‘Don’t care.’
Beth turned her back and started to walk. Her boots were beginning to rub, and their weight hurt her ankles. She couldn’t wait to get home.
For a moment she thought she heard someone out in the darkness, but no, it was the wind rustling the grass… wasn’t it?
Chloe ran in front of her and planted herself firmly. Hands on hips, head cocked to one side. ‘You’ve ruined things between me and Aleksy. You don’t even want him, you want that old fart, James Harvey! So why ruin things between me and Aleksy?’
‘I didn’t ruin anything. I’ve never shown him any interest, Chloe! I don’t care about Aleksy; he’s nice, but he’s not my type. Have him!’
‘Have him? So, like, take your fucking cast-offs? I don’t think so.’
‘Oh my God, it’s like arguing with a brick wall! Have him, don’t have him, be my friend, don’t be my friend, I don’t give a toss.’
Chloe got a look in her eyes of pure fury. Her hand flew back and she slapped at Beth, hard. But Beth caught her hand. She was used to dodging Chloe, lately. Her friend got so angry sometimes, her temper out of control, flashing like lightning then disappearing equally fast.
The first time Chloe had hit her, about four months earlier, she’d been mortified afterwards. She had apologised over and over. Promised it would never happen again. She was Beth’s Best Friend Forever, so of course the girl had forgiven her. But then the same thing had happened. Several times.
Beth hadn’t told anyone about these uncontrollable rages. The bruises were easy to hide; most of the blows were landed on her body, and Chloe was always so embarrassed afterwards that Beth didn’t have the heart to get her into trouble.
Mrs Clarke had once caught her daughter punching Beth in the kidneys, and assured Beth that she was going to arrange for a counsellor – until then they had agreed it was best if it were kept a secret. Chloe had made her pinkie-promise.
There had been times over the last four months when Beth had almost confessed to her parents. But it sounded so stupid saying that Chloe had a bad temper. As for the promised counselling, Mrs Clarke kept making excuses about why it still hadn’t been sorted. Sometimes Beth suspected Chloe’s mother was worried about what people would think if it got out that she had a violent daughter.
Out on the marsh, though, Beth had had enough. She wouldn’t be someone’s punchbag any more. Glaring at Chloe and, never flinching, she threw her friend’s arm away from her.
‘Don’t you dare touch me,’ she said, voice steady, despite the blood thumping in her ears. Then she turned and walked away.
‘Beth. Beth! Get back here.’
But she refused to listen to her Best Friend Forever. It was a long way home, she thought, so she had better get going. Once there, she decided, she would break her pinkie promise and let her parents in on her secret. She would tell the truth, and get her best friend the help she needed. She felt bad, but keeping secrets from her parents made her feel uncomfortable. While she was at it, she would throw away that stupid make-believe book about her and James flipping Harvey. She was so over him.
Beth had had enough of secrets and lies to last her a lifetime.
The wind rose to a howl, the sycamore’s branches rattling. The brent geese took off with loud cries of consternation. Beth didn’t hear Chloe behind her. The blow, when it came, was totally unexpected.
Seventy-Five
Flo’s eyes were brimming with sadness as, finally, she spoke.
‘I have to tell you that Chloe Clarke has been charged with assaulting Beth.’
Little Chloe? Your best friend?
‘That can’t be right.’ Each word was slow, as if dragged from the depths. I felt heavy, numbed. Each movement, each blink, seemed to take forever. I noticed the ticking of the clock. Flo’s hands falling open, palms up, apologetic. Her agonised stare, tears sparkling then blinking away rapidly.
I turned to Jacob, convinced I had heard wrong. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed repeatedly, trying to digest the news that a child had caused so much damage to our child.
Oh God, Beth. All the people I had suspected. All the people I’d accused. But I hadn’t seen the one person who was guilty.
‘How?’ My voice rough and quiet. I cleared my throat, tried again. ‘I don’t understand… There has to have been a mistake.’
We had taught you about stranger danger, Beth. We’d never taught you not to trust your best friend.
‘Did Ursula know?’ I asked.
As Flo nodded, I jumped up, sprinting towards the loo. Veering off at the last second to grab the wastebasket as the contents of my stomach poured out. I spat out the last of the vomit, and swore shakily.
When Ursula hurried over with the casserole, had she hoped you were dead, so she and her daughter could be in the clear? All the times she asked how you were, had she really cared – or only asked for fear you had woken and spilled her and her daughter’s ugly secret? That bloody teddy they had left at the sycamore shrine beside the mere they had thrown you into, with the note saying they missed you. Missed you?! They were the reason you were in hospital.
Flo talked to your dad and I for over an hour, explaining the police investigation. I had thought they were useless, sitting back and doing nothing, when all the time they had been working tirelessly to catch your attacker.
As Flo talked, there were times when either Jacob or I jumped up in a sudden fury, or paced like a caged animal around our living room, but on the whole we listened calmly. We questioned surprisingly little. Shock seemed to have robbed us of our voices. I thought the truth would have made me rant and scream, but everything seemed to have shut down and I felt as if I was in a bubble, removed from this awful scene and watching it play out rather than being a part of it.
After speaking with me, Davy had apparently gone straight to the police, figuring that he had waited long enough for Ursula to persuade Chloe to come forward. He had thought he was protecting them – mum and daughter – from a potential future attack from whoever had hurt you. He’d had no idea that Chloe was the one who had struck the blow, and that her parents were feverishly trying to cover her tracks.
Poor bloke; he must have loved Ursula, but she would never have risked leaving Steve and the comfortable lifestyle he provided for her. Once Ursula had told her husband what Chloe had done, they had been tied together forever by their dreadful family secret. She’d probably only kept stringing Davy along for fear that if she broke up with him, he might manage to figure out the truth about Chloe.
‘I saw the Clarkes earlier, suggested they went to the police,’ I told Flo and Jacob at one point. ‘They must have thought I was trying to blackmail them or something. Chloe must have gone crazy because she was scared of being arrested for what she’d done. I thought it was because she was traumatised by what James had done to her.’
I sounded almost matter-of-fact as I spoke, Beth. Please don’t think I was. It was more that there were too many emotions to compute, so my body and brain had shut down, a bit like when a computer overloads and gets that spinning wheel. That was me; I was frozen, haunted by the memory of Chloe lashing out at herself.
‘Apparently, according to what has come out in our interview with Chloe’s parents, Chloe has had a problem with her temper since hitting puberty. She can’t even remember the details of her argument with Beth, just that Beth had annoyed her,’ said Flo, her eyes full of sympathy.
When the red mist of rage descended, your best friend had snatched up a branch that had fallen from the sycamore nearby, and she had lashed out. I could just imagine it…
The thud of wood connecting with your skull. Your head snapping back. Falling to the frozen ground. Perhaps you tried to stand, tried to cry out for help. Fingers twitching in the dirt.
You didn’t see it coming, Beth, you didn’t stand a chance. She was your best friend! My stomach contracted painfully, but there was nothing left to bring up.
Afterwards, Chloe had calle
d her mum in a panic. That’s what had alerted the police – they had got hold of Chloe’s mobile records and been able to pinpoint her to the location at the time of your attack. Davy coming forward was the extra piece of proof they needed to make the arrest.
After receiving the call from Chloe, Ursula had come running, of course. Unable to find a pulse, she and your best friend had carried your fragile body to the mere and thrown you in, hoping it was deep enough that you would sink and never be found.
They had tossed you aside like a piece of rubbish. My beautiful little girl; intelligent, funny, caring.
Ursula would have done anything to protect her daughter. Just like I’d have done anything to protect you. Apparently she hadn’t told Steve what had happened, not at first, but when he got back from his golfing weekend he’d quickly picked up on the atmosphere at home and guessed Chloe was somehow involved in Beth’s attack. When Ursula had confessed to him, he had been so shocked that he’d left them. But when I had started sniffing around, he had returned so that he could protect his family from the truth coming out.
But now he and Ursula had been charged with assisting an offender and perverting the course of justice. Whatever, it wouldn’t be enough. That cow Ursula had cooked me a casserole in exchange for almost killing my little girl. She had looked at me with her wet spaniel eyes, all full of fake sympathy.
I wanted to kill her.
Jill Young would face charges of her own for staging the illegal gathering on her property, and knowingly allowing alcohol to be sold to underage people on those premises.
Alison Daughtrey-Drew was in even more trouble. She had been selling drugs. The police had been on to her quickly, finding out about the rave when they had looked more closely at Alison and James because of the allegations against him. By looking at her bank details, they had discovered that Alison had hired a couple of hundred silent disco headphones from a company and had them delivered to her home. Once the police started digging around, they had soon uncovered rumours of the event – someone can’t stage something that large and keep it totally quiet, no matter what precautions are taken. In addition, Aleksy Jachowski had come forward to tell the authorities about it, and that he had seen you there, after being scared he would get the blame for what had happened to you. So at least the mob had been useful for something.
After that, the police’s case against Alison had quickly started to take shape, but they had been biding their time to find out if she had been your attacker. She hadn’t – but Beth, she had seen your seemingly lifeless body in the water while walking to her car after the rave. Assuming you had taken drugs and had a reaction to them, she hadn’t called the police or an ambulance for fear of getting herself into trouble.
The cowardly bitch. But the fury inside me didn’t explode into ranting and raving. It burned white hot, turning my pain into something hard, implacable and dangerously calm.
‘By the time Alison discovered Beth had been hit, she’d had time to come up with an idea of how to cover her tracks. She’d set up a fake alibi by roping in James Harvey’s help,’ explained Flo.
‘But why did he go along with it?’ I asked.
‘According to Alison, Beth had kissed James that night at the rave – and he had pushed her away. Alison blackmailed him, saying that if he didn’t give them both an alibi, she would go to the police and give a statement saying that she’d seen him later that night, hurting Beth.’
‘And he was telling the truth when he said he was gay?’ I breathed.
Flo nodded, ginger bob swinging. ‘He hasn’t come out yet to his parents, and is anxious to keep that quiet for now.’
So many people with petty worries about themselves. Not giving a thought to my daughter, left fighting for her life.
Seventy-Six
Suddenly Jacob and I were a couple again, united by the news we had received. Moving as one, automatically. Side by side we let Flo out, Jacob holding my hand tightly as we said our goodbyes. The news had shifted something fundamental between us, as natural and huge as an earthquake.
‘Let’s get to Beth and tell her the news,’ I said.
I wanted to apologise for not realising the secrets you were carrying, Beans. I needed to let you know that now the truth was finally out and the lies were over, I would find my courage and spend every spare second with you until you were better.
Excitement fizzed through me too. I was convinced you would react once you heard you were safe and justice was being done. There would be a twitch of an eyelid, a squeeze of my hand, and it would mark the start of your journey back to us. I’d do anything I could until you were the happy girl you had been a month ago. I would never allow myself to give up hope again. I would do whatever it took to fight for this family.
As we hurried along the warren of hospital corridors, your dad and I held hands. Everything felt sorted, and it could only be a matter of time before you came home and we were a proper family again.
Outside your room, we stopped and washed our hands with the obligatory sanitiser. I was rinsing, lips quirking at the thought of seeing your own smile again one day soon, when I heard it.
An alarm. Harsh, ear-splitting in the quiet.
Jacob ran two steps ahead of me. He stopped so suddenly I almost crashed into the back of him.
Your monitors were flashing like a cheap disco. Your face was a delicate grey. Then you disappeared behind a horde of nurses who bolted into your room. Your dad and I flattened ourselves against the wall, not daring to get in the way.
‘We’re taking Beth for a CT scan,’ someone called as they whisked you away.
We were left alone. Eyes huge, faces drawn, punch-drunk from emotional blow after emotional blow. How long we stood like that, I couldn’t tell you. We didn’t move until the consultant came back in and took us to a quiet room just off the corridor that led to yours.
When he sat down, he gave a sigh. Tiny, involuntary, but enough for me to brace myself.
‘As you know, a month ago Beth suffered an epidural haematoma due to a blunt impact to the head. When she first arrived here, she had a build-up of blood between the brain and skull. That’s why we operated, to stop it.’
Jacob and I nodded. We didn’t need this recap; it was something we would never forget.
‘Well, now the brain has haemorrhaged again. Beth is suffering severe intracranial pressure – so severe that the brain is being crushed against the skull.’
‘You’re going to operate again?’ questioned Jacob.
The doctor’s mouth gave a sad little twist. ‘I’m afraid that this time there is no point. I’m sorry, Mr and Mrs Oak.’
I groaned at the blow, my body folding over. Vision darkening at the edges as I fought not to pass out. The thing I had feared most was finally coming true.
Oh, Beth, my beautiful girl. How could we live without you?
‘Why won’t you operate this time?’ Jacob asked eventually, his voice brittle.
‘The bleeding is so severe that there’s virtually no chance we could stop it. Even if we could, signals from Beth’s brain to her heart are no longer getting through properly. She’s dying. There’s nothing we can do; nothing anyone can do.
‘When her heart stops beating, we don’t think it would be appropriate treatment for the team to give Beth chest compressions. We have tried everything to make her better, and it isn’t working.’
‘So, what…’ My lips were stuck to my teeth. I licked them. Tried to make my mouth work properly. ‘What happens now? How long… ?’
‘Do you have friends and family you would like to call to say goodbye to Beth?’
‘Everyone in the family will want to be here,’ replied Jacob.
‘Then you need to call them right now. Are there any religious ceremonies that you would like to have arranged before she goes?’
I shook my head.
‘Have you ever considered organ donation?’
We flinched simultaneously. I looked at Jacob. He looked at me.
> ‘She, umm, she… Beth would like that,’ he managed. ‘She’s always liked to help people.’
He threw his head into his hands then, shoulders jerking, with dry sobs wracking his body.
Seventy-Seven
The nurses worked quickly and efficiently around each other, as if in a dance. They pulled the endotracheal tube from down your throat. The nasogastric tube from up your nose. The conduit from the intracranial pressure bolt in your head. The cannula at your wrist.
They wheeled away machinery, and all manner of things, until finally all that was left was you, Beth.
Already you looked more peaceful.
I stroked your long blonde hair. Trying to burn the feel of it into my memory forever, terrified that one day its exact texture couldn’t be recalled. The wiriness of the red hairs; the silken gloss of the golds. I arranged it to cover the shaved part of your head and fanned it across the pillow. You looked like a Pre-Raphaelite painting.
Your breathing sounded shallow and laboured.
‘Beth? Please, Beans, wake up. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.’ Jacob leaned over you as he spoke, staring at your eyes intently. His hand rested in your loose, open palm.
You didn’t respond, my love.
My own hand slid across your dad’s back, back and forth in an oval motion, comforting him as I used to comfort you when you were tiny.
Can you remember that, Beth? Can you remember my touch? Can you remember our love?
I looked across at a nurse, standing awkwardly to one side, taking in the futile scene of a father trying to save a daughter through sheer force of will. I cleared my throat, aware of each sound, each movement.
‘Could we have some time alone, please?’
The nurse stirred into action. ‘Certainly.’
As soon as he had left the room, my arms wrapped around Jacob’s sinewy body and I leaned my face on his back as he gazed, immovable, at you. His whole body tensed against me, then quaked with silent tears.
The Darkest Lies: A gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist Page 26