‘You thought you were so close to your brother, but you never really understood him, did you?’ Evie shook her head slowly. ‘Mark was confused that day because he had been horrible to Mia and she didn’t deserve it. Afterwards he had to live with the fact that you had killed her before he’d had a chance to apologise. It ate him up. He loved you, fool that he was, and he could never ask you what happened, because if you’d admitted to killing his wife he would have had to cast you out of his life. It was unbearable for him.’
Cleo didn’t know what to say, what to think. Evie took a step towards her again, and instinctively she moved back. Thrusting her head forwards, Evie spoke quietly.
‘You’re right about one thing, though. Mark wasn’t capable of cold-blooded cruelty.’
Cleo heard the words, but they didn’t make sense. She stared at Evie, and was surprised to see what looked like tears in her eyes. Or perhaps it was the wind.
‘What do you mean? Evie – tell me what you mean!’
Evie didn’t take her eyes from Cleo’s, as if waiting for her to work it out. Then she spun round and retreated to the edge of the cliff again. Cleo couldn’t believe what she had just heard – or what it meant.
‘What about all those things you said he did to you?’ she shouted, her voice breaking. ‘Was everything a lie? All of it?’ She felt a stab of intense pain as she looked at her brother’s killer. ‘I knew he wouldn’t have hurt you! I knew you were a lying bitch – but why? How did you hurt yourself if it wasn’t Mark? Was it someone else, or were they all stupid, careless accidents?’
Her voice was rising, increasing in both volume and speed, and she watched in horror as Evie started to make tracks in the grass with her right foot. What was she doing? Cleo tried to take another step back, away from this woman whose pale, drawn face was so unlike the Evie she had known. But the hedge blocked her retreat.
Evie stopped moving and held her windswept hair back off her face.
‘No, Cleo. None of them were accidents. But it’s true that Mark never touched me.’ Her sunken eyes seemed lifeless. ‘I did it all to myself.’
‘You did what? Why the hell would you do that? How could you inflict so much pain on your own body?’
As Evie lifted her face to the wind and dropped her hand, the dark wig fanned out again like a black halo. She didn’t look at Cleo as she spoke. Her words were flat, emotionless, her shoulders slumped as if she was carrying a burden that was too much for her.
‘Pain ceased to have any meaning to me years ago. Every word I spoke in court about my uncle was true. He was a vicious brute but I learned to accept that the pain would soon be over. You see, the thing that makes pain so dreadful is the memory of it. The agony is over in moments, but the mind recalls the sensations and replays them over and over. I know a lot about pain.’
‘Why did you lie about everything? Why did you kill Mark?’
‘Haven’t you worked it out yet?’ She tutted and shook her head slowly from side to side. ‘It was revenge, Cleo.’
‘For what, if he didn’t hurt you?’
For a moment Evie’s gaze softened.
‘Mark would never have hurt me. That’s why I’ve not found it easy to accept what I did. I thought killing him would make me feel better, after all these years of planning. But it hasn’t. The hatred inside me is still there, burning just as fiercely. It’s part of me now and it won’t let go.’
Cleo fought the urge to rush at this woman and watch her tumble down the cliff, bouncing off the rocks until the cruel swell of the tide dragged her down into its depths.
‘I’d been preparing the ground for years,’ Evie said, ‘getting myself ready to be the kind of woman that Mark North would fall in love with – just so I could exact my revenge.’
‘But you said in court that it wasn’t revenge – Evie, you’re not making sense.’ Cleo could feel her feet advancing towards Evie almost of their own volition.
Evie’s eyes were like granite, her mouth a thin, hard gash in her pale face.
‘I wasn’t taking revenge against Mark, Cleo. It was you. It’s always been you.’
69
‘Shit, shit, shit!’ Stephanie shouted as the queue of cars in front of her remained at a standstill. She had totally forgotten about the road closures and now she was stuck, hemmed in on all sides by bloody traffic. If she was in the squad car, she could switch on the siren, but she wasn’t, so she had to sit here like every other driver, most of whom seemed to be frantically beeping their horns – as if that would make any sodding difference.
She was working on a hunch, but she had a bad feeling about Evie and Cleo being alone together. Since her conversation with Nigel Clarke she had been sure everything was tied to Evie’s brother, so she had searched through old records to discover the awful truth about his death. That morning she had tracked down a retired social worker who had filled in the last of the details.
‘It was a complicated case,’ the lady said. ‘The family was a total mess – the mother an alcoholic with no money coming in. Dean – the brother who died – had managed to keep everything from us, and essentially he was the main carer for both his mother and his sister. As we discovered later, he stole food for them because anything that came in through benefits went straight down the mother’s throat.’
The woman shook her head, and Stephanie could see how sad she found this story. Even sadder, probably, because it wasn’t unique.
‘Once the brother was dead and we discovered how sick the mother was, the girl – Michelle – had to go into care. Her grandmother took her, but unfortunately not without some financial persuasion. So the poor kid had lost the one person she trusted: her brother. Her mother died shortly afterwards – from the booze, of course. Dean was a little toe-rag, it has to be said. He was always in trouble, but then the poor kid was carrying the weight of the world on his young shoulders.’
As Stephanie knew, that was only half of the story. The files had told her the rest. She needed to get to that house on the cliff, and quickly. If her hunch was right, there would be no good ending to this meeting.
70
Cleo is crying now. The words bursting through her sobs are wild and uncontrolled, but I haven’t finished with her yet.
‘You’ll have to spend the rest of your life without the person you loved most. Your brother. And all the world, except you, believes he was a bully. I don’t need to ask you how that feels, Cleo. I already know.’
She doesn’t seem to understand what I have just said. That I, like her, lost my brother and that she’s always been the one I blamed. I have been nursing my hatred of Cleo since the day Dean died and I had to make her suffer the way I had suffered. She had to lose her own beloved brother, and the world had to think he was evil.
In the end, killing Mark proved far more difficult than I had expected. He didn’t deserve to die. He was a good man, and I think he loved me. I know he loved Lulu, but I couldn’t see any other way. I had closed my mind to everything but my plan. Like a storm out at sea, it was coming – and it would destroy whatever was in its path. Only Lulu penetrated my armour, and now I must protect her. She must never suffer as a result of the sickness that has driven me for so long and is still eating away at me from the inside.
I didn’t know how to stop it – stop myself – so I wore my disguise and used the computer at the library to learn how to rewire a light switch, and then I carefully set the scene. Cleo was right about Mark not liking the dark, but I wouldn’t have been able to kill him with the lights shining brightly on his slender, handsome face, reflecting off his trusting eyes. I see them when I go to sleep. They haunt me, and I can no longer bear the long, dark winter nights.
Making love that last time was such a bittersweet experience. Mark couldn’t have been more loving, more relieved that I wanted him after months of shutting him out. But the knife was there, lying by the side of the bed. This was my chance – what I had lived for, dreamed of, for years, through every lash of that bullwhip,
every broken bone. I felt the pain of killing Mark far more acutely than anything I had suffered at either my uncle’s hands or my own, though.
The worst of it was that for my plan to work, I’d had to phone the police and scream that I needed help, and then I had to take the same knife and cut my own flesh. Each incision felt as if Mark was making the cuts – each slice into my flesh a question. Why, Evie? Why?
I pulled Mark’s naked body back onto mine so that the hairs from his chest would rub into my wounds, catching there, ready to be analysed, proving conclusively that we had made love after he had cut me and not before, and then I had waited, lying close to him, my arm round his waist, sobbing – begging his forgiveness.
Cleo will never know any of this. No-one will. She’s still babbling and it’s hard to make out her words.
‘Who… don’t know… brother?’
I know what she’s trying to say.
‘Remember Dean Young, Cleo? The eleven-year-old boy you persuaded to climb onto the sea wall in a storm? I saw you. Remember me now?’ I pause and watch her face. Has she got it yet? ‘Do you remember little Shelley Young? I was standing at the entrance to the alley across the road, but I was too scared to come out. You were yelling at him, calling him a coward. Then you rushed at him and pushed him over, just as a huge wave washed over the top of the wall. I can still hear him scream now – every day I remember. You killed him, and you got away with it. Then you told the whole world what a bully he was – how he had tortured Mark.’
‘No!’ Cleo’s cry is clear. The wind has risen and her anguished words are being blown towards me. ‘He was a bully – a nasty kid who made Mark’s life a misery. But I didn’t kill him. It was Dean’s fault – not mine. Not Mark’s. When I found Dean and Mark at the wall your brother was trying to push Mark up there – to get him to “walk the wall” as he called it. The sea was wild and there was no-one to help us, so I told Dean that if he was so brave he should get up on the wall himself. He laughed at me, but he did it. He was showing off, and I was goading him.’
Memories of Dean haunt me. I know he wasn’t perfect, but he was doing his best to hold our sad little family together and was the one person in my young life that I could trust. Cleo took him from me.
‘Why did you push him?’ I ask, keeping my voice calm. The time for shouting is over. ‘He was just a kid.’
‘I didn’t push him. I could see over the wall – he was looking at me, and I was screaming at him to get down. I could see a big wave coming from way out at sea and I ran at him to grab him. He toppled over backwards as I ran towards him. I reached for his legs, but it was too late.’
This time I can’t help myself. I see the truth hiding in her eyes and I scream at her, ‘You’re lying. I saw it all. I saw your face when you turned round. You didn’t even look over the wall to see if he was okay. You turned your back, Cleo – and you smiled. You fucking smiled! Even after everything I’ve done to hurt you it’s still not enough to make up for everything I suffered because of you – the life I had to lead, the torture I had to endure.’
As I stare at Cleo I feel the last reserves of energy drain from my body. I have always believed that killing Mark would be the end of it – the finale. But the pain is still there, burning me. Cleo hasn’t suffered enough. Or maybe I haven’t. I no longer know. But I need to finish this.
71
Cleo couldn’t take it in. Evie had killed Mark. Murdered him in cold blood. All the lies she had listened to in court, all the evidence of Evie’s injuries – none of it was true. So many people believed her, and now the world thought that Mark was evil.
She had been certain that her brother was incapable of such brutal acts, but felt sick at the memory of those tiny moments of doubt. If only she could speak to him, beg his forgiveness for questioning – even for a second – that he was a good man.
Evie wasn’t looking at her now. She was focusing on her foot, twisting it around again on the muddy ground. She was inches from the edge of the cliff, and Cleo had no idea what she was doing. In spite of the cold, wet day, she felt her jumper sticking to her clammy back.
‘I had one good thing in my life, you know,’ Evie said, lifting her head to stare at Cleo. ‘My beautiful sweet Lulu. And I’ve got to let her go – all because of you. She needs to be the first of us to lead a clean life, untarnished by the past.’
Cleo took a step towards her. She hated Evie with every ounce of her being, but what was she saying about Lulu? If Evie was going to let her go, could it mean…
‘Come away from the cliff, Evie. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but you’re going to slip on all that mud and fall if you’re not careful. Step back here and we can talk about Lulu.’
‘I don’t want to discuss my daughter with you. She’s not your concern and she never will be.’
‘I love Lulu,’ Cleo cried as her momentary hopes crumbled. ‘You’re not fit to be her mother. And I loved Mark. You’re twisted, Evie. I don’t know what you want me to do or say, but you’re not going to get away with this.’
The corners of Evie’s mouth turned up, but it wasn’t a smile. Her body was slumped as if her spirit had flown, leaving behind an empty shell. But her eyes continued to burn, and Cleo knew that she was building towards some terrible finale.
‘I can see why you might think that, but you see,’ Evie said, ‘one of us is going to die here today. The other is going to prison for life – for murder. Which would you prefer, I wonder – death or captivity?’
She barked out what should have been a laugh, but the high-pitched note floated away in the wind. The sound made the small hairs on the back of Cleo’s neck stand on end.
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘I think death would be too good for you – but years rotting in a cell would be a perfect ending. Plenty of time for you to regret what you did. Or maybe you’re the one who should die. I can’t decide.’
It was as if something had snapped in Evie, and with a burst of energy she ran towards Cleo, who stepped sideways – but not fast enough. Evie rushed at her and grabbed her arms, holding her tight, her fingers pressed hard against Cleo’s wrists.
‘Get off me, you mad bitch,’ Cleo shouted. ‘Shit! What did you do that for?’
Evie had let go of one wrist and scored her nails down the side of Cleo’s face before jumping back and retreating to the edge of the cliff again, her face a pale mask.
‘It’s evidence – I struggled, you see, before you pushed me to my death.’
‘But I’m not going to push you. I would love you to jump, but I don’t think even you are mad enough to do that.’
‘You think?’ Evie put her head on one side as if considering Cleo’s words. But she shook her head slowly. ‘It would be so very easy for me to leap off this cliff and die. I’m not afraid, you see, and Lulu deserves better than either you or me – the blood on our hands. So I have to let her go – to be with a family who’ll shelter her from all of this. From us. And you’ll never see her again, because if I decide to jump, you’ll be my murderer. Aminah knows you were coming here – there’s evidence that we fought. I killed your brother, and how else would I have died unless you pushed me?’
‘You’re evil – you’re sick,’ Cleo cried. ‘Why did you let me have Lulu for all that time if this is how you feel?’
Evie stopped trampling the ground. She stood still and looked at Cleo. When she spoke, her voice was flat, even.
‘I wanted you to get close to her so that when you lost her it would be all the more unbearable.’
Cleo heard every word, but although her heart ached at the loss of Lulu, a loud voice was shouting in her head and she opened her mouth so the words could escape on a scream.
It’s nearly over. I wish it felt as good as I had always believed it would. But it doesn’t. I can’t let go yet – I can’t let my mind spin out of control. Not until I know. Not until Cleo tells me the truth.
‘I want you to die a little more e
ach and every moment, Cleo, and that’s what will happen if you kill me. You’ll spend your days paying for it. I have no more use for this life, not now I have accepted that I can only bring Lulu harm. Your guilt, your life imprisonment, will give my death meaning. You’re covered in fibres from my clothes, there are scratches on your cheek, bruises on your wrist, and signs of a scuffle in the mud. And I’ve left a trail of other evidence – I’m good at that, I think you’ll concede. Everyone will believe it – I killed your brother and I stopped you from seeing Lulu. I’ve made Aminah her legal guardian in the event of my death, and anyway, you won’t get her back if you’re in prison, will you?’
‘It was so long ago,’ Cleo cries. ‘Please, Evie. Stop this.’
‘Not until I hear the truth.’
She’s crumbling. And she knows I won’t stop until she says the words I’ve waited so long to hear.
‘Okay, I pushed him,’ she screams. ‘I didn’t plan it. I rushed towards him to save him, but then he shouted at Mark – said he’d get him later and called him a puny little twat – and it just happened. Dean was a monster.’
I expect to feel a rush of relief as she admits it. But I feel nothing. I always knew what she’d done, so perhaps it makes no difference. Shall I tell her about the hours of planning? The years of transforming myself from a chubby, spotty teenager into a sleek, sophisticated young woman, using all Nigel’s hard-earned cash that he so willingly gave me? The years of learning skills that I thought might allow me to get close to Mark North – just so that I could kill him?
I’m surprised she hasn’t mentioned the wig, but I’m sure I saw a fleeting moment of recall in her eyes when she first arrived. Does she remember the young woman with the black hair and bright red lipstick who lived close by for months, finding out everything possible about Mark and Mia – working out the finer details of my plan? I hope so.
And So It Begins Page 29