The Cornish Retribution : a gripping psychological drama Read online

  ‘No. So, he could get head chef?’

  ‘Yep. Though it would mean longer hours and he’s already working so hard.’ Helena furrows her brow and helps little Adam with his breakfast, most of which is all over his face.

  My heart goes out to my daughter. It must be so difficult for her and her Carl. He’s trying so hard to get ahead, make a success at the stylish bistro just off Fistral Beach in Newquay, but it’s killing him. He hardly has time to spend with Helena and Adam either. But that’s the nature of the game and I just hope he has the determination and strength to see it through. Also, that my daughter can cope with raising her son practically alone. I’m always there to help, of course, and do so at least twice a week, but I’m careful never to force myself forward. It’s a tricky balancing act.

  ‘Mum, you with us?’

  ‘Oh sorry, love. Yes, he’s working so hard already. It will be a great opportunity for him though… you know that I’m always here to help, you just have to say.’

  ‘I know… I just don’t like asking you to do more. You have your own life…’ There’s an awkward silence as both of us realise that actually isn’t true. ‘And your writing to get on with.’

  ‘Hmm. Not been doing much of that lately.’ I push my plate to one side and pick up my coffee cup.

  ‘Writer’s block?’

  ‘Kind of… yes, I suppose it is. My head won’t stop living in the past, thinking about your dad and all the plans we–’ The look on Helena’s face and a knot of emotion in my chest stop my words.

  ‘Oh, Mum. That’s only natural. I think about him loads too… wish that he’d lived to see his grandson and…’ Helena’s big blue eyes well up and I wish I’d just kept my misery bottled up inside where it always lives. Before I can rescue the situation, my phone beeps and the screen lights up with a Facebook message. I read it and shake my head.

  ‘Who was that?’ Helena nods at the phone.

  ‘Oh, just an old school friend wondering if I’m going to a ridiculous reunion back up north. I mean, can you imagine?’ I roll my eyes and take a mouthful of coffee.

  ‘But why not? It would do you the world of good to get out and about,’ Helena says wiping Adam’s mouth and lifting him onto her knee.

  ‘“Out and about”? I’m only forty-five, not some octogenarian in a care home, you know.’ My attempt at levity has a bitter edge and I wish it didn’t.

  Helena looks at me. ‘I know that, but tell me honestly, why won’t you go?’

  I look out of the window at the crashing waves. Think carefully about my answer. ‘Because it will be filled with saddos all trying to impress each other with the huge success they’ve made of their lives. People will exaggerate and embroider the truth to make sure they don’t seem ordinary, or worse still, boring. They’ll make sure they spend money they can’t afford on new clothes and make-up to show that they look good for their age, but underlying all that, there will be the stench of fear and anxiety caused by the chance they’ll be caught out.’ I take a breath and look back at my daughter. I’m surprised to see her hiding a smile.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Mum. I think that’s a bit pessimistic to say the least. I suppose that there will be some like that, but most will just go to catch up, remember what it was like being a kid and have a fun time.’

  ‘Nostalgia, my dear, is a dangerous thing. I think leaving the past alone is the best idea. What’s the point in raking up all the misery and angst of your teenage years and dragging it into the present?’

  ‘I had no idea that your schooldays were so awful.’ Helena reaches across the table and places a hand over mine.

  ‘Oh, it wasn’t mostly… I…’ I get up and start to clear away the dishes. There’s no way I’m telling Helena all about the way I was betrayed by Penny and Dan… and the consequences of that. ‘Never mind. Let’s just leave it now – I’m not going and that’s it.’

  ‘What were you about to say?’

  ‘Nothing, love. Just had my heart broken when I was sixteen, but don’t we all?’ So much for not telling her anything. Sometimes my mouth has a mind of its own.

  ‘And will he be at the do? The guy who broke it?’

  ‘That’s who the message was from.’

  ‘Oh my goodness. Tell me everything!’ Helena’s eyes glint with the prospect of gossip.

  ‘No, I think I’ll just leave it there. Another coffee?’

  ‘Yes in a bit when I’ve got this one off for a nap – he was up in the night and is almost nodding off now. Look.’ Helena stands up and pats Adam’s back a few times. He snuggles his head into the crook of her neck. ‘When I have, we’ll have that coffee and then I want chapter and verse on what happened back in the dark ages.’ She gives me a mischievous wink.

  I sigh and load the dishwasher. This is not what I’d planned for the morning.

  Half an hour later, I feel like I’m being interrogated by MI5. ‘Right… so your so-called best friend gets off with your first boyfriend, who you’ve been dating for a year, at a party and that was it? He just leaves you for her?’

  ‘Yes, that’s about the size of it.’

  ‘But why? You are way prettier than her now.’ Helena jabs her finger at Penny’s profile photo on Facebook. ‘So you must have been back then.’

  ‘It’s not just about looks, is it?’

  ‘It is at that age.’

  ‘Not necessarily. There are other things teenagers seem obsessed with too. Especially young men.’

  Helena’s eyes grow round. ‘You mean sex? You wouldn’t sleep with him, but she would?’

  I’m shocked at how quickly Helena has latched on. ‘Er… yep.’

  ‘What a cow! Mind you, he’s just as much to blame. Had you and her been friends for a long time?’

  ‘Since junior school.’

  ‘What a cow! What did you do, Mum?’

  An image of a school toilet flashes. A scrawled note. My back pressed against cold wall tiles as I hide behind a cubicle door, my heart thumping… I blink a few times and the image is gone. I say, ‘Nothing.’

  Helena shakes her head in disgust and stares out at the ocean. ‘That’s because you’re too nice. If I were you I would definitely go to that reunion just to show her how gorgeous you are if nothing else. I bet Dan’s eyes will be out on stalks…’ She gives me a sidelong glance. ‘Not bad looking is he, for an old guy?’

  ‘Hey, less of the old. He’s only a year older than me, and I’m gorgeous don’t forget.’ I laugh and put my hands over my face to cover up pink cheeks.

  ‘Seriously, Mum, it would be a break for you. And even if you don’t want to spend time with Penny and Dan, there will be other people that you know. If you don’t like it, just leave early – simple.’

  I look at my daughter’s earnest face and don’t get why she’s so keen for me to go. ‘I really don’t think it will be worth the time and effort. I haven’t been back to Sheffield for years.’

  ‘Another reason to go. See what’s changed… and it would get you out of yourself. The truth is, I have been a bit worried about you lately, we both have.’ Helena’s eyes are sympathetic, but I feel a twinge of annoyance. Seems like Helena and Carl have been talking about “poor old Sam” behind her back.

  ‘Why worried?’ I try to make my words sound neutral, but they come out stabby and pointy.

  ‘Don’t get mad, it’s just that you spend lots of time alone and brooding about Dad and stuff. You don’t see your friends now and… well I think you might be a bit depressed again.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Perhaps I should see a shrink or go back on the happy pills then?’ I push my chair back and chuck the half-drunk coffee down the sink. Truth be known, I’m as mad with myself as much as Helena, because my daughter’s only voiced the concerns I have already.

  ‘Sorry, Mum. Of course I don’t. I know how tough it was for you coming off those things. I don’t want to upset you… only telling you what I think.’ Helena comes over and puts her hands on my shoulders. ‘Don’t go to th
is daft reunion if you don’t want. Like you say, what would be the point? I was only keen for you to have something a bit different to do.’

  I push dark thoughts away. Poor Helena is only looking out for me. Why did I have to say the stuff about the antidepressants? Cruel. Unnecessary. It was only natural that Helena would be looking for any sign of my depression coming back. I’d beaten it, come off the tablets. There’s no way I’m going back on them. Then I think about what my daughter has said about the reunion. I turn around and give her a quick hug. ‘I’ll consider it, okay? I think you might be right about me feeling a bit down… I wouldn’t go as far as to say I was depressed…’ An image of standing in the sea crying my eyes out yesterday is presented and quickly squashed. ‘But maybe a trip up north would do me good.’

  Helena smiles. ‘I think it would, yes. Now while I’ve got you in a thoughtful mood, what do you think about babysitting Lord Fauntleroy on Wednesday, so I can get my hair done?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure I can do that. I will be far too busy buying a new wardrobe of clothes, having a spray tan, my teeth whitened, and my hair and make-up done.’

  ‘Yeah, right. So, I’ll see you at mine for ten.’

  ‘Yep.’ I smile and hug Helena again. God knows where I’d be without her. I speak to my son Jack a few times a week on the phone, as he’s at uni up country studying to be a vet, but it’s not the same as having someone who you can rely on close by. Adam yells from the back bedroom and Helena hurries off.

  Loading the washing machine, I wonder about my decision to think about the reunion trip. If I’m honest, it scares the shit out of me. It’s been so long since I’ve gone anywhere on my own. Since the age of twenty I’ve been part of a couple. Adam and Sam, Sam and Adam, we’d done everything together, gone everywhere as a two. Now there’s just the one. Sam. Sam and nobody. Sam and nobody would have to walk into a packed school hall and pretend to be confident, cheerful and in control. Why put myself through all that if I don’t have to? Ridiculous.

  No matter how much I try to keep busy, I can’t put the thought of the reunion out of my mind… and once again, as the day draws to a close, I stand on the balcony wrapped in the blanket with a cup of tea. It’s bitterly cold, but in the black sky, the stars and moon shine their light bright, making silver horses of the waves gallop into shore. Looking at the ocean always helps put things into perspective for me, and a calmness fills my chest with every breath. Reason edges into the calm and provokes a question. Isn’t it about time that you challenged yourself? Since meeting Adam at uni, my plans were shelved. Well, about six months before the end of my teaching degree to be precise, when I’d fallen pregnant with Helena.

  There were no regrets about having my lovely daughter, and Adam and I were madly in love, but there was no way I could pursue a teaching career with a baby. I felt the loss of my parents so much at this time. Other young mums had their parents’ support, but sadly both of mine had gone. Poor Dad died at sea – a fishing trip when I was twenty – and Mum died of a heart attack not long after. I reckon it was the stress of it all. I could have finished the year at a later date, but by then I was a busy mum and was already pregnant again with Jack not long afterward. Mere contraception was no barrier against Adam’s super sperm, as he’d liked to joke at the time.

  Once the children were at school, I’d enjoyed many years working in the local library, but in the last few years, I knew I had to leave and pursue my writing dream. We were doing well financially; Adam’s parents had left us this house and we were mortgage free. We’d moved in, sold our other house, so had a fair bit in the bank, Adam had made partner in the firm and everything looked set for a happy secure future.

  I blow on my tea and wrap my cold fingers tight around the mug before taking a sip. Yeah right. Okay, I’m fine financially since Adam has gone, but the future is hardly happy without him, is it?

  Then I think about my writing. Earlier I thought I’d better take on a challenge, but isn’t writing my challenge? I’m quite proud of the way my first two novels have gone. The writing class and scheme I’d joined were invaluable, and last year I’d been taken on by a small publisher. Okay, I’m no JK Rowling regarding royalties, but who is? I smile into the darkness. The main thing is that I enjoy writing and judging by the reviews, my readers seem to appreciate my efforts too.

  I wonder how many old classmates are published authors. I would guess at very few, possibly none. So there was a huge talking point right there for “Sam and nobody” standing in the school hall. In my book, a published author beats spray tans and white teeth any day of the week. Penny might have stolen Dan all those years ago, but perhaps she won’t have that much to share about her accomplishments on the night. I heave a sigh. There I go again. Penny might have just climbed Everest for all I know, but the odds are slim. A giggle escapes as I raise my empty mug to the Atlantic. Bugger it. I’ll go to the reunion and be damned.

  3

  The screech of the train’s brakes pulling into Sheffield station jolts through my stomach and sends my heart plummeting. There’ll be no going back now, even though I seriously considered bailing out more than once when I changed trains on the almost eight-hour journey. Eight bloody hours? I could have flown to New York in the time it had taken me to get the three hundred and odd miles up north. Positively medieval. Up at stupid o’clock too, so if I manage to stay awake at the reunion it will be a miracle. First, I need to check into the hotel, grab a shower, get ready and then have some food. Perhaps there’ll even be time for a nap. My phone says almost 4pm and the reunion starts at 7.30… so that will be a no, then.

  At least the hotel room is nice, and I’m pleased I went for the upgrade. It had to be done really. It went with the expensive dress and shoes I bought, even though I’d initially pooh-poohed all that to Helena the other week. Helena had insisted on coming with me to choose them, and said she’d been blown away by how wonderful her old mum looked. It had been a special day. I sit on the bed and look around. I suppose getting this upgrade makes me feel special too. I can afford it, so why not treat myself? Helena had said as much while grabbing my credit card and booking the room before I could protest. To be honest, the new clothes and expensive suite boosts my confidence, and that’s exactly what I need tonight.

  The room service meal is lovely, though halfway through, I put it to one side. Butterflies have taken up most of the room in my stomach. A shower, full make-up and the new clothes should banish the nerves. In the bathroom, I keep telling myself that I’m just as good as anyone that will be at the reunion, better than some, but the butterflies multiply nevertheless. Perhaps that’s a good thing. Actors always say that a few first night nerves make the performance shine. The fact that I’m not an actor is neither here nor there. If it helps to imagine I am, then that’s fine with me. In my youth, I often pretended I was acting in difficult situations. It had been a long time since I’d needed a costume and props, but tonight I’m due on stage and I need to be in the spotlight, word-perfect.

  The taxi is due in ten minutes and I’m debating whether to wipe some of the eyeshadow off or not. Is it too much… the whole thing? Do I look as if I’m trying too hard? I’d said as much to Helena last week but had been reassured that I looked just right. I dab a fingernail at my eyeliner then tell myself off and leave the bathroom. The full-length mirror in the bedroom catches my eye, however, and now I stand in front of it looking at the dress. It’s red and black and very clingy. I lean forward, pout and fluff my hair. Should I tie it back? It might look more sophisticated… but is that the look I’m going for? The dress says otherwise. Helena enthused that it was fun, sexy and sophisticated, but now I wonder if I look a bit like I’m off to work the streets. The black high heels are already killing me too. Oh hell. What should I do? A glance at the clock says I should stop deliberating, there’s no time to change. It’s now or never.

  I pay the driver and watch him drive away, while all the time wishing I was still in the back seat. Then, turning to fac
e the school, all the fears and worries are snatched away into the dark night because it looks smaller than I remember. Well, not minuscule, but smaller than it had when I’d attended. The past was small too. I have grown, blossomed, am no longer the frightened unsure teenager that had been cheated on, betrayed. I can do this. I will do it. I am the lead in a sold-out play and about to put on another stellar performance. A smile finds my lips, I pull back my shoulders and stride down the drive to the front door of the school as confidently as my heels will allow.

  Ah good, it’s packed. Through the double doors in the hall, I can make out crowds of people in the midst of flashing lights, and the hubbub of voices and laughter is a roar even through the glass. I’m so glad I’d ordered the taxi to drop me forty-five minutes after the start, so I wouldn’t be standing there on my own in the hall like Billy No-Mates. At the desk, I collect my name badge and pin it to my right shoulder. Sam Hennessy. It’s been a long time since I’ve used that name. In the hall, the thumping nineties music and strobe lights on the dance floor cause a few butterflies to resurface, but this time they are caused by excitement rather than nerves, and I step inside.

  A quick scan of the dance floor turns up no familiar faces, so I decide to get a drink and go into the offshoot hall where people are sitting at tables engrossed in conversation. The wine tastes like vinegar but it’s better than nothing, and after a few more gulps, courage takes my hand and leads me out of the noisy hall and into relative calm. A few people glance at me and smile, though it’s out of politeness rather than recognition, and I sit at a table near the back wall, a rictus grin stretching my lips. Dear God, I’ll frighten anyone away with that… This is where the acting is required. Forcing a more natural smile, I nod at a woman who I half remember. Wasn’t she in my science class…? Something about her fainting during a dissection is whispering at the edge of my memory. Suddenly it’s all too much and I decide to escape for a bit.