘No,’ I lie. ‘She wouldn’t tell me anything.’
‘I didn’t think she would,’ she sighs. ‘Oh well, maybe there’s nothing else to it …’ Freya drifts off as I catch Meg lingering in the doorway. I hold up a hand in a wave and she smiles back at me.
‘I want to thank you, Freya,’ I say. ‘Without your help I don’t know that my brother would be free.’
‘Any time,’ she says as Meg tentatively steps into the room. I beckon her over.
I tell Freya I need to go, with a promise we’ll keep in touch, because there’s someone else I need to thank too.
Once I hang up Meg rushes across, almost flinging herself on top of me. ‘Oh my God. I’ve been so worried about you. How are you feeling?’
‘Like I’ve been run over,’ I smile. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’
‘I can’t even imagine what would have happened if I wasn’t there,’ she says. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘I know.’ It doesn’t. ‘How come you were?’ I ask.
‘I wanted to talk to you,’ she says. ‘It was the third time I’d come by Annie’s house. Long story, but Susan Carlton showed up at ours, closely followed by Graham.’ Meg screws up her nose. ‘It turned into this horrible argument and I just ran out. I went straight to Rachel’s. When she said you weren’t there, the only other place I thought you might be was Annie’s. The first time it must have only been just after ten but I got her out of bed.’
‘I must have just missed you,’ I say. It was the time I’d slipped out to Bob and Ruth’s. It must have been why Annie was waiting for me when I got back.
‘Well, she denied you were there but I saw bedding on the sofa. She always invites me in but she couldn’t get rid of me quick enough, even though I was outside in the middle of a storm.
‘Mum was a complete mess when I got home, quoting Graham that if you hadn’t come back he wouldn’t have had the police on to him. According to her, if that hadn’t happened then Susan wouldn’t have found out and turned up on our doorstep, meaning Graham wouldn’t have called off their relationship.’
‘Seriously?’
‘I know. She’d gone totally nuts. But she was mad at you, and I was so certain Annie was lying that I went back. That time she told me you were having a bath!’ Meg snorts.
‘Funnily enough I was,’ I smile weakly. ‘But you were right to be worried.’
‘Annie looked so pissed off when I turned up, and with Graham so wound up and my mum and …’ Meg trails off. ‘I was worried, but I was looking for you for myself, too. I just really needed someone to talk to.’
‘I don’t care why you were there, I’m just glad you were,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’ I reach out and take her hand as the nurse comes back in again.
‘I can’t believe what happened and that you were drugged and—’
The nurse clears her throat loudly. ‘Visiting time’s over for now,’ she says. ‘Stella needs rest if she wants to go home later.’
‘I’m pleased I met you, Stella.’ Meg leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. ‘Promise me you’ll come back to Evergreen?’
‘You know, I don’t think I will,’ I say, smiling sadly. ‘But I’d love for you to come see me some time.’
Eight hours later I’m wrapping my cold duvet around me in my own bed. I snuggle into my pillow, tears dampening the cotton beneath my cheeks. All around, our young faces beam back at me from behind their glass frames and I fight the urge to rip them all down.
I lied to the detective. Still I’m playing God, trying to keep my family safe. I don’t know how Mum did it for all those years. Whether she nearly broke, or if it came easy because the alternative wasn’t an option.
I don’t have that choice. Sooner or later Annie will talk or Bob will come forward, but if they don’t, I’m not like them. I can’t bury the truth like they did.
I think of the two people who will suffer the most. Technicalities might excuse my dad from going on trial, but it will break him nonetheless. Yet every so often the question knifes into me: doesn’t he deserve to pay?