by Judy Waite
'Dad thinks we should contact the doctor. I know it's been a troubling time for you, but you have to keep going. You're going to miss your exams next week, and if Fern does . . . ' Mum pauses, the whole weight of possibilities hanging in the space. '. . . does come back, it will be so silly to have wasted everything.'
Courtney wants to scream at Mum that Fern won't come back. Not in any form. Alix has been too clever for that. Somehow Alix – who hasn't even lived here for a year yet – had known about the undertow of the river. She knew exactly where to push.
Alix has been a great help to the police too. She knew Fern had been meeting blokes off the internet. She even gave them the website address. She'd apparently 'done things' with strangers in cars. For money. Since then, the papers have been full of date.com-type dangers, and how innocent young girls get lured into meeting up with strangers.
She remembers, suddenly, an old conversation with Alix – on the afternoon of her eighteenth birthday. Courtney had been pushing to find out how Fern got the money for that dress, and Alix had refused to tell her. 'Maybe you'll find out one day,' she'd said. 'Secrets always come out in the end.'
'Courtney – are you listening?' Mum brings her back to the moment.
'I don't want to see a doctor. I don't need to see a doctor.'
'But Dad says . . . '
'Stuff Dad. Since when the hell has he cared how I am? If it wasn't for him. . . ' These words are out before she can stop them, their meaning germ-ridden. An ugly truth virus that must be bleached away.
'If it wasn't for him, what?'
Courtney stares at Mum, and Mum stares at Courtney. They are like foreigners, struggling to make some sense of each other's alien language.
Courtney is the first to look away, staring down at her hands which are still gripping the edges of the quilt. Her fingernails are bitten to the skin, the tips of her fingers blistered and sore.
'Courtney,' Mum is speaking softly. 'What did you mean? If it wasn't for Dad . . .what?'
'Doesn't matter. It's nothing.'
'No, it's not. It's not nothing. Tell me.'
'You'd hate me.'
'Why would I hate you? You're my beautiful daughter. I love you. And Daddy does too.'
Courtney presses her knuckles up to her forehead. 'Stop it. Stop asking questions. Stop telling me effing "Daddy" loves me. Stop trying to make me tell you the truth.'
'The truth? What truth?' Mum has her arm round Courtney now. She shakes her – not gently but hard. 'Don't play games with me like this.'
Courtney thinks about games with 'Daddy'. Secret games. Mummy mustn't know games. My special girl games. She drops her hands down and looks up, a fierce hot anger pounding through her. 'He used to make me play games.'
Mum is still watching her. Her eyes grow wide with a cold, slow horror. 'No,' she whispers. 'No.'
'Yes, Mum.' Courtney isn't whispering. Her voice is firm and clear. 'Yes.'
And Courtney can see that they are not foreigners to each other anymore. They understand each other's language. Mum has caught the truth virus at last.
* * *
ALIX NODS at the taxi driver, who is standing holding the door for her. 'I won't be long. I've just got a few things to get.'
She walks into The Dress Agency.
She's feeling strange – strung tight. She's been holed up with Hugh for the last few weeks, staying in as much as possible. There have been a few interviews with the police, but the main thing has been to keep her head down. No contacts she hasn't had to have. No questions she hasn't had to answer. That's been the safest thing.
But Hugh has opened up an account for her. 'Get something wonderful.' And she's only got a few hours to do it in.
'Good morning, madam.' The sales woman recognises her, of course. 'How can I help you?'
'Bikinis,' says Alix. 'You had some with real silver sequins a little while ago, and I want to try one on.'
'Those have all gone – it's this early summer we're having. It feels like the tropics, doesn't it? But I can order one in for you. It will be delivered within forty-eight hours.'
'That's too long.' Alix is razed with irritation. She had pictured herself in the sparkling black two-piece, sipping champagne while the sun dipped behind a silvered horizon. 'I'm going away later today. I need it now.'
The sales woman glides across the sulked edge in Alix's voice. 'Going anywhere nice?'
'Yes, we're . . . ' Alix stops herself just in time. What the hell is she doing, telling this shop woman all her plans? Not even Aaron knows what she's up to. 'Well, no . . . just a weekend thing, actually. Can I have a look at those halter-neck dresses instead? The yellow silk one in the window.'
'Certainly, madam, although that's the last one of those too. If you've got a moment, I'll get it out for you.'
'Thanks.' Alix sees her glance at the waiting taxi as she edges into the window. Hugh is already on Zara doing some last minute checks, making everything perfect. He keeps texting her, saying how much he's missing her – even though she only left him an hour ago. She's going straight to the jetty from here, but they're not leaving until later in the afternoon, so she's got a bit of time to play with. It'll be good to make him wait around. If she strings it out for long enough, he might even start to worry that she's changed her mind.
It was easy to persuade him to speed up his plans for going away. She curled her arms round him, kissed his neck, and whispered promises about the time they could already be having – sailing towards paradise together.
So their cars have both been sold, and his house is with an agent. Hers is pretty well empty. Mum will keep paying the mortgage, and maybe in a few months' time Alix will own up to where she's really phoning her from. Mobiles are fantastic for that. Mobiles are perfect for all sorts of secrets.
It's been hard though. She's slept at night with one ear strained for a knock on the door. She's jumped at shadows. She's weighed every word. She doesn't think anyone will ever link her with Fern's disappearance, but she'll be safer out of the country. She'll stay away all her life if she has to. It doesn't bother her. She's used to moving on.
And once they get set up in Italy, she'll be able to see Carla too. Everything's coming together. Everything's going the way she wants it to.
'There we are, madam.' The sales woman steps back from the window, the yellow silk dress over her arm. 'Is there anything else you'd like to try?'
Alix scans the displays, narrowing her eyes. 'Uh . . . yes. I think possibly there are a few things . . . ' She's making a new start with Hugh. A fresh beginning. She ought to celebrate that, by spending as much of his money as she can.
* * *
'Mum.' Courtney hears Jamie calling uncertainly from the hall downstairs. 'There's a funny man at the door.'
'All right, darling. Leave him to me. I'm on my way.'
This last week, Mum has been so different. Dad is gone – staying away while they 'talk things through'. Courtney knows it could get horrible and she isn't sure how she feels about this. Or even what she wants. 'I need to get advice,' Mum said. 'Bear with me, darling. I want to get help for us all.'
But Courtney is afraid of help. And isn't she just as bad as Dad? Dangerous, ugly secrets. She's got plenty of her own.
She edges down the bed, leaning her head back on the pillow and wondering vaguely if Jamie's 'funny man' is a clown. Clowns are scary. Sinister. She has never understood why people laugh at them. She stares up at the artexed ceiling, counting the small crazed bobbles of emulsion. She counts them every day. It's the best thing she can do to stop the memories coming. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight . . .
It isn't working.
She can see the dark shape falling. Hear the splash. And after that, what drifts through isn't a memory. It's more a dream. A nightmare. The body spinning slowly, sucked down in the underwater whirl. Did Fern know? This is the question that will always haunt her. Was Fern conscious when she died?
. . . twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six . . .
/> She has started to shake – or maybe she is just shaking more. She's not sure that she ever really stops.
'Courtney?'
. . . thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine . . .
She jerks her head round. Mum is standing in the doorway. 'What?'
'It's someone for you. He says it's important.'
'Is it the police?' Courtney freezes. She wants it to be the police. She wants them to have found some evidence. She wants them to have guessed.
'I'm sorry, darling, no. There's no new news.
It's something else – someone who says he's called Elroy Franklin. Shall I get rid of him? He doesn't look like the sort of boy you'd want to know.'
Courtney struggles to sit upright, hugging her knees. She never went back to Elroy. She made no contact with him. He's better off without her. She realises she must be staring at Mum with wide, strange eyes, but it is as if something has jarred her, seizing everything up.
Mum's voice grows higher, almost panicked. 'Is he trouble? Do you think he's one of these internet perverts? Should I dial 999?'
'How. . . how did he find me?'
'He said he's been searching. Desperate, apparently. He tried the college first but they wouldn't tell him anything, and he's been doing a house to house search ever since. Courtney – tell me who he is. I really do think I should make that phone call.'
It has hurt, not seeing him. Knowing he'd be wondering what has happened. Some days she's ached and ached, just to hear his voice. She has to make one final effort for him. At least she can tell him it's not his fault, and make him see that he has to go away.
She gets up slowly. It's late morning but she never gets up until lunch time anymore. She'd stay in bed all day if Mum let her get away with it. Pulling her dressing gown from the door, she bunches the belt round her waist. She must look revolting, but that doesn't matter. In fact, it's probably better.
Lucas and Jamie are both outside her door, eyes boggling. 'Courtney, he's a bit weird,' hisses Jamie, who has had the same 'don't dabble with strangers' talk that all the local schools have launched themselves at in the last few weeks. 'Don't go.'
Courtney steps past them, walking carefully down the stairs, as if with any step she might fall. And fall and fall.
Mum has closed the door on him. Her heart wrenches. Poor Elroy. He'll guess what Mum is thinking, and it'll hurt him. And then she tells herself he's probably gone. It'll be for the best. She doesn't deserve him. He doesn't deserve her. Except her heart feels wrenched and she wants to see him – just for one second. One last long look that she can hold onto forever.
She opens the door slowly. He's still there, the sunlight burning the air behind him. She blinks, shading her eyes. She isn't used to light.
'Oh God – I've found you. I thought you'd just disappeared. And with that other girl going missing, I've been frantic.' He reaches for her but she shrinks back.
'You mustn't touch me.' She stares down at her bare feet, a crazed purple varnish still patterning her nails, left over from forever ago. That other life. 'You mustn't want to know me.'
He drops his hands down by his side. 'Courtney – I'm so sorry. I know I pushed you too far that last time. I've loathed myself ever since.'
'Courtney.' Mum's voice is sharp behind her. 'Shall I make that call?'
'No, Mum. No! Just – go away for a moment. Leave us alone.'
'I don't think . . . '
'Mum. Two minutes. Please.'
'Two minutes is all he's getting.'
Courtney hears Mum back away, but knows she hasn't gone far. Who cares? Let her listen.
She's got to get this over with.
Elroy is spilling words. Spilling his heart. 'I missed you so much. And I kept thinking something bad had happened. Your phone's been off and I've been desperate. I even contacted the police, and they must have thought I was a nutter. A girl whose surname I didn't know, and whose address I didn't have a clue about – had stood me up. I didn't stand much chance, did I?'
He puts a light laugh into his voice but she can hear the pain in it. Feel the pain in it.
'Hate me, Elroy,' she whispers. 'Please – hate me.'
'Not possible.' He is speaking very gently.
She stays staring at her toes. 'Even if you won't hate me, you still have to go. Please. It's all finished for us.'
'Courtney – let me see your face. Tell me that while you're looking at me.'
He cups his hand under her chin and tilts it upwards. Her eyes leak tears. She tries to pull away but he won't let go. 'Look at me.'
She looks at him. And all she can think is how beautiful he is, how beautiful. He is everything that is right and pure and honest and kind. If this had happened to him – if he was with Alix that night – what would he do? But she doesn't need to answer her own question. She knows. She knows. 'I've done something terrible,' she says it out loud. Lets him hear it clearly. Lets the burning bright sky hear it. Lets Mum hear it from behind the door.
'What sort of terrible?'
'I've been so stupid. I need to tell the police. They'll lock me up, but I don't care. It's what I deserve. But I didn't want it to happen – I didn't choose it. It wasn't my idea.'
'If it was an accident, then the police will listen. As long as you're honest with them, it'll be OK.'
She is suddenly tired. She could drop to her knees. She could curl tight and sleep and sleep on the sunlit grass. And in that tiredness the worst fear seems to pass through her as if it is a wave she has had to walk into the centre of. A great tidal surge that has tried to sweep her away – and failed.
Elroy is pulling her closer, helping her to stay standing. 'I'm here for you. I'm here all the way through it. Whatever it is.'
She lets him fold his arms around her and she doesn't know where any of it will lead, but she feels strangely washed clean. She's going to lift the stone, and the police won't even need to search underneath. She'll tell them everything. Lay it out in front of them. Sorry, Jamie. Sorry, Lucas. She hopes they won't be too hurt. Too damaged. But it's better out now, than later.
Secrets always come out in the end.
* * *
HUGH COMES DOWN the jetty to greet her. 'Do you have any more bags in the taxi?'
'Just a few.' She smiles as she glances back, the driver pulling a stash of carrier bags from the boot. 'I'm sorry I took longer than I said I would. I just got carried away. And I know you'll think I'm very silly to buy so much, but I couldn't make up my mind.'
He kisses her on the top of the head. 'It looks as if you've bought enough to last a lifetime.'
Alix affects a giggle and leans against him. She wants to tell him that a lifetime is the plan, but it's too soon. It's still early days, and it's vital not to look too keen. 'I had to have some special things.' She makes her voice teasing and light. 'I can't spend the next six months in just a bikini. And then I got hungry so I grabbed a bit of lunch. Sorry I didn't text you but I think my phone's playing up.'
They reach Zara and Hugh holds out one hand to help her on.
She hesitates, glancing down even though she has told herself she mustn't. The water beneath her seems dark and brooding. She jumps quickly. She mustn't think. She mustn't think. There's no point carrying around the baggage of the past.
'Six months with you in just a bikini sounds like a dream come true for me.' Hugh turns to take the bags from the driver. 'Hang on a sec. I'll pay off this chap, and then I'll be with you. I want to crack open a bottle of champers before we head off.'
Alix stands on the deck, scanning the river. It's busy, because of the heat. Luxury yachts and small wooden rowing boats. A line of canoes from some local youth activity centre. An old-fashioned schooner, its tall masts looking like something from a fairy tale as it glides magically past.
And then she looks behind her. She hadn't wanted to do that. Hadn't meant to. But what she sees almost stops her heart. Just near the bend, close to River's View, is a police car heading towards the house. Why are the
y going there? She feels a chill of unease.
Hugh appears beside her, watching it too. 'Apparently they're going to be dragging the riverbed later. I was speaking to a chap on the jetty before you arrived. There's been police activity over there all afternoon.'
A shadow seems to move round her, a cloud crossing the sun. She shivers.
'You poor darling.' Hugh pulls her close. 'I know you said you didn't know her well, but it must be terrible to have known her at all. The whole story haunts me whenever I read about it, and I never even set eyes on her. I can't imagine what her parents must be going through. They must still be hoping. Families always hope – if no body is ever found . . . '
'I want to go.' Alix presses against him. 'I don't really feel much like celebrating here.'
He strokes her hair gently. 'We'll do whatever you want.'
She brightens her voice, moving away slightly. She doesn't want to stand around having a cuddling session and wasting time. They need to get going. They have to get going. 'Maybe we can have our champagne once we're out in the channel. It'll be more exciting then anyway.' She curves a gentle smile at him, touching his arm, her voice huskily soft. 'We can celebrate properly there, if you like.'
'I do like.' Hugh pulls her close again, hugging her tightly. 'You drive me wild, my beautiful Sea Princess. I'll weigh the anchor and we'll go go go.'
Minutes later Zara's engine throbs into life, and they pull away. Alix stands beside Hugh, at the wheel. He is steering one-handed, his arm round her shoulder. 'I can't believe you're with me. I must be the luckiest man in the world.'
'Me too,' she murmurs. 'The luckiest girl, I mean.' But she isn't looking at him. She is watching the jetty slipping from view. A dark blue car has arrived, and a man in a suit is talking to the taxi driver. How come he hasn't driven off yet? The man in the suit shades his eyes, looking out towards the water.
Alix turns away quickly. 'Can we go faster?' she says. 'Really race along. I want to feel as if we're really steaming.'
'It's illegal,' laughs Hugh. 'Rivers are like roads. They have speed limits. It's only four knots along here – and it would be lethal to push it with all this traffic.'