The Woods, page 17
He shakes his head and steps away from me. “My poor dad? Jesus, you as well?”
Me as well what?
“Where have you been?” It’s eleven o’clock and Bella is tiptoeing into my room. I went to bed half an hour ago, but couldn’t sleep knowing Bella was still out.
“Shh,” she says, glancing toward Dad and Julia’s room. She squeezes past me and collapses on my bed. “Isn’t it supposed to be Dad standing with folded arms telling me off for being out late?”
“He went out for a meal with Julia—I told him you were home asleep.”
She laughs. “And he believed you? Did you put a pillow under my quilt to be a fake me as well?”
I perch on the edge of the bed, pushing her feet out of the way. Her shoes are muddy and they’ve left a smear of dirt on my quilt. “Dad’s only got eyes for his new girlfriend at the moment.”
“Which is why I’m able to go out every night.”
“You stink of booze and you’re filthy. Where the bloody hell have you been?”
“Up at the amusement park. I came back through the woods.”
“At this time? God, Bella, that’s so bloody dangerous. They haven’t found whoever killed Nicole. He could be still out there.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I had company.” She’s smiling up at the ceiling, lost in whatever memories she has of her night.
I ate alone as Dad and Julia were out, and spent the rest of my evening doing homework.
“Were you with them?”
“Who? Jack and Sean?”
I’ve barely seen them this week. Julia’s barely seen them. I think that’s why Dad took her out, to cheer her up.
“Were you really up at the amusement park? Or did you go to Dean House?”
There’s a pause and then Bella sits up and looks at me. “Why would I go there? Jack and Sean are here.”
“Greg’s back, though. I saw his car in the village earlier.”
“Do you have some kind of problem with him giving me the camera?”
“Of course not. He can do what he likes.”
“He’s not yours, Tess. Seriously, if you’re going to get your first crush, he would be the wrong choice. Like, really wrong.”
“Will you get your dirty feet off my bed?” I say, shoving her again. “And I haven’t got any stupid crush. I’m nearly sixteen, not twelve.”
“You wouldn’t know it sometimes, baby sis.”
“I don’t care who you were with, or where, but I do care that you’re not doing any of your coursework. How are you going to get into that photography course if you fail all your exams?”
“I don’t want to do photography anymore,” she says. “Not at college level, anyway. I’m thinking of applying for teaching courses.”
“Teaching? You?” It’s my turn to laugh. “You hate little kids. God, you’d be the worst teacher in the world.”
She gets off the bed. “I’m talking secondary school, not primary. I actually think I’d be good with older kids, but thanks for the support, sis.”
“Sorry, but…you’ve wanted to be a photographer forever.”
“Yeah, well, the teacher pretty much said the last lot of work I did was shit.”
“Come on—you’re so talented, I’m sure she didn’t…”
“You don’t know. You weren’t there, were you? She wouldn’t even let me put them in my portfolio. A whole month’s work. So what’s the point?”
She’s been going out a lot taking photos with the camera Greg gave her, staying late at school to develop them. I glance over to the corner where she’s stashed her portfolio and sketchbooks.
“Oh, forget it,” she says, sounding exhausted. “I’m going to sleep.”
I lie awake for ages, waiting for Bella’s breathing to slip into that deep, even rhythm that tells me she’s sleeping. Then I get quietly out of bed and go and get her portfolio, unzipping it slowly so I don’t wake her. There’s just enough light shining through our half-open door so I can see the photographs, but I instantly wish there wasn’t.
Bella normally photographs the woods and the beach, gorgeous moody black-and-white shots of the mist among the trees, of the violent splash of water as the sea hits the rocks. These new ones are life studies—Bella glimpsed behind the lens through a mirror, half in shadow but clearly naked. A man, face not shown, but again, clearly naked, half-covered by a rumpled sheet. God, is it Jack? All that stuff she said about not fancying him anymore…I’ve seen them talking. I’ve seen the way she smiles at him.
I push the portfolio away from me. They’re not pornographic in any way, but they’re so intimate and so…wrong. They’re not shit, like Bella said, but I can see why her teacher wouldn’t let her put them in her coursework folder. I don’t understand. I don’t get why she would even take these into school to show. Bloody hell, maybe it’s good she’s not going to do photography at college—I can’t imagine Dad going to her exhibitions if these are the type of photos she wants to take now.
NOW
Chapter 19
Julia is with me in the kitchen, both of us scraping potatoes for tonight’s supper. She’s noticeably thinner but she was determined to come downstairs to have dinner with everyone. Personally, I’m tempted to hop into the bed she was so insistent on leaving and hide under the covers until this awkward “family dinner” is well and truly over. Would anyone even notice? In the simmering tension between Julia and her sons, there’s little room for anything else.
“You know what I’d love?” Julia says, putting down the knife and potato she’s holding. “To have one more party. Not a big one, just family. And Max and Lena, of course. Maybe a couple of people from the village. One last hurrah—some champagne, a big curry or chili for everyone to help themselves. Some really loud music. Loud enough that we get complaints.”
I make myself smile. God, if she knew what was going on. “That sounds amazing. Why don’t we organize something—for the weekend, maybe?”
She shakes her head. “No, we can’t. Much as I’d love to.” She pauses. “Leo told me about Greg.”
“Oh.”
“I know you all wanted to keep it from me, he told me. But it was impossible really. The police want to speak to me as well.”
“I’m sorry. It’s…it’s so awful. Awful that he’s dead and that we’ve all thought he was alive and living his best life somewhere abroad and awful that you have to deal with this now as well as…”
“As well as dying myself?” She pushes the knife and bag of potatoes away from her. “I’ve been trying to work out how I feel. Shocked, yes. But should I be sad? I am, in a way. For Jack and Sean, mostly. And for Greg. I don’t want to think about what happened or how he must have suffered. I loved him. For such a long time I loved him. But that’s so far in the past. I think even the boys had come to terms with the fact that he was never coming back. But none of us thought…”
I put my hand over hers. There are tears in her eyes. “It’s okay to be sad about it, you know. Doesn’t matter how long the relationship had been over.”
She nods. “I know. I just don’t want Leo to see it.”
“You know, your party idea…it could be what everyone needs. Not a big thing with loud music, but maybe something smaller, a few drinks, everyone sharing stories about Greg and…” My voice trails off. What am I saying? That’s the last thing I want.
Dad pops his head round the door. “Tess? Time to go to the police station. I’ll give you a lift.” He comes in and leans to kiss Julia. “Do you want to come for a ride, Ju? Get some fresh air?”
“No, thanks, baby. I’m tired. I think I’ll go and rest.”
“I’ll see you for supper,” I say, squeezing her hand.
She looks exhausted. “I think I’ll skip supper, actually. I’m not hungry at all.”
I watch as Dad helps her up. She’s been resting more and more, the determined energy she found when I arrived with Max and Lena fading.
God, I wish we could throw her a party. Fuck Jack and Sean and Greg. I’d love to hear Julia’s laugh again, listen to her singing along badly to some party mix CD.
Dad drops me at the police station. He wanted to wait but I insisted he go back to Julia, telling him I’d get the bus back. I know they’ve already spoken to Max and Lena and that’s not helping my nerves. I can’t settle. I shift in my seat, look around the room. It doesn’t look like I’d imagined it to from all the books I’ve read where suspects are questioned. It’s less bleak and official looking. It looks like a meeting room in an office. But then I guess I’m not here as a suspect, am I?
The door opens and a man walks in, smiling. “Tess? Detective Levinson—do you remember me?”
I do. He’s the same detective who came to see Jack and Sean, the same man who spoke to me after Bella died, bald spot bigger, more lines on his face. I realize he is the familiarity I felt when I sat in front of that doctor. He reminded me of the detective with his wary, pitying expression.
I remember my disorientation when I woke up in the hospital; the detective’s face when he had to tell me Bella was dead. I also remember my meltdown afterward, my frantic insistence that someone had killed Bella, stupid, wildly shouted accusations without anything to back up what I said.
“Do you mind if I tape our chat?” he says now, fiddling with a tape machine. “You can say no, that’s fine—you’re here entirely voluntarily, but it’ll help if we have the whole conversation to refer back to.”
I hesitate. I want to say no, but how will that look? I shrug. “That’s fine,” I say. “I don’t think I’ll be able to help you, though. I haven’t lived here for a long time.”
“We’re aware of that. I’m sorry to hear about your stepmother. And your recent accident, as well.”
I touch the fading bruise on my head. The accident? What does that have to do with anything?
“We spoke to Mr. Rees.”
I look blankly at him for a moment before I get it. Mr. Rees is Max’s dad in my head, but they mean Max, don’t they?
“He’s very concerned about you. He told us you haven’t been sleeping. That you wrenched the steering wheel out of his hand and caused the crash.”
What?
“No,” I say, shaking my head, cheeks burning. “There was a cat. It was…instinct to grab the wheel. I grabbed the wheel to avoid a cat.”
“Mr. Rees claims he didn’t see anything in the road.”
That’s not what Max said in the hospital. He was the one who told me to mention the bloody cat.
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“Just trying to establish your state of mind, that’s all. But you’re right—it has nothing to do with the discovery of Greg Lewis’s body, does it?”
I feel winded. “It’s definitely him, then?”
He doesn’t answer. He opens a folder and flicks through some pages.
“After your sister died, you kept insisting it couldn’t have been an accident. Why was that, Tess?”
“I don’t know. I was confused, grieving…I had a head injury, for God’s sake. What has this got to do with Greg?”
“He was reported missing around the same time. I’m sure you understand we’re exploring any and all connections at the moment.”
“He could have come back. He doesn’t have to have died then, does he?”
“Did you see him? The day of the wedding? Did you see something that night?”
I shake my head. My vision doubles, then clears. “No. I don’t remember. I told you that.”
“You still don’t remember? After ten years?”
“It’s a condition. It’s in your bloody reports.”
Detective Levinson flicks through a few more pages. “Ah yes—dissociative memory disorder. At the time, the doctor wasn’t sure whether it was temporary, or even whether you really had this at all. The amount of alcohol in your system…”
“I don’t fucking remember.” I’m nearly shouting, half out of my chair.
Detective Levinson leans back in his chair. There’s a faint smile on his face. “Okay, forget that for now. Let’s talk about Greg Lewis.”
I rub my eyes. They’re gritty, my eyelids heavy. My head is pounding and I just want to lay my head on the table and sleep.
“I barely knew him.” I look down at the table as I speak, echoes of past conversations with Greg running through my mind.
“Really? Living so close—and with his ex-partner becoming your stepmother?”
“Well, the circumstances hardly invited neighborly confidences, did they? I was a kid.”
“Sixteen when he went missing.”
“And he was forty.”
“It’s been suggested to us that Greg Lewis very much liked befriending teenage girls.”
My cheeks burn with a thousand memories. “I don’t think I was his type.”
“And your sister? Was she his type?”
I curl my hands into fists under the table. “Who’s telling you all this? Is it Lena? God, she makes things up all the time. Or Jack? You know he’s lying. He’s always hated us, hated my dad—hated his own damned mother for leaving.”
Detective Levinson leans forward. “Listen, Tess. With this new discovery, you have to appreciate that we’re looking at any connections with Greg Lewis, however old. And in light of the suggestion that he instigated relationships with young girls. If he hurt you, or tried to hurt you—if he went after your sister…those are mitigating circumstances.”
Mitigating circumstances for what? They think I did it? What has Lena told them? I fold my arms. “I don’t remember what happened to Bella. I didn’t see Greg Lewis. I hadn’t seen him for a long time even before he disappeared. Can I go home now?”
“Okay. No problem. One more question before we let you go. How was your father’s relationship with Greg Lewis?”
“My dad?”
“Your stepmother left Mr. Lewis and moved in with your father. I’m assuming there was tension? With you all living so close?”
I shake my head. “No. It was fine.”
“He was fine with his partner leaving him and moving in with another man two miles down the road? So soon after losing their daughter?”
“Look, I’m not sure what you’re implying here…”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m asking—did Greg Lewis ever come to your house?”
“Not that I recall.”
He raises his eyebrows. “More memory loss?”
“No, not memory loss. It didn’t happen. There was no tension, no confrontation.”
Detective Levinson looks at the other detective sitting next to him, who hasn’t said a word.
“Okay, Tess, that’s it for now. We might have some more questions for you later, but for now…get some rest. You look like you need it.”
Chapter 20
I’m rigid with tension as I walk away from the police station, my breathing uneven—too-fast breaths punctuated with gasps as the enormity of this whole thing hits: I’ve just been questioned by the police. The police. About a murder. Doesn’t matter that I know nothing about what happened to Greg; the fear still sets my heart galloping. By the time I get to the bus station, I have to stop and lean against the wall, force myself to take slow, even breaths to dispel the black floating spots in my vision. Is this a panic attack? No, stop. Calm down. I just need to calm down. My hands are shaking and I’m not sure my legs will hold me if I move from my hunched position against the wall. A man slows and asks me if I’m okay. I nod and force a smile. What am I supposed to say?
I can see the local bus for my village a few stops away, but I can’t make myself go over there. I get my phone out. I could call Dad—he’d come and pick me up, I know he would. But he’s with Julia and I don’t want him to see me like this. I call Sophie but, of course, she’s in school, so her phone goes straight to voicemail. I don’t want to leave a message, I want to speak to her. I want to see her. The bus home is starting up, ready to leave, but instead of running toward it, I walk in the opposite direction, toward the train station across the road.
I’m sitting on the floor outside Sophie’s flat, waiting for her to get home from school. The urge to run away has passed, that stupid urge that made me jump on the train instead of the bus. I can’t ring Dad—what can I tell him? That I panicked and ran away because I couldn’t cope? He’s there, watching his wife die, fielding questions from the police about Greg’s death, and I’ve bloody run away.
I hear someone coming up the stairs and I get to my feet just as Sophie appears. She’s got her head down, fumbling in her bag for her keys, so she doesn’t see me until she’s a couple of feet away, then she looks up and jumps a mile.
“Jesus Christ, Tess, you almost gave me a heart attack. What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I knew you were teaching and I really needed to see you.” Hearing Sophie’s voice releases something and I start crying, my words coming out in hitching breaths.
“Okay, calm down. Is it Julia? Is it…hell, hang on a minute, let me open the door.”
As soon as we’re inside the flat, she turns to wrap me in a hug. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she mutters as she steers me to the sofa. “Is it Julia? Did she die?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not Julia.”
She lets out a long breath. “Oh, thank God. I thought…you were so upset.” She looks over at me and frowns. “What happened to your face?”
I touch the fading bruise. “Oh yeah, long story. Minor car accident, but don’t worry, I’m fine.”
“You’re fine? Tess, you are clearly not fine.”
“I’m sorry. I freaked out. I was panicking and I just needed to see you. There’s been…a lot going on.” An echo of Bella snorts laughter in my head at the understatement. I keep looking straight ahead, irrationally afraid that if I turn my head, it won’t be Sophie sitting next to me, it’ll be Bella, mud and leaves in her hair, dripping blood onto the sofa.
