To her surprise, as quickly as Bette’s spirits had crashed, they had risen again. She jumped up. Sara started to clear away the table but Bette caught hold of her arm.
‘No, no, sweetness, thanks but that comes later.’ In a comic-dramatic gesture, she pointed across the room. ‘Now, lady and gentleman,’ she said in an exaggerated announcer’s voice, ‘I give you… the tree.’
She wove her way past the wood burner to the other end of the room where her Christmas tree stood in the centre of the glass doors. In a stagey manner, she closed the long pale-grey linen curtains behind it, walked back round, swaying as she went in archly sexual fashion and stood hand on one hip in a provocative pose in front of the tree. The others were still at the table wordlessly watching her.
‘Come on, you two, no time like the present. Get it?’ She rocked with laughter again. ‘Bring your drinks, darlings, and come and sit over here.’
And like obedient children they did as they were told, each sitting on one of the large sofas either side of the tree.
‘That’s not very friendly. Go on, sit on the same side. Get up and join Sara, Mike.’
He rose and walked stiffly across to the other sofa. Bette bent down, an overtly sexual tilt to her bottom and picked up a gold envelope under the tree with ‘Sara’ on it.
‘Sara, darling, happy Christmas, from Mike and me.’ She crossed to her and handed her the envelope. There was a card enclosing a note explaining that twenty thousand pounds had been transferred into Sara’s bank. The note went on to read:
I know times have been hard for you lately and this should help you get straight again. Please say NOTHING to Mike and don’t give anything away!
Put this note straight back in the envelope and throw it away in the wood burner later.
The enclosed gold card you can show as your present!
Sara swallowed back a cry of disbelief. She could barely contain her amazement and sat for a good minute before it sank in. Prompted by Bette, she removed the gold postcard that was also inside.
Happy Christmas Sara! Congratulations and welcome to Perfect Stranger, the online dating website for finding the love of your life.
Your profile is now complete.
You are a fully subscribed member from 24.12.2017 for one year until 24.12.2018.
Your username: Snow White!
Your password: Happilyeverafter?
She pocketed the envelope with the note and unable to cover her delight, gave Bette an extra-long hug and kissed her multiple times on the cheeks. Then she showed the dating website card to Mike, who now seemed even crosser. Why would she be so thrilled about that?
Bette then picked up a present from Mike to her. She opened it with a flourish to find a black silk and lace négligée from an expensive London boutique. She held it up in front of her and performed a mock belly dance. In a bitingly sarcastic tone she exclaimed, ‘Oh my darling, what a wonderful present. I’ll wear it tonight. That’ll give you something to wank over.’
Sara looked shocked and Mike mortified. Bette then handed Mike his present carefully wrapped in black with a red bow. Opening it tentatively, he revealed a large silver-framed photograph of Lucy. He burst into tears.
Seemingly too drunk to notice, Bette wobbled over to sit down on the other side of Sara and cuddled her. ‘Hope you like your pressie, darling?’
Sara was upset by Mike’s reaction and struggled to show her gratitude. ‘It’s just what the doctor failed to order. I cannot thank you enough. What a truly wonderful friend you are, Bette.’
‘Go on, you haven’t opened mine to you, yet. I’m afraid it doesn’t even begin to compete with yours.’ Sara pointed to a present under the tree. ‘And there’s one for Mike, too. And one for you both.’
Nearly falling over her stilettos on the way, Bette staggered across to the tree and picked them up. She wobbled over to Mike who was trying to restore his equilibrium but failing.
‘I feel too upset to open it at the moment. I’ll do it later.’ He turned to Sara. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’ As he got up from the sofa, he pecked her on the cheek. ‘I need to go and lie down for a while. Too much wine.’ He stood up and still sniffing back the tears, went upstairs to their bedroom. Sara put out a sympathetic hand and touched his arm as he got up to leave.
‘That was going a bit far, wasn’t it, Bette? Surely you knew it would upset him?’
‘I thought he’d love it.’ The cold tone was back in her voice. She tore the gold wrapping paper off the present to them both. It was another photo frame.
‘Nice one, not sure what we’ll put in it, but thanks, Sara.’ Then she opened her present, also in gold paper. It was a hardback book written by a well-known celebrity who had lost a child to cot death and had then had another healthy baby who was then four years old.
In an explosion of rage, Bette leapt to her feet and screamed, ‘How dare you? How fucking dare you? You fucking, stupid cunt!’
She stumbled across the room to drop the paper and the book into the wood burner. Multicoloured flames danced among the wrapping. ‘Now who’s being tactless? Huh? You think I want to read that shit? Do you? You moron.’ Bette’s rage did not unduly disturb Sara. It was nothing she hadn’t expected.
‘Oh dear, I feel awful, Bette, especially when you have given me such an incredibly generous gift.’ She laid a conciliatory hand on her arm as Bette flung past her, grabbing and wrenching it away from her. Unthwarted, Sara continued, ‘But I do think it’s a shame. If you’d given it half a go you might have found that book inspiring and it might have helped you begin to get over what happened.’
‘I don’t need anyone’s help. Yours,’ Bette spat, ‘least of all. I can very well “get over it” and look after myself.’
With that, she switched on the television, threw herself on the other sofa and watched with a bored, sulky expression.
Sara decided to leave her to it. She’d calm down in time. She left the living area, crossed to the kitchen-dining area of the huge room and quietly cleared away the lunch and loaded the dishwasher.
When she had finished, she said nothing, but went upstairs to her room, leaving Bette to simmer down.
Sara was torn. Earlier, she had wanted to punch Bette but had remembered that that was not the way forward. She had recalled the saying, Don’t get mad, get even, and had known she must bide her time. But now, Bette had given her that huge sum of money and she had been dumbstruck by her generosity. What a strange cat the woman was. So unpredictable. So sweet and so sour. Now Sara must try to revise her thinking and the plan she had had in mind.
She lay on the bed experiencing an odd mixture of elation, fear and anger. She told herself her mind was playing tricks but she couldn’t shake the feeling. Bette’s behaviour that day had made her feel strangely alone. Like a fish out of water. But she reminded herself that sometimes she did feel like this and had read enough self-help books to know it was the result of being a runaway, a rootless person.
She wished so much she had just someone to rely on as a friend and had thought Bette was the one. But now… Too much whirred around her troubled mind. She went over the day in her mind. She had chosen the presents so carefully but Mike hadn’t opened his. It would have hit just the spot and she was disappointed to miss seeing his face when he opened it.
With Bette, she had been prepared to expect a hostile reaction but not that the woman would feel quite so violently averse to the book.
By the time she tentatively emerged to come downstairs for supper, she was relieved to find Bette sound asleep and snoring on the sofa with Mike nowhere to be seen. Evidently still retired upstairs. His present would have to wait. There was always tomorrow. Tiptoeing quietly so as not to wake Bette, she made herself a couple of cheese sandwiches and a cup of tea, and gently whistling Gin who had followed her downstairs, fed the dog some leftover beef and vegetables.
Then she patted her leg to indicate Gin to follow and she crept back upstairs to her room. She climbed into bed, l
et Gin settle across her feet and sitting up ate her sandwiches and drank the tea. Then she put her laptop on her knees and searched the local area on the internet. She was particularly interested in the Witches’ Cauldron.
17
26 December 2017. Cliff Edge
On Boxing Day morning, Bette was up first, followed by Mike. Dreading seeing either of them, Sara avoided coming downstairs as long as she felt she could. Nursing the first hangover she had had since she had been in Amsterdam all that time ago, she felt queasy and dehydrated.
The couple sat in virtual silence at the breakfast table where Bette had laid cereals and put out some toast and marmalade. Mike looked miserable while she had resumed the cheerful demeanour she had had during yesterday’s bizarre lunch.
Sara came downstairs at about 9.45 and kept her head lowered, avoiding eye contact with either of the couple.
But Bette, who for some reason didn’t appear to have a hangover of her own, persuaded her to drink some cups of coffee and some orange juice and to eat a large bowl of muesli. And Sara began to feel human again. She thanked her friend for helping her feel that way.
‘Oh, Mike, you still haven’t yet opened your present from me.’ She finished the last drops of coffee, jumped up enthusiastically from her chair and crossed the room to the Christmas tree where the present lay on the floor unopened. She picked it up and brought it back to the table.
Mike was eating some toast. His fourth piece, he was stocking up in readiness for his walk. He mumbled a thank you, delaying opening it until he had finished breakfast. When he had done so he tore the wrapping away to find a biography of Billie Holiday. He looked amazed.
Before he had a chance to say anything, Bette said, ‘Are you psychic or something?’
‘No, no, of course not. You told me Mike loved jazz and blues and especially Billie Holiday, don’t you remember?’
‘Did I?’ Bette seemed vague. ‘Don’t remember doing so, that’s for sure.’
‘You did, Bette. Honestly you did, on one of our more recent walks. My memory is good.’
‘Well, you couldn’t have given me a better present, Sara.’ Mike was still avoiding looking her in the eye as he thanked her.
‘To be honest, when Bette said you loved Billie, I thought what good taste you must have and I would get you that book. But if you already have it, it can be changed at Waterstones in Cambridge.’
‘No, it’s new to me and will make riveting reading.’ Mike seemed to have overcome his reluctance to engage and was now smiling openly at Sara and waving the book in the air. ‘This will be pored over and scoured through and read more than once and, most of all, treasured, you can be sure. I am very grateful.’
He suddenly stood up and came around the table to where Sara was sitting. He put an arm round her shoulder and bent to kiss her on the cheek.
Clearly irritated by the empathy Mike was showing her friend, Bette abruptly scraped her chair back on the stone floor. Coldness edged her words. ‘What are you doing today?’
‘I was intending on walking westward on the cliff path this morning for a couple of hours but the wind may curtail that, depending how strong it blows. Shall I take the dogs with me?’
Sara said, ‘Oh, that would be kind.’
‘Sara will drive us in her car.’ Bette was clearly irritated. ‘I want to show her the views from Cilgerran Castle and after Pentre Ifan. We’ll grab something to eat somewhere.’
‘Okay. There’s more than enough food to last for weeks here so I’ll have something when I get back.’
‘We may need it as snow is forecast either later today or tomorrow.’
Soon after breakfast, Mike dressed for a hike in harsh weather. Beanie pulled over his ears, gloves on, walking poles in hands, he whistled to the dogs who followed as he set off for the cliff path.
Having cleared away breakfast, the women donned their warmest clothes and got ready to go.
With Bette giving directions, Sara set off at the wheel. She felt uncomfortable about being alone with Bette after her outburst about the book she had given her, but apart from the earlier show of jealousy which Sara well understood, Bette appeared to be back on form today. They drove to Moylegrove then headed east as far as St Dogmaels before dropping south to bypass Cardigan and wind their way to Cilgerran.
‘Glad we got rid of the man,’ said Bette.
‘Why are you so cross with him, Bette?’
‘Because he has let me down.’
Sara knew she must tread warily here but she was dying to hear what Bette would say. ‘In what way?’
‘You really do love to ask questions, don’t you?’
She could flare up again if she wasn’t careful. But Sara persisted. ‘In what way has he let you down?’
‘He has not been a good partner to me. That’s all you need to know. And by the way, I have no intention of ever having another child, thank you very much, so don’t go giving me any more books about such things.’ And Sara was shut down just like that.
A few small flakes of snow appeared from the sky. They flew about in the wind as though they didn’t have the weight to land, or if they did land they melted instantly.
They drove on in silence for a while until Bette perked up and said, ‘First, I’m taking you to see Cilgerran Castle. Thirteenth-century ruin. You’ll like it. It’s not far from here.’
Sara once again was flummoxed by Bette. She seemed to have changed since coming up to Wales. She was more extreme than in Cambridge. She wondered why that would be and looked for reasons. She remembered Bette’s parents had both died in this county. It could be something to do with that, or maybe Cliff Edge reminded her of the happiness the couple had once so obviously shared. A happiness clearly gone now.
‘Hang a right at the next turning.’
They parked and without speaking walked uphill to the castle, its two massive open towers looming above them. Being Boxing Day, it was officially closed by the National Trust but Bette was not to be outdone. She insisted Sara follow her as she scrambled dangerously around the edge of the river below where the castle was perched high over a gorge so close to the edge that parts of the outer walls had fallen to the valley below. Bette led them up a set of narrow, steep, spiral stone steps with a next-to-useless guard rail. Sara felt more than unsure about climbing up them.
‘Bette, isn’t this unsafe? I mean, I’m sure it’s not when they’re dry but the steps are quite slippery with the snow. We could meet our deaths going up here.’
‘Oh, come on, you cackty. Just tread carefully. Where’s Darer Sara gone? It’ll be worth it, you’ll see.’
‘Cackty?’ Sara’s voice was trembling.
‘Coward! But of course I’m not serious, darling, you’re not really a cackty, just a little bit right now.’
‘I’d call it sensible.’ Sara managed to laugh. And the two women giggled as they gingerly picked their way up the stairs.
And Bette was right, it was indeed worth it. They had to climb over a railing at the top but once at the top there were some spectacular views. As they stood close to the edge, Sara said, ‘Don’t you wish you could go back in time and ask the builders of this magical place why they put so much effort into moving and hacking such huge stones. What fear was so great that motivated them?’
‘Death, darling. Death.’
‘Yes, well, I suppose… and building it probably killed quite a few of them.’
‘They did as they were told, sweetie. If they didn’t, they’d have died of starvation from lack of money.’
Sara was close to the guard rail at the top of the edge above the gorge. Bette walked up behind her. ‘Careful there, darling, you don’t want to join their ranks just yet, do you?’
‘Oh, I’m definitely not ready to go yet. How about you, Bette?’ Sara turned around to face her. Bette ignored Sara’s question and changed the subject.
‘The snow has already stopped. Not sure why it bothered.’
‘I think they call it a flurry, don
’t they?’
‘Who’s they?’ Bette said with a smirk.
All of a sudden, Sara leaned forward and put her arms round Bette’s waist. She tried to kiss her on the lips, but Bette flinched away.
‘No way, José,’ she said. ‘Not my bag, Sara. I thought you knew.’
Sara laughed it off. ‘But, as you would say, darling, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try again.’
She had backfooted Bette, for once. A new rivalry between them had taken seed. It might have been thought of as having to do with familiarity and contempt but in truth both women were highly competitive people. While Bette didn’t care who knew it, Sara, being the more devious of the two, took care to hide the drive she had within. The same drive that had led her to desert her family.
They descended by the road and returned to the car a safer way.
‘That was wonderful. Thank you, Bette.’ This time, Sara decided she probably shouldn’t hug her again. She told herself she must remember that in spite of how difficult Bette could be, she usually meant well. After all, there was no need for her to have brought her on this outing. Underneath her volatile nature, she was a kind person. Except that is, when it came to Mike. She had a heavy grudge against her partner and Sara longed to know what it was all about. She had tried before to drag it out of Bette with no luck. Maybe she’d get her to open up after a few drinks this evening.
It was getting on for noon when they headed for Pentre Ifan.
‘More treats in store. If you liked the ancient history associated with the castle, wait till you see this place. It’s amazing.’
A short drive and the women arrived at one of the most beautiful views in Wales. Sara was enthralled by the collection of megaliths, known as the Stonehenge of Wales.
Cliff Edge: a gripping psychological mystery Page 14