Authors: Chris Curran
‘Nothing, I’m fine.’
‘So no news from Mr Hillier or Jake?’
I could tell him this. ‘Oh yes, apparently Jake let slip that there was another car on the scene.’
‘That’s good – fits your memories at least.’
‘And my cousin’s husband lives locally so he’s going to try to talk to Downes himself. Until I hear from him, or from Mr Hillier again, there’s nothing more I can do.’
There was a silence. I couldn’t find anything to say, but I didn’t want him to go. Then he said. ‘I’d better get back to Mum, but I’ll ring again tomorrow if that’s all right.’
‘Of course it is.’
The phone didn’t ring during the next couple of nights, but I almost wished it would. I was hardly sleeping anyway and at least I’d be sure I hadn’t imagined it all. I told myself I wasn’t paranoid. Unsettling things had happened and I wasn’t going mad because I was beginning to think some of Tom’s theories weren’t too far-fetched. Anyone and everyone could have something to hide and I needed to be open to all possibilities if I was to face up to my memories. But when I closed my eyes all I could see was that image: the black gate, tall and overwhelming. And I knew it was a warning; a warning from my own mind.
Lorna rang twice and left messages, but there was no answer when I tried to call her back. She sounded very subdued each time, just saying she was home and hoped I’d visit as soon as I could. On my next day off work I went up to London to see her.
She had told me she still kept her key hidden under a special stone in one of her window boxes. ‘I’m capable of staggering to the door, but it’ll be quicker if you let yourself in.’
It felt so much like coming here all those years ago that I stopped for a moment, almost expecting a flash of lost memory, but there was nothing.
A pair of shoes stood on the mat and the door to the courtyard at the end of the narrow hallway was open, giving a glimpse of dappled greenery on the old walls. Although it was cool today, the courtyard, sheltered by the walls, had a Mediterranean look with its stone bench, pots of herbs and red geraniums. I had a sudden memory of Lorna sitting on that bench, cushions piled behind her, looking up with a smile from the book she was reading.
Today the garden was empty, the kitchen and bathroom too. I checked the living room, saying, ‘Hello, it’s Clare,’ before opening the door in case she was dozing in a chair. She wasn’t there either so she must be lying down.
I tapped on the bedroom door then eased it open. A shimmer of light filtered through the curtains, a tiny clock ticked on the bedside table. There was an overturned glass next to the clock and the photograph of Dad and Lorna, in its silver frame, lay on the floor.
And Lorna was on the bed, hair and makeup perfect, eyes closed, head to one side.
Obviously dead.
She was fully dressed, but barefoot; one bandaged leg stretched in front of her, the other hanging over the side of the bed. The glass and the photograph were the only things out of place. The room was absolutely still. And from where I stood, gripping the door handle till my fingers hurt, I could feel and smell death.
It had already turned Lorna into something else, something heavy, something solid. I reached out to stop myself from falling, but my hand touched the lumpen thing on the bed and I stumbled down onto one knee.
The carpet was damp and as my hand knocked into the photograph frame Dad’s smile wavered, his face distorted by the sheen of water that had dripped from the overturned glass.
I hauled myself to my feet and into the hall, bending over to gasp for breath. After an eternity, I forced myself to look into the bedroom again, pulled out my mobile and sent for an ambulance, all the time staring at the bed, needing to see the thing there, to make myself believe what I was saying.
Then I called Alice, propping myself against the wall to still my shaking legs. ‘I’m at Lorna’s and, Alice, I’m sorry, she’s dead.’
‘Oh … ’ Silence, then a clunk and a breath, and her voice, quieter, but calm. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I am.’
‘What can you see? I mean what does she look like? Do you think she’s had an accident?’
‘No, she’s just lying there on her bed. It must be something to do with the operation.’
‘Yes, that’s probably it. Thrombosis … heart. You’d better call an ambulance. Or do you want me to do it?’
‘I’ve done that already.’ I felt a twist of irritation; wanting to snap at her that I’d seen death in prison and in far more sordid circumstances than this. But of course this was different. This was Lorna, and my stomach churned, my head spinning again, till I had to hold onto the hall table.
‘OK. Look, you must be in shock. I’ll drive up and get you. It’ll be a while before you can leave anyway. You could try looking for the name of her own doctor and they’ll want to know the hospital where she had the op.’
The idea of going through Lorna’s things appalled me, but I knew she’d be horrified if the ambulance crew found the place in what she would call a mess. So I picked up Dad’s photo, wiped it on the duvet, and replaced it and the water glass on the dressing table in the corner. Then I spotted the slip of paper.
The fountain pen she’d used sat beside it. The paper was folded in half and I hesitated for only a moment. As I read, my eyes focused and unfocused on a few phrases.
Clare, sorry, no other way
. I took a breath and forced myself to slow down, glancing from the mute body on the bed to her words in my hand.
Clare.
I’m so sorry I have to do this, but I can see no other way. I can’t keep a secret like this to myself any longer. Guilt is a corrosive emotion, I know that very well, and in the end the only solution is to face up to what you’ve done. I loved your father very much and I think this is what he would want me to do. But please believe me when I say that I also love you.
I hope you can accept that this is for the best.
With fondest love,
Lorna
For what seemed hours after that, I stood in the kitchen staring out at the grey courtyard, my fantasy of Italian warmth seeming as ridiculous now as the single magpie strutting and preening on the stone bench.
It wasn’t until the third long ring that I registered the doorbell. I folded the letter and put it in my pocket then let the ambulance crew in, pointing to the bedroom, and standing back to let them brush by me. I hovered in the hallway watching as the man looked at Lorna, then knelt beside her, glancing back at his colleague with an expression that said there was no rush.
The woman turned and led me into the living room. ‘You need to sit down, love,’ she said. When I’d done so she asked about my relationship to
the lady
and what I knew about her health.
I told her about the operation and the name of the hospital. ‘So I imagine she was on some kind of medication.’ My voice came from far, far away, but the woman just rubbed my hand and told me to sit quietly for a while. I listened to their voices carrying softly from the bedroom, while Lorna’s note crackled in my pocket.
Alice insisted on taking me to Beldon House and I couldn’t find the words to object. At least she didn’t try to talk much on the way, just said she’d arranged for Tom to stay over with Mark for the night.
She lit a fire and in front of it, in a big armchair, I tried to sip some soup. She sat opposite, and when I placed the bowl on the side table she leaned forward. ‘I can see you don’t want to talk and I don’t blame you. It can all wait till morning. Just go up and get some sleep.’
I felt as if I was coming to myself after a long delirium. ‘She left a note.’
Alice leaned closer, blue eyes flickering with sparks of red from the fire. ‘What?’
I passed her the paper and she slumped back so heavily the armchair creaked. ‘Oh, my God.’
‘So it
is
what I think – a suicide note?’
‘Certainly looks like it. Where was it?’
‘On her dressing table.’
‘Clare, you should have left it there.’
‘I wasn’t thinking straight for one thing and for another, it would have meant involving the police.’
‘You’re not thinking of destroying it, are you?’
I took the note from her, hating Lorna for being so enigmatic. ‘No, but I don’t understand it. Why she would want to kill herself?’
Alice held out a mug and I found myself taking it and drinking the coffee I didn’t want and trying to focus on what she was saying. ‘I’ve seen a few suicides and the motives are never that clear-cut. One thing we know about Lorna, much as we loved her, is that she was secretive.’
‘She talks about guilt and facing up to what you’ve done.’ I wasn’t sure if I was speaking the words or if they were just thoughts. ‘I’ve been asking about the accident.’
I smoothed the paper on the arm of my chair. Alice didn’t speak and I thought of the scenario I’d mapped out – the one that blamed her. Now it took on another complexion altogether and I saw a new puzzle take shape, one where the pieces fitted just as well for Lorna as for Alice.
She was looking at me with gentle eyes.
‘There are things I haven’t told you,’ I said. ‘Things I’ve remembered. I know I saw two people immediately after the accident.’
‘So you were awake when Mr Hillier got there?’ Her voice was very quiet.
‘No. I think it might have been Lorna.’ I told her the theory I’d been putting together: the one that implicated her, but worked just as well for Lorna.
When I’d finished Alice gave an enormous sigh. ‘Do you know, there was a moment in the hospital with you … ’ Another trembling breath. ‘I heard about the drugs in your system and had a horrible thought that you might have taken them from me on Em’s hen night. I had some with me then because work was impossible and I was so tired all the time. But I stopped using them before the wedding because they made me feel worse. I knew I didn’t have any with me that day, but I still checked when I got home to see if any were missing.’
‘And were there?’
‘No.’ How ridiculously easy it was in the end.
She went to the fire. One of the logs was spitting sparks and she moved it about with the poker. ‘We know Lorna was unhappy and had access to drugs. So I suppose it makes sense. She wasn’t drinking at the wedding, but I remember her having quite a lot back at the hotel. I wonder if she went to bed, saw some capsules were missing, and panicked. She wouldn’t have been thinking straight.’
‘But to keep it secret all this time?’
‘How could she tell anyone? God, Clare, she must have been in an agony of guilt at first, but she knew it wouldn’t really help you. You were still culpable.’
‘But when I started going back over it all, and told her some memory was returning, she knew it would come out eventually. Poor Lorna.’
I put my mug on the floor and we shared a long glance. Then she knelt in front of me, pulled me into a hug, and I dropped a kiss onto her soft hair.
*
Alice gave me a sleeping pill and I didn’t wake from my drugged oblivion till after midday: my head and my limbs so heavy I felt like staying in bed forever.
I longed to be able to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. After another hour I dragged myself downstairs. The house was empty. In the kitchen a note told me Alice would be home about six. She had called Emily and also Stella, who said not to rush back to work too soon.
I couldn’t summon up an interest in anything to eat or drink. Instead, I crawled onto the big armchair in the living room, and the next thing I knew Tom was looking at me as he cradled a mug.
‘Hi Mum, it’s half-past four. I’ve made you some coffee.’
I forced a smile. ‘Hello, you,’ and raised the mug. ‘This is just what I need. Alice gave me a sleeping pill and it’s really knocked me out.’
He perched on a footstool, his gaze steady, but his cheeks colouring up. ‘Alice said Lorna died, and you found her. That must have been awful. I’m ever so sorry. She was nice.’
‘Yes she was.’
He stood, big hands dangling at his side, made a move towards me, thought better of it, coloured even more, and then remembered something. ‘Alice says you’re not to do anything. She’ll cook when she gets in.’ His eyes flickered to my dressing gown, then to the stairs. ‘Mark’s here for tea. I told him to stay in my room.’
I pulled my belt tight. ‘Oh right. I’ll get dressed.’
I felt so leaden with tiredness that by the time I managed to wash and pull on some clothes, Alice was calling that food was ready. Mark looked at me curiously, but was soon intent on eating. Tom carried my food over, telling me to be careful it was hot, then passed me the bread and jumped up to get me a glass of water. I grabbed a piece of kitchen towel and scrubbed at my face, as Tom and Mark shared a glance.
I refused Alice’s offer of another sleeping pill, but slept well all the same. When I woke I felt clear-headed and I was up and dressed before anyone else. Alice came down as I was drinking my second cup of coffee.
She smiled. ‘You look a lot better.’
‘I’m fine. I’ll go home on the train this morning.’
She tried to persuade me to stay, but I was determined, knowing I couldn’t even begin to process this until I was back to some semblance of normal life.
As we pulled up at Wadhurst Station, Alice put her hand on my knee. ‘You know you could still come and stay with us for a bit. Forget about the job and take some time to be with Tom and me. It would do us all good.’
I raised my eyebrows at her. ‘Thought we’d been over this ground months ago?’
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, looking in the rear view mirror as a taxi drew up behind us. ‘But things have changed. We never expected it to be this difficult.’
‘I did.’
She made a small noise and her hand fluttered towards me, but then returned to the steering wheel. I went on, hoping she would believe me. ‘OK, I didn’t think Lorna would die, but it’s been better with Tom than I dared hope and I still need to be independent. You must see that.’