The House Party

by Mary Grand

  The House Party

  Mary Grand

  To my wonderful husband and gorgeous children, Thomas and Emily. Thank you for your constant, unending, love and support. I can never thank you enough.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Acknowledgments

  More from Mary Grand

  About the Author

  About Boldwood Books

  1

  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—’

  ‘It was to me. I tried to imagine what you’d have said if I’d told you. Maybe you’d have tried to understand, but I was so frightened that I’d lose your friendship. It’s not something you’d have ever done.’ Kathleen started to pick at an imaginary thread on her wrap. ‘I thought if I kept quiet, tried not to think about it, it would be like it never happened. That was stupid, wasn’t it? The truth doesn’t go away. It sits there patiently, waiting for someone to stumble a
cross it. Unluckily for me, that’s what happened.’

  ‘I still can’t believe you did anything that bad.’

  ‘That’s because you don’t know me, not all of me. If I’d been a better person, I’d have owned up to what I’d done. I know that a sin is a sin and all that, but this so-called friend has done far worse things than me. I’ve just been so frightened of losing everyone’s respect, my friends, my family, my life here.’

  ‘Can’t you at least try to tell me what you’ve done?’

  ‘I don’t know what to do. The other day I actually told this person that I was tired of it all, the lies, covering up, but you know what they did?’

  Beth shook her head.

  ‘They laughed at me. I saw in their eyes, utter contempt, loathing. They told me I was pathetic, useless; like one of the millions of grubby grey pebbles on the beach that people trample on. They said if I was to so much as whisper what they’d done they would pick me up and flick me into the sea. I would disappear. Nobody would know. Nobody would care.’

  Beth saw tears shining in Kathleen’s eyes. ‘Who said this? Please, tell me.’

  ‘I want to, but I’m so scared. Anyway, I don’t want to drag you into this mess. This person, this wolf, may turn on you then. You know that thing about fear making the wolf bigger? Well, I tell you, Beth, I have found out my wolf is far greater than my fear; its teeth are sharper, it is cruel, wicked.’

  Kathleen pulled her feet up on to the seat, cuddled her knees into her chest and enveloped herself in her wrap.

  Beth put her arm around Kathleen’s shoulders. ‘You need to tell me everything. I’m so sorry you’ve had to battle this on your own. You can’t be manipulated like this. I understand how you are feeling more than you know. Whatever you’ve done, I’m always on your side. I will fight for you.’

  Kathleen reached out slowly, placed her hand on top of Beth’s. ‘If you really mean that, then maybe I will. I can’t go on like this.’

  Beth removed her arm from around Kathleen’s shoulder and placed it on top of her hand as if making a pact. ‘I promise, but you have to tell me everything.’

  Patrick’s voice from the patio disturbed them, ‘What are you two cooking up?’

  Kathleen snatched back her hand and stood up. Patrick, Sami, and the others started walking towards them.

  ‘You two have been down here for ages. What have you been talking about?’ asked Patrick again.

  The others reached them quickly. Sami slipped his arm around Beth’s shoulders. He wasn’t much taller than her, he was losing his hair, he desperately needed to update his glasses, and she loved him very much. Moving closer to him, she felt like a sea bird sheltering in the nook of the cliff.

  ‘You all right?’ he asked. His accent was a warm mix of Iraqi and her own Swansea Welsh.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘It’s beautiful down here in the mornings, isn’t it, Kathleen?’ said Patrick. He turned to the others. ‘She’s down here every day at about quarter to seven for her mindfulness if you want to join her.’

  There was a muffled laugh, but no one spoke. As they walked back to the house Beth glanced at Kathleen. She was sure she saw a slight fixed smile as Kathleen walked stiffly next to Patrick, who had his arm firmly around her shoulders. Her friend seemed unable to move away.

  Inside the house, Patrick grinned at Beth. ‘So, you approve of the new house? I can’t wait to get all my London friends here. They think the Isle of Wight is some sleepy backwater. Wait till they see this: make them think twice about their million pound one bedroom flats up there.’

  Beth smiled warmly at him. Patrick probably cared too much about trying to look younger and trendier than he was, but she liked him, and he adored Kathleen. ‘They’ll be very jealous.’

  ‘I’m coming over to the Castleford house this evening.’ Patrick turned to Sami. ‘Could I cadge a lift back with you? My car is in the garage until tomorrow.’

  ‘I thought you’d sold the old house—’

  ‘Not quite, complete tomorrow. I want to give it one last clean. I’ve left an old mattress and a sleeping bag there.’

  ‘You’re welcome to a lift, but we were going to leave soon. The kids have school tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s fine. Things are wrapping up.’ He looked at Kathleen, a slight nervousness in his voice. ‘You’ll be all right here on your own?’

  ‘Of course. I must get used to it. You’ll be off again soon.’

  ‘Not so much now.’ Patrick turned again to Sami. ‘I’ve requested more work in the UK. I’ve done my stint of work abroad. No, me and Kathleen are going to make the most of our new home now.’

  Beth didn’t want to leave without speaking to Kathleen again, or at least arranging to meet, but Kathleen had closed off. She didn’t seem to want to look at Beth.

  It wasn’t until they were outside the front door that Beth finally caught Kathleen’s gaze. Kathleen put her hand on Beth’s and said, ‘You’ll keep your promise?’

  Beth squeezed her hand. ‘Of course.’ She smiled, looking for one in return, but all she saw in Kathleen’s face was fear and dread. She resolved to speak to her soon and to find out what on earth was going on.

  2

  Beth woke the next morning to the sound of the dawn chorus and Sami changing into his running gear. Peering at her clock she saw it was half past six.

  ‘So, I thought I’d take some fertiliser for the tomatoes.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Beth mumbled. ‘Good idea.’

  ‘I got a message from the Hendersons. They said they’re loving Australia and their new grandchild arrived yesterday.’

  ‘Girl or a boy?’

  ‘Girl. They’ll have a few more months out there with the baby before they come home. I love their garden but it’s a lot of work. I’m not surprised they’ve let it go so much. Still, I’ve got a few bits of it back under control.’

  ‘You’re only meant to be watering the plants in the greenhouse.’

  ‘I know, but I enjoy it and I get to run in their fields. It’s bliss, no other dogs or patients.’ He unzipped a small pocket of his track suit top. ‘Good, got the key. Right, I’ll be off.’

  Beth heard him thump down the stairs with the energy of a ‘morning person’, closed her eyes and stretched over the extra expanse of bed.

  She listened to the front door slam, the car’s engine starting, and finally heard Sami drive off. Sinking back into her pillow, her mind drifted back to the previous evening. Whatever had been happening with Kathleen? She couldn’t imagine anyone at the house party threatening Kathleen in the way she said. Her friends, people at the pharmacy, everyone loved Kathleen. There had been times in the past when Beth had envied her. For her to look that gorgeous, keep that stunning red gold sunset hair and petite figure with apparently so little effort, never seemed quite fair. Added to that, she was gentle and kind of naive. However, Beth also knew that Kathleen’s life had been harder than most people realised, and it was sharing their problems that had brought them close. As she thought of that, Beth felt a pang of guilt: she should have been a better friend to Kathleen, tried harder to keep in touch. Well, she was determined to help Kathleen now in any way she could.

  Reluctantly, Beth got out of bed. It was Monday, so at least there was no work to go to, but of course there was studying.

  As she did every morning, Beth picked up her mobile, set on silent for the night. She always kept it next to her bed; now the kids were older she was often in bed before them and she liked to keep the link until she heard they were in.

  Beth threw on her ‘dog walking’ clothes and went downstairs. Ollie, her cocker spaniel, came to her, tail wagging in anticipation of their morning routine. He was a blue roan with stunning markings, soft black ears and a white stripe down his forehead to his black nose. Together they went out into the garden, which was Sami’s pride and joy. It couldn’t have been more of a contrast to Kathleen and Patrick’s ‘outdoor living space’. There were no large paved areas wit
h expensive furniture. This garden was about work: intensive plants, shrubs, borders, a small cottage garden with wooden seats, a concrete bird bath, meandering paths. Sami spent hours out here, and to Beth it was a slice of heaven.

  Ollie came into the shed with her to feed the guinea pigs. Beth loved the cosy smell of hay, the squeaking of the animals; on a wet morning she would stay longer than she needed. ’You’ll be out in your run soon,’ she assured them.

  After the emotional conversation the evening before Beth decided to take Ollie somewhere special, and so she picked a small bunch of daffodils and carefully placed them in her dog walking bag.

  ‘Off we go then,’ she said to Ollie, who was already standing beside the dresser where his lead was. Guessing what they would do next was all part of the game.

  It was fully daylight when Beth parked her car in Parkhurst Woods. With Ollie, she walked purposefully through a deserted part of the pine woodland, well away from the main paths and the other dog walkers. Soon she reached a high concrete wall, the boundary between the forest and the prison grounds, and knelt. Pulling aside a tuft of grass she found the ammonite fossil she had placed there six years before. She felt a thin, deep rapier of sadness, picked the fossil up and wiped it clean. From her bag, she took the daffodils, relishing the smell of childhood, of vases of daffodils on St David’s Day, and laid them next to the stone. As she knelt there, tense, alone, she closed her eyes. Inside she was aware of feelings buried deep down, pain and anger, but she knew they had to stay there wrapped in a blanket of shame. However, the doctor had been right: creating this place, this ritual, helped. Most days she had to live as if this had never happened, so at least coming here gave her a few moments to acknowledge it, tell herself that it happened but she survived. Slowly she knelt forward and blade by blade she gently wrapped the grass back around the stone until it was completely hidden. Kathleen’s words seemed to reach out from the darkness in the woods, ‘The truth doesn’t disappear; it sits there waiting to be found.’ Beth tried to smother the words, and walked quickly, but then her phone pinged a text from Kathleen.