by Maggie James
The stile comprised two slabs of stone set upright on their narrow edges, a third slab placed between them at right angles, so walkers had to step on and then over it to pass through. Numerous feet had worn the earth surrounding the stile into a dip and hedgerows fringed either side of it. My only chance was to slip through the stile and conceal myself behind one of the vertical slabs, tucking my body as far as possible into the vegetation. Scott wouldn’t spot me en-route to the cliff, but once there he’d realise I must have hidden along the way. Even in the poor light, he’d see I hadn’t taken the steps that led to the shore. Then he’d come looking for me, meaning I couldn’t stay behind the slab. Instead, I’d have to run back and take the track leading to the village.
I heard a car door opening, then slamming. The sound of voices. Then footsteps, those of two people, headed my way.
I moved forward around the bend in the lane until I was level with the stile but out of sight from Ellie and Scott. They weren’t far away, meaning I needed to act fast. I placed a hand on one of the upright slabs, hauling my legs onto the cross section, then stepping through and tucking myself into the thickest part of the hedge. I crouched behind the protection the slab offered, almost but not quite concealed from view. If either of them happened to glance my way, I’d be screwed. My only chance lay in the fact Scott would most likely be looking ahead, not to one side.
His grunts of pain were moving ever closer, along with the two pairs of footsteps. My calves ached from squatting and my knees begged for relief. The hedge scratched my cheeks, drops of rain penetrating its bulk to slide down my face. My body shivered in the chill wind as I listened to the grunts and the uneven footsteps. Scott and my sister were almost upon me, and my lungs screamed their need to release the breath I was holding. I didn’t dare risk it, though, and in that moment they reached the stile. I heard his hand strike the top of the slab near where I was hiding, his feet landing on the cross section, a fresh groan of pain sounding out once his weight pressed on his injured foot. Next came Ellie’s softer step. Then the pair of them made it through, heading towards the cliff top.
Gratitude filled every cell in my body as I exhaled my relief. The thick clouds that had obscured the moon before had, for the most part, passed, leaving it only half covered. From my vantage point I saw Scott and Ellie silhouetted against the sky. He had his hands on his hips as he scanned his surroundings. Ellie stood next to him, one arm around his waist. The steps to the beach were signposted to their right, and as I had predicted, he shuffled towards them to check whether I’d escaped that way. My sister remained where she was, her back turned to me. I needed to make my move while they were distracted, my intention still being to summon help from the village.
I crept forward, keeping myself low until I’d almost cleared the hedgerow, its branches snagging my clothes and impeding my exit. My fingers tugged at the twigs holding me captive, my impatience mounting while I untangled myself to the point where I could almost, but not quite, stand upright. Then Scott turned, and I froze.
He was staring straight at me. Even at a distance of some twenty metres and in the dim light, I could see his feral grin had returned.
‘Gotcha,’ he shouted, triumph in his voice. Then he hobbled towards me, Ellie following, his speed faster than I’d have expected given his injury. As I unhitched myself from the last bramble, he reached me. His hands grasped my shoulders and spun me around as an iron fist slammed into my cheekbone. My face exploded with pain, fireworks flaring through my face. The blow knocked me off balance and sent me crashing against the thick stone of the stile.
‘Steven, don’t!’ Ellie threw herself on him, trying to pull him away. Hope flickered within me. Maybe she didn’t loathe me as much as I feared. And the punch might prove a good thing if it convinced her of his tendency towards violence. She clearly had no idea he intended to kill us.
Scott dragged me to my feet, his fist ready for another blow. Instead he erupted in a roar of agony when my foot slammed into his wounded ankle. His body crumpled against the stile, blocking my way. I ran, my only option being the steps leading to the beach. His furious curses sounded in my ears as I sprinted towards them. The night had grown dark again, thick clouds hiding the moon once more. As I approached the cliff edge, he was back on his feet and in pursuit of me. I hesitated as I neared the top of the steps, by then only a few metres away. They were steep, and must be slick with rain. Below me I could hear the sea bursting over the rocks, reinforcing my conviction I’d never survive a swim to the next bay. I turned around, hoping to backtrack and outrun both of them, but my feet slipped on the muddy ground. My body crashed with agonising force against a rock embedded in the earth. I hauled myself upright, gasping at the pain in my thigh while my eyes searched the blackness. Scott’s injured leg was hampering him, and Ellie got to me before he did.
We stood facing each other, a myriad of emotions in my sister’s face.
‘He hit you,’ she said. ‘I never thought he’d hurt you. I - we - just wanted the money, nothing else.’ By the time she’d finished speaking, Scott had reached us. He skirted around me to stand at the top of the steps, a few metres behind me. His intention was obvious: to block my escape that way. Ellie stood between me and the stile, but I still reckoned I could outrun her. I just had to pick my moment, when I was less winded.
‘Get the fuck away from her, Ellie,’ Scott growled.
‘You punched Lyddie.’ Anger and confusion reigned in my sister’s voice. ‘Why did you hurt her?’
‘He’s a monster, that’s why,’ I said. ‘You do realise he slept with me?’
Shock registered in Ellie’s face. ‘You’re lying.’
‘Don’t listen to her, darling,’ Scott said. ‘You’re the one I love.’
She ignored him, her eyes fixed on mine. ‘He wouldn’t cheat on me. We’re going to get married.’
‘And we will, sweetheart. We’re starting a new life together, remember?’
She didn’t answer him, doubt written across her face.
‘I’m not lying,’ I said. ‘But Scott is. He played both of us for fools.’
‘He’d never sleep with you.’ The words burst from her in an angry torrent. ‘You’re hardly his type. Steven prefers petite women, not overweight ones.’
Her barb hit home although I suspected she’d not meant to be cruel. Ellie was a cornered rat, desperate to bolster her image of Scott as Mr Wonderful.
The drizzle came down harder, wetting my face and concealing the tear trickling past my cheek. Everything was so fucked-up, and it was my turn to hurt her.
I drew in a breath. ‘He has a birthmark. About a centimetre wide, near his left groin.’ Let’s see how Mr Wonderful bounces back from that, I thought.
The world stilled around us. Ellie continued to stare at me, her eyes wide. Then her gaze switched to Scott, her face crumpling in anguish. She dropped to the mud, her knees drawn to her chest. A series of moans issued from her lips. I’d been right in guessing she’d lied about not losing her virginity to him. My instinct was to comfort her, but I resisted, reluctant to turn my back on Scott for even a second. I glanced at the stile, weighing my chances. They seemed pretty good. I’d easily outrun both of them; Ellie was incapable of action and Scott wouldn’t get far with his injured ankle.
He must have seen my eyes flit towards the path. ‘Think again, Lyddie. You reckon it’s a good idea to leave me with Ellie?’ His hand patted the pocket containing his knife. I froze.
I couldn’t risk it. I didn’t doubt he’d kill her. My sister remained huddled on the ground between us, wrapped in her misery.
Scott’s grin widened. ‘Give me one reason I shouldn’t slice the bitch anyway. Right here and now.’
Pure instinct drove me. I reached down to grab the rock onto which I’d fallen.
The perfect size to fit into my palm.
Light enough to throw.
Heavy enough to hurt.
‘You fucking bastard!’ I hurled the rock at Scott,
aiming for his chest, but missed. The stone struck his head, wrenching a cry of pain and shock from his lips. The impact knocked him off balance, and he lurched to one side, his weight landing on his injured leg. A howl of agony split the darkness. Ellie’s head jerked skywards.
Afterwards, when the police were interviewing me, the scene replayed itself in slow motion in my mind. Scott’s body teetering backwards. His damaged ankle, unable to support his bulk. The ground that offered no traction as his feet skidded over the sodden soil, the edge of the stone steps inching ever closer. Scott, sliding on air in a desperate quest to regain his balance. His eyes held mine for a second before he plummeted over the edge. A tortured scream spiralled downwards, matched by the shriek that came from Ellie.
A series of thuds hit my ears: Scott’s body as it slammed into the stone steps, one after another. Then a final thump, followed by silence.
For several minutes, I was incapable of movement. Frozen by shock, terrified of what I’d see if I looked down the cliff face, I stood motionless on the spot. Shivers coursed through me, but not from the chill of my wet clothes. Whimpers issued from my mouth, a stream of ‘oh God, oh God, oh God’ echoing into the night sky. Exhausted, I slumped onto the sodden grass, hugging myself into a foetal position, the rain soaking me even further. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ellie, also huddled into a ball. Moans that were barely human came from her.
At last I dragged myself upright. Despite my reluctance, I couldn’t avoid the inevitable any longer. I needed to check if Scott was still alive, however unlikely the possibility.
I stumbled the few paces to the top of the stone steps, my eyes searching through the darkness. They didn’t need to look far. Below me, on the shingle of the beach, lay his crumpled body, immobile, his limbs splayed at unnatural angles.
My journey downwards took forever, shock rendering my legs reluctant to work. At last I reached the bottom, Scott a metre in front of me. His face was turned my way, his eyes open and sightless. Blood streaked his right cheek from a gash on his temple. His arms lolled uselessly, his fingers grazing the pebbles. More blood oozed from the back of his head where it had hit the steps during his fall, mixing with the rain to form reddish swirls that disappeared into the shingle. I pressed my fingers against his throat, searching for a pulse, but found none. He was dead.
Once I’d made my way back up the steps, Ellie came into view, standing in the same spot where she’d been huddled over. She didn’t speak as I approached; instead, she just stared at me. My face must have revealed the truth, because she let out a low moan, followed by a whole stream of them. I wrapped my arms around her and we clung to each other, the rain soaking us to the skin. She might hate me, but in that moment we merged into one person.
24
My teeth began to chatter, my body shivering with cold. I took Ellie’s hand. ‘Let’s get back inside, where it’s warm.’
She didn’t reply, just nodded. We stumbled along the track that led back to the cottage, stopping to collect her handbag and keys from Scott’s car. Her suitcase, packed in readiness for America, was in the boot. Once through the door, I hustled her upstairs and into the bathroom, turning on the shower. Shudders ran through her, but she didn’t move, her wet hair plastered to her skull, her arms wrapped around her body. She stayed there, immobile, while I pulled clean clothes from her suitcase.
‘Get undressed,’ I instructed. My tone warned her not to mess with me. ‘Run the shower as hot as you can stand. Don’t come out until you’re warm.’ Ellie complied without a word. Before I left the room, I removed every sharp object I could find. She wouldn’t make a fourth suicide attempt on my watch.
I shut the door, then went into my bedroom. First I turned the radiator on high and pulled off my muddy clothes. Then I towelled heat into my frozen body before tugging on jeans and a thick jumper. A shower would have to wait. I had things to do.
Once dressed, I made my way downstairs. Apart from the sounds reaching me from the bathroom, the world around me was quiet, a blessed contrast to the terror of before. On the floor was my handbag, with my mobile inside. I grabbed it before walking over to stare out of the window. By then the rain had stopped, although the wind still rustled through the trees.
Footsteps padded across the landing above, towards Ellie’s bedroom. I prayed she’d have the strength to deal with what was to come. I wasn’t optimistic on that score.
Three things remained for me to sort. Number one was to phone Mum, assuring her Ellie was safe and well, that we were heading back to Bristol, and how I’d explain everything soon.
My second task was to call my bank. It provided round-the-clock telephone customer service, and I intended to avail myself of that particular feature.
‘I want to reverse a pending transfer,’ I told the woman who answered.
Number three was to inform the police. Oh, I could have sneaked back to the beach, removed any evidence from Scott’s body, then driven Ellie back to Bristol in the hope his death would be ruled an accident. Which it had been, of course. But I’d had enough deceit shoved down my throat in recent weeks. I didn’t intend to become a liar myself. Besides, I still needed to notify the police of everything I knew about Darcy and Sophie’s deaths. A cover-up was not an option.
I drew in a deep breath. This was going to prove difficult.
And I was right. I finished by telling the officer on duty we were on our way back to Bristol, ending the call before he could order me to stay put. My top priority was to get Ellie home. Given how difficult the cottage was to find, we’d be gone before the police arrived anyway.
After that, my life imploded. Police interviews filled the next two days. I snatched sleep whenever I could, unable to switch off my brain at night. Confident Lyddie had vanished, replaced by a stranger I needed to keep under strict control.
Before the initial interview took place, the police noticed the bruise on my face, and I told them how Scott had punched me. The doctor who examined me also noted the damage done by the rock on which I’d fallen, his report supporting my testimony. That swung things my way, I suspected. Even so, the officers who questioned me at Bridewell were suspicious at first. No doubt they saw me - and Ellie - as scorned women, proving the ‘hell hath no fury’ theory.
‘So you admit to breaking into this man’s apartment and taking a considerable sum of money from his safe?’ the senior detective remarked.
I answered with a decisive ‘yes’. No more lies.
‘Did your sister push her boyfriend to his death?’ the same officer asked later.
Neither my gaze nor my voice faltered for even a second. ‘No.’
‘Then perhaps you did instead.’
I shook my head. ‘It was an accident. I threw a rock at him, and he slipped in the mud.’
To my relief, the detective’s tone grew less confrontational the longer the interview progressed. The following day he told me the evidence corroborated my story. Thank God the rain stopped when it did, because by the next morning the sunshine had dried the ground. Investigators discovered Ellie’s footprints, the marks stopping several metres from the cliff edge. They also found the scrapes made by Scott’s shoes as he fought to prevent himself from falling. His tracks were at a distance from hers that was longer than my sister’s arms. It proved she couldn’t have pushed him. My footprints were identified leading to the stone steps, but located far enough from Scott’s to mean I wasn’t a suspect on that score either.
They also found the scuffed earth where I fell and the hollow in the ground where the rock had been - further proof I’d not lied. Later, I was told my skin cells were on the knife they took from his pocket.
The same police officer informed me they’d uncovered evidence of Scott and Ellie’s relationship: texts, emails, her hair and fingerprints in his car. I gave him the cut-up credit cards and the mobile phones I’d filched from Scott’s safe, one of which I learned retained the vile messages he’d used to taunt me.
Everything Scott had
admitted about his involvement in the murders of Darcy Logan and Sophie Hannigan went into my statement. No lies, no concealment. I hoped it would be enough to nail the bastard, even if only after his death.
A few days later, the police told me they didn’t intend to prosecute me for assault, their view being that I’d acted in self-defence with the axe. When it came to me breaking into his flat and Scott’s death, both matters had been referred up the chain of command as to how to proceed. In particular, whether my throwing the rock constituted manslaughter.
‘He threatened to stab Ellie,’ I insisted. ‘I never meant to kill him.’
‘It’s possible you won’t face charges. Not if you were defending your sister.’
That offered some relief. I could tell by the guy’s manner he thought prosecution unlikely, but of course he couldn’t offer any guarantees.
By the time we finished I only had one question left for the police.
‘He had so many identities,’ I said. ‘Have you discovered his real name?’
‘We’re working on it,’ was the reply.
Ah, well. He’d always be Scott Champion to me, Steven Simmons to Ellie. Besides, I had other priorities to sort.
Mum was one of those priorities. As soon as I could between talking to the police, I drove over to her house. I thought she might faint, so bad were the tremors that shook her when I told her the full story. When I revealed Ellie’s deception, her face turned as pale as sleet. Although angry and upset over her daughter’s behaviour, she refused to blame her.
‘That bastard,’ she said, her mouth set in a grim line. ‘He took advantage of my girl’s vulnerability, twisted it for his own purposes. How is Eleanor coping? More to the point, where is she?’
‘She’s in good hands.’ I prepared myself to deliver less than wonderful news.
As I’d predicted, Mum didn’t react well to the revelation that Ellie was back in Southmead’s psychiatric unit. She’d been sent there by a doctor, a decision approved by the mental health worker in attendance when the police attempted to interview her. She’d lashed out at them, then turned inwards, refusing to talk. That didn’t surprise me. Any authority figure scared her no end. She was being kept on the psychiatric wing for observation and her own safety.