by Mary Grand
Juliet raised her hand to wipe the tears away, but her mother grabbed her hand. ‘Your right arm is bleeding.’
It was then that Juliet saw the flashing lights, heard the sirens. The ambulance, police car and fire engine had arrived. Juliet’s mother jumped up and ran over to them, waving. She’d left the headlights of her car on and they quickly came, driving over the grass.
One of the paramedics dealt with Juliet while the others, with the police and firemen, undertook the far more serious work of trying to save Gabriel and Maddie.
Juliet was helped over to the ambulance and, once inside, the paramedic examined her injuries.
‘Your ankle will need X-raying, but let’s clean that arm.’
As she wiped the excess blood off, Juliet saw a small, deep cut. It made a jagged line across her island tattoo.
‘We’ll need to stitch or glue that; it’ll leave a scar, I think.’
‘It’s like a lightning bolt, don’t you think?’ she said to the paramedic. Then, quietly to herself, she added, ‘I was struck by lightning, but I survived, and now I am standing tall.’
Six months later
Friday, 14 April 2017
Juliet walked through the graveyard, past Gabriel’s grave; he’d died that night on the clifftop. He had been buried here at Maddie’s request, next to his father and Harry. Juliet looked down at the grave but didn’t linger. Instead, she went over to her own father’s grave. She knelt down and carefully arranged daffodils in a vase, warm yellow, a ray of sunshine.
‘Hi Dad, I’ve popped home again. Work is building up; I have my own customer base now. I love drawing portraits.’ Juliet looked around. ‘Edinburgh looks great in the spring, but I miss the island, think about it a lot. I took my musical box with me. When I get homesick, I touch it, smell it and it reminds me of you and the workshop. To go to sleep, sometimes I play the music, it can make me smile, it can make me cry, but that’s okay. I never forget you, and I know you never forget me. Everyone is home today, I’m on my way there now. They are putting their lives back together very well, and with very little help from me, which is how it should be.’ She sat for a few moments and then heard the sweet, high trill above her. ‘The swallows are back then, Dad. We all return to the island, don’t we? I have to go now, but I’ll be back soon, love you.’ Juliet quietly got up and left.
She walked down the road, past the houses. Early bluebells clustered under budding trees, that would soon form their own ocean, grabbing the light before it was stolen by the canopy above. She was admiring the tall lilies by the stream, when she heard someone call out. She turned to see their elderly neighbour Kath looking over the hedge of her front garden.
‘Good morning, Juliet, I heard you were home today. Lovely for your mum to have you all back. Now, how is Mira? The baby must have been born by now.’
‘The baby was born three days ago; Mira is home now.’
‘Goodness, these young mums come home quickly, don’t they? Well, she has a lovely home down there and your mum will enjoy having them living with her. So, was it a boy or a girl, we’re all dying to know?’
‘A girl, but I don’t know the name yet.’
‘That’s just perfect.’
Juliet saw Kath’s eyes flash around. As her mother would say, That’s the village told. She smiled. ‘I’d better get on then, Kath, lovely to chat.’
She quickly arrived at the garden gate and stopped. To Juliet this was when the garden looked its best. Blossom on the apple trees just starting to open, new leaves on the oak, cowslips and tulips scattered in the boarders. Her family were all outside, Mum on the bench holding the baby, Mira next to her. Cassie and Tim had brought out chairs, but she noticed Cassie’s arm outstretched, her hand resting on Tim’s. Rosalind lay on the only sun lounger, eyes closed. While the rest of the family wore jumpers and trousers, she was in shorts and T-shirt. They seemed relaxed, at ease with each other and Juliet thought again how fortunate they’d been that the secrets and lies had brought them closer and not torn them apart.
Juliet saw Mira look over and waved to her. Mira ran towards her, Lola close to her side. Juliet flung open the gate, closed it behind her.
‘You’re home,’ Mira signed and hugged her.
Juliet grinned over at their mother. ‘I see Mum has the baby. How are you?’
‘Exhausted, but happy.’
‘Have you finally chosen a name?’ Juliet asked.
Mira nodded. ‘Seren, it’s Welsh for star.’
‘Oh, that’s beautiful.’
‘Yes, star was Dad’s name for me, and I chose the Welsh for Rhys. You’ll have to come and see the nursery, me and Mum have done up the guest room.’
‘I’d love to.’
Mira came closer to her, lowered her voice. ‘Anwen’s case will be coming to trial soon, they seem pretty sure it will be a prison sentence.’
‘I’m not surprised. It wasn’t just possession, she was supplying class B drugs, wasn’t she?’
‘It’s so hard to believe her and Rhys’s lives took such different paths.’
‘I guess it is. Any news about Maddie?’
‘No, still in custody. She wasn’t in hospital that long in the end. She had concussion and she had a few broken ribs. She reacted very strangely to Gabriel’s death, confessed to the killing of Harry and Rhys, said there was nothing to live for any more. In a warped way I think she told herself she’d done it all for him. Still, she’s in for a long sentence. I can’t say I’m sorry. She took Rhys from me and deprived our child of a father.’
‘It was a dark time, wasn’t it?’ Juliet glanced over at the workshop.
Juliet heard a cry, that unique cry of a new-born, and Mira’s face lit up.
Juliet blinked. ‘You heard her?’
‘Actually, I saw her. I find myself looking over at her all the time and I see immediately when her face screws up or her fists clench. I’ve also got a monitor with a flashing light, and other devices for the night. I never miss her cry. Right, feeding time,’ Mira rushed over to Seren.
Juliet walked over to her mum and watched as she carefully handed Seren to Mira and then stood up to face Juliet.
‘You look well,’ her mother said.
‘And so, do you.’ Juliet saw a light in her mother’s eyes. ‘You look excited as well.’
‘I am. I’m going on a break with Barbara.’
‘Really, where?’ asked Juliet.
‘We’re off to Verona. Her husband hates holidays and Barbara is very keen.’
‘That’s brilliant, Mum.’
‘Right, I’ll go and get some cake for everyone – I made a fruit cake.’
‘Dad’s favourite,’ said Juliet and they smiled. As her mother walked away, Juliet’s glance met Cassie’s and she went over to her.
‘How’s the teaching going then?’ she asked Cassie.
‘It’s okay, much better than I expected.’
‘And your hands?’
‘I’ve been seeing a specialist; it’s been a lot of help. Me and Mum had a long chat about it all, it’s okay now.’
Tim grinned. ‘And she’s in high demand. She can pick and choose with her pupils, no little ones scraping away at Three Blind Mice on their violins.’
Cassie laughed and then gave a little cough. ‘Tim and I are thinking of coming up your way sometime.’
‘Oh, that’s brilliant,’ said Juliet, trying to hide her surprise. ‘Let me know when, we have some great concerts and things coming up, I’ll get us tickets.’ They smiled at each other. They were taking the first tiny steps in a new relationship.
Before Juliet could say any more, Rosalind shouted over, ‘When are you going to come and speak to me then?’
Juliet grinned and went over to Rosalind.
‘You must be freezing,’ Juliet said.
‘I can’t go to Dubai completely pale, can I.’ Rosalind grabbed her hand and examined her fingernails, tutted. ‘You’ve not done anything to them, have you.’
�
�When do you go?’ asked Juliet, ignoring her question.
‘In a few weeks, not permanent though. The spa I work for in London have a branch out there, so I can come and go. I like to see Mum and Cassie when I can…’ She hesitated, and Juliet saw a flash of pain in her eyes and remembered healing takes time.
Rosalind held out her hand, a red gemstone ring caught the light.
‘Cassie gave it to me. Harry gave it to her that day of my coming home party.’
‘I didn’t know that – it’s lovely,’ said Juliet.
Rosalind glanced down the garden. ‘Remember making dens down there? We had some great times, didn’t we?’
Juliet heard the plea for reassurance in Rosalind’s voice and grabbed her hand. ‘We did, I promise you. We can’t take the whole thing in, and sometimes we focus on the darker parts, but it doesn’t mean all the light, softer parts weren’t there.’
Rosalind grinned. ‘You’ve become very profound. So, tell me, have you met any decent men yet? What about this Alistair?’
Juliet laughed. ‘We’re just friends for now.’
Juliet sat on the grass, took a piece of fruit cake offered by her mother, and they continued to chat until it became too cold even for Rosalind to remain outside.
Much later, once night had drawn in, Juliet quietly left the house and walked down to the beach alone. The moon shone brightly, a ghost on the surface of the sea. She remembered Maddie talking about the ghosts of the past speaking and she knew now she was no longer frightened to listen to them.
She sat on the pebbles, and picked up a stone, ran her fingers over its surface, she could feel the ridges, the spiral, an ammonite. She might be the first person who had seen it for millions of years, but the island had held onto it, kept it safe. She listened to the soft waves breaking on the shore, the island speaking, whispering to her. ‘I will never forget.’
Acknowledgments
Writing a novel during lockdown has been both a challenge and a wonderful escape. Thank you so much to everyone for all their love and support. In particular, I would like to say an enormous thank you to my publisher Boldwood Books, to the amazing team including Nia, Ellie and Claire, whose enthusiasm and patience appear endless! Thank you so much Sarah Ritherdon for an exceptional edit, for all your encouragement and taking my tangle of words and enabling me to craft this story. Thank you to the other editors, Jade Craddock and Candida Bradford, the cover designer, and everyone involved in bringing this novel to life.
On a personal note, I have, as always, to thank my wonderful husband and children, Thomas and Emily, for their unconditional love, support and countless cups of coffee.
Thank you so much to Wendy Coates for allowing me to use the name of her beautiful cocker spaniel Lola.
I would like to thank Isle of Wight photographer Steve Gascoigne of Available Light
Gallery and Gifts for the beautiful photograph he very generously donated to our competition.
I would also like to mention the wonderful work of Hearing Dogs for Deaf People. This is a wonderful organisation that trains very special dogs who transform the lives of the Deaf people they live with.
Finally, thank you so much to you, the readers. Some are my close friends in the ‘real’ world, some I know through social media. I know every writer thinks their readers are the best, but I know mine are! Thank you for the lovely comments, reviews, the smiley faces on Facebook and Twitter, each means more to me than you could know.
More from Mary Grand
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The House Party, another gripping thriller from Mary Grand, is available to order now. Or read on for an exclusive extract…
Chapter One
Beth hurried towards the cliff edge, following the tiny solar lights that lit the path. She stopped at the fence, where Kathleen stood staring out at the sea. Beth paused, petrified of doing or saying the wrong thing.
Reaching out tentatively, she touched Kathleen’s arm.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ she asked.
Kathleen swung round; no familiar smile or hug, her eyes wide with fear: an animal caught in a trap.
Beth wanted to put her arms around her but, for the first time in their long friendship, she wasn’t sure how Kathleen would react.
‘For God’s sake. I’ve been watching you all evening. Tell me what’s wrong,’ she repeated.
Kathleen ignored the question and waved up the garden towards the house. ‘What do you think of it?’
Beth looked at the giant glass cubes, each room brightly lit like a designer doll’s house. ‘It’s incredible. You and Patrick have worked so hard. I thought you’d be ecstatic now it’s finally finished.’
Kathleen didn’t answer, her expression the same one that had been painted on all evening: thin lips pressed together, wide-eyed, as if she hardly dared to breathe.
Beth frowned. ‘Sami told me you’ve given in your notice at the pharmacy. He didn’t understand why. You’re so good there. He’ll be lost without you.’
‘He’s just being kind. Anyway, he has his new partner now.’
Beth moved closer. ‘I don’t know what has been going on. We haven’t spoken properly for ages – it must be last November. I’ve missed you at yoga and our weekly catch ups.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Kathleen pulled her cashmere wrap around her shoulders and walked over to the swing seat. Beth followed her. The gentle rocking of the seat matched the sound of the sea dragging on the shingle far below. It seemed to sooth Kathleen, and she loosened the grip on her wrap.
Beth heard a soft, clucking, purring noise coming from a large hen coop. Kathleen looked over and said, ‘They’re settling in well. I collected a new baby yesterday. Well, a rescue.’ Beth saw a whisper of a smile and heard the soft Irish cream in Kathleen’s voice. ‘She’s in a cage within the coop. She’s in such a poor state, losing feathers; bless her. It’ll be good when they can come out of the run and roam, but I can’t let them out until we’ve put in the permanent fence.’
Beth glanced at the row of flimsy plastic fence panels. ‘I suppose so. Even a hen might knock those over, if the wind didn’t blow them down.’
‘I know, but it’s handy being able to move one or two panels when I come down to do my mindfulness in the morning. I can sit on the ground and look straight out to sea.’
‘At that time, I’m in old joggers and wellies feeding the guinea pigs and walking Ollie. Not quite so zen.’ Beth grinned, but it didn’t reach Kathleen. Instead the damp air seemed to cling to them, and Beth zipped up her fleece.
Laughter floated towards them. Beth saw that her husband, Sami, and the other adults had come outside, their teenage children choosing to stay in the comfort of the house. Beth was aware that Kathleen was now sitting very still, gazing intently at the group. Beth’s gaze, however, was fixed on the way Kathleen was winding her necklace round her finger, seemingly unaware that the heavy chain was digging deeper and deeper into the flesh of her neck.
Beth took hold of Kathleen’s hand until she let go of the chain. ‘I’ve never seen you like this before. What are you so frightened of?’
Kathleen flinched. ‘Not something, someone.’
‘Who?’
Kathleen looked down at the patio. ‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s somebody we both know. I don’t think you’d believe me.’
‘Really? Try me.’
‘It’s someone here at the house party.’
‘You can’t be scared of anyone here. We’re friends, we all know each other so well.’
‘I used to think that. But when I saw one of them
do something, I realised I’d got them completely wrong. It’s like an art expert will spot a tiny error in a forgery: a signature in the wrong place or the wrong brushstroke. They know immediately it’s fake. That’s how it was.’
‘But you should have told someone. Didn’t you tell Patrick?’
‘No. I couldn’t do that.’ Kathleen looked away.
‘But then you should have told me. Why keep it to yourself?’
Kathleen started to play with her chain again. ‘You see, this person found out something I’d done. It was stupid, wrong, I was so ashamed. They said they would tell everyone if I even mentioned what I knew.’
Beth sat back stunned. She wondered how much her friend had been drinking.
‘I’m not drunk,’ said Kathleen, reading her mind. ‘I know it sounds incredible. These things don’t happen in our neat, orderly world, do they? Oh Beth, you are so lovely, but the world isn’t—’
Beth pushed the swing gently with her feet. ‘My life hasn’t been as perfect as you might think. But you can’t have done anything bad enough for someone to be able to use it against you.’
Slowly Kathleen lowered her hands, clung on to her wrap, looked down. ‘I did, I made a dreadful mistake. December was such a hellish month: first Amy died, then that damn skiing weekend. I was so unhappy.’
‘Oh God. Kathleen, why didn’t you tell me? I knew from your text you were upset about Amy’s accident, and that weekend away, but I never realised how bad things were. If I’d known, I’d have come to see you.’
‘The trouble was things happened so fast. After I sent you that text I did something really stupid. It was so wrong and all my fault. Afterwards I was too ashamed to tell anyone. I tried to live like it hadn’t happened even though the shame was gnawing away inside me every day.’
Beth wanted to grab Kathleen’s hand, tell her she knew exactly how that felt, but instead she said, ‘But it can’t have been that terrible—’