Into the Water 9 страница

Morgan shook her head. ‘It’s a diet pill, ’ she said.

‘Katie wasn’t overweight, ’ he said, realizing how stupid that sounded even as he said it. ‘They talk about it all the time, though, don’t they? Teenage girls. About their weight. And not just teenagers, either. Grown women, too. My fiancé e never shuts up about it. ’

True, though not the whole truth. Because his fiancé e was no longer his fiancé e, she no longer moaned to him about her weight, nor was she waiting for him to pick her up to accompany him to Má laga. In her last email, sent some months ago now, she’d wished misery on him, told him she’d never forgive him for the way he’d treated her.

But what had he done that was so terrible? If he’d been a truly awful man, a cold, cruel, unfeeling man, he’d have strung her along for appearances’ sake. It would have been in his interests, after all. But he wasn’t a bad man. It was just that when he loved, he loved completely – and what on earth was wrong with that?

After the detective left, he walked around the house, opening drawers, thumbing through the pages of books, looking. Looking for something he knew very well he wouldn’t find. The night after Midsummer, angry and frightened, he’d built a fire in the back garden and had piled on to it cards and letters, a book. Other gifts. If he looked out of the back window now, he could still see it, a little patch of scorched earth where he had eradicated every trace of her.

As he pulled open the desk drawer in his living room, he knew exactly what he’d see, because this wasn’t the first time he’d done it. He’d searched and searched for something he’d missed, sometimes in fear and often in grief. But he’d been thorough that first night.

There were pictures, he knew, in the head’s office at school. A file. Closed now, but still kept. He had a key to the admin block and he knew exactly where to look. And he wanted something, he needed something to take with him. This wasn’t a triviality, it was essential, he felt, because the future was suddenly so uncertain. He had an inkling that when he turned the key in the back door, locking up the house, he might never do that again. Perhaps he wouldn’t come back. Perhaps it was time to disappear, to start over.

He drove to the school, parking in the empty car park. Sometimes Helen Townsend worked there during the school holidays, but there was no sign of her car today. He was alone. He let himself into the building and headed up past the staff room to Helen’s office. Her door was closed, but when he tried the handle, he found it unlocked.

He pushed the door open, breathing in the nasty chemical whiff of carpet cleaner. He crossed the room to the filing cabinet and pulled open the top drawer. It had been emptied, and the drawer below was locked. He realized with an acute sense of disappointment that someone had rearranged everything, that in fact he didn’t know exactly where to look, that perhaps this had been a wasted journey. He darted out to the hallway to check that he was still alone – he was, his red Vauxhall still the only vehicle in the car park – and went back to the head’s office. Taking care not to disturb anything, he opened Helen’s desk drawers one by one, looking for the keys to the filing cabinet. He didn’t find them, but he did find something else: a trinket he couldn’t imagine Helen wearing. Something which struck him as vaguely familiar. A silver bracelet with an onyx clasp, and an engraving reading SJA.

He sat and stared at it for a long time. He couldn’t for the life of him think what it meant, the fact that it was here. It meant nothing. It couldn’t mean anything. Mark replaced the bracelet in the desk, abandoned his search and returned to his car. He had the key in the ignition when it struck him exactly when he’d seen that bracelet last. He’d seen it on Nel, outside the pub. They’d spoken briefly. He’d watched her head off towards the Mill House. But before that, before she had left him, she had been fidgeting with something on her wrist as they spoke, and there, it was there. He retraced his steps, went back to Helen’s office and opened the drawer, took the bracelet and put it into his pocket. He knew as he was doing it that if someone asked him why, he wouldn’t be able to explain himself.

It was, he thought, as though he were in deep water, as though he were reaching for something, anything, to save himself. It was as though he had reached for a lifebuoy and instead found weeds, and grabbed hold of them anyway.

Erin

THE BOY – JOSH – was standing outside the house when we arrived, like a little soldier on guard, pale and watchful. He greeted the DI politely, looking more suspiciously at me. He was holding a Swiss army knife in his hands, his fingers working nervously around the blade as he opened and closed it.

‘Is your mum in, Josh? ’ Sean asked him, and he nodded.

‘Why do you want to talk to us again? ’ he asked, his voice rising with a sharp squeak. He cleared his throat.

‘We just need to check a couple of things, ’ Sean said. ‘It’s nothing to worry about. ’

‘She was in bed, ’ Josh announced, his eyes flicking from Sean’s face to mine. ‘That night. Mum was asleep. We were all asleep. ’

‘What night? ’ I asked. ‘What night was that, Josh? ’

He blushed and looked down at his hands and fiddled with his knife. A little boy who hadn’t learned yet how to lie.

His mother opened the door behind him. She looked from me to Sean and sighed, rubbing her fingers over her brows. Her face was the colour of weak tea and when she turned to talk to her son I noticed that her back was hunched, like an old woman. She beckoned him to her, speaking quietly.

‘But what if they want to talk to me too? ’ I heard him asking.

She placed her hands firmly on his shoulders. ‘They won’t, darling, ’ she said. ‘Off you go. ’

Josh closed his knife and slipped it into his jeans pocket, his eyes on mine as he did. I smiled and he turned away, walking quickly down the path, glancing back just once as his mother was pulling the door closed behind us.

I followed Louise and Sean into a big, bright living room leading out into one of those boxy, modern conservatories which seem to make the house bleed seamlessly into the garden. Outside, I could see a wooden hutch on the lawn and bantams, pretty black and white and golden hens, scratching around for food. Louise indicated for us to sit on the sofa. She lowered herself into the armchair opposite, slowly and carefully, like someone recovering from an injury, afraid of inflicting more damage.

‘So, ’ she said, raising her chin slightly as she looked at Sean. ‘What have you got to tell me? ’

He explained that the new blood tests gave the same results as the original ones: there were no traces of drugs in Katie’s system.

Louise listened, shaking her head in clear disbelief. ‘But you don’t know, do you, how long that sort of drug stays in the system? Or how long it takes for the effects to manifest, or to wear off? You can’t dismiss this, Sean—’

‘We’re dismissing nothing, Louise, ’ he said evenly. ‘All I’m telling you is what we have found. ’

‘Surely … well, surely supplying illegal drugs to someone – to a child – is an offence, in any case? I know …’ She grazed her teeth over her lower lip. ‘I know it’s too late to punish her, but it should be made known, don’t you think? What she did? ’

Sean said nothing. I cleared my throat and Louise glared at me as I began to speak.

‘From what we’ve discovered, Mrs Whittaker, regarding the timing of the purchase of the pills, Nel could not have purchased them. Although her credit card was used, it—’

‘What are you suggesting? ’ Her voice rose angrily. ‘Now you’re saying Katie stole her credit card? ’

‘No, no, ’ I said. ‘We’re not saying anything of the sort …’

Her face changed as realization dawned on her. ‘Lena, ’ she said, leaning back in her chair, her mouth fixed in grim resignation. ‘Lena did it. ’

We didn’t know that for sure either, Sean explained, though we would certainly be questioning her about it. In fact, she was due to visit the station that afternoon. He asked Louise whether she’d found anything else of concern amongst Katie’s possessions. Louise dismissed the question bluntly. ‘This is it, ’ she said, leaning forward. ‘Can’t you see that? You combine the pills and this place and the fact that Katie spent so much time round at the Abbotts’, surrounded by all those pictures and those stories, and …’ She tailed off. Even she didn’t seem entirely convinced by the story she was telling. Because even if she was right, and even if those pills had made her daughter depressed, none of it changed the fact that she hadn’t noticed.

I didn’t say that, of course, because what I had to ask was difficult enough. Louise was hauling herself to her feet, assuming our meeting to be over, expecting us to leave, and I had to stop her.

‘There’s something else we need to ask you about, ’ I said.

‘Yes? ’ She remained standing, her arms crossed over her chest.

‘We wondered if you would be prepared to let us take your fingerprints—’

She interrupted before I could explain. ‘What for? Why? ’

Sean shifted uneasily in his chair. ‘Louise, we have a matching print from the pill bottle you gave me and from one of Nel Abbott’s cameras, and we need to establish why. That’s all. ’

Louise sat back down. ‘Well, they’re probably Nel’s, ’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t you imagine? ’

‘They’re not Nel’s, ’ I replied. ‘We’ve checked. They’re not your daughter’s either. ’

She flinched at that. ‘Of course they’re not Katie’s. What would Katie be doing with the camera? ’ She pursed her lips, raising her hand to the chain around her neck, running the little bluebird back and forth. She sighed heavily. ‘Well, they’re mine, of course, ’ she said. ‘They’re mine. ’

It happened three days after her daughter died, she told us. ‘I went to Nel Abbott’s house. I was … well, I doubt you can imagine the state I was in, but you can try. I beat on her front door, but she wouldn’t come out. I wouldn’t give up, I just stayed there, pounding on the door and calling out for her, and eventually, ’ she said, sweeping a strand of hair from her face, ‘Lena opened the door. She was crying, sobbing, practically hysterical. It was quite a scene. ’ She tried and failed to smile. ‘I said some things to her – cruel things, I suppose, in retrospect, but …’

‘What sort of things? ’ I asked.

‘I … I don’t really remember the details. ’ Her composure was starting to slip, her breath shortening, her hands gripping the sides of her armchair, the effort turning the olive skin over her knuckles to yellow. ‘Nel must have heard me. She came outside and told me to leave them alone. She said’ – Louise gave a yelping laugh – ‘she said that she was sorry for my loss. She was sorry for my loss, but it had nothing to do with her, nothing to do with her daughter. Lena was on the ground, I remember that, she was making a noise like … like an animal. A wounded animal. ’ She paused to catch her breath before continuing. ‘We argued, Nel and I. It was rather violent. ’ She half smiled at Sean. ‘You’re surprised? You’ve not heard this before? I thought Nel would have told you about it – or Lena, at least. Yes, I … well, I didn’t hit her, but I lunged at her, and she held me off. I demanded to see the footage from her camera. I wanted … I didn’t want to see it, but I wanted more than anything for her not to have … I couldn’t bear …’

Louise broke down.

Watching someone in the throes of raw grief is a terrible thing; the act of watching feels violent, intrusive, a violation. Yet we do it, we have to do it, all the time, you just have to learn to cope with it whatever way you can. Sean coped by bowing his head and remaining very still; I coped with distraction: I watched the chickens scratching around on the lawn outside the window. I looked at the bookshelves, my eyes passing over worthy contemporary novels and military-history books; I took in the framed pictures above the fireplace. The wedding photo and the family shot and the photograph of a baby. Just one, a little boy in blue. Where was Katie’s picture? I tried to imagine what it would feel like to take the framed picture of your child down from its place of pride and put it in a drawer. When I looked over at Sean, I saw that his head was no longer bent, he was glowering at me. I realized that there was a tapping sound in the room and that it was coming from me, the sound of my pen knocking against my notepad. I wasn’t doing it deliberately. I was shaking all over.

After what seemed like a very long time, Louise spoke again. ‘I couldn’t bear for Nel to be the last one to see my child. She told me there was no footage, that the camera wasn’t working, that even if it had been, it was up on the cliff, so it wouldn’t have … wouldn’t have captured her. ’ She heaved a huge sigh, a shudder working itself through her entire body, from her shoulders to her knees. ‘I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t risk it. What if there was something on camera and she used it? What if she showed my girl to the world, alone and frightened and …’ She stopped and took a deep breath. ‘I told her … Lena must have told you all this? I told her that I wouldn’t rest until I saw her pay for what she’d done. Then I left. I went to the cliff and tried to open the camera to get the SD card out of it, but I couldn’t. I tried to break it free from its mount, I ripped my fingernail out doing so. ’ She held up her left hand – the nail of her forefinger was stunted and buckled. ‘I kicked it a few times, I smashed at it with a stone. Then I went home. ’

Erin

JOSH WAS SITTING on the pavement opposite the house as we left. He watched us walking towards the car, crossing the road quickly once we’d got fifty yards or so down the street and disappearing into the house. The DI, in his own world, didn’t seem to notice.

‘She wouldn’t rest until she saw Nel pay? ’ I repeated when we reached the car. ‘Does that not sound like a threat to you? ’

Sean regarded me with his familiar, blank expression, his irritating look of not-really-there-ness. He said nothing.

‘I mean, doesn’t it seem odd that Lena wouldn’t even mention that to us? And Josh? That business about them all being asleep? It was such an obvious lie …’

He nodded curtly. ‘Yes. It seemed so. But I wouldn’t set too much store by the tales of grieving children, ’ he said quietly. ‘There’s no telling what he’s feeling, or imagining, or what he thinks he should or shouldn’t be saying. He knows that we know that his mother bore a grudge against Nel Abbott, and I imagine he’s afraid that she’s going to be blamed, that she’s going to be taken away from him. You have to think about how much he’s already lost. ’ He paused. ‘As for Lena, if she truly was as hysterical as Louise suggests, she may not even remember the incident clearly, she may remember very little other than her own distress. ’

For my part, I was finding it difficult to marry Louise’s description of Lena that day – a howling, wounded beast – with the usually self-contained and occasionally venomous girl we had encountered. It seemed bizarre to me that her reaction to her friend’s death would be so extreme, so visceral, when her reaction to her mother’s was so restrained. Was it possible that Lena had been so affected by Louise’s grief, by Louise’s conviction that Nel was to blame for Katie’s death – that she had come to believe it herself? A prickle ran over my skin. It didn’t seem likely, but what if, like Louise, Lena blamed her mother for Katie’s death? And what if she decided to do something about that?

Lena

WHY DO ADULTS always ask the wrong questions? The pills. That’s what they’re all on about now. Those stupid fucking diet pills – I’d forgotten I even bought them, it was so long ago. And now they’ve decided that THE PILLS ARE THE ANSWER TO EVERYTHING and so I had to go to the police station – with Julia, who is my appropriate adult. That made me laugh. She’s, like, the least appropriate adult possible for this particular situation.

They took me into a room at the back of the police station which was not like what you see on television, it was just an office. We all sat around a table and that woman – DS Morgan – asked the questions. Mostly. Sean asked some too, but mostly it was her.

I told the truth. I bought the pills on Mum’s card because Katie asked me to, and neither of us had any clue that they were bad for you. Or I didn’t, in any case, and if Katie did she never said anything to me about it.

‘You don’t seem particularly concerned, ’ DS Morgan said, ‘that they might have contributed to Katie’s negative state of mind at the end of her life? ’

I nearly bit through my tongue. ‘No, ’ I told her, ‘I’m not concerned about that. Katie didn’t do what she did because of any pills. ’

‘So why did she? ’

I should have known she’d seize on that, so I kept talking. ‘She didn’t even take that many. A few, probably not more than four or five. Count the pills, ’ I said to Sean. ‘I’m pretty sure the order was for thirty-five. Count them. ’

‘We will, ’ he said. Then he asked, ‘Did you supply pills to anyone else? ’ I shook my head, but he wouldn’t leave it at that. ‘This is important, Lena. ’

‘I know it is, ’ I told him. ‘That was the only time I bought them. I was doing a favour for a friend. That was all it was. Honestly. ’

He leaned back in his chair. ‘All right, ’ he said. ‘The thing I’m struggling to understand is why Katie would want to take pills like that at all. ’ He looked at me, and then at Julia, as though she might know the answer. ‘It’s not as though she was overweight. ’

‘Well, she wasn’t thin, ’ I said, and Julia made a strange noise, like a cross between a snort and a laugh, and when I looked at her she was looking back at me like she hated me.

‘Did people say that to her? ’ DS Morgan asked me. ‘At school? Were there comments made about her weight? ’

‘Jesus! ’ I was finding it so hard not to lose my temper. ‘No. Katie wasn’t being bullied. You know what? She used to call me skinny bitch all the time. She used to laugh at me, because, you know …’ I got embarrassed because Sean was looking right at me, but I’d started so I had to finish, ‘Because I’ve got no boobs. So she called me skinny bitch and sometimes I replied with fat cow, and neither of us meant it. ’

They didn’t get it. They never do. And the problem was, I couldn’t explain it all properly. Sometimes, I didn’t even understand myself, because although she wasn’t thin, it really didn’t bother her. She never talked about it the way the others did. I’ve never had to try, but Amy and Ellie and Tanya did. Always low-carbing or fasting or purging or whatever-the-fuck. But Katie didn’t care, she liked having tits. She liked the way her body looked, or at least she always used to. And then – I honestly don’t know what it was – some stupid comment on Insta or a dumb remark from some Cro-Magnon at school and she got weird about it. That was when she asked me for the pills. But by the time I’d got them, she seemed to be over it – and she said they didn’t work anyway.

I thought the interview was over. I thought I’d made my point, and then DS Morgan went off on a completely different tangent, asking me about the day Louise came round just after Katie died. I was like, yes, of course I remember that day. It was one of the worst days of my life. I still get upset just thinking about it.

‘I’ve never seen anything like that, ’ I told them, ‘like the way Louise was that day. ’

She nodded, then she asked – all earnest, all concerned, ‘When Louise said to your mother that “she wouldn’t rest until she saw Nel pay”, how did you take that? What did you think she meant by that? ’

I lost it then. ‘She didn’t mean anything, you fucking moron. ’

‘Lena. ’ Sean was glaring at me. ‘Language, please. ’

‘Well, I’m sorry, but for God’s sake! Louise’s daughter had just died, she didn’t even know what she saying. She was crazy. ’

I was ready to leave, but Sean asked me to stay. ‘I don’t have to though, do I? I’m not under arrest, am I? ’

‘No, Lena, of course you’re not, ’ he said.

I spoke to him, because he understood. ‘Look, Louise wasn’t serious. She was totally hysterical. Off her head. You remember, don’t you? What she was like? I mean, of course she was saying all sorts of things, we all were, I think we all went a bit mad after Katie died. But – for God’s sake – Louise didn’t hurt Mum. Honestly, I think if she’d had a gun or a knife that day, maybe she would have. But she didn’t. ’

I wanted to tell the whole truth. I really did. Not to the woman detective, not even to Julia, really, but I wanted to tell Sean. But I couldn’t. It would have been a betrayal, and after everything I’d done, I couldn’t betray Katie now. So I said all I could. ‘Louise didn’t do anything to my mother, OK? She didn’t. Mum made her own choice. ’

I got up to go, but DS Morgan wasn’t done yet. She was looking at me, this strange expression on her face, like she didn’t believe a word I’d been saying, and then she said, ‘You know what strikes me as odd, Lena? You don’t seem remotely curious as to why Katie did what she did, and why your mother did what she did. When someone dies like this, the question everyone asks is why. Why would they do that? Why would they take their own lives when they have so much to live for? But not you. And the only reason – the only reason – I can think of for that, is because you already know. ’

Sean took me by the arm and led me from the room before I could say anything.

Lena

JULIA WANTED TO drive me home, but I told her I felt like a walk. It wasn’t true, but a) I didn’t want to be in the car alone with her, and b) I saw Josh, on his bike, across the road, going round and round in circles, and I knew he was waiting for me.

‘’Sup, Josh? ’ I said when he came riding over. When he was about nine or ten, he started saying ‘’Sup? ’ to people instead of hello, and Katie and I never let him forget it. Usually he laughs, but this time he didn’t. He looked frightened. ‘What’s wrong, Josh? What’s happened? ’

‘What were they asking you about? ’ he said in this little whis-pery voice.

‘It’s nothing, don’t worry. They found some pills that Katie took and they think that they – the pills, I mean – might have something to do with … what happened. They’re wrong, obviously. Don’t worry. ’ I gave him a little hug and he pulled away, which he never does. Usually he’ll use any excuse to have a cuddle or hold my hand.

‘Did they ask you about Mum? ’ he said.

‘No. Well, yeah, I suppose. A little. Why? ’

‘I don’t know, ’ he said, but he wouldn’t look at me.

‘Why, Josh? ’

‘I think we should tell, ’ he said.

I could feel the first spots of warm rain on my arms and I looked up at the sky. It was deathly dark, a storm coming over. ‘No, Josh, ’ I said. ‘No. We’re not going to tell. ’

‘Lena, we have to. ’

‘No! ’ I said again, and I grabbed his arm more tightly than I meant to and he yelped like a puppy when you step on its tail. ‘We made a promise. You made a promise. ’ He shook his head and so I dug my nails into his arm.

He started to cry. ‘But what good does it do now? ’

I let go of his arm and put my hands on his shoulders. I forced him to look at me. ‘A promise is a promise, Josh. I mean it. You do not tell anyone. ’

He was right, in a way, we weren’t doing any good. There was no good to be done. But still, I couldn’t betray her. And if they knew about Katie, they’d ask questions about what happened afterwards, and I didn’t want anyone to know about what we did, Mum and I. What we did, and what we didn’t do.

I didn’t want to leave Josh like that, and I didn’t want to go home anyway, so I put my arm around him and gave him a comforting squeeze, and then I took his hand. ‘Come on, ’ I said to him. ‘Come with me. I know something we can do, something that’ll make us feel better. ’ He turned bright red and I started laughing. ‘Not that, you dirty boy! ’ He laughed too then, and wiped the tears from his face.

We walked in silence towards the southern end of town, Josh pushing his bike along beside me. There was no one about, the rain was coming down harder and harder and I could feel Josh sneaking the occasional glance across at me because my T-shirt was now totally see-through and I wasn’t wearing a bra. I crossed my arms over my chest and he blushed again. I smiled, but I didn’t say anything. In fact, we didn’t talk at all until we got to Mark’s road, and then Josh said, ‘What are we doing here? ’ I just grinned at him.

When we were outside Mark’s door he asked again, ‘Lena, what are we doing here? ’ He looked frightened again, but excited too, and I could feel all the adrenaline rushing up inside of me, making me feel dizzy and sick.

‘This, ’ I said. I picked up a stone from under the hedge and chucked it as hard as I could against the big window at the front of his house, and it went straight through, just making a small hole.

‘Lena! ’ Josh yelled, anxiously looking around to see if anyone was watching. They weren’t. I grinned at him and picked up another stone and did it again, and this time it shattered the window and the whole pane came crashing down. ‘Come on, ’ I said to him, and I handed him a stone, and together we went round the whole house. It was like we were high on hatred – we were laughing and shouting and calling that piece of shit every name we could think of.

The Drowning Pool

Katie, 2015

ON THE WAY to the river, she stopped from time to time to pick up a stone, or a piece of brick, which she put into her backpack. It was cold, not yet light, though if she’d turned back to look in the direction of the sea, she would have seen a hint of grey on the horizon. She did not turn back, not once.

She walked quickly at first, down the hill towards the centre of town, putting some distance between herself and her home. She didn’t head straight to the river; she wanted, one last time, to walk through the place she grew up in, past the primary school (not daring to look at it in case flashbacks to her childhood stopped her in her tracks), past the village shop, still shuttered to the night, past the green where her father had tried and failed to teach her to play cricket. She walked past the houses of her friends.

There was a particular house to visit on Seward Road, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to walk along it, so instead she chose another, and her pace slowed as her burden became heavier, as the road climbed back towards the old town, the streets narrowing between stone houses clad with climbing roses.

She continued on her way, north past the church until the road took a sharp turn to the right. She crossed the river, stopping for a moment on the humpbacked bridge. She looked down into the water, oily and slick, moving quickly over stones. She could see, or perhaps only imagine, the dark outline of the old mill, its hulking, rotting wheel still, unturned for half a century. She thought about the girl sleeping inside and laid her hands, bluish-white with cold, on the side of the bridge to stop them from trembling.

She descended a steep flight of stone steps from the road to the riverbank path. On this track she could walk all the way to Scotland if she wanted to. She’d done it before, a year ago, last summer. Six of them, carrying tents and sleeping bags, they did it in three days. They camped next to the river at night, drank illicit wine in the moonlight, telling the stories of the river, of Libby and Anne and all the rest. She couldn’t possibly have imagined back then that one day she would walk where they had walked, that her fate and theirs were intertwined.

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