The Wife Before Me(66)
* * *
Billy is on his knees weeding the borders of his lawn. The helmet and dark glasses gives Elena a degree of anonymity but she still increases her speed in case he recognises her.
She stops a short distance beyond the boundary wall surrounding Woodbine. A small gate leading into a field is almost hidden by an overhanging hedgerow. Cautiously, checking her surroundings, she opens the gate and wheels the bike along a narrow trail by the side of the field. It curves around the back of Woodbine and the broken boundary wire has been trampled underfoot by those who investigated the scene of her crime.
The ice house is still standing. A police cordon, broken in places, sags from supporting poles. Elena pushes the door open and shines her torch into the interior. Nicholas’s blood forms a black, grotesque map on the floor. Even when it is cleaned away, that residue of violence will have permeated the old stone. She reaches into the shelf where the folder had been hidden and feels only dust, grit, cobwebs. Henry probably took the folder away on Nicholas’s instructions. It must now be in his possession. She checks the shelves and hollowed spaces. There must be something here that will help her to fight for custody of her children. Otherwise, why the compulsion to come here?
Eventually, she is forced to accept that she has had a wasted journey. A gust of wind whips the door open. She recoils from the dust that it stirs and coughs at a dry tickle in her throat. A flicker of white catches her eye. A mouse scurrying to safety, she thinks, but quickly realises it is a piece of paper. An envelope. She picks it up and brings her torch closer to it. The handwriting is instantly recognisable; she remembers dropping this envelope when Nicholas entered the ice house. It must have lodged in one of the crevices before the wind could blow it free. Her hand trembles as she studies the address. This is the reason she is here. She can feel Amelia’s presence around her. Amelia’s breath on her face, her hand gently pushing her from the ice house, where it could be dangerous to linger any longer.
She blinks as she emerges into daylight and makes her way through the trees. Woodbine is visible from this vantage point. Nicholas is at work, and the old house is empty. She had always felt like a stranger there, but now, forbidden to go near it, she wants to touch its walls, walk its floors, as she did so often with Grace or Joel in her arms. Nicholas had broken her so easily and she had blamed Woodbine for her own self-loathing and the obliteration of her identity. Finding herself again, shattered in heart but whole in person, is restoring her confidence but fear can still force her to a sudden standstill. She continues on without stopping until she reaches the end of the field, then wheels the bike onto Kilfarran Lane.
As she cycles past Billy’s house she glances across to see if he is still in his garden. Startled, she pulls on the brakes, unsure whether she has imagined his crumpled figure on the ground. She abandons the bike outside the gate and runs towards him. As she approaches, he tries to rise, then collapses again. His pallor reminds her of putty. Beads of sweat stand out on his forehead.
‘What’s wrong?’ She is unsure whether he can hear her. ‘Do you need an ambulance? Where’s your phone, I’ll call emergency.’ Despite this crisis, Elena’s self-survival reflex has kicked in. Even if Billy won’t recognise her in the helmet and dark glasses, she can’t risk a phone call being traced back to her. The ambulance driver might ask her name and how she came upon the scene. If she is caught breaking her barring order, she will have lost all hope of visiting her children.
‘No need,’ Billy gasps. ‘Too much exertion.’
‘I don’t think so.’ She helps him to sit up. ‘Whatever is wrong with you, it needs to be checked out.’
His legs wobble when he tries to stand. He leans heavily on her as she leads him to the stump of a nearby tree. He removes his mobile from his pocket and hands it to her. She dials emergency and explains his symptoms: dizziness, shortness of breath, excessive sweating.
‘I need another stent,’ Billy says when she finishes the call. She has to bend close to hear him. He sounds resigned, unsurprised.
‘Don’t worry,’ she reassures him. ‘An ambulance will be here shortly and the paramedics will have everything they need to look after you.’
He sways and closes his eyes. If he collapses she will have to resuscitate him. She learned how to do the procedure in Australia. She and Zac took classes together with a view to training as lifeguards. How long ago that seems. Another world entirely. To her relief, she hears the ambulance siren in the distance.
‘They’ll be with you in a moment.’ She needs to leave now. ‘Everything is going to be all right.’
‘Thank you, Elena,’ he says.
His eyes are open, his dulled gaze focused on her. She pulls off her dark glasses, hunkers before him. ‘Are you going to tell Nicholas I was here?’
‘I wouldn’t tell that weasel the time of day. You go on, now. I’m a tough nut to crack.’ He forces a smile and gestures towards the gate.
Head down, feet pumping, she cycles in the opposite direction to the ambulance.
* * *
Later, alone in her room, she tries to decipher the postmark on the envelope. It is smudged and dusty but with the help of a magnifying glass, she eventually makes out the name Rannavale. Google Maps shows its location. A small town in West Kerry. She holidayed in Dingle once with her mother. A dolphin jumping, mountain peaks hidden in cloud, magnificent scenery, vast, wild and expansive. Picturesque villages, cattle meandering along rutted lanes, scattered farms; finding the sender in that huge area would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Her earlier elation fades. That is how she is these days, either feverish or apathetic. She holds the envelope up to the light as if there was a name in invisible ink that will be revealed to her. She is no wiser when she slips it into a drawer and goes downstairs to prepare an evening meal for Rosemary.