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‘Mmm … I expect you do,’ says Joanne. ‘What about you, Carys? Do you prefer life now?’
I catch Andrea and Joanne exchanging a look, the latter appearing confused for a moment and then in a display of realisation, throws her hand to her mouth, the photograph still grasped between her finger and thumb. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Carys. That was insensitive of me.’
I force my mouth to curve north in a bid to smile. I’m not sure how effective the action is, but the intent is there. ‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘No one has to tiptoe around me. Honestly.’
An awkward silence straggles behind my words until Andrea sweeps everything up with her none-too-subtle attempt at changing the subject: ‘Right, let’s see this photograph then.’
We crowd round the image and overly enthuse about it.
‘It’s lovely,’ says Joanne. ‘I love the way the real us shines through.’
I’m not sure any of us quite know what she means, but to restore the light-hearted atmosphere, we all agree and allow Joanne to lean the picture against the clock on the mantelpiece of the living room.
‘What shall we do with our bags?’ asks Andrea, as Joanne takes a moment to admire the photograph from the middle of the room.
Joanne spins round. ‘Oh, yes. I’ll show you to your rooms.’ She leads the way back into the hallway and we climb the narrow oak staircase. ‘Two of you will need to share.’ She looks at myself and Andrea. ‘Are you two OK in the twin room?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ I say and Andrea agrees.
‘Excellent, that’s that sorted.’ Joanne pushes open one of the doors and stands back to allow us in first.
It’s a pleasantly spacious room with dual views from the front and rear of the property. Everything in the room is white, from the walls to the furniture and bedding. The little dormer window at the front looks out on to the track and for the first time I notice a river over the other side of a small brow that must have shielded it from sight when we were dropped off outside. I push my face closer to the glass and away to the left, where the river bends out of sight, I can see a little stone bridge, just wide enough for one vehicle to pass over. It looks picture-postcard.
‘It’s a gorgeous view,’ I say, turning and going over to the window at the back. The view this time isn’t so inviting. The trees behind appear even taller from the first floor. They bunch together, swallowing up the daylight, and become one big mass of darkness as I try to look further into the forest.
‘Which bed do you want?’ asks Andrea.
‘I’ll have the one near the front window.’
‘OK, I’ll be near the door.’ Andrea dumps her rucksack on to the bed.
‘The bathroom is right next to your room,’ says Joanne from the doorway. ‘It’s not exactly en-suite, but it’s as good as.’ She turns to Zoe. ‘Our rooms are across the landing. I’m at the front and you’re at the back. Now I’ll let you all get settled and freshened up. Come down in ten minutes and lunch will be ready.’
‘Any chance we can have our phones?’ I ask. ‘I want to check in with Alfie.’
A shadow darts across Joanne’s face, but it’s so fast I almost question whether I saw it. However, the sympathetic look she gives me seems so false, I know I didn’t imagine it. ‘Sorry. No can do,’ she says, hugging the blue bag to her body. ‘All part of the game. No communication with the outside world this weekend. Besides, you can’t get a signal up here, it’s a not-spot.’
‘How do people get on in an emergency?’ asks Andrea.
‘There’s a wireless radio in the kitchen, but it looks as old as the hills,’ says Joanne. ‘It was probably last used in the Second World War.’
‘I can’t believe there’s no phone coverage at all,’ says Andrea. ‘We really are in the middle of nowhere.’
‘You’d think there would be a landline,’ I agree.
‘What’s up?’ asks Joanne. ‘Is there a problem? Do you need to get in touch with Alfie?’
‘Nothing’s up. Alfie is staying at Andrea’s with Colin and Bradley.’
‘Then he’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about,’ says Joanne. ‘Although you know Tris would have been happy to look after him had he not been on his golfing break. Not that Alfie needs looking after, he is eighteen later this month.’
‘Yeah, I know, but Bradley and Alfie are having a gaming weekend. Thanks anyway, I’ll bear that in mind for the future,’ I say, feeling slightly uncomfortable at my little lie. The truth is, I was relieved when I found out Tris would be away this weekend. Alfie had already said he’d like to stay with Tris and Ruby, but I didn’t like the way he was attaching himself to Tris. It was almost as if Tris was becoming a replacement for Darren. The amount of time he spends over there concerns me. Next thing, he’ll be seeing Joanne as a replacement for me. As usual, this thought provokes a wave of insecurity and jealousy. I turn away from Joanne and start undoing my rucksack to hide the irrational fear that somehow she will be able to read my thoughts.
‘He’s always welcome, you know that,’ says Joanne, clearly not letting me off the hook that easily. ‘We like having him over. He and Ruby get on great. You should be encouraging him, not deterring him.’
‘Who said anything about deterring him?’ I snap, my guilt flaring up in the disguise of anger.
‘Don’t get all defensive,’ says Joanne, folding her arms. ‘I’ve known him so long and he’s at our place so much, we’re like an extended family.’
‘Hey, come on you two,’ says Zoe, from the landing. ‘Let’s not fight. This is supposed to be a fun birthday weekend, remember?’
Joanne and I study each other for a few seconds. I don’t want to spoil the weekend. I plaster on a smile. ‘We’re not fighting.’
‘No. We’re not,’ Joanne says, before turning and ushering Zoe across the hallway to her room.
I begin to unpack my clothes, quietly seething inside. I can sense Andrea looking at me and I meet her gaze. She raises her eyebrows and gives me a look that says she’s not fooled for one minute. ‘What?’ I say defensively. ‘We weren’t fighting.’
‘No. Of course you weren’t,’ she says, taking a T-shirt from her bag and lying it flat on the bed. ‘No tension between you two at all.’
I lob a jumper I’ve just taken from my bag at her. ‘None whatsoever. Don’t know what you’re talking about.’
We both laugh as she tosses the jumper back at me, but we also both know that Andrea is one hundred per cent right.
Chapter 5 (#ulink_f98214a3-4c44-5195-bdbb-09e3207dafe3)
I hang the last of my clothes in the wardrobe, leaving space on one side for Andrea to use. ‘It’s a nice room,’ I say, as I quickly put on a fresh T-shirt. ‘A bit on the basic side, but functional.’
‘Better than I was expecting,’ says Andrea. ‘How is everything with Alfie?’ She fiddles with her makeup bag in an attempt to seem casual but I suspect my earlier words with Joanne have prompted the enquiry.
‘About the same. Actually, that’s a lie. I don’t know how it’s going. He never talks about Darren.’ I stop myself from continuing. I feel disloyal talking about Alfie even though Andrea is one of my best friends.
‘Do you ever ask him?’
‘Not any more. It’s a prickly subject,’ I admit. I walk over and sit down on my bed, letting out a sigh as I wrestle with my need to talk to someone about Alfie and my desire to project a much rosier picture of my home life. The need wins out. ‘He seems more distant than ever lately. And he still has his moments, you know, when his temper gets the better of him.’
‘Have there been any other … incidents?’ asks Andrea. Her tone is gentle.
I shake my head. ‘No. Not recently.’ I realise I’m rubbing my arm subconsciously. Since Darren’s death, Alfie has found it difficult to express his emotions and has taken to lashing out in his temper. Once or twice, I’ve found myself in the way.
‘What’s that mark on your back, then?’ asks Andrea.
‘On my back?’
‘Yeah, I noticed it just now when you changed your T-shirt. You’ve got a red mark, right between your shoulder blades.’
‘Oh, that. I did that this morning. Banged into the door by accident.’ It’s the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but it is what happened. I feel embarrassed and ashamed to talk about Alfie’s behaviour sometimes.
‘Can’t you speak to his counsellor?’ asks Andrea. She squeezes my hand in a gesture of support.
‘God, no. I suggested that once but Alfie was adamant I wasn’t to get involved. Besides, I’m not sure what the counsellor would say. They’re not supposed to divulge anything from the counselling sessions. Patient confidentiality.’
‘You could speak to him, though. The counsellor, I mean. You could tell him how Alfie has been at home. He might not be aware of that. Alfie might not tell him the truth.’
‘But then I feel I’m going behind Alfie’s back, and if he finds out …’ I leave the sentence unfinished as I gulp down an unexpected lump in my throat.
‘Have you thought about getting advice on how to deal with it all yourself? I don’t mean going to your counsellor, I mean strategies. A bit like they do parenting help for when you have a new baby. There must be some sort of support group for parents of bereaved children.’
‘It’s not my thing,’ I admit. ‘I did mention it once to my GP and she said to follow Alfie’s lead for now.’
‘Which is?’
‘Not to talk about Darren’s death unless Alfie wants to, and try to defuse the situation when he gets angry.’
‘But doesn’t that mean avoiding it so it becomes a taboo topic?’
‘It’s not just that,’ I say, surprising myself at how all my worries are tumbling out. I’m usually very controlled when it comes to Alfie and Darren. ‘Alfie spends so much time over at Joanne’s house, it’s starting to get to me. Like, really annoy me. I don’t know why he doesn’t want to spend time with me. It’s like he’s a visitor at home these days.’
‘Maybe it’s something to do with what happened with Darren.’ Andrea moves over to my bed and sits beside me.
‘Tell me about it! I can’t walk through the hallway without the image of Darren … you know … hanging there. It makes me feel sick. God knows what it’s doing to Alfie.’
‘No luck with the house sale then?’
‘No. I had someone view it the day before yesterday and they seemed keen. They were at the point of putting in an offer, but when they found out what happened, they changed their minds. It’s the third time that’s happened. No one wants to live in a house where the previous owner killed themselves.’
‘What about reducing the price?’
‘I think I’m going to have to, but that will mean I can’t afford somewhere quite so nice to move to. Look, please don’t say anything to the others. I don’t like talking about it, especially to Joanne.’
‘I won’t. But have you thought about asking Joanne to encourage Alfie and Ruby to spend time at your house for a change?’
‘That’s the thing. Ruby doesn’t want to come over because of Darren killing himself and Joanne is quite happy for Alfie to be there.’ I can feel the little blaze of irritation flare inside me. ‘I did actually speak to Joanne once about it and she told me that Alfie needed a safe place.’
‘A safe place? What the hell does that mean?’
‘According to Joanne, he needs somewhere he can go where he can relax and subconsciously know that nothing bad is going to happen. She said I should be grateful that he was there and not roaming the streets, getting into trouble.’
Andrea gives an indignant huff on my behalf. ‘She’s got a bloody cheek at times.’
The sound of Joanne calling from the bottom of the stairs punctuates the conversation. ‘Lunch is nearly ready!’ comes her sing-song voice.
‘Maybe things will be better after the weekend,’ says Andrea. ‘Like you said, this might be Joanne’s way of saying sorry.’
‘Yeah, I might be totally wrong about that,’ I say with a wry smile.
We spend a few minutes unpacking our things. ‘I’m all done,’ declares Andrea, pushing her rucksack under the bed. ‘You ready for lunch?’
‘You go ahead. I’ll be down soon,’ I say. ‘I want to freshen up first.’
After Andrea has gone downstairs, I sit on the bed and let out a long slow breath, as a sense of claustrophobia settles lightly around me. It’s not the house. It’s not the company. It’s the atmosphere. Joanne definitely seems spiky. Was I naïve to think this was a weekend of reconciliation? If I had my phone, I’d call Seb. To hear his reassuring voice and comforting words, in the way he can be both pragmatic and sympathetic at the same time, is what I really want right now.
I’m annoyed with myself for giving my phone over in the first place. It was a stupid idea and one I had gone along with too readily, hoping to appease Joanne. I decide to tackle her about it after lunch. It’s unreasonable of her to expect everyone to be out of contact.
Before I head down for lunch though, I take the little box of tablets from my rucksack and pop a white pill from the foil wrapper. I swallow it down, not needing any water. I feel better even before it has absorbed into my bloodstream. Just knowing I’ve taken it helps.
In the kitchen, I find Zoe stirring a big pot of soup and the sweet earthy smell of carrots and coriander wafts in the air.
‘I’ll set the table,’ I say, opening several cupboard doors before I find the bowls.
‘I was about to do that,’ says Andrea, entering the kitchen. ‘Joanne’s lighting a fire. Apparently, we’re in for some colder weather. Joy.’ She pulls a glum face.
‘Typical,’ I say, handing the bowls to Andrea and rummaging around in the cutlery drawer for spoons.
‘You OK?’ asks Andrea quietly, as Zoe nips through the dining room with a box of matches for Joanne.
‘Yeah. I could do with my phone though. I wouldn’t mind checking in with Alfie.’
‘Only Alfie?’ Andrea raises one eyebrow.
‘Maybe Seb as well,’ I confess.
Andrea gives a laugh as she goes into the kitchen. ‘Maybe?’ she questions. ‘Oh, I think, definitely.’
I look out of the dining-room window and gaze across the driveway to the riverbank beyond. The yellow gorse bushes sway hypnotically from side to side as they are caught and then released by the breeze. It’s a beautiful spot and I imagine on a summer’s day when the sun is shining it would be a heavenly place to come and escape from the world. However, by contrast, the grumpy skies and agitated weather are only adding to the undercurrent of disquiet.
Andrea comes in with some glasses, which she places at each setting. ‘Don’t be worrying about Alfie. He’ll be fine with Bradley and Colin.’
‘I know. Ignore me. I’m fine,’ I say, turning from the window and smiling.
‘That’s the fire lit,’ says Joanne, coming into the room. ‘Right, I’ll bring the soup in. Sit down, everyone.’
‘It smells delicious,’ says Zoe, sitting at the table. ‘I managed to resist the urge to have a little taster earlier when no one was looking.’
‘I know what you mean,’ says Andrea. ‘My stomach has been rumbling like mad.’
‘Well, the wait is over.’ Joanne brings in the pot and places it on the table, before carefully ladling soup into each of our bowls. ‘I’m so glad you all came,’ she says as we tuck in. ‘I was worried that one of you would drop out if I told you beforehand what I had planned.’
I resist looking up at Andrea, it would be a telltale sign of our guilt.
‘Wouldn’t miss this for the world,’ says Zoe. ‘Would we?’
We offer our reassurances that we are as pleased to be here. I take a spoonful of soup to hide my true feelings.
The conversation moves on to the children and I feel my-self tense in anticipation of Alfie and Ruby being mentioned. Since Darren’s death, the two of them have grown incredibly close. Too close for my liking. As if I haven’t been tormented enough by that girl. I say girl, she is nearly twenty, but I’ve known her since she was six years old and it’s hard for me to see her as a grown woman.
As if anticipating my desire to change the topic of conversation, Joanne addresses me. ‘Ruby wasn’t happy about going to my mum’s. She would much rather have stayed at home with Alfie, but she said you had already arranged for him to go to Andrea’s.’
My throat feels incredibly tight and the words catch in my mouth. Even though I was expecting this, my physical reaction far outweighs my mental reaction. My body has gone into overdrive.
