The Things You Didn't See(42)

The men are now assembled in the barn, high from the murder of pheasants. Godwin’s voice is booming, ‘Ah, Cassandra! Come and meet Dave Feakes, from the Port Authority.’

‘Hi, I hope you’ve had a good day.’ I shake the man’s hand. Does he know how much rests on his offer?

‘Excellent, thank you.’ His face is flushed from the adrenalin of the shoot, but he looks kindly, with soft white hair and gentle eyes huge behind bifocals. Alfie Avon is watching, hunched like a vulture over his swollen notepad. He gives what may be a smile but is really a show of teeth and pink gums. ‘Evening, Cassandra. How are you?’

I don’t reply. I can’t bring myself to be civil to him. He’s hounded Daniel ever since he took over the Friday-evening slot on Radio Suffolk – before that, it was Alfie All About Town.

Ash is collecting dead birds – no doubt each man will leave with a gift of a brace and the rest will go to the butcher.

Dad reaches for a scone and I see how without the black rubber glove to add strength to his right hand, he can’t grip the plate properly. I try to eat too. I take a morsel in a bid to look normal, but I can’t even swallow for thinking about Victoria, who will be packing for her trip home. I want to turn back time, pretend I never imagined I heard Daniel fucking another woman, pretend I never heard you say that your cancer has returned.

I want my life back, the one I had just two hours ago. I shouldn’t have come to the farm. I’ve ruined everything.

‘I’m going to fetch something from my car,’ I say, excusing myself from the boozy gathering.

In my car, I rummage for my mobile phone in the glove box, among tissues, a half-eaten bag of sweets and hidden bottles of trazodone. I call home and Daniel picks up after the first ring.

‘Cass?’

‘Yes.’ My voice is uneven, as though I’ve been silent for a long time.

Then, quickly and too loud, he says, ‘I’ve been so worried – where the hell are you?’

‘The farm.’

Daniel pauses. ‘I saw the cake.’

‘It’s for Victoria and Dawn . . .’

‘When did you bring it home?’ I can hear the beginnings of suspicion in his voice.

‘I popped home at lunchtime.’ Lie.

‘When will you be back, love?’

‘I don’t know. Look, Daniel, it’s Mum. She acting so strange, says she’s sick . . .’

‘Tell her to go back to the juices for twenty-four hours and I’ll give her some reiki healing. Samphire and wheatgrass shots and we’ll get on top of it in no time.’

‘No, Daniel, you’re not listening. She changed her mind. She’s not giving us the farm, she’s going to sell it to the Port. There will be no Samphire Health Spa.’

The pain of the moment snaps me back to the kitchen.

‘Samphire Spa? What’s that?’ Holly asks. She’s listening so intently, and I need her to understand what a terrible thing it was, for you to change your mind. How it triggered everything that came later.

‘Daniel has cured many people, but Mum is the one everyone knows about. When she went into remission, she became his most famous success story. She’s been on his radio show loads of times. I let him believe that her health was the problem, when really it was me.’

‘I’ll come over straight away, talk some sense into her.’

‘No, I don’t think you should. It’s best to let her calm down.’ I can hear him moving around, maybe collecting his keys. ‘She’s gone to lie down anyway – she’ll probably sleep right through. There’s no point in you coming over tonight.’

I don’t want to see him. I need time to recover, to get the bad thoughts out of my head.

‘Well, if you’re sure that’s the best thing to do,’ he says, doubtfully. ‘I’ll come over first thing with a Samphire Sunshine for her breakfast and I can give her a reiki treatment. Hopefully she’ll have seen sense, but if not, I can talk to her before we drive to fetch Victoria. Can you be ready for me?’

I say I can and hang up. But I’ve ruined everything: Samphire Health Spa won’t happen, and it’s my fault. If only I hadn’t come here, with my doubts, opening up a can of worms . . .

I take a bottle of trazodone from the glove box and open it. For the first time in two years I swallow one, and hope it works fast. Then I tip the rest of the bottle onto my palm. Suddenly this feels like the only option open to me. There’s a bottle of water on the passenger seat, and I grab it, bring it to my mouth and swallow the tablets.

Time passes, minutes, I’m not sure how many. I close my eyes and sleep comes quickly.

Then, in an abrupt jolt of violence, the car door swings open, and there you are, Mum, your face purple with rage.

‘What have you done? Cassandra!’

The empty tablet bottle is in my lap. All business, you yank me from the car by my arm, and haul me back inside the farmhouse. We walk past the men, still drinking in the barn and eating Janet’s scones, oblivious to the drama going on just yards away.

Upstairs, to the bathroom. I see the white porcelain of a toilet bowl and feel your fingers scratch my throat. There is no softness, no tears.

‘What a stupid thing to do! You’re so selfish, Cass. And you think you could run a business? There’s no way. Simply no way you’re capable.’