On the steel table by the pool, his mobile begins to vibrate itself towards the edge, I rush outside to reach it before it plunges to the floor, as Kyle vaults from the pool and scrapes it up ahead of me. Holding the mobile at an angle he shields his eyes from the sun, dripping with delicately chlorinated water. Shaking his head, he denies the call, then glances in my direction. ‘The office,’ he offers, ‘never allowed to be off duty it seems,’ he smiles but I’m sure I catch a note of nervousness in his voice. Nodding in return I patter back to the kitchen to finish off the picnic fashioned tea.
Later that evening, we sit together for pre-dinner drinks on a terrace overlooking beautiful Sennen Cove. The smooth sea still busy with bodies, turquoise and subtle aquamarine hues rippling through. Here, it seems possible to walk some distance out, ankle height depth as tranquil waters gently lap the pale sugarcoated sands glistening in the sun. We could easily be in the Caribbean, although there’s a chill in the breeze tonight. I cover the sudden goosebumps running along my arms to my shoulders with my cashmere cardigan. Our waiter for the evening brings us each a house cocktail, a warming, singed, golden-citrus shade, an aroma of seared oranges filling the air. Thank God, the support has arrived.
‘It’s stunning here, I sometimes forget,’ I say. ‘How beautiful it really is.’
Kyle nods, his eyes twinkling, ‘I know, we ought to come down this way more often, it’s just the—’
‘Time, I know,’ I help out, ‘I’m not sure where it goes. I’ve, we’ve, so many of those – we really oughts, haven’t we?’
Kyle gently brushes my arm with his hand, ‘I’m worried about you, And, I really am,’ he whispers.
Our shared air instantly changes in ambience. I don’t need this speak yet, I don’t want to hear sympathy in his voice, it makes me feel even weaker than I already do. I flinch at his touch, it doesn’t go unnoticed. Kyle deliberately averts his glance. Here we go again, I bet he’s thinking. We then sit in silence for a few minutes. I want to speak, but the words collide and jar in my throat. What am I supposed to say? I’m worried about me too? You don’t appreciate the half of it? Where do I begin?
‘There’s something up with you, I can feel it, hear it when we speak on the telephone, each night,’ he attempts. I’m grateful for the prompt, though I’d much rather stick my head in the proverbial sand. ‘And, the drink is worrying me too if I’m honest,’ he adds.
I immediately feel my hackles rise at this last mention, despite appreciating he has reason to voice this concern, it’s unfair of me to rebuke him for it. I can’t help the irritation building and rising from deep inside. ‘So, here we go! I wondered how long it would take you,’ I say.
‘What?’
‘The drink comments. You and bloody Carol, it’s all you ever have to say, these days.’ I feel my heart rate accelerating, conscious of not wishing to lose control of my tongue, ‘you think it’s helpful? To keep throwing the accusations of being an alcoholic at me? Well, please allow me to comment as I’m here to defend myself – it’s not. Not in the slightest. In fact, it’s hurtful. Maybe, you can also now pass this on to Carol, in one of your next cosy chats.’
Kyle holds out his hands, palms facing towards me. ‘Hang on one minute. I’ve not made any such accusation, And. I merely mentioned that… that you’re probably drinking more now than you ever have and I’m worried this is for a reason. Because you’re unhappy. That’s all.’ His voice softens again, ‘I’m worried, And, I’m your husband, it is allowed you know.’
Our attentive waiter joins us, unaware of the hostile exchange, asking if he can take our order. Food is the last thing on my mind, I wish we could leave, the jittery feeling of anger is ruining everything. But then I need at the very least to be delivering my review to the magazine sometime soon, neglecting my work only piles on the pressure. We both smile at our hovering waiter in an over the top manner, attempting to hide the atmosphere. Then decide on the seared tuna with seaweed and the spider crab salad to begin with, followed by the sharing seafood platter for two, to follow. We pass the hand written menus back to him.
The brief interlude has allowed my fight or flight response to return to a respectable baseline. ‘Okay,’ I take a sip of the sherbet sweet laced cocktail, ‘so, I admit, I haven’t been feeling myself lately, you’re probably right to think I’ve been struggling. Which,’ I hold out my hand, ‘is why I agreed to see Eve, after all.’
He nods. ‘You did, and trust me I’m so relieved you did. Has it helped at all do you think, seeing Eve?’
I shrug, has it helped? Or has it simply opened the box I desperately needed to keep closed? ‘I’m not sure is the honest answer. Maybe. Too early days to tell yet though, isn’t it? But perhaps it has a little. I guess.’ Kyle tilts his head to one side, it’s his way of asking me to expand. He’s attempting to understand but he’s not quite as with me as he’d like. ‘What I mean is, perhaps sometimes, talking about things only brings them even further into the forefront of your mind.’
‘Well, yes, isn’t that the point of therapy?’ He takes a long swig of his cocktail as if it were squash, grimacing at the syrupiness.
It is the point, perhaps, given it’s also every reason why I’ve resisted the idea of therapy before now, not everything is better out in the open. Some things are best buried alive in the dark. ‘Well, yes, it is, but you have to question if this is always for the best, surely? Frankly, I’m not so sure it is. Only means you think about the bad stuff more, doesn’t it?’ Kyle nods a distant gaze out to sea, so I continue. ‘Having said this, I guess I do feel better for talking to someone who’s completely removed from my life. But, it also means I have to…’ I steal a further glimpse of Kyle who is transfixed by the surfer lying down paddling non-existent waves from his board. ‘It means I need to address things, Kyle, things I’ve jammed in the back of my mind, for good reason too.’ His grey speckled blue eyes return to me now.
‘Oh? Like what?’ A slight frown appearing at the edge of his brow giving him a look of a ten year old. I’m suddenly acutely conscious of not wanting to hurt or worry him. All the anger of earlier evaporates as guilt takes its ruthless place. Is now finally the time for me to offload certain issues from my past? Jesus, what a mess.
I reach for his warm firm hand to take in mine, small and cold in comparison, I squeeze to feel some human contact, I’ve been feeling so removed from it lately. ‘There are things, Kyle, you don’t appreciate about my past. Things, I’ve kept from you, not always deliberately but either way, I have.’ I can’t decide if I’m only lying to Kyle or to the both of us. ‘Or maybe, it was deliberate, it’s hard to call now, we were so young when we met. In my defence, back then, it was the only way I could cope with it all, to be able to box it away and forget about it. Also, I didn’t want it being any part of our relationship.’
Kyle takes his hand back to rub backwards and forwards through his abundant head of hair. ‘So, you’re kind of beginning to worry me now, And. What is it you haven’t told me?’
‘You needn’t be so worried.’ I smile at his uncomplicated expression, time to back step I think, I can’t do it. ‘I sort of have told you, a little anyway, before we met, I’ve just not embellished on it.’ His eyes study mine, dubious and edgy, waiting for me to unveil. ‘I told you how, when we met, I was recovering from an awful, distressing period of time.’ I wait for the affirmative nod. ‘You know this was how and why I ended up in Cornwall. I told you of how I lost two close friends. Though, I’ve never filled you in with all the details, or…’ I glance up at Kyle, wondering if I should continue, he nods gently at me, ‘or the fact that I didn’t only lose two close friends tragically but in fact – three.’ Kyle attempts to speak, I hold up my hand, ‘three people died that summer.’ I feel my eyes swill with threatening tears, ‘or so everyone thought. But now I’m not so sure. And before you say, as you’ve done in the past, that I can no longer be in pain for something beyond my control. I’m beginning to question if everyone sees it thi
s way, my way, our way even. Or, if what we all presumed then, is as far removed from the truth as it can be. You see, Kyle, one of these people has made contact with me. One of these supposedly dead people.’
Allowing myself to breathe again. I allow my eyes to meet Kyle’s, expecting a reaction of either utter despair or confusion or both. But instead, as he reaches out for his glass, he says, ‘I already know all of this, And,’ he takes a long swig as if looking for courage, ‘Carol told me.’
42
Cornwall 2017
Andi
My reflection is staring at my sorry state in the water splashed mirror, a droplet of water trundles down my face before plopping into the basin. My hands firmly planted on the cold stone surface surrounding the basin. I can still hear my heart pounding through my silk camisole though it’s beginning to calm down now, at least until I go back out there. God, I wish I’d held back from that last glass of wine. My legs feel as though they’ve a mind of their jelly own; my feet are glued to the spot. I must have been in here for at least ten minutes, Kyle will be discreetly tapping on the door any time if I don’t make an appearance soon. I splash cold water over my face for one last time. Dark blurred edged circles appear on my cornflower blue top as I grab at the paper towels and dab.
I need to go back to the table, I mean, what if she decides to use the toilet, what then? I really will be cornered, it’s less safe in here than it is out there. A once promising evening has properly progressed from bad to worse to unbearable. All forgetting the real reason for my visit, I couldn’t possibly articulate what I’ve eaten tonight, never mind write an article on it. Of the few mouthfuls I’ve laboured through, it’s all tasted the same. As if Kyle’s revelation that once again he and Carol have been in discreet, sneaky rendezvous, albeit over the telephone, was not enough. Bloody Carol. The thought of her curdles my blood. Seriously, call herself a best friend? How could she? Has she ever truly been my friend? To think not so long ago I loved the fact her and Kyle were so close but now, I’m sick to the teeth with it. Betrayal. This is exactly what it feels like. But all this I could potentially swallow, what happened next, I couldn’t have envisaged, not in my worst nightmares.
I grab my bag from the side, tweak my hair out from behind my ears and brace myself at the door, my hand hovering over the handle. One, two and three, I pull at the handle as the door falls in towards me. I’m out. As my feet make their way across the decked floor, I keep my glance to the right towards the open kitchen, the indoor barbecue grill. The chef catches my eye and waves, I discreetly flick my hand, smiling in response, quickening my step. My hair has conveniently fallen across the left side of my face as I rush towards the opening on to the terrace. Adrenaline surging me forward. Outside, I steady myself, placing my hand on the back of Kyle’s chair as he turns to smile at me, reaching over to take my hand. I fall in to my seat.
‘You okay?’ He studies me, ‘I was worried, you’ve been gone ages. Thought you must have fallen asleep in there or something.’
‘You missed me then?’ I say, glancing back towards the restaurant.
‘Of course. Then I was worried you’d done a runner, left me with the bill to settle.’
I smile at him, I’m still cross with him, he knows I am. But for someone who works and plays in the city, he still has such a vulnerable trusting nature. I really don’t think he has any idea why I would be upset regarding the Carol disclosure. The light has dropped and the moon now watches over us, creating a rippling luminous effect across the surface of the dark waters. It’s such a shame, this ought to be such a beautiful moment.
Footsteps from behind us cause me to jump. ‘Liqueurs on the house,’ our server informs us. ‘I hope you’re not driving,’ he adds.
‘So it’s strong stuff? All the better,’ I have to stop myself from grabbing both petite tumblers and knocking them back in one. We both thank him for a wonderful evening and our full complements to the chef. The food did look magnificent; it was my fault I couldn’t taste anything.
I tap Kyle’s leg, ‘I need to leave, Kyle. Like, leave now, please.’
‘Okay?’ He drags out, ‘is this the reason for the week in the ladies? I have to admit when you flew from the table like that, I did wonder. Are you feeling ill? You do look a little pale, even in this light.’
‘I don’t feel great, no, but I’ll explain later. If we can just get going. Please.’
‘Sure, but don’t you need to speak to Pete – the chef, And? Shouldn’t you have a chat with him before we do a runner?’
‘I do, but I can’t, not now.’ I stand from the table not wanting to look back towards the restaurant inside, ‘do me a favour will you?’ Kyle stands as his chair noisily drags across the wood and I shiver in anticipation. ‘Can you speak to him, maybe explain that I’ve been called away, I’ll be in touch in the morning, say the usual stuff, gorgeous meal et cetera.’
‘I can, but won’t he think it strange?’
‘Kyle, please, not now. Tell him we’ve been called away in an emergency, for the children. Anything!’
I grab my bag and bustle across the terrace, down the steps and on to the sand. Did she spot me? Or am I kidding myself, was the very reason for her being here – to spy on me, challenge me, hunt me down? Isn’t it a little too much of a coincidence? Stop it, it’s perfectly viable she wasn’t here for me, I mean how would she have known I’d be here? It’s a restaurant for Christ sake, slap bang in the middle of a popular holiday resort. Why couldn’t it be a coincidence? I reach the car, my heart still in my mouth. So, could she be the one sending the messages? The footsteps?
Eventually, a jangle of keys from behind alerts me to Kyle’s advance. He makes his way to the passenger door and opens it, I pile myself in, wishing to close the door as quickly as possible. Kyle climbs into the driver’s seat, puts the keys in the ignition before turning to me, he doesn’t utter a word at first, only places a hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gear stick. I stare back at him, he raises his hands out and up. ‘What’s going on, And? What was all that about?’ I shouldn’t feel exasperated, he has a perfect right to want to understand why I’m behaving so oddly, but I do. I wish he would keep quiet and move on. I can still feel my hands shaking in my lap. I don’t answer, I merely shake my head, turning to look out of the passenger window. ‘Can we go please, Kyle, now. I want to go home.’
We were half way through dessert when it happened. Gradually throughout the evening the restaurant filled, a pleasant combination of locals and tourists, those keen to sample a Michelin star restaurant and those simply wanting decent seafood. I was lowering the first dessert spoon from my mouth when it pierced through me. That loud cackle of a laugh, I’d recognise it anywhere. It hadn’t changed one bit. I was transported back in time, so many years. Back there in Morningside.
I continued to finish my dessert somehow, my heart knocking at the door of my ribcage, warning me of potential danger. But my head kept on, don’t be so silly, it said, so some random diner has a similar laugh to someone you used to know, so what, it said. But as I took the final mouthful, it came again, a hollowing cackle, which unless I’m very much mistaken, was delivered in my direction. I relented, lifting my glass as if somehow it offered me a kind of protective disguise despite its transparency, I turned in the direction of the cackle. Booming out from inside the restaurant, I understood I had an advantage, it was darker outside than in, so the chances were I was relatively hidden.
And there she was, on the edge of her seat, over-animated and brash. Unchanged. I slunk down into my chair, at one point I thought I might spontaneously combust then moments later I made a run for the toilets. One eye on her, one on Kyle.
Kyle starts up the engine and begins to manoeuvre around the crowded, tight car park. ‘And? I asked you, what was that all about?’
Why has everything precipitously become so tangled and complicated? There’s supposed to be a clear division between past and present, yet tonight, the two very nearly had a head
-on collision. I take a tissue from my secret stash in the glove compartment amongst the plasters, antiseptic wipes and sun creams. I delicately blow my nose, whilst trying to decide what to divulge to Kyle. A huge sigh involuntary releases, shaking my frame as I feel Kyle’s eyes wander over me.
I rub my forehead, closing my eyes, biding for time. ‘A headache?’ he asks.
‘No, not really. Just could have done without this,’ I deliberately mumble towards my feet.
‘Sorry? You’re speaking really quietly, And, I can’t hear you.’
I shake my head. ‘Nothing, it doesn’t matter,’ I feel myself snap and rein it back in, ‘tonight, in the restaurant, I saw someone I knew, that’s all.’
‘I take it this is someone you’re not keen on then?’
‘No, someone from my past. As a matter of fact, the very past I was discussing with you earlier on. The one I wanted to forget? Jesus, you couldn’t make it up, could you?’
‘You’re kidding?’
I turn to glare at Kyle, why would I be joking? Did I look amused?
‘Seriously? How odd,’ he continues. ‘This obviously wasn’t anyone you wanted to say hi to?’
‘No, Kyle, I only want to let go of the past, not introduce it to my present. Haven’t we already had this conversation.’
He holds up his hand. ‘Sorry, silly comment. How well did you know this, woman? Guy?’
Who I Am: A dark psychological thriller with a stunning twist Page 19