The Cornish Retribution : a gripping psychological drama Page 13

  Jack sets the glass down and pulls me into his arms. I rest my head on his shoulder and with relief, sink into the comfort of his love. He says tenderly, ‘Oh, Mum. Of course not. That’s just nuts. Totally nuts.’

  I sigh, nod and say I know it is. But left unsaid is, it would be, if there wasn’t an empty box in my medicine cupboard where the antidepressants used to be.

  17

  The weekend has gone better than I could ever have expected, but as I wave Jack and Felicity off and close the front door, I let the wall support my weight as a tide of tiredness washes through me. The strain of being my old normal self in front of my son and his girlfriend, my daughter and her husband and little Adam has taken its toll, and now I’m exhausted. Perhaps my BAFTA will be announced soon though, because Jack mentioned how much better I seemed than on Friday when he’d arrived impromptu.

  I’d also had a heart-to-heart with Helena about not seeing her and my grandson as much. I’d told her the truth in part – that I’d been sad and out of sorts since Penny’s death and found it difficult to keep cheerful all the time. Little Adam wouldn’t understand why his grandma was being a misery and I didn’t want to upset him. All true. But Helena needn’t worry any more as her mum was feeling so much better now. I also felt ready to meet the new guests for the retreat and quite positive about the future. Not true.

  Flopping down on the sofa I close my eyes. There is one positive aspect to my life though. In the early hours, I woke with a new story in my head and jotted the bare bones down on the pad by the bed kept for exactly those moments. The pad had been sadly neglected for many months. Instead of my usual suspensy types, my brain had produced a turbulent love story set in Cornwall. An ill-fated relationship would start in the summer with lots of angst and heart-searching for the characters into autumn. But it would end at Christmas with a healthy dollop of sentimentality and feel-good endorphin inducing twinkly stuff. There isn’t enough twinkly stuff in the world by a long chalk, according to me. I could do with twinkly stuff in my own little world. I’m starved of it.

  The old saying ‘alone in a room full of people’ had never been truer for me this weekend. While acting all sparkly and full of the joys, loneliness kept coming up and layering across my shoulders. Little bricks of loneliness, one upon the other, until I felt bowed under its weight. While I was pleased that my children were so happy with their partners, seeing them together made me acutely aware that I was very much alone. Each hug, kiss, loving look between each couple made me long for the past. Long for Adam. Long for twinkly stuff.

  I sit up and slap my hand on the side of the sofa. This is no good. Get your arse up and open a new document. Crack on with the story. Take your mind off your woes. Wallowing is not an option. You are a woman, not a hippo. Actually, is it rhinos that wallow in mud? Does it bloody matter, Sam? Go do some writing!

  The writing room is warm and inviting. It has a view over the sea which helps inspiration, normally; however, there were times of severe procrastination when I would become distracted and watch the waves. This afternoon feels procrastination free, though. Maybe the lies are working. Perhaps I’m beginning to believe them. The future’s bright, a new story is waiting at the tips of my fingers, and all thoughts of missing antidepressants have been buried with the past.

  Not a good analogy. Burials present an image of Penny’s white coffin adorned with the red roses Dan placed lovingly on top. I hadn’t stayed until the end, it was too heart breaking. Penny was too young to die. Far too young. Who could have possibly predicted this terrible ending when we had been the best of friends, laughing, carefree, the world at our feet? Who could have predicted how we would have become caught up again in each other’s lives after so long, with disastrous consequences for one of us?

  I push these thoughts away and open a new document. My old novel had been 60,000 words in and had taken hours of work. But it had to go, obviously, after Penny had opted to… Damn it! I need to stop bringing everything back to that. Okay, the title of the new one – I type Christmas in Cornwall and then the doorbell jangles. Fuck! Why am I constantly plagued with unexpected bloody visitors! There’s no wonder I can never get on with anything positive while there’s a line of fucking people hanging on the doorbell every five seconds!

  I wrench open the door, my temper’s so hot I’m almost hyperventilating…

  It’s Dan looking expectant with a piece of paper in his hand. Bollocks. He’s not coming in. No way.

  ‘Hi, Dan, I’m just starting to write, so can we do this another time?’ Rude, but hey ho.

  He pulls his neck back and frowns down at me. ‘Blimey, you look like an angry tiger. What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing, apart from the fact that it’s the first time I’ve sat down to write in I can’t remember when, and by the time I’ve stopped explaining this to you and you have asked more sodding questions, I’ll have forgotten what the hell I’m supposed to be writing about!’ To my horror, I feel hot tears fill my eyes and my mouth trembling. Dan looks so hurt and shocked. Why am I being like this to him?

  His eyes flood with sympathy and he steps forward, puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘Hey, love. Sorry to upset you, I really didn’t mean to. There’s more behind it than the writing, I can tell.’

  No. He can’t be nice to me or I’ll just crumple. Try as I might, I can’t speak. I just shake my head. Then I go to close the door on him except I can’t, because he’s got one foot inside and his hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Let me come in, we can have a cup of tea and I’ll lend an ear. I’m good at that.’ He puts his other foot inside and closes the door behind him.

  How bloody rude? I swallow away tears and make my eyes small. ‘Come in, why don’t you?’

  ‘I can tell when you need a friend. Now we’re going into your kitchen and you’re getting stuff off your chest, okay?’ Dan walks past me down the hallway.

  ‘Not much choice, have I?’ I mutter to my reflection in the hall mirror. For once I’m dressed and looking decent. That has to be a bonus.

  Dan’s tactics are practically see-through. For ten minutes he’s not asked me what’s wrong, just talked about the papers in his hand – they need my signature to agree to the building of a small swimming pool and another hot tub to replace the hole in the concrete that’s out there now. I had asked for the original hot tub to be removed soon after Penny was found. There was no way I was ever going in it again, I couldn’t bear to even look at it. One of the times Dan had contacted me a few weeks back, I’d agreed to the pool idea. It would make the retreat even more appealing apparently. And I couldn’t care less. I’m sure any second now, he’ll shelve his businessman head and chuck me a searching question in a nonchalant way when he thinks I’m off guard. He always used to do that. But I’m ready for him.

  ‘Biscuit?’ he asks, shaking the tin at me. I decline and drink my tea. Dan crunches into a chocolate chip cookie and says from the corner of his mouth, ‘I must say you look a bit calmer now than when you opened the door to me. What’s been bothering you, Sam?’

  There we go. I can still read him like a book. ‘I told you, I was trying to write.’ I look over the rim of my cup at him. I’ve been avoiding doing this so far because of his disarming handsomeness. But now I take in his eyes, his face, and see he looks like the personification of twinkly and so desirable I nearly choke on my tea. It must be the mood I’m in. Still, it will help with the new novel. I put the cup down and push back my chair. ‘So if that’s all, I’d like to continue with my day.’

  Dan guffaws and biscuit crumbs spatter on the table. ‘“I’d like to continue with my day”?’ he mimics in a voice like the Queen’s. ‘Please. You’re cracking me up.’

  At first, I want to slap him but then I realise how pompous I sound and burst out laughing. Not a little giggle but a big guffaw much huger than his. And I can’t stop. Laughter grips my stomach and squeezes it so hard that I can hardly draw breath, but, somehow, I do and laugh and laugh and laugh. Until I realise that I�
�m not laughing any more. I’m sobbing instead, and Dan’s arms go around me, draw me into the comfort of his chest and I’m gone. I’m a snot-bubbling shaking out of control mess.

  ‘Hey, hey, baby,’ he says into my hair. ‘Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.’

  Baby and sweetheart are not what he should be calling me at all, but I can’t help but squeeze him tight, lean into the strength of him. I can’t say anything for a while but then I can’t stop talking. My stupid heart overrules my head and between gulping sobs, out come my worst fears as well as disclosure of the missing antidepressants.

  Dan is silent for a while, then holds me at arm’s length. ‘Right. Now let’s sit you down and get you a glass of wine.’ He thrusts a handful of tissues from the box on the counter at me. ‘There’s no way you did anything, do you hear me?’

  I take the wine he hands me but don’t drink. I need a clear head, particularly with the way he’s making me feel. ‘If I didn’t, how do you explain the missing tablets?’

  ‘There are a number of explanations for that.’ Dan pushes a lock of hair from my forehead and I sit back a bit on the sofa. Put some distance between us. ‘Number one is that you misremembered where you put them. You might have thrown them out and just forgot. The second is that Penny took them.’

  A gut feeling tells me the first one isn’t viable. I know in my heart of hearts I didn’t throw them away. I say, ‘No to the first. The second one – how the hell could she have taken them? When would she, and how did she know about them and where they were?’ Before I know what I’m doing, I swallow a big gulp of wine. Is there any wonder?

  ‘How did she know about them?’ Dan raises an eyebrow. ‘That’s easy. Because you told her, love. She might have just gone for a snoop on the off chance you had some left. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to imagine they’d be in the bathroom cabinet.’

  Listening to Dan’s rational reasoning is reducing my anxiety by the moment. What he’s saying does make perfect sense. Except for one thing. ‘That night she was out of it though, wasn’t she? If she’d gone rifling through my cupboards there’d be stuff all over the place – on the floor. Everywhere. When I looked for the tablets everything was as it should be. And wouldn’t someone have heard or seen her?’

  Dan ponders on this a moment, looks at me over the rim of his glass. I look away. His eyes are mesmerising. ‘Not if she’d done it another time. Perhaps she’d planned it and took them weeks before.’

  ‘Really? Would she have been so cold and calculating about taking her own life?’

  ‘I have no idea – but it’s certainly possible. She could have taken them the night of the dinner party for a start. She knew about them before then, because she told me, and I stupidly mentioned it to you. You know, when we were upstairs that night and we–’

  ‘Yes… no need to elaborate, Dan.’ My face is on fire at the thought of what we did. And he’s right; Penny could have taken them that night. A warning voice whispers in my ear as he gives me a slow smile. Dan could have taken them that night too. Then I tell myself off. Dan wouldn’t stoop so low. I need to accept that Penny took her own life and that’s that.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ He puts his head on one side, smiles again.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. What you say makes sense. I just wish I could stop thinking about it all and worrying. It does help to have told someone about the missing antidepressants though.’ I drain my glass and flop back on the sofa.

  ‘Of course it does. And I’m here to tell you to stop worrying, sweetheart. I would stake my life on the fact that you had absolutely nothing to do with Penny’s death.’

  I ignore the sweetheart bit. ‘But how can you be so sure, even when I’m not?’

  Dan moves closer and the skin on my arm tingles as he brushes against it. ‘Because I know you, Sam. I know you would never do anything like that, no matter how drunk you were. You’re a good person, one of the best. I believe in you one hundred percent.’

  I can’t look at him, because that’s not true, is it? I sigh and come to a decision. I’ve told him everything else, so I might as well go for the hat-trick. ‘The thing is, Dan, I’m not a good person. Or, at least I wasn’t once. I did a terrible thing. The day after I found you with Penny…’ I swallow and look at my hands. ‘I told her to meet me in the toilets and–’

  ‘Flushed her head down the bog and burnt her back with a fag. Yes, she told me.’ Dan’s mouth turns up at one side. ‘It was no more than she deserved after years of being besties with you. I deserved it too, and I would have taken it – gladly.’

  ‘No, it can never be justified.’ I sit back, fold my arms, though I can’t conceal my relief at his reaction.

  ‘It can. We shat on you from a great height and I’ll always regret it. Always. I love you, Sam. Always have, always will.’

  I open my mouth to protest but Dan gives me a long hard look and then his lips are on mine. My arms come up to his chest in a half-hearted attempt to stop him, but it’s not what I want. I kiss him back and then suddenly we’re lying on the floor; his hands are all over me and I’m in danger of giving in to what we both want so much. Then behind Dan’s shoulder, I see a photo of Adam on the mantelpiece and my passion cools immediately. I scoot out from under him and stand up, straighten my clothes.

  Dan looks up at me, desire aflame in his eyes. ‘Sam? What’s wrong… I thought–’

  ‘Yes, and so did I. But it’s not right. It can’t happen.’

  ‘But why?’ He sits up, buttons his shirt.

  ‘Penny, for one! If we do this then she’d be right, wouldn’t she? Imagine what everyone would say? Jack, Helena, everyone.’ I throw my hands up and they fall with a slap at my hips.

  Dan pulls a face. ‘Right. You only stopped because you’re worried about what people might think?’

  Did I? I don’t know, but I know it’s not happening. ‘Maybe, but I’d like you to leave now, Dan. Thanks for helping to get my head straight and for believing that I could never have been involved in Penny’s death. But I beg you to keep what I told you today a secret… and we can’t do this ever again. Okay?’

  He stands up, brushes a hand over his jeans, and heaves a sigh. ‘If that’s what you want. Though I can’t pretend my feelings for you will change. And, of course, I won’t tell anyone about the missing drugs. Who would I tell and why? I’ve just told you I love you, for God’s sake.’ He looks at me, a pained expression on his face, then he turns and heads for the door.

  I follow him, feeling like someone has pulled the plug out of my heart and all the twinkly stuff is leaking down the drain. My head takes over and tells me that it’s for the best and it would be a disaster if we got together. I couldn’t face my children for a start and–

  Dan turns at the door and he cups my face with both of his hands. ‘If you change your mind I’ll be waiting. I’ll always be waiting.’ Then he places a gentle kiss on my forehead and opens the door. As he steps through he says, ‘I’m off to Sheffield later to sort out some business, but I’ll see you Tuesday afternoon when the first guests come, okay?’

  ‘Yep. It’s a good job they’re not local and know about Penny, I bet it would put them off. Hope they don’t somehow come across any old newspapers.’

  ‘Eh? How could they? Old news now. Local rags are yesterday’s chip paper.’ Dan laughs and runs his hand through his hair. ‘Remember those chips we had as kids at Jim’s Big Fryer on a Thursday after youth club?’

  The memory makes me smile. ‘God, yes. A sneaky fag, a can of lager shared between us and some chips. The height of sophistication.’

  ‘Good times though, Sam.’ Dan gives me a tender smile. ‘Anyway, you ready for the guests, yeah?’

  The idea of guests both thrills and scares the hell out of me. I say of course I am, nod and wave, then close the door behind him. In the living room I pick up his wine glass and press my lips to the rim, inhale the lingering notes of his cologne. Enough. My focus needs to be on the new business and writing
. Twinkly stuff is what you make it and I’m sure it will be great looking after the new guests and helping them with their writing journey. I like meeting new people, or did before my life was turned upside down after Adam’s death. Now with all the Penny stuff I realise I’ve just retreated from life and too far into my shell. A shell filled with slippery slopes, darkness and despair.

  I put Dan’s glass in the dishwasher and make myself a promise. I promise to find the positive mood I had about starting the new book before Dan turned up, and crack on with it. I also promise that this afternoon will be a new start. There’ll be no more going back to dwelling on Penny and all that goes with it. Samantha is out of her shell now and she’s staying out.

  18

  It’s December, it’s Tuesday, and I’m feeling good. I have kept my promises and am ridiculously pleased that four chapters of Christmas in Cornwall is tucked away safely on my computer. I’m up, showered, breakfasted and dressed in new black jeans ans a red smart-ish jumper. I’m wearing make-up and it’s only 8.30am. The three guests are due at about two o’clock and I need to get a few extra bits in for the retreat. I had a look yesterday and it’s almost perfect, but needs a few home touches. My mental list has candles, nice soaps and cake on it. Dan has sorted the rest of the food and drink – a home delivery yesterday made sure the guests will want for nothing. There will even be a caterer to provide all their meals, so I don’t have to worry about that.

  Dan’s very good at organising, I’ve found. He’d phoned to check that the food had come yesterday and finished by saying that all I’d have to do now is look beautiful and swan around being the author. That made me laugh. He does tend to make me laugh. I swill thoughts of his face down the sink with my coffee dregs and set off for Newquay.