The House Party

by Mary Grand

  ‘She did. I mean it wasn’t for long: just those Tuesdays when Kathleen did her course last year. I suppose she only stayed with Amy about three or four times, but they became fond of each other. It was a huge comfort to me to know she was with Amy when I was down here.’

  ‘Kathleen told me Amy had been through so much, losing her Mum and then the car accident.’

  She watched Alex scrunch a leaf up and throw it on the ground. ‘She had. The car accident, in a way, was the result of losing her mum. Amy was devastated by the loss, went around in a dream, you know she just walked in front of the car. The injuries meant she had to give up her job; she was devastated.’

  ‘Didn’t Kathleen tell me Amy had been a dancer?’

  Alex’s face lit up; she could see he was grateful that Beth remembered. ‘Yes, she was very talented. Her injuries meant she had to stop dancing, teaching. The whole thing destroyed her.’

  ‘Life doesn’t seem fair sometimes, does it?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t. I thought life had thrown everything at us, and then for Amy to die in a fall while I was away just added to the nightmare. My only comfort is I know Kathleen was in the house. Amy wasn’t alone.’

  ‘Kathleen was very upset by it all. She sent me a text. I should have talked to her properly about it—’

  Alex looked sideways. ‘At least she contacted me as soon as Amy had her fall, it meant I got back to London to be with her in time for the end.’ Alex threw a pebble in the brook. ‘I’m grateful that my last memory of Amy is someone finally at peace.’

  ‘I’m so glad.’ Beth brushed away tears with the back of her hand as she remembered her last meeting with Kathleen: all she had was fear and stress.

  ‘I’m sorry to be pouring out my troubles,’ said Alex. ‘You have enough to deal with at the moment.’

  ‘It’s all right; it’s difficult; that’s all.’

  ‘To lose your friend so suddenly must be heart breaking.’

  Beth saw warmth in his eyes: compassion; he understood. ‘It is. I’ve still got the text on my phone from her saying she’d see me at yoga tonight. We were going to talk. I was going to help her—’

  ‘Help her?’ He asked in a quiet, considered way, like a priest or a doctor. Beth longed to confide in someone but was torn, she’d agreed with Sami not to say anything.

  ‘I can’t say anything, it’s better to keep things to myself.’

  ‘But you look very distressed. It could help to talk to someone, you know it wouldn’t go any further. As you know, people confide in us pharmacists all the time.’

  Beth bit her lip. It was tempting. She needed to talk, and Alex had known Kathleen quite well; maybe he could even shed some light on her problems. The other thing was, of course, how was she going to find out who was threatening Kathleen if she never spoke about their conversation? Taking a deep breath, she decided to take a risk.

  ‘On Sunday evening Kathleen told me she was very scared of someone. They’d been threatening her.’

  ‘My goodness. Who was it?’

  Beth swallowed hard. ‘She didn’t give me a name, but Kathleen said it was somebody who was there that night, one of our friends.’

  Beth gripped the lead, waited, expecting Alex to dismiss it. However, his reaction was very different. His face seemed to turn to stone, the warmth in his eyes was replaced with – what was it? Anger… guilt… fear? She wasn’t sure. Eventually he spoke.

  ‘Kathleen was a complicated person,’ he said, his words tight. ‘I believe we create our own Karma, we can choose to create heaven, but we can also choose to create hell.’ His face was white. The words, spoken so softly, held a kind of menace. He picked another leaf and shredded it vein by vein. Usually it felt serene down there, but it was as if a cold, thick cloud had descended. She heard a car approaching, walked off the bridge and led Ollie back on to the side to safety. By the time she returned, Alex was walking away.

  ‘Bye then,’ she called to his back, but he didn’t reply,

  ‘Blimey,’ she said to Ollie. ‘What was that all about? He said Kathleen was complicated but he’s far from straightforward himself.’ From the little she knew of Alex she’d assumed he was rather grey, dull. His reactions today showed she had been quite wrong. He hadn’t shown surprise or even sympathy when she’d told him about Kathleen’s fears. The one thing she had discovered now was that there was a lot more to Alex than she realised. Beth felt sure she needed to be careful of him.

  When she returned home, Layla was in the kitchen and, before she had unclipped Ollie’s lead, Layla spoke. ‘About Friday, Mum.’

  Beth groaned. ‘What about it?’

  ‘Elsa said we could get an earlier ferry.’

  ‘Layla, I said no.’

  Layla thumped down the cereal packet, sending Shreddies everywhere. Ollie was there in a flash, hoovering up any that had hit the floor.

  ‘You are such a crap mother,’ Layla said, and stormed out of the kitchen.

  Beth looked down at Ollie. ‘Crap mum today: great!’

  She cleared the surfaces of Layla’s mess, and then sat to eat her toast. Going into work wouldn’t be so bad. She worked as a learning assistant in classes, sometimes supporting a child with special needs, and she loved it. The good thing about working in a school with young children was that once you were there you were in their bubble; the rest of the world ceased to exist.

  Beth collected her things. She was looking forward to seeing Imogen at work, hoping they might have time to talk about Kathleen. Although quite different to her, Beth admired Imogen and had enjoyed looking after her daughter Elsa when she was little. She appreciated Imogen’s pragmatic approach to life; as Adam would say, ‘She cuts through the bullshit.’

  As Beth walked down the road, she was aware that the world was carrying on as normal. She was later than usual and walked quickly, appreciating how fortunate she and Sami were to both be able to walk to work.

  However, when she reached the community pub on the corner, she was distracted. Throwing a bowl of water down the steps was Gemma, one of a small team who ran the Hub. Wearing her usual polo shirt and jeans, Gemma, ten years younger than Beth, worked incredibly hard. She was a proper islander, with family everywhere.

  ‘The Castleford Community Hub’, as it was officially called, was originally called the Castle. It had closed and been bought by the community. The locals still called it the Castle, but everything else about it had changed. It had been a huge success, with a community room, a comfortable café-cum-eating area and a much smaller, modern ‘adult only’ area for alcoholic drinks.

  ‘Hi Beth… glamorous life I lead—’

  Beth approached Gemma and asked, unnecessarily she knew, ‘You’ve heard about Kathleen?’

  ‘Of course. I am so sorry. It was upsetting enough when she decided to move all the way to Freshwater—’

  Beth nodded: the fifteen minute drive from Castleford to Freshwater would be nothing to people on the mainland, but she knew what Gemma was saying: here, it was like moving to a different country.

  Beth crossed her arms. ‘I went to see her new house on Sunday.’

  ‘Ah, the new house,’ said Gemma, distracted. ‘Sounds amazing. A few people have been grumbling about it. Don’t know how Patrick got planning permission. Still, I guess none of that matters now, does it? Do you know how Kathleen actually, you know, died? She fell off the cliff?’

  ‘That’s right. I don’t think they know the details yet.’

  ‘Poor Patrick and Conor. They must be devastated.’

  Beth saw that Gemma was ready to settle down for a natter but heard the church clock chime nine. ‘I’m ever so late. Sorry, I must go.’

  ‘Are you still coming to yoga tonight?’

  Beth blinked. She hadn’t thought about it. ‘Um, yes, OK. I suppose so. I’ll see you there.’

  ‘Good. See you later.’

  The village of Castleford was large, dominated by the castle that looked down on them all. Having passed the Hub
, Beth turned right and walked down the steep hill at the heart of the village. On her left was the small Norman church she went to early some Sunday mornings, and she regretted that there was no time today to go and sit in the silent, cool building. Funny, she wouldn’t consider herself a particularly religious person; none of the rest of her family went, but that half hour early on a Sunday morning, sitting quietly, was her refuge. She guessed it had been the same for Kathleen.

  Walking down the high street, Beth passed the hairdresser, shop and post office, all that remained now of the shops that had, when she arrived, included a butcher’s and a large ironmonger’s. There was a small unkempt lane leading to a disused chapel, and then the long white building that housed the surgery and pharmacy. At the end of this was a large car park, a fence and the school where Beth worked.

  The staff car park was in front of the school and Imogen’s red Golf was in its usual parking place.

  Beth pushed open the door into the reception area. Imogen had worked her headteacher magic here. She had been determined the entrance would be neither a minimalist white gleaming hotel lobby nor a riot of primary colours with signs shouting implausible mottoes. Imogen was not one of the ‘All you have to do is dream and you can do anything’ school of thought. She worked incredibly hard, and her enthusiasm was infectious, both among the staff and children. The lobby was a calm space: creams and beiges, sofas, bookcase, tasteful displays of the children’s work. The reception area was an arced wooden desk. Behind it sat June, quietly smiling as the phones rang and parents handed her letters. It was a space that aimed at least to make you slow your breathing. Beth could hear the noise from the hall where the staff from the early morning club were clearing up. June was smiling politely at a parent, who was saying in a loud voice, ‘Is it true that I actually have to ask permission now to take my child out of school for the day?’ Beth shot June a supportive smile and made her way to the reception class where she was to spend her morning.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ she mouthed to the teacher, Jo, who was desperately trying to tie up a conversation with an over anxious parent. Beth knew the mother better than Jo, who had only started in the school last year. She had three other children there. She was pleasant but also, Beth knew, going through another messy divorce. Beth took off her coat and went into the lobby to help children hanging up coats and backpacks, take messages from parents, and make sure book bags made it to the right drawers.

  Finally, the children were all sitting on the mat for registration while Beth went to photocopy work sheets ready for literacy later.

  The photocopier was in the staff room. As she went in, Beth saw Imogen going into her room, smiling professionally in a smart suit and black mules, white-blonde hair in a tidy bun. She always looked as immaculate at the end of the day as she did at the start.

  They caught a glimpse of each other. Imogen grimaced: now was not the time to talk.

  It was the usual hectic morning and Beth was glad of it in some way. It helped distract her from thinking about Kathleen. She was a lot more tired than usual, though, when it came to leaving at lunchtime. As she made her way through the lobby, Imogen emerged from her room, spotted Beth, and invited her in.

  8

  Imogen’s room represented a continuation of the entrance area. There were calm creams, a large rug and comfy armchairs. Imogen’s desk was to the side, with a laptop and files all neatly arranged. Imogen sat opposite Beth, upright in an armchair; legs crossed tightly.

  ‘How are you?’ Imogen’s enquiry was made in a business-like tone that was surprisingly comforting.

  ‘Numb. It’s like watching myself in a film going through my day. It was such a shock, wasn’t it?’

  ‘It was. I know how you feel. By the way, William told me she was planning to leave the pharmacy. It couldn’t have been because of the drive; it’s only, what, fifteen minutes from here. Do you know why she was going?’

  ‘I asked her about it on Sunday. Sami didn’t understand why she’d given her notice in, but she didn’t explain it to me either. Didn’t she say anything to you? You two seemed pretty engrossed chatting when I arrived at the house party,’ asked Beth.

  Imogen re-crossed her legs and tapped her manicured nails on her knee. ‘No. We only talked about the house, the lighting in the kitchen, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Oh. It looked more intense than that.’

  ‘Not really, although I thought Kathleen seemed a bit all over the place.’

  ‘I agree. She said some odd things to me that evening, disturbing things.’

  ‘Like what?’

  Beth paused. She’d already broken her agreement with Sami once that morning, but it had actually been helpful in telling her things about Alex and his relationship with Kathleen. Maybe if she told Imogen she might learn something from her. ‘Kathleen actually told me that someone there on Sunday had been threatening her.’

  Imogen raised her eyebrows. ‘Good grief. That was dramatic, even for Kathleen.’

  Beth tried to be brave. ‘I don’t think she was saying it for effect.’

  ‘But that’s absurd,’ said Imogen, waving her hand as if to brush the idea away, but then, almost casually, she asked, ‘Did she say who?’

  ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘Well, I shouldn’t take too much notice. Kathleen was inclined to exaggerate. I’d say she bordered on being a fantasist at times, and she was drinking a hell of a lot on Sunday.’

  ‘I don’t think she was drunk.’

  Imogen sat back on her chair, but her body was rigid. ‘I know you think I’m being a bit harsh, but Kathleen had become very difficult of late: rather attention-seeking, extremely needy.’

  Beth frowned. ‘I know Kathleen was often the centre of attention. With her looks and charm that was inevitable, but she was also warm, funny, kind. I wouldn’t have called her needy.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong. I liked Kathleen and she was a lot brighter than most people gave her credit for. But I began to see a different side to her when we all went away last December.’

  ‘When you went on that skiing weekend?’

  ‘That’s it. I’ve not said much to you about it, but it was such a disaster. It was a stupid time of year to go away but William said it would be good for me. I’d had that row with my parents. He said I needed to get away, but I regretted going.’

  ‘Kathleen mentioned the holiday on Sunday, I don’t think she enjoyed it either. She was saying what a terrible start to December she’d had. Of course, a few days before you went away, Kathleen had been with Alex’s wife when she had that fall, she must have still been very stressed by that. By the way, who went away that weekend? I know it there was Kathleen and Patrick, you, William, and Elsa. Was there anyone else?’

  ‘No, that’s all.’

  ‘I remember you didn’t say much after it, and all I had was a text from Kathleen saying random things about Amy and not having a good time away. It didn’t sound too good.’

  ‘That’s an understatement. It started with Kathleen in hysterics at the airport: you know Alex’s wife had died when she was staying with her a few days before we went. Kathleen should have stayed at home, really. I think it was Patrick who persuaded her to come. Anyway, she calmed down a bit but then I had the fall down the steps of the restaurant a few hours after we’d arrived. I never even got out on the slopes. William, bless him, hung around and looked after me, but then Kathleen refused to go out as well, kept pouring her heart out to William. When we got back, she carried on ringing him at all hours. I don’t know what had got into her, but it was driving me mad. William works so hard, and now doctors have to do these accessible hours appointments. Mondays and Fridays, surgery starts at quarter to eight, which means he gets into the office any time after six to keep on top of his paperwork so, you see, he didn’t need work calls at home.’

  Imogen finally paused for breath. Her face was red, her hands in tight fists.

  ‘Did William tell you why Kathleen was phoning him all the
time?’

  ‘No, but I reckon she was just looking for attention from him. I told William it had to stop and things did improve. But I saw her differently after that. She wasn’t quite as angelic as people thought.’

  Beth was annoyed at this outpouring against her friend. ‘I don’t think you’re being fair.’

  Imogen raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re quite innocent, aren’t you? You must have worried about her and Sami. Working together and then him getting her on that course so she could travel up to London with him once a month.’

  ‘They travelled to London on the Tuesday and back on the Wednesday. That was all,’ said Beth sharply. ‘Kathleen’s course at the academy was nothing to do with the one Sami was teaching on at King’s. I know they were both up there overnight, but they never met up. He stayed at King’s; she stayed at Alex’s house.’

  Imogen gave her a look, the one that bright people give when they have picked up on something. ‘So you have thought about it, haven’t you?’ Beth could feel herself blushing as Imogen continued. ‘Still, it was probably all perfectly innocent.’

  Imogen stretched her legs in front of her. ‘In any case, it’s not right for us to sit here bitching after what’s happened to poor Kathleen.’

  Beth was about to point out that she hadn’t been the one bitching when Imogen said, ‘Elsa told me you went over to see Patrick and Conor yesterday. How was Patrick?’

  ‘Heartbroken; in shock. You know, he asked me to go with him to identify the body up at the hospital.’

  ‘That’s grim. Well done you. I don’t think I could have done that. You have a good heart, Beth.’

  The phone rang on Imogen’s desk and she reached over to answer it. ‘They gave me their word they would deliver them by next Monday at the latest. Don’t worry. I’ll speak to them. I’ll sort it out.’ She replaced the receiver. ’Bloody contractors,’ she mumbled, then put her hand on her back. She took a small packet out of her handbag. She swallowed some pills and replaced the packet in her bag.

  ‘Your back still playing up from your fall?’ asked Beth, wondering if that accounted for Imogen’s touchiness.