Two Shades of the Lilac Sunset

by Rosen Trevithick

  Instead, she decided to bring up something that had been playing on her mind. “How’s your friend?”

  “Which friend?”

  “The one with the brain tumour? You never said …”

  “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “So he’s still critical?”

  “Let’s go away somewhere,” he suggested, out of the blue.

  “What?”

  “Let’s take Charlie Waltz and get out of here.”

  “Who?”

  “My plane.”

  He has a plane? Of course he has a plane.

  “Let’s fly to a remote Scottish island for some overdue relaxation.”

  A remote island is the last place I want to be with you.

  “We’ve never flown together, you and I.” Nat became animated. “We could even buy a place up there, if you like it.”

  “A second home?”

  “Technically my third, if you don’t include my flat in London.”

  “You still have your flat in London?”

  “Hey, we could go to my villa in Cyprus if you fancy it? Do you fancy it?”

  “You never told me you had a villa in Cyprus.”

  “I was saving it, so I could surprise you one day when you really deserved it. But I can see you need the TLC now. So what do you say? Shall we drive over to Perranporth and take Charlie Waltz to Cyprus?”

  Willow was terrified. She already felt a prisoner; abroad, she would be even more cut off. But what would he do to her if she didn’t fall in with his plans?

  Morning of Sunday 23 rd August – inside a house on Mayfield Road

  Demi hurtled down the stairs, almost breaking bones at the bottom. She rushed into the living room, where Ross was listening to the Foo Fighters. “He’s locked her in the apartment.”

  “What?” Ross muted the stereo.

  “He’s locked her in the apartment and she’s suicidal,” explained Demi, trying to stamp her way into her trainers.

  “Suicidal?”

  “I think so. She just emailed me. She’s in a bad way. I have to get to her.”

  Ross jumped up, vibrating the entire house. “Taxi?”

  “Yes!” Then Demi thought about it. “Unless you think a taxi will take too long to get here?”

  “You taxi. I’ll run.”

  “Great.” Demi snatched up her phone, thankful that she had a local firm on speed dial. She spoke to the operator as quickly as she could, stressing that it was an emergency.

  Ross, now in his trainers, gave her a firm bear hug and then made for the door. Demi heard it slam.

  As she waited, she recalled Willow’s email. Did it really suggest she was suicidal? Could she have already acted on her feelings?

  Demi felt sick. She should have tried harder to reach out to Willow. She should have said something when she first had doubts about him. All her regrets were intensified by one undeniable fact: she had brought Nat Gordon into Willow’s life.

  Morning of Sunday 23 rd August – at a penthouse on the sea front

  Demi practically kicked the exterior door down when she got to Nat’s. She pressed all the buzzers over and over until somebody let her in. She dived into the lift. The seconds that it took to reach the top felt like forever. She charged out of the lift and threw her weight against the door to the flat. It was locked.

  “Can I help you?” asked Nat’s voice. He opened the door a fraction.

  “Where is she?” demanded Demi, forcing the door open, knocking Nat out of the way and barging into the flat.

  Nat plonked down the sports bottle he’d been drinking from. “You can’t just march in here.”

  “Where is she?”

  “If you mean Willow, she’s gone out.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’d invite you in to check the rooms, but I just … don’t like you.”

  “You blocked my numbers on her phone!”

  Nat looked surprised. Then he asked, “Are you sure she didn’t block your numbers?”

  “Yes! Because she told me. She sent me a garbled email this morning. She wants to take her own life, you bastard. Let me see her!”

  Nat’s face dropped. “What?”

  Demi stormed towards the master bedroom, flinging open the door. “She’s suicidal. Where is she?”

  “She seemed better this morning … Otherwise I wouldn’t have let her out.”

  Demi spun around and glared at him. “Let her out? She’s not a caged animal.”

  “I was protecting her from herself.”

  “You mean you knew she was suicidal and you didn’t tell me? You just locked her in?”

  “She doesn’t care about you, Demi. Take the hint.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She said she just needed some air. I thought she was feeling better. She put on jogging clothes and sounded chirpy, so I let her go.” Nat’s voice became urgent. “Wait there!” He hurried inside his bedroom calling, “I’ll help you find her.”

  Great, that’s all she needs. Demi imagined Nat chasing after Willow; seeing him could be the final straw. But how could she stop him?

  Her eyes fell on Nat’s drink bottle. Without stopping to consider what she was doing, she removed the lid then grabbed the antihistamines from her bag. Her hands were like butter and she wasted valuable seconds before she managed to separate the two halves of the first capsule. She tipped the powder into the bottle and gave it a gentle shake. Quickly, she repeated the process with the second, the third, the fourth …

  Nat emerged from the bedroom, now wearing his shoes and fiddling with his phone. Demi tried to look casual.

  “You go left towards the castle and I’ll go right,” Nat ordered. “She can’t have gone far.”

  Demi looked nervously at the drink bottle on the counter, already beginning to regret her actions. Part of her hoped that, in his haste, he might leave it behind. Instead, he grabbed it and left the flat.

  They rode the lift together in silence – two enemies united by a common goal. Nat took a glug from the bottle. Demi felt an impulse to stop him, but restrained herself.

  After they burst out of the doorway, Demi hurried across the road, standing on tiptoes as she tried to look down to the beach. The seawall was too steep, so she made for the steps. She knew in her bones that Willow was on the coast somewhere, she just had to find out which part.

  Early Evening on Sunday 23 rd August – at Gyllingvase Beach

  Demi had been left and she’d been right. She’d been to and fro again, swinging like a pendulum from the docks to Maenporth. She stood at the entrance to Gyllingvase, wondering which way to try next.

  The police were also looking for Willow. At first they’d been dismissive and pointed out that officially Willow wouldn’t be a missing person until the following day, but after reading her email, they sent cars searching the whole of Falmouth and its surrounding countryside.

  Demi was relieved when she saw Ross striding towards her. They couldn’t cover as much ground together as they could apart, but she needed the comfort and closeness of the only person she loved almost as much as her sister.

  She studied his blue quicksilver t-shirt. “Have you changed your shirt?

  “Yes,” admitted Ross, looking flustered.

  “So you’ve been back home. Why?”

  “There was blood on it.”

  “Blood?”

  Ross looked around to check nobody was listening. “I punched Nat.”

  “What?”

  “He called you a cunt.”

  “Jesus, Ross! Calling me a cunt is not even in the top ten things that fuckbag has done.”

  “I know. It was the final straw.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “This morning. In the parking garage at his place.”

  “Did he hit you back?” asked Demi, inspecting Ross for bruises.

  “No, he just got in the car and drove off. Finding Willow seemed to be the only thing he cared about.”

>   Demi sighed. “I wish he fucking didn’t. She sounds terrified of him.”

  Ross circled Demi’s back with his hand, massaging a couple of vertebrae.

  “I really thought she’d gone somewhere on foot, but we’ve looked everywhere obvious. She must have caught the bus or train out of here. Perhaps she’s in Truro somewhere.”

  “Unless she’s hiding.”

  “Or he’s hiding her.”

  “The police are planning to check his apartment. They’ll only wait so long for the keys,” Ross reminded her. “Then they’ll kick the door down.”

  “That’s another thing: how is Nat evading the police? Why would he hide from them unless he was with her?”

  Demi had seen two police officers walking towards them. They were the ones she’d spoken to earlier – a tall, ginger chap who liked to be known as ‘Jack’ and his squat, grey-haired partner, P.C. Jones. She breathed in with anticipation, but Jack shook his head and out flowed the air once again.

  “The best thing you can do is go home in case she turns up there.”

  “But we checked our house. Surely if she was going to come home, she would have come home this morning?”

  “Not necessarily. She might not have been ready earlier. If you two are close, you need to be available in case she comes looking for your support.”

  “I’ve got my phone.”

  “Please, Miss, go home. You need some rest.”

  Mid-Evening on Sunday 23 rd August – inside a house on Mayfield Road

  Demi stood in Willow’s bedroom, looking out of the bay window across the town. Many of the little boxes had their lights on; the sun turned others orange. “She could be in any one of those houses.” Then she turned to Ross, “Except I know she isn’t. I know Willow. If she wanted comfort and warmth she would have come home. And if she wants to be alone, she will be outside.”

  “Demi, the police helicopter …”

  “Oh, what do the police know?”

  Ross gently rubbed Demi’s shoulders. She could smell his scent – a hint of waning deodorant and the faint aroma of reassuringly-familiar sweat.

  Suddenly, Demi pointed outside and shouted, “Lilac sunset!”

  Ross looked confused. “Looks more orange to me.”

  “But it won’t be down by the ocean. It’ll be lilac – Willow’s favourite.”

  “Demi,” began Ross softly. “The police said to stay here.”

  “If she’s in Falmouth, she’ll be down at the beach watching the sunset.”

  “Doesn’t the sun set behind the beaches?”

  “It does, but it makes the sky lilac. She finds it soothing. When her mum died, she spent evening after evening down at …” Demi jumped with excitement, “… Kingfisher Cove. That’s where she is!”

  “Demi …”

  “What tide is it? It was going out this afternoon …”

  “Should have started coming in again by now. But Demi …”

  “If it’s not high tide the cove will be there.” Demi hadn’t taken her shoes off since she came home, so leaving the house didn’t take long.

  “Wait!” cried Ross.

  “Ross, I have to do this …”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “What about the instructions from the police? Shouldn’t one of us be here?”

  “I’m not happy about you being on your own when you’re this upset.”

  “I’m okay. I’m not the one who’s suicidal.” Demi looked at her big, teddy bear of a boyfriend and felt warmed. She could see concern all over his face. Maybe he needed her as much as she needed him. “Come on, then.”

  “On foot?”

  “I think we should walk. Then if she’s decided to come home, we’ve got a chance of bumping into her.”

  They were just about to leave the house when a police car pulled up. Demi froze. Jack stepped out first.

  “Have you found her?”

  “Can we come inside?”

  “Why? Where is she? How is she?”

  “We haven’t found her, I’m afraid. But her phone has turned up.”

  “What – separate from her?”

  “Can you confirm what make and model of phone she has?”

  “Samsung, I think. Can I see it?

  “Our officers are examining it to see if there’s anything on there that might help us find out where she is.”

  “Where was it?”

  Jack and P.C. Jones exchanged glances.

  “A fisherman found it near the end of Stack Point.”

  “Stack Point?” cried Demi, remembering some of the high cliffs along that headland. “Was it in the water?”

  “No, it was on the low rocks near the end. It wasn’t damaged so it’s most likely that it was just left there.”

  “Why would Willow leave her phone?”

  “Perhaps she wants to be truly alone,” suggested Ross.

  “Then she’ll be on the rocks or a cove somewhere. Stack Point is one of her favourite places to sit.”

  “We checked Stack Point again. She’s not there.”

  “You don’t suppose she fell in?”

  “Unlikely. It’s a calm day and there are no strong currents around the headland.”

  “What if she fell and banged her head?”

  “We haven’t ruled that out, but there are so many more likely explanations.”

  “There are lots of little coves she likes, but you can only reach some of them at low tide. She could have gone there earlier and …”

  “Our helicopter checked the coastline.”

  “They must have missed her then. She clearly was around that area if that’s where she left her phone. Another of her favourite spots is Kingfisher Cove.”

  “Which one’s Kingfisher Cove?” asked Jack.

  “Just next to Swanpool. You might have missed it in your search because you can’t get there by road.”

  “The helicopter would have seen her.”

  “Perhaps she moved there later.”

  Jack turned to his partner.

  “No harm in having another look,” conceded P.C. Jones.

  “All right,” agreed Jack. “We’ll take another look.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “You really would be better off waiting here.”

  “Please. She sounded terrified in her email. You approaching her might make her feel even worse. Let us come with you. She knows us.”

  Jack frowned. “If she’s not there, do you promise to come back home and stay here for the remainder of the night?”

  Demi couldn’t promise, but she nodded anyway. What was honesty when her sister’s life might be at stake?

  Demi and Ross climbed into the back of the police car. Demi had pinned all her hopes on Kingfisher Cove – anything to avoid confronting the more horrifying explanations for Willow’s prolonged disappearance.

  Mid-evening on Sunday 23 rd August – at Swanpool

  When the car approached Swanpool Beach, there seemed to be an alarmingly strong police presence. Demi knew that all teams had been asked to look out for Willow, but right now it looked as though all teams were looking for Willow at this exact spot.

  P.C. Jones pulled in on the side of the road by the trees that lined the lake. Demi saw the partners exchange glances and knew they found the substantial police presence odd too. “Stay there,” instructed Jack, getting out of the car.

  There was nothing Demi could have found harder than staying in the car. She tried the door; it was unlocked, so she sprang out and headed for the beach. The far side of the beach was swarming in fluorescent bibs. A small crowd of people stood around, watching in hushed whispers.

  Somebody yelled, “We’ve found a body.”

  Demi felt her insides curdle, as if the words had taken a whisk to her internal organs. She rushed forwards out of the shadows. “Willow!”

  Jack grabbed her, holding her back from the scene. She felt Ross’s arms join Jack’s and the officer released her into her boyfriend’s
grip. Jack turned to Ross, “Keep her back. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “No!” yelled Demi, squirming to get free.

  Ross held her tightly.

  “It’s Willow! I know it is.”

  In the half-light, she could see a body being dragged from the sea. From here it just looked like an anonymous grey lump.

  Demi could not bear the time it was taking. How hard could it be to identify a body? Every officer in Cornwall must have seen Willow’s photograph. She had heard that bodies that have been in the water for a long time looked distorted, but it could only have been a few hours. Surely they could tell whether or not it was Willow. The idea of Willow’s body disfigured by saltwater turned her stomach.

  Sirens tore through the air. Demi turned and was blinded by the light of an ambulance. Willow was alive? The paramedics ran down the beach with a gurney. A second team of paramedics turned up in a car and followed in the sprint to the water’s edge.

  Demi watched in silence as one of the crew leaned over Willow’s body, lifting her arm, listening to her chest.

  “Willow!” cried Demi, struggling so much that Ross relinquished his grip.

  “Get her back!” ordered P.C. Jones.

  “I want to come with her in the ambulance! I’m her sister.”

  “There’s nothing we can do;, been dead for a while.”

  “What?” cried Demi. “Who said that? What’s happening?” Demi yelled, “Jack! What’s happening?”

  Jack walked over to Demi and held her arm. “That’s not your sister.”

  “Please, Jack, don’t lie to me.”

  “It isn’t Willow. It’s an adult male.”

  Evening of Sunday 23 rd August – on the streets of Finsbury Park, London

  As she walked through the unfamiliar streets of Finsbury Park, Willow wished that she had her phone. There were people everywhere, spilling from colourful shops into the street. She stopped abruptly to look at her map and somebody tutted.

  Finally, she thought she’d found the right street – a tall, red brick terrace. Now if only the houses were clearly numbered …