by A J Waines
She made me run through my account of the events time after time, making sure it ended once Mark had left the pool. I realised I’d never been any good at making things up. ‘Just explain what you saw, but miss out the bit at the end,’ Karen said sounding exasperated. ‘That’s all you have to do.’
Lying obviously came a lot easier to her than to me. ‘Tell Jodie you saw Mark go to take a shower and then go back to his room,’ she said deliberately.
‘But…’
‘Do this for me, Alice – will you?’
She said something surprising after that. ‘This could be useful one day – never give up leverage easily, Alice.’ I didn’t really know what she meant at the time.
The next day, neither of us mentioned it. Nor the day after that, and so it went on. Jodie continued to ask me to check up on Mark, every few months or so – right through until the end of our course. I hated it. And Karen was right – it wasn’t the only time. Mark was the stereotypical two-faced cheat, claiming he was devoted to Jodie and seeing a string of other women on the side.
What was more interesting was Karen’s face that day – she seemed more excited than distressed about Jodie’s predicament. Only now, did it occur to me that she wanted to hold back Mark’s secret – so she could make use of it one day.
Karen dropped a spoon as she prepared some mushy cereal for Mel, bringing me abruptly back to the present.
‘She’s slept for hours these last few days,’ she said. ‘It seems to have really done her good.’
Mel didn’t look a hundred per cent to me. Her eyelids seemed swollen and her cheeks paler than when she’d first come out of hospital. I thought about the tablets I’d found stuffed down the side of the cot. There must have been a reason why they weren’t in a properly prescribed bottle. A simple explanation? Nevertheless, I found myself wanting to know more about them. After Stuart’s comments, I was questioning Karen’s actions a lot more than I had before. It occurred to me that Nina’s laptop might be useful.
Karen filled the kettle and waved it at Jodie, but she shook her head and left us. Karen turned to me.
‘You’re seeing a lot of this man.’ Her voice was cool, but there was a sting in her words.
‘Stuart? Yes – he’s really sweet.’
‘Married?’
‘Getting a divorce.’
She laughed. ‘Be careful, Alice. Make sure you find out more about him before you get too attached. Rebound relationships and all that.’
She sounded like my mother. ‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘And you must be very careful not to let your guard down.’ She leant over me, her hands flat and wide on the table.
‘I won’t. I know what I’m doing.’
‘It’s a bit of a cliché, isn’t it? “Younger woman, older man” syndrome.’ She turned up her nose. ‘You’re not jumping at the first guy who steps in as your protector are you? Women have moved on from all that, darling.’
‘He’s the first man I’ve found in ages I actually like!’
‘Well, he’s not going to like you very much if he finds out you killed someone, covered it up – and dropped the body in the lake,’ she smirked.
I got to my feet, my arms stiff at my sides. ‘I think we should leave the cottage.’ The words shot out of my mouth.
Her eyes gave away how startled she was, but she quickly recovered and smiled.
‘I know. Me too,’ she agreed casually. She shook a pile of granola into her dish. ‘But it would look suspicious. It would look like we had something to hide.’
The holiday had been such a good idea, it had started out with such promise – now all I wanted to do was go home. I was miles from anywhere and without any immediate means of escape.
There was a mounting catalogue of horrors: I’d been plagued with headaches and tormented by what we’d done to Charlie. Mark was agitated and high on drugs all day. Jodie seemed to have regressed to a forlorn teenager and Karen wasn’t the bright, enviable role-model I had always thought she was. She was sharp with me and not always fun to be around. On top of all that, it seemed she’d been lying to us all about America.
I didn’t know what was real anymore. The situation might have made a good TV sitcom but right now – living it – it felt like hell.
I took a dustpan and brush and began cleaning up last night’s mess in the sitting room. As soon as I got started, I realised my tools weren’t up to the job and brought up the vacuum cleaner from the cellar. It had a short lead and the socket by the fire only allowed me to cover half the room, so I searched the skirting boards for another one.
I shifted chairs and pulled cupboards away from the wall, but couldn’t find one. Then when I moved a small bookcase, I saw the edge of a socket poking out from behind the French dresser. I heaved at the monstrous piece of solid oak and after four goes managed to drag it away from the wall by about two inches, breaking my fingernail in the process. It was just enough.
As I slid the plug in, I froze. Beside the electrical socket was another one. A small white plastic box with a slot in the middle. A phone socket.
There had been a landline here all along. I pulled open the drawers in the dresser and checked the cupboards. They were full of spare cutlery and glasses that smelt of buttery tea towels; there was no handset.
I went into the kitchen and watched Karen carefully as I asked my question: ‘There’s a phone socket in the sitting room, did you know about it?’
‘Where…?’ Her expression suitably lopsided with disbelief.
‘I’ll show you.’ I led her through and pointed to the wall.
‘Well – there you go. Where’s the phone?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe in the cellar?’ I said.
‘Maybe it doesn’t work. Perhaps that’s why it was removed.’
Or maybe you disconnected it and pulled the dresser across before I arrived, I queried, within the safety of my own head.
Had Karen deliberately cut us off from the outside world? Why would she do that? If she had known about the phone, we could have called the police straight away when we found Charlie.
A new thought whiplashed into my mind. Was Stuart right? Did I need to be afraid of Karen?
Once I’d cleaned up, I returned the vacuum cleaner to the cellar and took the opportunity to root around with the torch. There were all kinds of things down there; a dartboard, an outdoor basketball hoop, a skateboard, as well as various tools hanging on the wall – a mallet, wrench, hacksaw, hammer.
In the boxes were old domestic items: damaged lampshades, cans of spray paint, rolled-up curtains, an old iron. I checked the final box and found it; an old green handset with a dial, wrapped up inside a plastic bag. I couldn’t help thinking it looked deliberately hidden. I opened out the plastic bag; it had Your M&S written on it. It certainly wasn’t from the same era as the rest of the stuff down there, besides Marks and Spencer was hardly a local store.
I took the phone into the sitting room and plugged it in. The dialling tone purred straight away, so I rang Nina’s mobile number. She answered after three rings.
‘It’s you,’ she said, chuckling. ‘I didn’t recognise the number.’
‘There is a phone here, after all – you were right.’
‘I knew it…’
I asked if she was free later that day and she invited me over after lunch.
I was about to go through into the kitchen to tell Karen that the phone was working when I heard Mark’s voice. I stopped short of the door. It was clear they were in the middle of an argument and I didn’t want to intrude.
‘That’s not what we agreed,’ Karen claimed.
‘Things change – I need it.’
‘Well – it’s too late.’
‘I told you, I need it.’
‘For your little secret, Mark? Does Jodie know just how bad it’s got? I’m not stupid. I know you’ve been finding every excuse to get out of here and back to civilisation. When she went shopping,
I bet you didn’t go snowboarding at all.’
‘Don’t you dare say anything,’ he hissed.
I didn’t want to risk getting caught, so I left by the door to the hall and went to my room. I threw myself down on the bed, squashing my hands over my ears. What was going on? Were they talking about the ten thousand pounds?
I tugged at the bedcovers and slid under them, pulling them down over my head, trying to cut everything out. This whole situation was an illusion – a lie. I saw images of the phone, the stool, the wads of money, Charlie’s hat, the wheelbarrow – all tripping over each other inside my head. I’d been drawn into some sort of conspiracy without my knowledge – I was convinced of it.
Am I safe? Am I really safe here? Or were things about to get even worse?
Chapter 36
It was a relief to get outdoors after lunch. Tufts of green and sandy paving stones were emerging again with the thaw, the snow turning into grey clumps like polystyrene boulders by the roadside. The layer of frost sprinkled on the verge appeared to be merely masquerading as snow. Nothing was as it seemed.
I walked over to Nina’s cottage fighting the urge to let panic get the better of me. I took deep breaths and tried to allow the colours, the air, the endless vista, to pull me out of myself.
Once again, there’d been nothing on the news about the missing boy or the man who took him. I wondered if Malcolm had managed to find out any more from the local police.
There was chuckling in the background when Nina opened the door – she already had guests. She looked like the kind of person who held regular Sunday lunches, dinner parties and sparkling cocktail evenings. I could imagine her as a supreme and effortless host – flitting through the room like a long silk ribbon, offering drinks and nibbles, keeping everyone happy.
‘Sorry, Alice,’ she whispered as she took my coat. ‘I wasn’t expecting them.’
‘It’s fine. It’s nice,’ I said hoping I didn’t sound disappointed.
She led me into the drawing room and introduced me to Ted, Mandy and their young son, Laurence, who were staying in another holiday cottage along the lane.
‘We’re near the loch – Loch Tierney,’ said Ted. ‘How about you?’
I didn’t answer straight away. How near the loch?
I felt saliva from the back of my throat bolt down in a hurry. I gave him vague directions to our cottage.
‘We’re like a little English ex-pat group,’ tittered Mandy. Malcolm gave a polite chuckle and she laughed louder, exposing teeth that were too big for her face and looked like they belonged to someone else. Ted had doggy brown eyes and thin hair. It was obviously dyed in one flat chestnut colour and was coated in gel that made it lie in flat brittle slices. I found it hard to stop scrutinising it.
Nina pointed to the decanters and I asked for brandy this time. She pressed the glass into my hand and we all made excruciating small talk for around twenty minutes. Where are you from? What’s your line of work? Oh, how nice – you take photographs? The inane questions grated on me and I was beginning to wish I hadn’t come. As each day passed and the string of appalling events multiplied, it was becoming more of an effort to put on a brave face and appear normal. I felt nothing like normal inside.
‘Well – we’d better make a move,’ said Ted. ‘I promised Lorrie we’d go fishing before it gets dark.’ They collected their coats from the hall and Nina started the round of courteous farewells. How nice to meet you. Glad you could come over. We must meet up again before you go. I hung around in the doorway, aching for them to be gone.
‘We saw a boat, didn’t we, Daddy?’ said Lorrie as his mum helped him into his puffa jacket.
‘Very early it was, yesterday morning; we were walking the dog. Someone was out on the loch,’ said Ted. He put his boots on at the front door and straightened up.
‘Really…’ I said. It came out too high, like I was playing a fairy in a school play.
‘The locals use it to cross the loch, apparently,’ said Nina, ‘there’s always at least one left on the bank.’
‘Old custom,’ confirmed Malcolm.
‘There was a big splash, wasn’t there?’ said Lorrie. There was an odd silence and I could hear the boy’s eager breathing. ‘I want to have a go on the boat. Can we have a go on the boat, Daddy?’
‘We’ll see,’ he said, ushering the boy towards the door.
What had they seen exactly? Had they told the police? I didn’t dare ask. If I mentioned the police, it would look like there was reason to involve them and their little tale had sounded innocent enough. It had no taint of suspicion wrapped around it.
I collapsed on the sofa once they’d gone. Nina put my relief down to them leaving, not knowing it was the turn of conversation that had unnerved me.
Malcolm sensed we wanted to chat alone, but before he went I asked if he’d heard any more inside details through the sergeant he’d spoken to before, but there was nothing further.
‘You look frazzled,’ Nina said. ‘Another brandy?’
‘Yes, please.’
I told her about the others in the cottage. How volatile everything had become.
‘It’s not the calm relaxing break you were expecting, then?’ she queried.
‘I don’t know what I expected, after six years. Mark and Jodie seem to have a skewed relationship. Jodie seems hooked on him even though he’s publicly nasty to her. Jodie wants to move on in her career – but she’s being held back, playing at being helpless and silly, when actually she’s a lot smarter than that.’
‘Strange, isn’t it – how some people stay in a dreadful relationship, because the idea of being on their own seems worse?’ She shrugged and looked mystified. ‘And Karen? You said she used to be your best friend.’
‘She’s changed,’ I said quietly. ‘Or maybe I’m just seeing her without the rose-tinted glasses. She used to be so undefensive and appreciative – now she’s harder, more judgemental.’
‘Well – people do change – especially in their twenties, I think. I know I did. I was loud and bossy at twenty-one. I thought I was immensely funny and entertaining – but then I quietened down, became more introspective. More sensible and thoughtful, I hope.’ She smiled.
I took a long sip of warming brandy, felt it charge like electricity through my veins. ‘Can I ask a favour?’
‘Of course.’
‘Could we use your laptop – you said you’d brought one – just to check something?’ I pulled the slip of paper out of my pocket.
She was on her feet, keen to help, before I’d stopped speaking. She came back with the computer and set it up on the coffee table. ‘We get a reasonable signal here,’ she said.
I explained about the tablets I’d found. She did a double-take. ‘And you think she’s giving them to the child? That is worrying.’
She tapped a few keys then angled the laptop towards me so I could use the keyboard. I typed Promelegan, into the search engine. The NHS site described the drug as an antihistamine, used for hay fever and travel sickness. I read on:
Promelegan also has a sedative effect. It may be taken (for a few days only) to help promote sleep. It is available on prescription, or you can buy it without a prescription at pharmacies. It is not suitable for children under 2.
‘That’s interesting,’ I said, pointing out the last line. ‘Melanie is only nine months old.’ I looked down and chewed my nail. ‘Mmm, now I think of it, the baby does seem to be sleepy a lot of the time. Every time I go past her room, she’s in her cot. Is that normal for a child of nine months?’
‘Maybe the tablets have been specially prescribed,’ Nina suggested. ‘You said the baby had been in hospital for a long time. It could be something the doctors have advised her to use – completely above board.’
‘True…except it isn’t in its original packaging. Don’t you think that’s a bit odd? The name of the drug has been written on the bottle. It’s Karen’s writing.’
Nina eyes went wide, then shrank back again. �
�Maybe the box got crushed. I don’t know. It doesn’t sound right, though,’ she concluded.
‘It looks like the tablets have been broken in half, so she’s giving Mel half the dose…but still…’
‘But what can you do about it?’
‘Ask her about it, I suppose.’ My heart leap-frogged at the thought of it. At the moment, Karen and criticism went together like a spark and gunpowder.
Between the tinkle of pots and dishes I could hear Malcolm whistling in the kitchen. ‘Could we look up one more thing?’ I asked. ‘Could you access Edinburgh University and check a name for me?’
She put the laptop on the coffee table so we could both see. A pattering at the window made us both look up as sleet threw itself against the glass. Malcolm must have heard it too and let out a groan.
‘Stuart Wishart,’ I said slowly. ‘Classics and archaeology.’
‘Undergrad or postgrad?’
‘Not sure.’
She used the keyboard, pressed enter and sat back.
No records found.
‘I’ll just put his name in – are you sure about the spelling?’
‘Try Stewart with a ‘w’ – and Wisheart with an ‘e’’
We tried every combination we could think of in the degree courses and post-grad tutors. It turned into a bit of a game – briefly – as we tried to imagine the most obscure spellings.
‘I’ll try my name, just in case there’s something wrong with the system.’ She typed in Nina Ford and instantly a photograph and full CV came up.
We were both serious again. I didn’t like this one bit.
Stuart wasn’t listed at Edinburgh University at all.
Not surprisingly, dinner with Stuart that evening was smothered under a blanket of awkwardness.
He hugged me when we got inside his front door and tried to press a kiss against my mouth, but I wriggled away using my dropped scarf as an excuse. He stroked my face instead. I hoped he’d think it was the shift in our relationship that was making me nervous.
‘Come through into the warm,’ he said.
He’d made a tremendous effort. The table in the dining room was laid out with a lacy tablecloth with pretty willow-patterned plates, a silver candelabra in the centre and there was a Chopin nocturne playing in the background.