Jake crouched down beside me, folding me into his strong arms. I fell against his chest and he whispered into my hair, words that I couldn’t hear over my sobs. My face was a gluey mess of tears and snot and something inside me – something that had been stretched and twisted and borne more weight than it was designed to hold – finally broke.
I tried to stand, but couldn’t feel my legs. I didn’t want to move, anyway – maybe Mike wouldn’t let me in, but I could sit here on the doorstep all day. Stay close to the children, be ready when they needed me.
How long would he keep me away from them? Did I have any legal rights to see them? The panic was rising in me, a flutter beating in my chest.
Maybe if I closed my eyes and wished very hard, I could transport myself away from here – to another time, another place. Another life. It had been a favourite game of Amy’s. We would crawl under the bedsheet with our torches, our heads making a tent peak, close our eyes, and focus on the place we wanted to go to.
I wished myself away from there, away from the shouting and Mike’s fury, away from Seahouses, away from the people and places where everything reminded me of Amy. Away from Phil and Richard and the mistakes I’d made. From my failure to make everything better. From all the pain I had caused.
Jake was still at my side and he was trying to talk to me – I could hear him, but his words didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Everything was spinning.
And then another voice.
‘Dear god, Izzy. Could you not have just answered your bloody phone?’
And there, at the garden gate with an overnight bag at his feet, was Adam.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘I’m not calling this an intervention, but I need some time alone with Izzy.’
Adam sent Rachel home and told Jake to go back to the office before whisking me off to the pub and installing me at our usual corner table. Only by the second glass of Sauvignon Blanc did my teeth finally stop chattering.
‘What are you doing here? You’re not due to visit until the end of the month.’
‘I got so worried when you stopped taking my calls that I had to change my flights. Looks like I got here just in time,’ he said, looking me up and down.
I took stock of my appearance. My hair badly needed some maintenance. I had gained at least three kilos and tiny threads of wrinkles were now creeping from the sides of my eyes and across my forehead – a combination of the emotional strain of the last two months and being long overdue for my regular Botox appointment. I had bitten my nails into short, frayed stubs that would have horrified the old me. My make-up routine had dwindled to the most basic – a lick of mascara and a swipe of lip balm.
Two months ago, I would have been embarrassed for Adam to see me looking like this – for anyone to see me like this, for that matter. Now, I couldn’t care less.
‘So apart from your family imploding on itself, what else have you been up to?’
Where to start?
I quickly filled him in on everything – going to the police with the evidence I’d discovered of Amy and Phil’s affair, who arrested him – only to release him when I realised that he and Amy hadn’t been involved after all, and that it was Richard who had Amy’s phone all along and had been reading her messages, and then seeing the police release him too – and my underlying suspicion that Mike was hiding more than an affair. And now Phil was nowhere to be found and Richard’s life was probably ruined.
‘OK,’ said Adam, taking a deep breath. ‘Tell me – have you found any time at all for quiet, reflective grief? Quality time with your family, with the children?’
I ignored him.
‘The worst part is I know Mike is covering something up – I’m not saying for sure that he killed Amy, but he had the biggest motivation and Phil was framed. Who did that, if not Mike? I need to find the woman he was having an affair with. There’s more to that than he’s letting on.’
I chewed on a fingernail. Finding Julie Knox – that was my next step.
‘Would you listen to yourself, Agatha Chr-Izzy! Why don’t you leave the detective work up to the professionals? You have enough on your plate, and this’ – he motioned towards me – ‘this is not healthy. You’re drinking far too much, and you’ve become obsessed with Amy’s accident. Your family are worried about you.’
I scoffed. ‘No, they’re not.’
‘Auntie Sue is. She said you’re constantly drinking and the accident is all you talk about, that you’re convinced Amy was murdered and it’s eating you up.’
‘Auntie Sue? When did she say that?’
‘Oh, all the time.’ He waved a hand dismissively. ‘We’ve been speaking every couple of days.’
Adam registered my surprise.
‘Well, it’s not as if you’ve been calling me back!’
I winced under his blow. It was true that I had neglected our friendship, but it had been too hard to hear about my old life carrying on without me. And maybe Auntie Sue was right. Maybe my obsession with finding out what happened to Amy was becoming unhealthy.
Gina arrived with more drinks. Suddenly the wine seemed less appealing.
‘So, what else is new?’
I started again from the beginning, telling Adam how hard it had been with the kids at first, but that we were finally finding our feet, and that things were starting to heal with Mum. I even used that word – heal – which just showed how much influence she was having on me.
I smiled as I described my friendship with Jake and was wholly unconvincing when I insisted there was no potential for romance. The blush started to rise in my cheeks and I quickly changed the subject.
Adam listened as I explained how Izzy Morton Interiors had quickly gone from pie-in-the-sky idea to harsh reality, and how I’d roped everyone in to help on the pitch for Jennifer Wheeler.
‘Shit!’ I looked at my watch. ‘The pitch! It’s tomorrow!’
There was still work left to do on the proposal, and I wasn’t remotely ready for the meeting.
‘Well, let’s leave these for now.’ Adam pushed our drinks away. ‘Session postponed until we have something to celebrate. Sounds like we have work to do.’
We went back to Puffin Cottage and worked late into the night. By the time Adam had finished weaving his magic, the pitch had been transformed from a solid home-made effort to something that looked and felt polished and professional.
Adam even helped me to pick an outfit to wear the next day. It had been a while since I’d worn anything except my casual clothes and at first, it felt like I was playing dress-up. I was relieved to find that my black wool trousers still fitted, and Adam paired them with a white silk blouse and cashmere wrap.
We surveyed the result of his makeover. It wasn’t my old look – in fact, Hong Kong Izzy would have been seriously worried for this girl. But it was smart and somewhat chic, without trying too hard. It felt good to be wearing heels again. I was holding my chin higher and my shoulders were down. This was me, doing something for me. Something came back to me in that moment – something I hadn’t realised I’d lost.
Adam yawned and I offered him my bed, insisting I would be comfortable on the sofa.
‘Don’t be daft – you need to get a good night’s sleep.’ He shrugged on his coat and kissed my cheek.
I opened the door for him. The wind had changed direction and a cool salty breeze wafted into the kitchen.
‘You’ve got this, Izzy,’ he said, as he closed the yard gate. ‘Break a leg!’
My nerves got the better of me, pushing away the sweet softness of sleep and jolting me back to consciousness with a gasp. A glance at my watch on the bedside table told me it was only 5.15 a.m. I knew I wouldn’t get back to sleep again.
I made a coffee and took it to bed, pulling back the curtains to the dark and opening the window a slice, just enough to allow in a cool trickle of sea air. The blackness began to part across the middle, the sea now distinguishable from the sky that slowly came into focus. A sliver o
f gold light appeared along the edge of the water, growing, casting a glow on everything it touched.
I pulled on some warm clothes and headed down to the beach, streetlights guiding the way to the start of the dune path until the thin morning light took over. Despite my layers, the cold air bit at me. I tucked my chin deeper into Amy’s fleece jacket and pulled the collar as high as it would reach.
Adam’s words rang in my ears. Auntie Sue was right – finding out what had happened to Amy had become an obsession. Drinking had numbed the ache of my loss but blinded me to the pain I was causing. I had neglected the people I cared about and too many people had been hurt because of me. I could see that now.
Without thinking, I took my trainers off, tucking my socks inside them. The cold sand slapped against the soles of my feet as I ran towards the shoreline, where I stood, gasping at the shock of the water’s icy caress, washing over me, cleansing me.
I bargained with the sea: let me have this. Just for today, for one day only, let me focus on this and forget all the other stuff – forget Richard, forget Phil, forget Mike. Forget Amy, too, if I can. Just for a few hours. I need it.
Jennifer Wheeler had her mother’s sparkling blue eyes. She shook my hand firmly, smiling at me with a warmth that immediately put me at ease. I had been so nervous on the drive to Alnwick that I’d had to pull over at one point and wait for the trembling to stop.
She led me through to a function room. The Stables was all dark wood panelling with a deep red carpet and period decorations. I could see immediately how lightening the walls and wood and restyling the window dressings would refresh the room, making it brighter and improving the flow of chi.
Mum had given me some positive affirmations as a technique to control my nerves, and I repeated them in head as I set up for my presentation: I am creative, I am professional and I am capable. I can do this.
My voice quivered slightly as I delivered the opening that Adam had helped me to craft, and my hand trembled as I talked Jennifer through the styling elements on the mood board. But I quickly found my stride. I loved the proposal we had put together and tingled with pride at Jennifer’s positive reaction. As I explained how the positioning of elements in the room would balance the energy of the hotel and improve the experience for guests at The Stables, I felt a genuine excitement.
By the end of my pitch, I was standing an inch taller than when I had walked in, and I couldn’t shrug the smile from my face.
Jennifer was beaming back at me. ‘Wow, Izzy, what can I say? I love it. I love all of it.’
‘Fantastic!’ My heart skipped a beat and I started to get dizzy with the potential.
‘How soon can you start?’
Adam had advised me to reassure Jennifer that we could be up and running right away, and not to bother her with the hurdles I still had to climb – the administration of setting up a new business, securing a bank loan and negotiating contracts with suppliers. Auntie Sue had agreed to help me with all of that and was primed to start as soon as I gave the green light. As long as she was still speaking to me.
I couldn’t wait to tell them all, and I just hoped that Mike would let the children join the celebration. Surely he understood the position I had been put in? Maybe I could invite Jake to join us, too. Strictly as a friend.
Jennifer offered me a tour of the rest of the hotel and I enthusiastically agreed. I had only seen a couple of the rooms that we were renovating, and I was keen to explore the rest of it.
The Stables was a rambling warren of crooked passageways leading to low-ceilinged rooms, with discreet signs everywhere warning visitors to mind their heads. I struggled to concentrate on Jennifer’s explanation of the building’s history because I was so distracted by the beautiful exposed wooden beams and stone floors that had been worn smooth by thousands of feet passing over them.
A twisted passageway opened onto the main restaurant and my eyes were drawn upwards to the double-height vaulted ceiling, propped up by centuries-old timber arches. The staff were setting up for the midday seating – the quiet murmur of pre-lunch rush chatter echoed from the kitchen.
‘And this section leads on to the stable itself – the inspiration for the rebrand.’
Jennifer smoothed an invisible crease from one of the starched linen tablecloths and held up a gleaming wine glass for a closer inspection. ‘You should have seen the state of this place before we took it over. Ghastly. It took a lot more than a lick of paint and a new name – we practically had to gut the place.’
‘So it wasn’t always called The Stables?’ My heart started beating faster. A rebranded hotel, in Alnwick. Was it possible? Could this be the place I’d been searching for?
‘What was it called before? Is it still known by another name?’
‘It’s had a few names over the years – perfectly normal, for a historic pub. You probably knew it as the Black Swan when you were growing up.’
I tried to keep the impatience out my voice. ‘This might be a silly question, but if I stayed here, what would my credit card statement say?’
Jennifer rolled her eyes.
‘Don’t get me started on that. I’ve tried for years to resolve it with the bank, I don’t know what else to do. I’ve gone round and round in circles with them, and the bureaucracy – you wouldn’t believe…’
I interrupted her. ‘And what name would it show?’
But I knew the answer before she said it.
‘The Highwayman Inn,’ Jennifer said.
Blood thundered in my ears and the cavernous room started to close in on me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The drive home was one of those journeys where, after arriving, you don’t remember how you got there. Before I knew it, I had pulled up outside Puffin Cottage. I sat in the car, parked in the back lane, staring down the road.
I hadn’t imagined it – I hadn’t been seeing shadows where there were none. Mike had been having an affair right under Amy’s nose – no wonder she had found out. And he had lied when he’d told me that he and Amy had made their peace. They hadn’t moved on at all - that’s why she had hidden the evidence away for me to find.
I tried to pull myself back to the moment, walk myself through the next steps, but all I could think of was Amy. Had her suspicion built over time, or had it come as a shock? How much had she known? Had she ever confronted Mike, or had she been collecting evidence against him? Had he killed her when he’d thought she’d been coming too close to discovering his secret? My mind raced with the injustice of it all, too many thoughts jostling to be heard.
A loud knocking at the car window startling me, snapping me out of my reverie. Adam and Rachel. I wound the window down.
‘And? How did it go?’ Adam asked, their faces full of expectation.
For a second, I struggled to work out what he was talking about.
‘The pitch? The pitch! It went great, really well, thanks,’ I mumbled. ‘We got it. We got the job.’
‘Seriously?’ Adam started bouncing up and down, grinning, and Rachel smiled proudly. ‘You got the contract?’ he said.
‘Yes…’ I forced a smile. ‘I’m now officially in business.’
Adam opened the car door. ‘Well, what are you waiting in there for? Champagne all round!’
I shuffled into the cottage in a daze, wishing I could enjoy the moment as much as I knew I should. Mum and Auntie Sue were already in the kitchen and there was a bottle of champagne on ice waiting for me, the bucket sweating onto the table next to a bouquet of white lilies.
Adam popped the cork and poured us each a glass.
‘To Izzy Morton Interiors, and the start of something very special.’ He held his champagne high. ‘Cheers!’
We chinked our glasses together. Auntie Sue gave me a smile that told me I was forgiven – by her, at least.
The bubbles were mesmerising, and I could see a whole universe in my glass – galaxies suspended in gold, a sky of stars winking at me. Had Mike drunk champagne on his little ja
unts to The Stables with Julie Knox? I felt sick at the thought.
‘Izzy… Earth to Izzy… Is everything all right?’ Rachel rubbed my shoulder.
They were all staring at me. Auntie Sue and Adam exchanged a worried glance.
‘She’s fine,’ said Mum. ‘I know my girl. Perhaps a little too much excitement for one day?’
I nodded in agreement, grateful for any excuse to sit down. My head was spinning again. The champagne had left a bitter aftertaste.
‘Mike rang this morning,’ said Auntie Sue, her voice ringing with a false lightness. She spoke as if she was addressing the whole room, but I knew this was just for my benefit. ‘He’s very sorry about what happened yesterday, and of course he isn’t serious about keeping anyone away from the kids.’
The temperature dropped at the mention of his name. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mum pull her cardigan closed. I bristled at the thought of him, seething inside. How dare he threaten to keep me from the children? After what he had done. He had no right.
‘I think he’s ready to say sorry, if everyone else is…’
She was talking as if he had threatened everyone, but his anger yesterday had been directed squarely at me. He’d made me look like the bad one, like the crazy person. And now I had to apologise to him?
‘Izzy?’ Auntie Sue raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Will you say sorry to Mike so we can all move on?’
I reluctantly agreed. Anything to see the kids.
Mum and Auntie Sue left, leaving me alone with Adam and Rachel. With my champagne almost untouched, I explained how I’d put two and two together at the hotel.
‘That’s scandalous!’ said Adam, gobsmacked. ‘The audacity of that man. No wonder you’re out of sorts.’
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