Her Last Breath

by Tracy Buchanan

  And before all that, the figure she’d seen on the cliff, the blood-red sea, Alice’s box … and the kiss she’d forced on Aiden.

  What the hell had she been thinking?

  She went upstairs and took a hot shower, cringing each time she thought about her antics the night before. How could have undone all her hard work? Sure, she had some binging episodes before this, but never anything as bad. It made her feel dirty, ashamed. And if anyone found out about her excesses … she shook her head. What a mess.

  She walked back to her old room. She was reaching into her bag for some clean clothes, when she noticed something tucked into its pocket.

  Another Polaroid photo.

  And this time the girl in the picture was her.

  Chapter Twenty

  I got too angry when I watched you sleep. Even circled my hands around your neck.

  Imagined squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. Skin turning blue. Eyes bulging. Tongue purple as you grappled for breath.

  But then I stopped myself.

  That isn’t the plan. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  I need to be more controlled. But it’s so hard. You make it so hard for me. I saw you in the sea with him.

  Teasing him. Tempting him.

  Since when did you turn into such a seductress?

  But I won’t let your behaviour with him rule my actions.

  And yet it plays on my mind, makes me lose focus. As you unravel, so do I.

  But I won’t allow myself to.

  I have to keep calm. Very calm.

  There is work to do.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Estelle reached for the photo with shaking fingers. In it she was slumped on the sofa, mascara over her cheeks, mouth open as she slept. Curled in her arm was a half-drunk bottle of champagne, a smouldering joint next to her. Laid on her lap was a whiteboard with a message scrawled on it.

  Imagine if this photo gets into the wrong hands?

  Estelle dropped the photo like it was on fire and backed away. Whoever this person was had been there at the end of the party. Or had it been someone who had left earlier then come back once she was asleep? Either way, they’d approached as she was sleeping and put the whiteboard in her hands. In her mind, she ran through everyone she’d seen last night, but she couldn’t settle on any of them.

  Could she trust anyone in Lillysands?

  ‘Idiot, idiot, idiot,’ she hissed to herself as she looked out of the window towards the sea. For so long, she’d thought she was in control. But a couple of days in Lillysands and she was back to being that easily influenced stupid young girl again. She had to leave. As she thought that, an uneasy feeling filled her. The last time she’d left, she’d had to endure several months of hell. She’d been put into a care home at first, a residential home with a warden and her own room and small kitchen. It had been horrific, all the memories from her last days in Lillysands and the pain of not being able to talk to Aiden crowding into that small room. There had been times when she wanted to run back, especially when she learnt of the money Max had transferred into her account. But shame kept her away. The look in Autumn and Max’s eyes as she’d handed the baby over. The horror of Alice’s death. She couldn’t go back. So she’d kept her head down, buried herself in books. That wasn’t enough though. The other kids didn’t like it. They noticed the expensive clothes she wore, clothes that had been bought by Autumn, and started calling her ‘Snobby Stel’, the tension mounting until one day she was set upon by two thirteen-year-olds, room trashed, clothes ripped, shoved against the wall and hit. She was quickly removed four months after leaving the Garlands and placed in a foster home with a young couple new to fostering. ‘You’re a foster carer’s dream now, Stel,’ her latest social worker had said. ‘Just keep on the road you started with the Garlands.’ And she’d tried, really tried. But then six months in, a family friend had come to stay and tried to coerce her into kissing him one night. No one believed Estelle – she’d stupidly cried wolf once before. So she ran away to London, seeking out the chef she’d met with Autumn during their visit to London, sitting outside the restaurant in the rain until she came out. She just wanted a job, she told the chef. She’d wash up, clean the floors, do anything. The chef had looked like she might take her up on that offer to begin with. But then she said she’d call Autumn and that was that, Estelle was gone. Finally, she was placed with the Halls who she stayed with until she was eighteen.

  Estelle sighed at the memories as she looked around her. She couldn’t stay there any longer. She shoved her clothes in her bag along with the photo and Alice’s box. Then she shrugged it over her shoulder, jogging down the stairs and heading outside, pulling her hood over her head to protect herself from the downpour. As she walked down the road, she noticed someone in the distance: Mr Tate in his dressing gown, standing outside his cottage in the rain, his phone to his ear, an umbrella in his other hand. He looked panicked, pacing up and down.

  Estelle walked up to him. ‘What’s wrong?’

  He looked at her, eyes filled with worry. ‘There’s been a landslide, our garden’s completely disappeared. I’m trying to call emergency services, but reception here is bloody useless and our landline’s gone down too.’

  Estelle peered towards his garden, shocked to see he was right: it had disappeared … and the tree outside the pink cottage had completely vanished, presumably right over the edge. If she hadn’t found Alice’s box in it the night before, it would have been gone forever.

  In the distance, the upcoming festival’s white marquees quivered in the breeze. How would visitors take to the news a whole section of the cliff had fallen to the beach just a few hundred metres away from where they would be having fun very soon?

  ‘Jesus, I was sitting out there last night,’ Estelle said.

  ‘It happened just now. I heard the racket.’ Mr Tate gestured for her to join him under his umbrella as his eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m terrified the house will go over the edge too.’

  Estelle peered around her. Were they safe? ‘We need to get help.’ She pulled her phone out to see she had no reception either.

  Mr Tate raked his fingers through his thinning hair. ‘I knew this would happen after the landslide last year! It was only small but it took some of our garden, some of the others gardens along this street too. I’ve been warning Max and Peter for years! Even last night, I went to the party to talk to them about it after seeing the weather forecast for the next few days. But, Oh no, it would all be fine, they said.’ He threw his hands up, exasperated. Estelle had never seen him like this. He was usually so calm.

  She put her hand on his back. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Tate.’

  ‘We’ve lived here for nearly thirty years,’ he said, peering up at the pretty cottage. ‘We were here way before those posh new houses were built by Max and Peter. We moved in the day after we married.’

  Estelle squeezed his shoulder, her heart aching for him. She suddenly got a memory of the way she’d spoken to him the night before. ‘I – I wanted to say sorry, for last night …’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think it’s safe for you to stay here anymore,’ she said, looking up at the black skies. ‘If this rain gets any heavier …’ She let her voice trail off.

  Mr Tate nodded, a resigned look on his face. ‘Mary’s still in bed, she’s very weak.’

  Estelle peered in the direction of the train station where she’d been heading. But there was no way she could leave now, however much she wanted to. She couldn’t just turn her back on this man and leave him to watch as his house crumbled into the sea.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘Let me go back to the house, see if the landline works there. I’ll make some calls and gather some people to help.’

  She went to walk back to the house but Mr Tate grabbed her arm. ‘I don’t want the Garlands and the Kemps in my house,’ he said, face angry. ‘Only you and Aiden.’

  E
stelle frowned. ‘Is this because they ignored your warnings?’ He nodded. ‘Okay. But I must call 999.’

  She jogged back to the Garlands’, letting herself in. Autumn was awake now, making tea in the kitchen, a dressing gown wrapped around her.

  ‘I need to make some calls,’ Estelle said.

  ‘What’s wrong, darling?’ Autumn asked.

  ‘There was a landslide last night. The gardens behind the cottages have disappeared.’

  Autumn’s eyes widened. ‘Holy shit.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Max asked as he walked in, yawning.

  ‘The gardens behind the cottages have disappeared,’ Autumn repeated, peering out of the window with worried eyes.

  ‘We need to get help,’ Estelle said. ‘Mr and Mrs Tate’s cottage is right at the edge of the cliff, it could go any minute.’

  Max shook his head. ‘It won’t go,’ he said firmly. ‘It’ll be fine.’

  Estelle looked at him in disbelief. ‘Are you kidding? Their back door opens over the edge of the bloody cliff now, Max. And unless you haven’t noticed, the weather isn’t going to help.’

  He looked at her in surprise. She took in a deep breath then walked to the phone but it too wasn’t working. ‘Even the landlines aren’t working,’ she said, shaking the phone about.

  Max and Autumn stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking at each other. Estelle thought about what Darren had said the night before. Was Max just thinking about the money he would lose if Mr Tate’s cottage did in fact fall into the sea? It would confirm how weak the cliff was … and therefore, how at risk the other houses he’d ploughed his and Peter’s money into were.

  ‘Right, I’m going to gather some neighbours to help get the Tates’ possessions out,’ Estelle said. ‘You both stay here and keep trying to get the emergency services, okay?’

  ‘Of course,’ Autumn said, grabbing her mobile phone.

  Estelle ran outside, knocking on people’s doors and gathering them to help the Tates. As she jogged down the road, she saw Aiden climb out of his car, face wet and hair dishevelled.

  ‘I saw the landslide from my hut,’ he said. ‘I drove straight up.’

  ‘The cottage gardens have disappeared,’ Estelle said, trying not to think about what she’d done the night before. ‘The Tates can’t stay there any more, it’s too risky.’

  Mr Tate ran over then, grabbing Estelle’s hand. ‘Will you go to Mary and help her change? Just put some stuff over her nightie. Everyone else,’ he said, shouting at the five or so neighbours with Estelle, ‘it would be wonderful if you could help me grab some items from the house?’

  They all nodded and entered the house with Mr Tate.

  ‘Just up there,’ Mr Tate said, gesturing to the stairs. Estelle walked upstairs to find a painfully thin Mrs Tate in bed. Estelle was shocked. She used to be a PE teacher, strong and vibrant with glossy auburn hair. She looked so different now.

  A smile appeared on Mrs Tate’s face when she saw Estelle. ‘Oh look at you, all grown up!’

  She put her hand out to Estelle and Estelle took it. ‘Hello, Mrs Tate.’

  ‘Call me Mary!’ Her brow creased. ‘Does it look bad out there?’

  ‘It’s not great,’ Estelle admitted as she gathered some clothes from the Tates’ wardrobe. ‘I’m so sorry this is happening to you.’

  Mary’s eyes filled with tears. ‘We saw the sea turn red last night so knew clay was falling. Geoffrey was going to call someone in the morning but it all happened so quickly. He knew this would happen eventually. But no one listened. Only Alice ever seemed to understand.’

  Estelle paused. ‘Alice?’

  ‘She was doing a project on coastal erosion and landslides for Geoffrey’s class, remember? She came here to take samples of the rock. We thought Max might listen to her considering he’d commissioned the building of the houses. Plus he was renting some out to unsuspecting people. But no such luck.’

  Estelle frowned. Alice was always so smart and interested in how the world worked. She knew Alice was fascinated by landslides. But to have uncovered all this then go to Max who had dismissed her fears, Mr and Mrs Tate’s fears too …

  ‘Here,’ Estelle said, helping Mrs Tate pull a jumper over her nightie.

  ‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ She looked into Estelle’s eyes. ‘How are you doing now?’

  ‘Good, really good.’

  ‘Oh good. I remember Geoffrey always used to worry about you.’

  Estelle avoided her gaze. ‘Let’s get these on, shall we?’ she said, helping Mrs Tate get on a pair of trousers under her nightie.

  As she tried to manoeuvre Mrs Tate out of her bed, she heard footsteps up the stairs and Aiden appeared. Estelle tried to compose herself as she looked at him, remembering how it had felt to press her lips against his. But then she remembered the humiliation too at being pushed away from him.

  He caught her gaze then looked away, obviously thinking about it too. ‘Need some help?’ he asked Mrs Tate.

  Mrs Tate put her arms out to him. ‘You can carry me downstairs. You’re a strong lad.’

  ‘Of course.’ Aiden walked over and picked Mrs Tate up. ‘Long time since I carried a beautiful woman in my arms, Mary,’ he said, smiling down at her.

  ‘Oh you’re such a charmer, Aiden,’ she replied, face lighting up. ‘But remember I’m the one who made you do thirty press-ups after I caught you smoking behind the school?’

  He laughed. ‘Nothing’s changed. Let’s get you downstairs.’

  They all walked downstairs, the sound of sirens ringing out in the distance. Below, neighbours were carrying boxes of possessions: piles of books with battered spines, the kind Estelle remembered from her classes with Mr Tate, and framed photos of the couple on various holidays. They’d never had children, but Mr Tate always said their pupils were enough.

  Aiden gently put Mrs Tate down, helping her to stand up, and her husband went to her. They both held each other, eyes brimming with tears as they looked out at their vanished garden.

  ‘This is it, isn’t it, Geoffrey?’ Mary whispered.

  ‘I’m afraid so, darling,’ he replied, his voice breaking.

  Estelle felt tears spring to her own eyes. Aiden gently took her hand, his brow creased as he looked out to sea.

  Autumn threw some bacon onto a pan as Max handed cups of tea out an hour later. They were all sat in the kitchen, still shocked from what had happened.

  ‘Mr Tate told me you knew this might happen,’ Estelle said to Max and Peter. ‘Mrs Tate mentioned that Alice knew as well.’

  The atmosphere in the room tensed at the mention of Alice’s name.

  ‘Really?’ Max responded, looking surprised. ‘Nobody said anything to me.’

  He was lying. She could see it in his eyes. Lying right to her face. How could she not have seen this side of him before?

  Aiden paced the room, shoulders tense. ‘We need to do something,’ he said. ‘The whole town’s going to fall apart if we have more landslides.’

  ‘Don’t be dramatic,’ Max said. ‘The town will be fine. Those cottages aren’t fit for purpose anyway, everyone knows that.’

  Aiden stopped pacing, flinging his hand towards the back garden. ‘Is this house not fit for purpose either then? What about the other houses on Seaview Terrace? This isn’t just about the cottages. How do you explain losing fifty foot of your garden over the past few years? You need to stop living in denial, Dad.’

  Max’s face hardened as Peter and Veronica exchanged raised eyebrows. But Estelle was used to seeing the two men argue. Like that first dinner.

  ‘Feet off the table!’ Max had exclaimed as they’d eaten pudding.

  Aiden had shot his father a wide-eyed look. ‘But you have your feet up.’

  ‘I’m allowed.’

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ Aiden had muttered under her breath.

  Max had leaned over the table and grabbed Aiden’s arm, glaring at him. ‘Don’t ruin Stel’s first dinner here with your vulgar languag
e.’

  Alice had sunk into her fur coat, eyes blinking as she looked between the two of them.

  So even rich people are a mess, Estelle remembered thinking to herself. She’d caught Alice’s eyes and something had passed between them, a mutual understanding.

  Autumn served up the food now and brought plates piled high with greasy sausages, bacon and eggs to everyone, placing one before Estelle.

  ‘No thanks,’ Estelle said, pushing it away.

  ‘Come on sweetheart,’ Autumn coaxed. ‘Please eat something. You must be starving!’

  Estelle peered towards the fridge. ‘I think I have some smoothies in the fridge.’

  Laughter came from the door as Darren walked in, rubbing at his wet hair with a towel, another towel draped around his waist. She hadn’t even realised he’d stayed. ‘You really don’t remember much from last night, do you, Stel?’ he said. ‘We made cocktails out of your smoothies.’

  Aiden’s face darkened as he looked between Darren and Estelle.

  ‘What a night,’ Autumn said, shaking her head. ‘The best in a long time. Honestly, Stel darling, you’re the life and soul.’

  ‘The life and soul,’ Darren said, looking into her eyes.

  A panicked thought occurred to Estelle. They hadn’t done anything, had they? Her memory was fried after all that drink.

  Beside her, Aiden tensed.

  ‘Great, a Garland fry-up,’ Darren said, walking past Aiden and slapping his back as he took the stool next to Estelle. ‘None for you, Estelle?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Do you remember when Stel decided to become a vegan after doing that farming project at school?’ Darren said to Aiden. ‘The whole point was it was supposed to make students appreciate the good farming does.’

  ‘You do realise the cottage’s gardens just disappeared into the sea, don’t you?’ Aiden hissed.