by Mary Grand
See you at yoga tomorrow. We’ll talk after. lots of love xxx.
The text had been sent at 6.40.
The message was so calm, so every day, and the fact she was coming back to yoga must be a good thing. They could talk properly, and Beth could find a way to help. ‘That’s a relief,’ she said to Ollie.
Beth walked back into the dark, deserted patch of woodland. Ollie mooched around the dry pine needles, chasing scents from the night before, and Beth stood very still, waiting for the red squirrels who she knew were there watching her to come out of hiding.
Time slipped away. On a morning like this it was easy to start the process of editing the conversations of the night before, making them less fraught and disturbing; the text showed that Kathleen herself was calmer today.
Beth went through her own day in her mind. She needed to talk to Layla about her flute and singing exams without it turning into a battle. Adam would be in his room revising for his A levels, or on some game: he needed reminding to leave his cave occasionally to encounter daylight. He was off to Oxford University in October, and she dutifully hid the dread she felt at the thought of him going and the empty bedroom he would leave.
When she arrived home, she fed Ollie, showered, and went back down to the kitchen. She cleared the mugs and plates scattered by Adam from late-night snacking. Living with her eighteen year old son felt much like living with a benign poltergeist.
Layla came down, texting with both thumbs in the way she and all her friends did. She didn’t look up, her face invisible behind a curtain of brown hair. Short and slim, she looked younger than fifteen. She had been happy in her world of music and fossils until recently.
‘Hiya,’ said Beth. ‘Um, you know your flute and singing exams—’
‘Mm—’
‘They are both on Saturday morning. Your teacher suggested you go over and get some extra practice with Julie on Friday evening.’
Layla looked up. ‘Can’t do that. Conor’s band are playing in Southampton on Friday night; Elsa and I are going over to hear them.’
Beth took a breath. It was a new tactic of Layla’s to present things as decided rather than asking for permission. She was ready this time. ‘I don’t think so, love; you have your exams early the next morning.’
‘We’ll get the last ferry, so we won’t be that late. I’ll be with Elsa.’
‘I don’t know why you’ve started hanging around with Elsa all the time.’
‘Elsa and I have been friends since we were little. We’ve been catching up. We always did get on.’
‘But she’s eighteen now. She can drink and go to places that are not appropriate for you.’
‘It’s a concert, not some rave, Mum. Be honest; it’s not Elsa you’re worried about is it? It’s Conor.’
Layla was right. Conor was Kathleen’s nineteen year old son, who had returned from a few years of living with his father in Ireland. He’d had a pretty wild time out there, failed his exams and come back to live on the island in the hope of retaking A levels and passing them this time. Kathleen was desperately trying to get him to settle back down, but it wasn’t going well.
‘He’s dead talented, Mum. His band may be given a gig, you know, at the festival this year.’
‘I’m glad for him, but that’s beside the point. You can’t go on Friday.’
‘You don’t understand. Conor asked me to go. I have to be there,’ insisted Layla, her voice high and passionate now.
Beth felt Layla’s desperation, but said, ‘I’m sorry—’
‘No, you’re not.’
Beth rubbed her forehead; the headache didn’t go. She poured her cereal, glanced at the clock: twenty to eight. ‘Your Dad’s late.’
‘I don’t care. Conor is OK. You should give him a chance.’
‘None of that matters; he’s too old for you.’
‘We’re just friends; you should trust us. Like last week when I played in the concert, he would have given me a lift home, but you insisted Dad came and picked me up.’
Beth spilled the milk she was pouring over her cereal. ‘You’re not going on a motorbike. I’ve told you that.’
‘Everyone does. It’s amazing.’
‘Hang on. Have you been on it?’
Layla looked away.
Beth grabbed a dishcloth and started scrubbing at a spot of milk spilt on the worksurface. ‘You are not to go on it. Got that? Next time Conor’s band are playing on the island, maybe you could go then.’
‘This is pathetic. I wish I was getting out of this prison like Adam,’ said Layla as she stormed off.
Beth looked over at Ollie, who, head on the edge of his basket, was watching with interest.
‘Everything’s a bloody battle,’ she murmured to him, then poured another coffee, and moved the oven gloves off a chair so she could sit down. Her kitchen had wooden cupboards and worktops and an old Welsh dresser that had been her mother’s. On this stood ornaments: a Welsh dragon next to a beautiful Iraqi chukar partridge.
Beth reluctantly opened her laptop. She had completed A Levels at the college and now she was taking an English degree online. She secretly found it tedious, but Sami and friends seemed to find it gratifying that she was ‘making something of herself’.
Beth heard the front door, and Sami rushed in. ‘Sorry, everything took longer than I thought. Right, I’ll go and shower.’ He raced up the stairs.
Ollie plodded over and sat on her feet. ‘Life is so simple for you, isn’t it?’ Beth smiled down at him and stroked his ears.
A few minutes later, Sami returned, turned on the radio and ate his breakfast. Beth closed her laptop and loaded the dish washer. It was all very quiet, all very normal, then Sami’s phone rang. Beth continued cleaning up. However, she slowly became aware of the tone of his voice shifting. It became stressed and clipped. He was asking a series of questions. ‘Who?’ ‘Where?’ ‘How?’ ‘When?’ and then, ‘Oh no, I am so sorry. I can’t believe this.’
Beth turned to him, questioningly. He grimaced and mouthed something, but Beth couldn’t read his lips.
‘I don’t know what to say. Anything we can do, you know, me or Beth, do ring—’
Sami slowly put down his phone. He sat staring ahead as if in a trance, then put his head in his hands. ‘What is it?’ asked Beth.
He turned off the radio. ‘That was Patrick, it’s Kathleen—’
She felt a wave of nausea, dread.
‘I’m so sorry, love—’
3
Beth held her breath as Sami explained. ‘Kathleen’s had an accident. I’m so sorry. She didn’t make it.’
Beth slumped down. It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. A long way away she could hear Sami asking, ‘Beth, are you all right?’
It hurt to move her head. ‘What happened?’
‘She had a fall beyond the fence at the bottom of her garden; she fell down the cliff. A woman walking her dog found her on the beach.’
‘Oh God.’ Beth covered her face with her hands.
Sami reached over and took her hand. ‘They think she died quickly.’
‘When?’
‘Very early. Kathleen was dressed in her leggings and top. Patrick thinks she’d gone down to do her mindfulness.’
‘She sent me a text. We were going to meet up tomorrow at yoga, have a chat—’ She covered her eyes with her hands again. They sat quietly, together, until she asked, ‘Was she on her own?’
‘Yes. Conor had gone to a mate’s for the night. As we know, Patrick was over here. The police came around to tell him what had happened and took him over to the Freshwater house.’
Beth was unaware of the warm tears that were falling down her cheeks. ‘What will he do? She was his world.’
‘He is in complete shock. He just kept saying he should have been there. He should have sorted out the fence.’
‘I know she took part of the fence down to do her meditation, but she knew the cliff edge crumbled. She wouldn’t have gone
close to it.’
‘The police will find out exactly what happened.’
‘The police?’
‘They’re bound to be involved. When the woman found Kathleen on the beach and called for an ambulance the police had to be contacted as well.’
They sat, for a moment unable to look at each other, their own grief alone too much to bear.
‘I can’t believe this has happened,’ said Sami. ‘How am I going to tell them at work? Everyone loved her so much.’
‘That’s what I was trying to tell her. No one would have wanted to upset her. Everyone loved her.’
‘Eh?’ Sami looked up, bemused. ‘You were quiet when we came home from the house party. You two were down the end of the garden talking for ages—’
‘We had a lot to catch up on.’ Beth paused. ‘I’d left it too long. She was very stressed last night. You saw her every day at work. Did you notice anything?’
‘She’d been distracted. I think there might have been one or two personal matters playing on her mind.’
‘Like what?’
‘I’m, um, not sure.’ He looked away.
Beth fiddled with the edge of the table. ‘She seemed so unhappy, frightened of someone.’
Sami lay his hand on hers. ‘She was scared?’
Beth rubbed her bottom lip. For a moment, she wanted to push it all away, but she resisted and said, ‘Kathleen told me she’d made a mistake, and someone knew about it and was using it in some way. Anyhow, she told them she was tired of all the lies. She was going to have to own up to something. This person then threatened her.’
Sami’s eyes were darting left and right as he tried to compute what she’d said. ‘Are you sure about this?’
‘Yes, but she wouldn’t tell me any names. All she said was that she’d found out this person was not what they appeared to be.’ Beth held her hand to her mouth, every part of her shaking. ‘She was so brave, but she was petrified of what this person was going to do to her. Oh God, Sami, she’s dead now. Has this bastard attacked her or something?’
Sami put his arm around her. ‘Try not to jump to conclusions. Are you sure Kathleen didn’t give you any indication who she was talking about?’
Beth cringed. ‘You’re not going to like this, but she said it was someone who was at the house party.’
‘But that’s absurd. Who was there, apart from Patrick, Kathleen and Conor, that is? Of course, I was there with you and the kids and then Alex, Imogen, her daughter, Elsa, and William. I mean, that was it. All people we know very well; our friends, all very respectable, normal people.’
‘But she said we had been fooled by this person; that they were acting a part.’
‘But I know for certain that every one of us is qualified in what we do: me and Alex pharmacists, Imogen a head teacher, William a doctor. I don’t know what she meant.’
‘Nor do I, not really. My poor Kathleen.’ Beth again covered her face with her hands, trying to block everything out.
Sami gently eased her hands away. ‘Look, I happen to know Kathleen was in a pretty emotional state: something personal had happened. I promised not to tell anyone, but it will have affected her. I’m not saying she was making things up, but she might have not been seeing everything quite in perspective.’
‘What was it? Please tell me, Sami.’
‘I’m sorry. I want to keep my promise, but it’s not anything that anyone else needs to know.’
‘She didn’t seem depressed to me: scared but not that. Sami, you’re not saying she might have taken her own life, are you? Did I miss something?’
‘I don’t think so. As I say, something happened, but she was picking herself up, wanting to make changes in her life.’
‘Yes, that’s more how I saw her.’
‘I know you’re concerned about what Kathleen said to you. It sounds very upsetting, but try not to let it play on your mind. You know the police will be doing a thorough investigation of this accident. They’ll find out exactly what happened to Kathleen. You’re not to worry.’
‘But I should tell them what Kathleen said to me.’
Sami shook his head. ‘No, don’t say anything yet. The police will have strict procedures, and if they find any reason to suspect anything other than an accident then that is the time to tell them about your conversation with Kathleen. I promise I will tell them what I know as well, but I only want to do it if it’s necessary. Kathleen would have hated what she told me to be made public. As for what she told you, it was quite vague: no names, no detail, and as I said she was in a highly emotional state.’ He placed his hands on hers. ‘If the police find this was an accident, it won’t help anyone, particularly Patrick, to have had a load of rumour and insinuation thrown about. What if the local paper got wind of it? No, don’t say anything yet; let’s wait.’
Beth soaked in the reassurance. It was what she wanted to hear. Leave it to someone else: not her problem, probably nothing to worry about.
Sami gave a sad smile. ‘It’s been a horrible shock, hasn’t it, but I am here for you, to look after you.’
Sami sat down, motionless, shoulders bent, looking older and greyer.
Beth grasped his hand. ‘You know, you were a really good friend to Kathleen and you’re an amazing boss. You encouraged her to do that course. She appreciated that you took her seriously, that you saw potential in her.’
‘I hope so.’
Beth went to the dresser to get a tissue, then sat down again with Sami.
‘I wonder who is looking after Patrick and Conor today?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. All their family are over in Ireland.’
‘That’s what I was thinking. I would go to them, but I ought to be in work, a lot of the older patients are going to be so shocked, as well as the staff, of course.’
‘You could close the pharmacy. People would understand.’
‘I can’t, love. Mondays are hectic, and people need their medication.’
‘I’m not working today. Do you think I would be any help to Patrick?’
‘That’s a good idea. If you don’t mind. You’re better at this sort of thing than me, anyway. I’ll ring Patrick, see what he says.’
Beth listened as Sami talked quietly to Patrick. At the end of the call he said, ‘Patrick sounded very grateful. Apparently, they won’t let him or Conor down on the beach to see Kathleen. They said it would be better for him to see her later.’
‘Who found her?’
‘It turns out the dog walker was a neighbour, someone called Jilly, I think. She keeps hens as well, so she got to know Kathleen. At least they have a definite ID.’
‘Poor woman.’
‘I know, ghastly.’
Sami’s phone rang, he answered it. ‘Ah, Alex. That’s OK. I’ll check that. Actually, I’m glad you phoned.’
Beth heard Sami explain the situation to his new partner, Alex. When he had finished, Sami said, ‘That’s good, Alex has offered to come in, though it’s his day off. It will give me the time to speak to people properly.’
‘Not an easy start to his first full-time week at the pharmacy.’
‘No, but I’m glad he’s here.’
‘You’re right, of course.’ Beth kissed him lightly and went upstairs to change. Thinking vaguely what the most appropriate thing was to wear, realising quickly that no one was going to notice or care, she found her tidier jeans and a light baggy jumper. She brushed her curly brown hair and slapped on some moisturiser. She wanted to talk to the children before they heard the news from anyone else. She knocked gently on Layla’s door, and as she waited for a reply Sami walked past her.
‘I’ll be off. I’ll be in touch later. Good luck, and, you know, be careful – all the business last night—’
‘I know. I’ll be careful what I say.’
Sami kissed her gently on the cheek. ‘I don’t know how everyone will take the news. I can’t believe Kathleen’s not going to be there.’
Beth looked at him, his ey
es creased in pain, and spoke gently, ‘You’ll be just the person they all need; see you later.’
Beth knocked again on Layla’s door.
‘What?’ shouted Layla, still angry.
‘I need to speak to you: it’s about Kathleen. It’s important.’
She gently pushed open the bedroom door. Layla was sat on her bed, her phone in her hand. Her bedroom was the strange mix of all fifteen year olds’ rooms: cuddly toys, a Winnie the Pooh poster, the bookshelf with John Green books sat next to Jacqueline Wilson, DVDs stacked next to her laptop ranging from Disney to The Shawshank Redemption. There was no pink, but also not the black Layla had wanted on three of the walls. One wall had a huge poster about fossils, and those they had found on the beaches around were all displayed and labelled on a table.
Beth carefully and calmly passed on the news about Kathleen and for a moment their row was forgotten. ‘Oh shit. That’s terrible. Are you all right, Mum?’
‘I’m fine. I wanted you to know before you went to school.’
‘Poor Conor. I know he rowed with Kathleen all the time, but she probably meant well. I liked her really. And she was so pretty; she could have been a model. She was a lot younger than you, wasn’t she?’
‘No, we were the same age actually,’ said Beth, trying to ignore the sceptical look on Layla’s face.
‘You sure? Still, it’s an awful thing to happen, and just when they’d got that amazing house.’
‘It’s all terribly sad. So now, you’ll be OK?’