In a Dark, Dark Wood(86)

For a second it washes over me like a wave. I feel my cheeks tingle with the shock, as if she’s slapped me – and then it recedes, and I’m left gasping.

Because it’s the truth. As she says it, I get a sharp, agonising flash – hands on the wheel, Clare fighting me like a demon, my nails in her skin.

‘Are you sure you’re remembering this right?’ she says, her voice very gentle. ‘I saw you, Lee. You had your hand on the barrel of the gun. You nudged it towards James.’

For a minute I can’t say anything. I’m sitting here, gasping, my hands gripping the tea cup like it’s a weapon. Then I am shaking my head.

‘No. No, no, no! Why are you here, in that case? Why aren’t you denouncing me to the police?’

‘How do you know,’ she says quietly, ‘that I haven’t already done that?’

Oh my God. I feel weak with horror. I take a long gulp of tea, my teeth chattering at the edge of the mug, and I try to think, try to gather the strands of all this together.

This is not true. Clare is screwing with my head. No sane person would be sitting here drinking tea with a woman who murdered her fiancé and tried to drive their car off the road.

‘The shell,’ I say doggedly. ‘The shell was in your coat.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she says, and there’s a catch in her voice. ‘Please, Lee, I love you. I’m scared for you. Whatever you’ve done—’

I can’t think. My head hurts. I feel so strange, and there’s a vile taste in my mouth. I take another gulp of tea to try to swill it away, but the taste only intensifies.

I shut my eyes and the picture of James swims in front of my closed lids, dying in my arms. Is this the picture that I’m going to see when I close my eyes for the rest of my life?

‘Text …’ he gasps, ‘text, Leo,’ and there is blood in his lungs.

And then suddenly, amid the swimming haze of memories and tangled suspicion – something catches.

I know what James was saying. What he was trying to say.

I put down the mug.

I know what happened. And I know why James had to die.





32


OH MY GOD, I’ve been so stupid. I can’t believe how stupid – for ten years, I never even noticed. I sit there, stock still, running through all the what-ifs – how different everything could have been if I’d only realised what was sitting in front of my face, all those years ago.

‘Lee?’ Clare says. She is looking at me, her face the picture of concern. ‘Lee, are you OK? You look … you don’t look well.’

‘Nora. My name is Nora,’ I say hoarsely.

For ten years. For ten years that f*cking text has been engraved on my heart, and I never even noticed.

‘Are you sure?’

‘“Lee”,’ I say to Clare. She takes a gulp of tea and stares at me over the mug, her beautiful, narrow brows drawn into a puzzled frown. ‘“Lee”,’ I repeat, ‘“I’m sorry but this is your problem, not mine. Deal with it. And don’t call me again. J.”’

‘What?’

‘“Lee.”’

‘What the hell are you on about?’

‘Lee. He never called me Lee. James never called me Lee.’

For a minute she stares at me in utter incomprehension – and I am reminded, all over again, what an amazing actress she was. Is. It shouldn’t have been James on the stage. It should have been Clare. She is amazing.

And then she sets down her tea and gives a rueful grimace. ‘Jesus. It was a long time ago, Lee.’

It’s not an admission – not quite. But I know her well enough to know that it might as well be. She’s not protesting any more.

‘Ten years. I’m slow,’ I say bitterly. Bitter, not just because my mistake ruined my own life, but because if I’d been a little quicker on the uptake, James might still be alive. ‘Why did you do it, Clare?’

She reaches out her hand to me, I flinch away, and she says, ‘Look, I’m not saying what I did was right – I was young and it was stupid. But, Lee, I did it for the best. You’d have been screwing up both your lives. Look, I went round to see him that afternoon – the guy was shitting himself – he wasn’t ready to be a dad. You weren’t ready to be a mum. But I knew between the two of you, neither of you would have the guts to take the decision.’

‘No,’ I say. My voice is shaking.

‘You wanted it to happen, both of you.’

‘No!’ It comes out like a sob.

‘You can deny it all you want,’ she says softly, ‘but you were the one that walked away, and he let you. All it would have taken was one text, one message, one call – the truth would have come out. But between you, you couldn’t even manage that. The fact is, he wanted out – he was just too much of a coward to make a break for it himself. I did it for the best.’

‘You’re lying,’ I say at last. My voice is hoarse and choked. ‘You don’t care – you never cared. You just wanted James – and I was in the way.’

I remember – I remember that day in the school hall, the hot sun streaming in through the tall glass windows, and Clare saying laconically, ‘I’m going to have James Cooper.’