Dark Waters

by Mary-Jane Riley

  One day, while walking on Midsummer Common trying to breathe in the air and lower my stress levels after a particularly bruising and punishing session with my tutor, I saw Stu for the first time since that night. Stu with a girl. Proper arms-wrapped-around-each-other Stu with a girl. It was time to make things right.

  They didn’t see me until it was too late for him to avoid me.

  ‘Hi, Stu,’ I said pleasantly. ‘How are things?’

  He stiffened, and I willed him to be cool, not to get angry, not to start sweating, not to show himself up in front of this freckled, nice-looking girl.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, before starting to walk away.

  ‘Stu, it is good to see you. Really.’

  There must have been something in my voice, I don’t know, sincerity or pleading, but he stopped. ‘Really?’

  I nodded, smiling. ‘I’m really sorry about – you know.’

  He glanced over at his companion and then back to me. ‘S’okay.’

  ‘Perhaps we could get together sometime? Have a beer. Both of you, I mean. You and …?’

  ‘Zoe,’ said the girl. ‘I’m Zoe.’

  ‘Which college are you in?’ I asked.

  ‘Zoe isn’t in college,’ said Stu, quickly. ‘She works in the city.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I think it would be lovely,’ said Zoe. ‘I haven’t met many of Stu’s friends.’ She smiled, and it lit up her face. She was pretty, with milky skin under the freckles and a turned-up nose. I wondered what she saw in Stu, then told myself not to be so uncharitable.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Stu. ‘Thanks. Maybe. A beer, I mean.’

  The year drifted on. I never did meet up with Stu and Zoe, though I did see him around a few times and exchanged pleasantries. He and Zoe were still an item and yes, he would say every time, we must have that beer. Easter Term came and I tried to work hard. I took my philosophy exams in a state of nervous tension and wished I had started to revise earlier. But what was done was done and I would have to wait.

  I was lying on my bed, rehearsing what I would say to Jen when I eventually plucked up courage to ask her to St Francis’s May Ball – I had bought the tickets, I only needed the right girl – when Willem walked in, unannounced.

  ‘Lovely boy, how are you?’ he declaimed.

  I closed my eyes. ‘Fine.’ I was hot. Sticky. The room was airless. The temperature had been unseasonably high for days. I was not in the mood for Willem.

  I felt the bed sag as he sat on the end. ‘Come on, you can do better than that.’ He rubbed my leg. ‘We haven’t all been together in weeks.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Don’t sound as though you’re glad.’

  I opened my eyes. ‘Willem, what do you want?’

  ‘I want us to go and have a celebratory drink. You, me, Roger, Derek and Jen. To welcome in May Week. To say “sod exams”. To celebrate life. Come on, what do you say?’

  I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but then I thought about Jen and that perhaps a few drinks in she might say yes to coming with me to the May Ball.

  ‘All right then.’

  Did I imagine it, or did a look of triumph flash across his face?

  I decided I imagined it.

  Mistake.

  The Freemason’s Arms was one of those cosy, whitewashed pubs with dim lighting that served real ale. It was also famed for its meals of huge T-bone steaks and chips, and I had managed not to finish more than one meal here. The garden, consisting chiefly of grass and a few picnic tables, stretched down to the River Cam, and on any warm day at lunchtime it was packed out. At this time of year and in this heat it was heaving. The air was filled with the noise of people chatting and the sound of glasses clinking. The smell of yeast mingled with the stench of rotting vegetation from the river.

  Derek, Jen, and Roger were sitting at a table close to the water. They were downing pints and sharing a couple of bags of cheese and onion crisps. Jen in particular appeared delighted when I sat down with Willem. I dared to hope she did have some feelings for me.

  Willem produced a bottle of champagne and glasses like a magician producing a rabbit out of a hat. ‘There,’ he said, pouring it into the glasses, ‘let’s have a toast.’

  We clinked glasses.

  ‘A picture, Derek, let’s have a picture,’ said Willem.

  ‘No, I’ll take it,’ I said, jumping up. ‘Derek’s always doing them. We’ll have one with him in it this time.’

  Derek handed me his camera and the others made silly faces. ‘Come on, smile,’ I said. They smiled. Roger laughed. Willem pointed at me. I took the picture.

  ‘More drink,’ said Willem, taking another bottle of champagne out of his bag.

  As I raised my glass, I looked around and saw Stu sitting behind us at a table with a couple of other students from college. ‘Come over,’ I called.

  Willem looked. ‘Ah, dear Stu. Where’s the girlfriend?’ He waved. ‘Yes, come on.’

  ‘Willem?’ I said.

  He smiled. ‘Can’t hold a grudge forever.’

  Stu shook his head, and turned back to his friends.

  Willem went over to him and put out his hand. ‘Stu. I am truly sorry for what happened. Please come and join us so we can let bygones be bygones.’

  What was he doing? I’d never, ever known him to apologize.

  Stu looked Willem up and down, hesitated, then took his hand.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Willem. ‘Now come and join us.’

  And so the afternoon passed. When the champagne ran out, Willem bought us more drinks. He produced pills, which me and Stu refused, Stu saying he hoped he was meeting Zoe later and he didn’t want to be off his head. Mercifully Willem merely shrugged and swallowed his. Swans swam majestically on the river. A rowing boat glided by. I was feeling pleasantly relaxed. Even Stu had unbent and was laughing at Willem’s jokes. In fact, Willem was being particularly charming towards Stu, I thought.

  ‘Come on,’ said Willem, jumping up, ‘let’s go.’

  I propped myself up by my elbows. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Look, I’ve got a whole lot of food and plenty of booze at my folks’ house. We could make a night of it.’

  ‘Come off it, Willem.’

  ‘No,’ said Jen, putting her hand on my arm sending a tingling feeling up and down my skin, ‘it could be fun. What about it Roger? Derek? Stu?’

  ‘But I’m supposed to be meeting Zoe later and—’

  ‘Come on, Stu,’ said Willem. ‘Live a little, eh? I can get you back to see your lady love later.’ He winked.

  Willem never winked.

  ‘Okay,’ said Stu. ‘If everyone else is going.’

  I was outnumbered.

  But two hours in Willem’s latest motor – a metallic green Ford Capri – and everyone was complaining.

  ‘Hang on, hang on, we’re just about there,’ he said, pulling off the road and onto a track across flat land. Marshland, I guessed. Birds – gulls? Marsh harriers? I didn’t know – wheeled and turned and cried above us. We bumped along the track towards a solid brick-built house with four windows and a door. It took ten minutes to reach it on the spit of land that stretched out into the sea.

  We drew up in front of the house and tumbled out of the car. The salty air hit my sun-burned skin with a sting. The air should have been fresher here on the coast, but it was still muggy. Clouds were building. Perhaps the hot weather would break and we would finally have some rain. I heard the sea around the back of the house.

  ‘What’s this?’ I asked, looking up at the blank windows, the cold brick, the darkening sky.

  ‘My parents’ holiday cottage. It’s their bolthole, where they like to get back to nature, or some such shit. A bit of a tax dodge, probably. Remote, isn’t it?’ He grinned.

  I looked around. The grass was scrub really, and there were several piles of gravel and rubble. ‘To fill in the potholes,’ said Willem when he saw me looking. ‘Entrance is round the back.’

&n
bsp; We all trooped into a kitchen that had seen better days. It was pretty basic, with that Fablon stuff on the kitchen tops and cupboards along one wall. A brick floor. A woodburner was set back in a recess of another wall, with a tiled surround.

  ‘A bit old-fashioned. But the parents like it.’

  ‘Is that you, Billy?’ A voice came from another room, and there was the sound of footsteps before the door opened.

  Willem smiled.

  Zoe, Stu’s Zoe stood on the threshold, in nothing but a silk dressing gown, one I had seen Willem wearing many times.

  The air held its breath.

  Nobody spoke.

  Then: ‘What the fuck is this?’ Stu stared at Zoe, bewildered. ‘What are you doing here, Zoe? Is this some sort of silly surprise or what?’

  ‘Stu, I …’ Her face was contorted with anguish. Her lip trembled.

  ‘Oh?’ Willem appeared surprised. ‘Zoe, angel, I thought you’d said something to Stuey.’

  ‘Said what, Willem? What was she supposed to have said?’ Stu looked at Willem, then Zoe. Then at me. ‘Do you know what this is about? It’s a surprise, right?’ He gave a tentative smile. I didn’t smile back.

  We were all waiting. It was a strange tableau – me, Jen, Derek and Roger frozen to the spot. Zoe, crying. Stu, not understanding anything. Willem, languid, a small smile on his face.

  Willem moved. He took Zoe in his arms and kissed her, full on the mouth. She fitted into the curve of his body. As if she belonged.

  It was so bloody hot.

  31

  Cambridge 1976

  I felt the sweat trickling down my back.

  ‘Zoe? What are you doing with him?’ Stu nodded his head towards Willem, without taking his eyes off Zoe.

  Willem pushed her away from him. ‘Enough.’

  Zoe looked at Stu, tears luminous in her eyes. ‘I’m really sorry, Stu. But—’ She looked up at Willem. ‘We’re together now, aren’t we, Willem?’

  Willem patted her bottom. ‘Not really, sweetie.’ He looked across at Stu. ‘My dear boy,’ drawled Willem, ‘you can have her if you like.’

  I think it was Willem’s smile that was Stu’s undoing.

  ‘You bastard.’

  With a roar Stu leapt forward, fists raised. Before any of us could move, he had punched Willem in the face and was poised for a second go.

  I grasped Stu’s wrists. Blood streamed from Willem’s nose. Stu tried to shake me off but he was like a man possessed by the Devil. He was determined to get at Willem. I had never seen him this angry, never imagined he could become like this. ‘Stu, leave it.’

  ‘Get the fuck off me,’ he gasped, twisting his body away from me.

  Then Roger and Jen were by my side, pulling at Stu. I tasted sweat and fear.

  Zoe grabbed at him. ‘Stop it, Stu, stop it. Please stop it.’ She caught hold of one of his flailing hands. Stu pushed her away. She stumbled. Tripped. Fell against Willem. Roger’s hands on her. Jen’s hands. I tried to catch her. Failed.

  She fell with a crack against the hearth.

  Silence.

  32

  ‘We’re not going anywhere,’ her mother said when Alex tried again to persuade her to come and stay with her in Sole Bay. ‘Your father needs to be somewhere familiar. It upsets him when he goes to places he doesn’t know. And Sasha’s here. She’ll look after us.’

  Alex sat down at the table and watched as her mother went about making her the inevitable cup of tea, putting the kettle on to boil. She noticed how slowly her mother moved, the droop of her shoulders, the swellings in her knuckles. Old before her time. Looking after her father was taking its toll on her.

  ‘Sasha,’ she said to her sister. ‘Make her see.’

  Sasha took the mugs out of the cupboard, then went over to the fridge for the milk. ‘I can’t tell Mum anything, can I Mum?’

  Alex was astonished to see Sasha rub their mother’s back with real affection. That hadn’t happened in a long time. This new Sasha was a revelation.

  ‘Though,’ Sasha continued, ‘it might be a good idea.’

  ‘But why? What am I running from? What are we running from?’

  ‘That’s the trouble,’ said Alex. ‘I don’t know.’ She looked straight at her mother. ‘Did you know about Zoe?’

  Her mother turned away, but Alex saw her shoulders stiffen.

  ‘Mum?’

  Her mother faced her and looked, if anything, even older than she had five minutes earlier. Her face was drained of colour. ‘What did you say?’ Her attempt at appearing casual was laughable.

  ‘Zoe. Did you know about her? From Dad’s time at Cambridge. She died.’

  Her mother sat down. ‘Where did you get that name from? How did you find out about her?’

  ‘Is it true? Did Dad help to hide her death?’

  ‘How did you find out?’ her mother asked again.

  ‘I spoke to Willem Major.’

  ‘Him.’ Her mother spat the word out.

  The kettle boiled, its whistle cutting through the air. The noise went on and on, until Alex took it off the heat and poured the water into the teapot. She didn’t have time to dance around the subject.

  ‘I saw Willem Major and he told me that someone had threatened his family. They said he had to kill himself or his family would suffer.’ Alex was amazed at how matter-of-fact she sounded.

  ‘He had to do what?’ The surprise in her mother’s voice was genuine.

  Her mother didn’t believe her, she could tell. ‘I know it seems fantastical, but it’s true.’

  ‘That’s what that man told you, is it?’ Her mother’s lip curled.

  ‘It is. And I have no reason not to believe him. Look, it all fits. I think the same threat was made against Roger Fleet and Derek Daley, but they chose to kill themselves.’

  ‘Mum,’ said Sasha, urgency in her voice. ‘Listen to Alex, please. She’s been working on this story, and she knows what she’s talking about.’ She flashed a grin at Alex. ‘At least, I think she does.’

  ‘Typical that Willem Major couldn’t sacrifice himself for his family.’ Her mother sniffed.

  ‘That’s why you’ve got to leave, I really think you and Dad could be in danger. Look, I must talk to Dad.’

  ‘But—’

  Alex sat down. ‘I know, I know he might not remember Zoe, he probably won’t even remember who I am, but I’ve got to try, Mum.’

  ‘He does remember who you are. He knows you. And me. And Sasha. Oh, he’s really enjoyed having Sasha around. Do you know, they even had toast and golden syrup last night, didn’t you love?’

  ‘Yes. But we had to watch a David Attenborough documentary instead of a film. Very dull.’

  ‘At least that was the first time you’ve had to sit through it. Wait until you’ve seen it nineteen times, then you can complain. But yesterday was one of his good days. Anyway, love, he’s not here.’

  ‘What do you mean, “he’s not here”?’ Alex was alarmed.

  ‘It’s his day for the centre. He’s only been going for a couple of weeks, but he really enjoys it.’ She grabbed her daughter’s hand. ‘And it helps me, too.’

  A centre. Old people. Knitting. Basket weaving. Max Bygraves on an old turntable. Alex felt more of her childhood slip out of her grasp. She let out a breath, and stroked the back of her mother’s hand, feeling her soft skin, the bird-like bones beneath. ‘It’s hard for you, Mum. I realize that. Please, tell me what you know.’

  Then her phone rang. It was Heath. Not now, she thought. She let it go to voicemail.

  ‘Please, Mum.’

  Her mother looked into the distance. ‘All right.’ She swallowed. ‘When your father went off to Cambridge, he wanted to be someone different, to lead an exciting life – he wanted adventure and he saw that possibility in Willem Major. Willem was glamorous, amoral, exciting. Flouted authority. Totally different to your father. However, Willem was also manipulative and liked to control people. By the time your father realized that, it was
too late, he was already in too deep.’

  ‘He was flattered by Willem Major’s attention,’ said Alex, thinking back to how she had felt the charisma flow around the man that morning like some sort of aura.

  ‘Yes,’ said her mother. ‘He was.’

  Alex poured the tea, trying to keep her hand steady.

  ‘And Zoe? Where did she fit in?’

  Her mother swallowed. ‘Zoe was the girlfriend of someone from his college, someone who was on the outside of their circle, who’d had a run-in with Willem.’

  ‘Stu Eliot. The Barnardo’s Boy.’

  Her mother nodded. ‘That’s right. He had been friends with your dad, studied Philosophy like he did. Apparently there was some sort of fight – I don’t know, your father gets so upset when he talks about it – it was at Willem’s family seaside cottage near Cley and ended up with Zoe dead.’

  The house at Cley. Willem’s house. Where it had happened.

  Her mother looked at her oddly. ‘What is it?’

  Alex shook her head. ‘Nothing. Go on.’

  Her mother stared at her hands curved around her mug. ‘There’s nothing more to say. According to your father it was an accident. A stupid, unnecessary accident. But it affected your father very badly.’

  ‘And then they buried her as if she was nothing.’

  Her mother hung her head.

  ‘Why?’ Alex couldn’t understand it. What had they been thinking? ‘If it was an accident, why not tell the police or the university or anybody?’

  Her mother was twisting her hands together. ‘Willem Major persuaded them it would ruin their lives if they did that. Zoe was a nobody, he said. No one would miss her. She wasn’t a student; she was working, doing odd jobs in Cambridge.’ She leaned across the table and took Alex’s hands in hers. ‘But you’ve got to know that your father left Cambridge after the accident because he didn’t want to live in what he had come to see as somewhere poisonous. He regretted what happened so very much and regretted never going to the police. He needed to remove himself from Willem’s orbit. And he did.’ Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. ‘You know we met on that boring course. All very ordinary. And that’s who your father was then, after university, a man who wanted to live a very ordinary life. A blameless life. To sort of, I don’t know, atone for what had happened. He wanted to fit in, have a family, lead a good life. And he has.’