The Guest, page 23
“Come on,” she said.
He raised his head and gave her a lopsided smile. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home before you disgrace yourself,” she said, relieved that he wasn’t being aggressive.
“Fine by me.”
He pushed up, knocking over Iris’s glass of water, and made his way to the door, stumbling as he went. Hugh looked over at her.
“Need help?” he mouthed.
She looked for Gabriel. He was deep in conversation with Esme’s mum so she nodded at Hugh.
“Sorry,” she said, when he came over. “Joseph’s drunk, he needs to go home. I’ll go with him to make sure he gets there.”
Hugh glanced at Joseph’s departing back. “I’ll come with you.”
“No, you need to be here. Gabriel can help, or Marcus.”
He looked around for them, then shook his head. “It’s fine, we won’t be long. I’ll tell Esme.”
Iris watched as he went to Esme and whispered to her. Esme looked over, and placed her hands together. Thank you. Iris gave her a quick smile.
“You don’t have to come,” Hugh said as they hurried after Joseph. “I can manage.”
“It’s fine, I could do with some fresh air. I’m sorry about Joseph. Esme asked me to keep an eye on him, and I tried, but he kept drinking out of Nicola’s glass. He was already drunk when Gabriel went to fetch him,” she added, in case Hugh didn’t know.
“Between you and me, I’m delighted he’s leaving,” he growled.
They caught up with Joseph and got him to his cottage, Hugh helping him when he stumbled, and settled him at his table with a jug of water and a glass. He slumped forward onto the table, mumbling about Charlie and how everything had been his fault.
“Do you think it’s all right to leave him?” Iris asked Hugh, talking over Joseph’s mumbles.
“We need to get back to the christening,” he said curtly, his annoyance with Joseph obvious. “I’ll get Marcus to come and check on him later.”
“He needs something to eat,” Iris said, opening the cupboards. “He didn’t have anything at the christening.” She found a can of beans and a pan. “Could you open them, please, while I look for a couple of slices of bread?”
Hugh opened the can, tipped the beans into the pan and put it on the stove. “He can heat them himself,” he said.
“Okay.” Iris looked at Joseph. His head was on the table. “Joseph!” He opened his eyes. “There are some beans for you, and some bread. Make sure you eat them before Esme gets back. You owe it to her not to be drunk. Do you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She followed Hugh from the cottage. “Do you know where he’s going when he leaves tomorrow?” she asked. “Has he got another job to go to?”
“I don’t think he’ll be leaving tomorrow, in view of the state he’s in,” Hugh said. “But no, he doesn’t have another job. He’s going to Thailand apparently. According to Esme, he spends a month in Bangkok each year, usually during the summer. He missed out this year because he was working for us, so he’s going now instead.”
They rejoined the christening group and an hour later, Esme and Hugh’s family and friends began to leave. By the time the goodbyes had been said, it was almost five o’clock.
“Thank God that’s over,” Esme said with a heartfelt sigh. “It was lovely though, wasn’t it? Despite Joseph.”
“Nobody really noticed,” Iris said. “And hopefully he’ll have sobered up by now. Come on, let’s go back to ours.”
66
Gabriel handed Iris a glass of champagne, and then gave one to Esme, his fingers shaking slightly on the stem.
“I didn’t drink at all at the christening, so I’m allowed this,” Esme said. She looked over at Iris. “Thank you for inviting us back here. It’s lovely to be able to relax now that it’s finally over.”
Iris smiled. “You deserve it.”
“It was a great day, though.” Hugh raised his glass. “Here’s to Hamish. And his mum, of course.”
“And to you,” Gabriel said. “The proud father.”
The four of them drank, and Esme gave a contented sigh. “Gosh, I’ve missed this so much.”
Hugh raised his glass again. “Iris, Gabriel, it’s been one hell of a summer. Here’s to happier times.”
A silence fell on the group. Gabriel cleared his throat. “Thank you, Hugh. As you said—”
An almighty explosion, followed by the panicked rustling of birds taking flight from the trees drowned out the rest of his words. Iris’s heart thudded, echoing the boom still reverberating in the air. And then, deathly silence.
For a few seconds, they were a tableau frozen in time. Gabriel and Hugh standing, their champagne glasses in their hands, their heads turned toward the sound of the explosion; Iris, the alarm in her eyes mirrored in Esme’s. Even baby Hamish paused in his nuzzling, and Esme, the instinct to protect her child automatically taking over, tightened her arms around him. Reassured, he went back to drinking, his tiny legs kicking under his blanket, the only movement in the stillness.
“I hope that wasn’t the house,” Esme joked, breaking the spell the explosion had cast over them. “Not after all our hard work.”
“Maybe I should—” Hugh stopped mid-sentence, his attention caught by something. Iris followed his line of vision and saw black smoke billowing into the sky.
In the distance a siren wailed, then became louder.
Gabriel turned to Hugh. “Shall we go and take a look?”
“Good idea. It looks a bit too close to home for comfort,” Hugh added, his voice low. He looked over at Esme. “We won’t be long.”
“As long as Joseph hasn’t blown himself up,” Esme said, detaching Hamish from her breast and shifting him to the other side. “I’m so disappointed in him.” Hamish settled, she stretched out her free hand and laid it on Iris’s arm. “Thank you for taking him home before he became completely out of control.”
“I only suggested taking him home because I didn’t want everyone to see him in that state.” Iris paused. “Do you think he fell off the wagon before today and managed to hide it from everyone?”
“I don’t know, but I’m furious, and disappointed and everything else in between. I’m beginning to regret asking him to be Hamish’s godfather.” She looked suddenly nervous. “He didn’t say anything, did he, when you and Hugh took him home? He tends to shout his mouth off when he’s drunk.”
“No,” Iris said. “Don’t worry.”
“I should have been upfront with Hugh in the first place,” Esme fretted.
“It doesn’t matter now. Joseph is leaving tomorrow, isn’t he?”
“If he’s sober enough.” She moved Hamish to her shoulder and began to pat his back and, as Iris listened to her chattering about the christening, and how lovely it had been, an extraordinary sense of well-being flowed through her body. For the first time in months, she felt at peace.
“Oh, they’re back!” Esme exclaimed.
Iris turned her head toward the terrace, but before she could register that anything was wrong, Esme had thrust Hamish into her arms and was hurrying across the lawn toward Hugh. Alarmed, Iris caught Gabriel’s eye, and her heart dropped at the desolation on his face. Moving Hamish to her shoulder, she took comfort from the warm, sleepy weight of him and, as she began rubbing his back, her eyes fixed worriedly on Hugh and Esme, he obligingly expelled little pockets of milky air. And then a wail started, and at first she thought it was coming from Hamish.
But it wasn’t Hamish, it was Esme, weeping brokenly in Hugh’s arms.
67
“Do you think we’re jinxed?” Gabriel asked. “Pierre, Laure, and now Joseph. Three deaths in the space of three months. And that’s not counting Charlie.”
“Stop it, Gabriel,” Iris said sharply.
But he couldn’t. It was a death too many. Joseph had blown himself up while drunk. Nobody was sure what had happened, but it seemed he’d turned on the gas and had forgotten to light it. The police said that he must have gone back to sleep and had either struck a match when he’d eventually come around, or turned on the light. Either way, there had been so much gas in the room that the explosion had been violent and deadly.
The remains of an empty whisky bottle had been found amid the debris.
“He must have had a secret stash hidden away,” Iris said, when Gabriel had told her. “Because it certainly wasn’t in sight when Hugh and I were there. We would have taken it away from him.”
When Hugh had checked their drinks cupboard, he’d found a bottle of whisky missing. From the remnants of glass found in Joseph’s cottage, the police had been able to establish that it was the same brand as the missing bottle. He’d had keys to the house, so the conclusion was that he’d taken it.
Gabriel hated himself for it, but there had been a moment when he’d looked at Hugh and thought—What if? He wouldn’t have had that thought if Iris hadn’t told him about Esme and Joseph. But when he remembered that, he then thought about Laure’s death and found himself wondering about Esme, because how well did they really know Hugh and Esme? They’d only met them a few months ago. He and Iris had met Pierre and Laure twenty years ago and had spent countless weekends and holidays with them, and it turned out they hadn’t known them at all.
“I’d better go up and check on Beth,” Iris said.
Gabriel raised his head. “Do you want me to go?”
“No, it’s fine.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding in. It was the first time he hadn’t felt up to comforting Beth because he wasn’t sure what he could say to make her feel better. She had barely stopped weeping since she’d found out about Joseph.
Admittedly, it had been brutal. She’d come running down from her bedroom, still in her pajamas, drawn by the sound of Esme’s sobbing.
“What’s happened?” she’d asked, her eyes on Esme. “I heard the explosion, I was trying to work out where it came from.”
“It’s Joseph,” he’d said, still in a state of shock himself. “He blew himself up.”
“What?” Her face had bleached white and he’d just had time to catch her before she hit the floor.
“No,” she’d wept. “No.” And then her voice had risen to a scream. “No!”
Gabriel looked over at Iris.
“Do you think her reaction to Joseph’s death was a little over the top?” he asked.
“Whose? Beth’s or Esme’s?”
“Beth’s.”
“Not really. She’s been through a lot this summer.”
“Has she said anything to you? About Joseph?”
Iris leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “We were right to be suspicious. She was going to meet up with him in Thailand. But she said they were just friends.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Yes. But she’s young, and maybe she hoped their friendship would develop into something deeper. It doesn’t matter now, does it? He’s dead. Through his own stupidity, he’s dead.”
“Not just his stupidity. Mine too. It’s my fault he’s dead.”
Iris stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“When I went to fetch him yesterday, because he hadn’t turned up at the christening, I was angry with him for being drunk. And he said it was my fault, that I shouldn’t have told him about Charlie.” He gave a dry laugh. “If it wasn’t so tragic, it would be funny.”
“Why?”
“Because they were the same words that Charlie used about Joseph.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Joseph found out that Maggie was in a relationship with one of the teachers, and to get back at Maggie for him losing his job, he told Charlie that everyone knew about the affair except him and that people were laughing at him behind his back. It wasn’t true; nobody knew about it, and Maggie and her husband were going to tell Charlie during the summer that they both had other partners.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I lied, Iris. I lied about Charlie’s last words. He didn’t ask me to tell Maggie that he loved her. He told me to tell her that he would never forgive her, that his accident was her fault because she shouldn’t have done what she did. And then he said that he—meaning Joseph—shouldn’t have told him.”
“Oh, Gabriel.” Iris came over and put her arms around him. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through these last few months.”
“I couldn’t tell the truth, you do see that, don’t you?” he said, his voice breaking. “If I’d had any sense, I would have said that Charlie hadn’t said anything. But when the paramedics asked, I had to think on my feet and all I could come up with was Tell Mum I love her.”
“It was the right thing to do. It was absolutely the right thing to do.”
“But I shouldn’t have told Joseph that Charlie’s death was his fault. That’s why he started drinking on Saturday night. He couldn’t cope with the guilt. And now I have his death on my conscience, as well as Pierre’s, because I should have gone to Paris to see him, right at the beginning of it all.”
“You are not to blame,” Iris said fiercely. “Look at me, Gabriel.” She gave his shoulders a shake. “It’s important that you listen. Does anyone else know what you’ve just told me about Charlie’s message?”
“No.”
“Then don’t ever tell anyone. Do you hear me, Gabriel? And you’ve got to stop saying that Joseph’s death is your fault, especially in front of Beth. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Now I’m going upstairs to see Beth, and when you see her, you’re going to tell her that you’ve just found out that she and Joseph were going to meet in Thailand and that you’re devastated for her and are very sorry about what happened to him.”
She left, and he sat there, crushed and broken with guilt.
EPILOGUE
IRIS
It’s Joseph’s funeral today. Beth insisted on going, and there was nothing Gabriel or I could do to dissuade her. So he has taken her to Winchester, where the service is being held.
Everybody understood when I said I’d rather stay behind. Beth told me, in the aftermath of Joseph’s death, that the reason she hadn’t said anything about meeting up with him in Thailand was because she knew that Joseph and I had fallen out.
“Did he tell you why?” I asked.
Beth was in bed at the time, and she sank back against the pillows, scrunching an ever-present tissue in her fingers. “He said you told the police you’d seen him and Laure arguing on the day she died, and that because of it, he’d been taken in for questioning,” she said, with more than a hint of reproach in her voice.
“It was an honest mistake, and I apologized for it,” I explained.
“He said there was other stuff. But he wouldn’t tell me what.”
I had to think quickly. “He knew I wasn’t happy about his relationship with Laure. I felt he was taking advantage of the fact that she was in a vulnerable place.”
Beth sat up so abruptly that I reared back in alarm.
“He-he had an affair with Laure?” The words stuttered out of her.
My hand flew to my mouth. “Beth, I’m so sorry. Didn’t he mention it?”
She shook her head, then lay back down and began to sob, her face turned to the wall, and I felt a real hatred toward Joseph, for not telling Beth about Laure. It confirmed what Gabriel and I had come to realize, that Joseph was predatory. Nothing might have happened between him and Beth, but I suspected that if she’d known about his relationship with Laure, she would have quickly closed down any feelings she might have had for him. Joseph had probably guessed it too.
“Beth, there’s something else you should know,” I said, acknowledging that I was about to cause her even more anguish. She didn’t turn around, but her shoulders stopped heaving so I carried on. “Joseph lost his job at St. Cuthbert’s because he’d been exchanging messages with one of the students about meeting up in Bangkok during the summer holidays.”
For a few seconds, Beth’s body froze. Then she let out a wail that came from deep inside her.
“I hate him!” she cried through a river of tears, and as I rubbed her back, I felt quietly vindicated. She would get over him faster this way.
Although I tried to deter her, I understood why she insisted on going to the funeral. She needed the closure; now, she’d be able to move on.
It’s a relief to be on my own in the house where the silence exists only because there’s no one else around, not because Gabriel and I are keeping secrets from each other. He finally told me the one he was keeping from me: Charlie’s true message to his mum. It explains so much. Now I get why he was so stressed and why he didn’t want to talk about what had happened in the quarry, although I would never have condemned his decision to change Charlie’s message. But it’s a sad irony that just when he’d begun to accept he’d done the right thing, he’s now burdened with guilt over Joseph’s death.
I will never tell Gabriel the secrets I’ve been keeping from him. It doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t know I have any. He doesn’t know me, he doesn’t know who I really am. He thinks he does, he thinks I’m the person he married all those years ago. I wish I’d been able to carry on being that woman, starting out on an adventure with the man that I loved, excited about our plans for the future, building careers, starting a family. One mistake was all it took to rob me of those dreams.
A mistake, but a mistake I can’t regret because it was so beautiful, because it resulted in Beth. A magical night in the Bahamas, where Gabriel and I were celebrating our first wedding anniversary. Unable to sleep, I’d crept out of our hotel at three in the morning and made my way down to the private beach for a deliciously naked swim. Approaching the edge of the water, I’d been surprised by a man emerging from the gentle waves, his body gleaming in the moonlight. I didn’t realize at first that it was Pierre, with whom Gabriel and I had become friends, along with his new wife Laure.
I don’t know what dark forces were in play that night that made us walk toward each other, sink onto the sand and make love, without any verbal communication, without any previous desire for each other. I had never once looked at Pierre and wondered what it would be like to make love with him, nor he with me. But caught in a whirlwind of desire unlike anything we had experienced before, we could only succumb to what was an almost out-of-body experience. After, as we lay on the cool sand, our bodies still entwined, our minds numb with disbelief, we agreed never to speak about what had happened, and never seek to repeat it. And we never had, until Pierre discovered, twenty years later, that he had fathered a daughter that night.
