Her Last Breath

by Tracy Buchanan

  ‘And a half-empty glass of champagne in your hands?’ Autumn added, sinking down beside her and giving her a hug. Estelle looked into her eyes. How could Max have kept his money troubles from her? Or maybe she knew but just didn’t want to accept it. ‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist,’ Autumn continued. ‘And look how much more relaxed you are. See, a little naughtiness every now and again does nothing but good.’

  Darren raised an eyebrow at Estelle and she waited for her tummy to tingle in response. But there was nothing.

  ‘Speaking of which …’ Veronica said, joining them and reaching into the pocket of her red dress. ‘The icing on the cake.’

  She pulled out a spliff. Darren’s eyes widened as he looked at it. ‘Jesus, Mum.’

  ‘Oh come on, don’t pretend you didn’t know,’ she said.

  Darren rolled his eyes, embarrassed.

  ‘Want some?’ Veronica asked Estelle.

  Estelle watched the orange sparks on the spliff, breathing in the familiar musky scent. She used to sit in the cave she’d once found Aiden in, smoking the weed they’d stolen from Autumn’s stash – a stash so large her and Aiden knew she’d never notice. She’d told them she took it for medical purposes, to ease the muscle pain she sometimes felt after a gym session. It had seemed a weak excuse to Estelle, but she was so desperate to regard Autumn differently from her drug-taking parents, she’d accepted it. And the truth was, her stash rarely went down. Estelle recalled the delicious loosening of her brain cells when she smoked it, the way it made her relax.

  ‘Not Estelle, Veronica,’ Max said in a low voice.

  Estelle narrowed her eyes at Max. He couldn’t mould her into a perfect little girl like he clearly wanted all those years ago.

  ‘Well, it is a cheat day,’ she said defiantly.

  She reached for the spliff, desperate to feel its papery texture between her fingers again. Everyone watched her, eyes bright.

  ‘Just one little drag,’ Autumn said.

  Estelle looked out to sea, still tasting the acid from her retching earlier. She imagined Alice in there, reaching up to the surface, eyes wide with fear. Then Poppy, dark hair swimming around her pale face.

  She quickly put the joint to her mouth, sucking the smoke in, letting the images shimmer from her mind.

  ‘What about the time you and Alice scaled the statue in town?’ Darren said, shaking his head at the memory a couple of hours later.

  ‘Oh god, yes! We draped pink frilly knickers around the statue’s head,’ Estelle remembered, snorting with laughter as she took a puff of the next joint. They were sitting around a fire on the beach, ten or twelve stragglers from the party, familiar faces that dotted memories of Estelle’s teenage years there. Aiden was nowhere to be seen and Estelle presumed he had gone home. Maybe that was a good thing, she didn’t want him seeing her like this. He’d already looked so disappointed in her.

  Autumn squeezed her close, her arm around her shoulders, both of them huddled under one of her thick wool blankets. Estelle leaned her head against her foster mother’s shoulder and peered up at her. She’d forgotten how much she’d loved Autumn, how comforted and welcome she made her feel. And now she knew how hard she’d fought her own husband to keep Estelle in Lillysands, it meant even more. That was real love.

  She gazed out to sea, head fuzzy from champagne and marijuana, the familiar lilac blot of the mansion on the cliffs above, the soft lapping waves ahead. Her heart soared with an intense happiness and love. Screw Max. Screw Seb. Screw Aiden. As long as Autumn loved her, that was all that mattered.

  She took a quick photo with her phone, uploading it to Instagram with the caption: Cheat day with the family. #LoveLillysands

  She jumped up, flinging off the blanket. ‘I want to swim,’ she declared.

  Darren laughed. ‘This brings back memories. Remember when we all used to skinny dip as kids?’ Estelle smiled at the memory. When there were summer parties on the beach, they all used to run out into the waves at midnight, shedding their clothes and diving into the warm waves.

  Autumn stood up. ‘I think it’s time we old folk leave the young kids to have some fun,’ she said with a wink. ‘Who fancies some bacon butties?’

  Everyone stood with her, walking inside and leaving Estelle and Darren alone.

  ‘We going into the sea then?’ Darren asked, eyes crawling all over Estelle.

  Estelle swayed slightly, taking another puff from her joint. ‘Why not? But I’m keeping my underwear on this time.’

  Darren pouted. ‘You sure?’

  Estelle rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

  He smiled and stood up, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a well-muscled chest. Estelle pulled her dress off, aware of Darren’s eyes on her. He was probably used to frills and lace, not organic white cotton underwear.

  Five minutes later, they were both in the sea, splashing each other and laughing under the moonlight like they used to as teenagers. But then Darren’s face grew serious. He swam up to Estelle, taking her hand as his eyes travelled over her. ‘It’s been good having you back,’ he said in a husky voice.

  He went to move towards her to kiss her. For a moment, she thought about letting him. But then she thought of Aiden. She stepped away, water splashing between them. ‘No, Darren.’

  His eyes flared with anger. ‘But you’ve been giving me the come on all night!’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘No, I haven’t. Just because a girl talks to you, doesn’t mean they want to kiss you, Darren.’

  He looked at her, his jaw flexing and unflexing. Then he turned away. ‘I’m heading back,’ he shouted over his shoulder.

  Good, she wanted to be alone. When he was gone, she lay back, floating like a starfish as she looked up at the stars.

  ‘Can you see the stars where you are, Poppy?’ she whispered.

  She thought of Aiden, of how they would swim beneath the moonlight together. After that first kiss, and the party where Aiden had ignored her and driven her into Darren’s arms, she thought the kiss had meant nothing to him. But one particularly hot night, after Alice had gone to bed, Aiden had suggested they go swimming. So they’d both tiptoed into the sea in their underwear and she’d felt his eyes on her as she’d laid back just as she was doing now.

  ‘We shouldn’t have kissed,’ he’d said.

  She’d stayed where she was, closing her eyes so he couldn’t see her disappointment. Then she’d felt his lips against hers and she knew in that moment, he didn’t really mean what he’d said.

  Each night that summer, they would come out and swim. And each swimming session got more heated, until eventually … Estelle took in a deep shaky breath at the memory. That was where they had conceived Poppy, one of those late summer evenings, beneath the waves, her legs wrapped around Aiden’s waist, the feel of him inside her making her gasp. To lose her virginity with Aiden had been special, and then all the times after where they’d made love, it just got more and more intense.

  Then she’d fallen pregnant. They’d been stupid, thought the water would mean she couldn’t get pregnant.

  Estelle turned onto her belly and swam farther out, desperate for the silence she and Aiden used to share on their midnight swims together, moonlight tracking her then just as it was now, the salt of the sea lapping her lips. Her arms ached, her head was fuzzy, and the heaviness of all the processed food she’d consumed that night was weighing her down.

  She went to lie on her back again but paused, seeing a figure watching her from the garden of the pink cottage above. She waded her hand in water, making herself upright so she could look properly. She wondered for a moment if it was Mr Tate, but the figure had long hair.

  Her heart started pumping, the irrational thought of it being Alice buzzing through her mind again. She headed closer to look, but the figure was now gone. As she trod water, something felt different, her legs heavier, the water thicker. She looked down and was shocked to see the sea had turned a deep red.

  Was she bleedi
ng?

  She swivelled around, saw the redness was all around her under the bright moonlight, too much for one body to produce.

  She started panicking, her breath coming in gasps. What was happening? She thought of the figure again. Was she hallucinating, losing her mind?

  She went to tread back to shore. She no longer felt safe in the water. But suddenly she was pulled by something, a swirling pressure beneath her, her whole body buoyed out into the dark deep sea.

  A riptide.

  She’d grown used to them living in Lillysands, the intense and unpredictable flow of water that could sweep you right out to sea in the blink of an eye. She’d learnt how to deal with them the first time she’d been gripped by one thanks to Alice.

  ‘Swim parallel to the shore,’ Alice had shouted out to her as she got caught up in the current, accidentally swallowing mouthfuls of water as she was bounced up and down. ‘It won’t pull you under, Stel, swim parallel.’ The calmness of her voice had kept Estelle calm too and within seconds, she was out of it and safe, both of them laughing.

  But there was no Alice here tonight and Estelle was filled to the brim with alcohol and drugs.

  Panic flooded her chest.

  She worked her arms and legs harder, gasping as she tried to twist around to face shore, the blood red sea splashing in her face.

  No, she mustn’t face shore. Parallel, Alice had said parallel.

  She swirled round again, taking in a huge gulp of red water. She coughed, spluttered, arms flailing, making her sink under, a strand of bloody red hair covering her face.

  ‘No,’ she screamed. ‘No.’

  The world seemed immeasurably red, the sea a thunder in her ears. Her breath was shallow, her arms and legs growing weak.

  She tried to find shore but the moon disappeared beneath a cloud and made the world pitch black.

  Was she under already? She looked up, saw stars, then a wave of water gushed over her.

  Was this it? Was she going to die?

  And just when she thought that, she saw a swirl of red hair in the distance.

  ‘Alice.’ She reached her hand out …

  Then strong arms were gripping her.

  She looked up into bright green eyes.

  ‘Aiden?’ she whispered.

  It was Aiden, blond hair plastered against his head, chest bare. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘You’ll be okay, just stay still for a sec.’

  ‘Aiden,’ she moaned. ‘There’s blood. It’s everywhere.’

  ‘That’s not blood, Estelle. It’s clay falling from the cliffs. Be still. Let me bring you in.’

  She did as he asked, felt his fingers on her waist, his body against hers as he swam her closer to shore. After a while, he stopped.

  ‘We’re in shallow water now, you can stand.’ He helped her upright, her bare feet sinking into the sand. ‘You okay?’ he asked, steadying her by putting his hands on her waist.

  He was swathed in red clay, eyelashes thick with it. She looked down at her hands, bright red too.

  ‘I – I think so,’ she said.

  He paused, looking into her eyes. ‘I came down here earlier to look for you and saw you with Darren.’

  ‘I don’t care about Darren,’ she whispered. ‘I was remembering what we used to do here. Do you remember?’ she added, head light from the drink and drugs.

  His brow creased. He didn’t say anything.

  ‘I miss us,’ she said. ‘We never had a chance, did we?’

  ‘You’re drunk.’

  ‘I’m right though, aren’t I? We had no chance at all. I got pregnant, you went off to boarding school, then Alice died. It’s such a bloody waste, all of it such a waste.’

  His eyes swam with emotion.

  ‘There’s not been anyone like you, Aiden. Not even close.’ She stroked his glistening cheekbones with her fingers. ‘The way you made me feel back then. The way you still make me feel.’

  She stood on tiptoes, impulsively pressing her lips against his, tangling her fingers in his soaking hair. For a moment, she thought he might respond. But then he pushed her away.

  ‘What are you doing, Estelle?’ he asked.

  She stared at him, not sure what to say, the rejection burning her.

  ‘You’re drunk,’ he said again, shaking his head. ‘Come on, let’s get you back.’

  Estelle hugged her knees to her chest, looking out to sea as she sat outside the pink cottage. The moonlight cast an eerie glow over the red sea below, making it even more vibrant. Aiden had said it was from rock and sand sliding into the water from the cliffs. She thought of what Darren had told her about the gardens disappearing into the sea. Was it really that bad? She’d wanted to ask Aiden more, but she hadn’t got a chance to find out, he’d left immediately after returning her to the party. And now here she was, sitting outside the pink cottage on the very bench her and Alice used to sit on, the trees branches swaying above, the cliff edge so close.

  The cliff edge from which Alice jumped … or was pushed.

  Estelle took another slug of the gin she was holding and wiped her lips. She’d got even more drunk with everyone after Aiden disappeared, trying to erase the look in his eyes after she’d tried to kiss him. Even he thought she was too soiled to kiss. She’d found it hard to join in with the revelries, brooding on it all. After a while, she’d snuck out, taking a bottle of Max’s gin with her as she headed to the pink cottage.

  She leaned against the bench, looking up at the black sky, her head swimming.

  She and Alice used to squirrel stuff away in the burrow of this tree, she realised with a dizzy start. She got up from the bench and knelt on the grass, using the light from her phone to illuminate the burrow. She reached her hand in, her drunken mind not registering there might be insects in there, smiling when she felt something at the back. She couldn’t believe she’d actually found something, could it really be something she and Alice had stowed away all those years ago.

  She pulled out a small tin box with a delicately petalled lid. She opened it, finding a photo of a mother with a baby inside. On the back was a date: 1988. The year Alice was born. It must be a box that had belonged to Alice.

  She swallowed, tears pricking at her eyelashes as she glided her finger over Alice’s young face. Beneath the photo was a folded sheet of paper. She opened it, laying it out flat on her thighs and lighting it up with her phone. It looked like a pen drawing of a cliff with houses on top. Scrawled over it were arrows and notes relating to ‘frequencies’ and ‘slopes’ with phone numbers of various authorities such as the local council and the environment agency written down the side. A name was written along the bottom: Alice Shepherd.

  It must be Alice’s handwriting. Estelle got a rush of feeling then, memories of her old friend tumbling through her mind. She looked out to the sea that had taken Alice and shook her head. ‘Oh Alice,’ she whispered. Then she turned her attention back to the box.

  There was just one more item in the box, a postcard. It was illustrated like a typical seaside postcard – typical except for the fact the woman on the front was naked, tall and buxom, legs spread on the beach. A man stood above her, a fishing rod in his hands, visibly excited, judging from what was protruding from his pants. The caption beneath it read: Always something saucy to catch in Lillysands.

  Estelle turned it over. There was a message scrawled on the back. Estelle hovered the light of her phone over it.

  To Alice. Forgive me for last night. I didn’t mean for it to go that far. Are we still friends, my gorgeous redhead? x

  Estelle frowned. Who would send a postcard like this to Alice? As far as she knew, Alice didn’t have any boyfriends. But then, Alice had grown into quite a beauty. After her fourteenth birthday, a few months before Estelle fell pregnant, she seemed to bloom, her body filling out, her hair a crimson cascade down her back. The first time she’d really registered other boys taking notice of Alice had been at Aiden’s fifteenth birthday party. It was held on the beach, a local band playin
g, lots of drink flowing. When Estelle walked towards the crowds with Alice, for once all eyes hadn’t just been on Estelle. They were on Alice too. So why should Estelle be so surprised Alice might have been seeing someone?

  And yet they told each other everything. Surely Alice wouldn’t have kept such a thing from Estelle.

  As she thought that, she heard a sound from nearby. She looked into the darkness, heart thumping as she saw something move amongst the shadows.

  Or someone.

  ‘Hello?’ she asked, her voice echoing around the cliff top.

  But there was no answer.

  A ribbon of fear ran through her as she thought of the Polaroid photos. She tucked Alice’s box under her arm then stood up, swaying a little, before hurrying up the road in the darkness, searching the shadows for any movement. When she got back, she was relieved to see Max and Autumn were still awake along with a few others.

  ‘More drink?’ Max asked her, holding up a bottle.

  ‘Why not?’ she said, looking back out into the darkness, heart thumping.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Saturday, 6 May

  The sound of hammering rain woke Estelle the next morning. She flinched, quickly covering her ears with her hands as she turned away from the sound, which seemed to be exploding in her head, yelping when something dug into her hip. She pulled whatever it was out from under her to see it was a glass bottle, the remnants of the liquid within splashing over her chest. She looked around. She was in the Garlands’ living room, on the sofa, more bottles scattered everywhere, Autumn and Max snoring on a nearby floor cushion, Peter and Veronica tangled on the other sofa. They all looked older in the harsh reality of day after a night of excess.

  Nausea built inside Estelle.

  She slowly got up, the room swaying, then ran to the bathroom, retching into the toilet.

  ‘Jesus,’ she groaned, wiping her lips with some toilet tissue. She stood on wobbly legs, and looked into the mirror, horrified at what greeted her: bloodshot eyes, short blonde hair standing on end, a grey pallor to her skin. Her stomach turned again as memories of the remainder of the night before accosted her: hamburgers shoved into her mouth. Champagne poured down her neck. Dancing with Darren to nineties music, his hips grinding into hers. Laughing as Autumn stumbled into her cake, sending it crashing to the floor.