‘Who’s that?’
There’s the creak of a floorboard but the echo is so loud that I can’t figure out from which direction it comes. I’m literally backed into a corner. Tyler is at my side, still trying to croak something.
The voice echoes around the empty mill: ‘You did it, didn’t you?’
‘Did what?’
‘The car.’
Whoever it is knows about me waking up in the field… although I’m not sure what that means. There’s another footstep and another rasp of ancient wood.
‘What about the car?’ I reply.
Two more footsteps and Tyler ekes out the word, ‘Don’t’.
‘Don’t what?’ I ask.
It’s the woman’s voice who answers: ‘He means, “don’t come any closer”. I think he’s missing a “please” from the beginning. He’s been saying that word a lot this week.’
‘Liv?’ My voice echoes once more.
There’s silence… and then: ‘Oh, she’s here. She’s not feeling well.’
Another squeak of rotting wood booms around the mill.
‘What have you done to her?’
A silhouette fills the spotlight in the middle of the floor. It’s only the legs at first, then the lower torso, then arms. I think it’s a trick of the light at first but it isn’t. One of the shadowed hands is clutching a knife. The razor point is clear, even through the gloom.
‘Not much,’ the voice says, though the accent has gone. There’s no disguise any longer. No point. ‘Not yet,’ it adds.
Another step and then the figure is fully in the light.
Chapter Forty-Six
‘Ellie?’
The figure relaxes slightly and it’s unquestionably her. She’s wearing wellington boots, jeans and a slim-fit coat. Aside from the graveyard, I’ve not seen her in anything other than nightclothes for weeks. Her hair is tied back into a tight ponytail. I’ve seen her more days than not for almost all my life.
‘It took you long enough,’ she says.
‘I don’t understand…’
‘Neither did I. It took me years to get it. Decades. But the truth was right in front of me the whole time.’
‘What truth?’
Ellie says nothing but I know. Deep down, I always feared this day. Not Tyler, not Olivia, not Dan, not Jason – but Ellie. I’ve hurt people over the years but probably no one more than her. My biggest fear all this time was the truth.
‘Tell me,’ Ellie demands.
‘Tell you what?’
‘Tell me how my brother died. Tell me how my twin died.’
‘You know.’
Ellie huffs a furious breath. I can’t see her clearly enough, but I know her teeth are bared, like a wolf, primed and dangerous. ‘I know the story,’ she says. ‘Everyone does. Wayne was driving too fast and he killed himself. Almost killed you. A selfish and stupid act; that’s what the coroner called it. Selfish and stupid.’
‘Ell—’
‘And what about Jason? You broke his heart and watched him go off the rails. You heard he was on hunger strike and wouldn’t visit. He almost killed himself to see you – but that still wasn’t enough.’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘And yet, somehow, we’re friends. How does that work?’
‘I never meant for that to happen with Jason. We were kids. I wish I’d done things differently.’
Ellie walks in a small circle around the spotlight, scuffing her feet. The knife is ever-present in her shadow. Tyler shuffles himself into a sitting position, moaning with pain. Each of his breaths grates and catches in his throat. I’m not tied up, I could do something – rush Ellie – except she said Olivia is somewhere around here and I believe her.
‘My own car accident was an experience,’ Ellie says. ‘Completely out of the blue – but it opened my eyes. Pain’s an odd thing. When they told me I’d cracked three ribs, I couldn’t believe it. Three cracked ribs and I can barely feel a thing. They said the adrenaline might be hiding the pain and gave me painkillers anyway – but it’s never really hurt. The whiplash was a bitch, though.’
She rubs her neck to illustrate the point.
‘You broke your ribs in the crash with Wayne,’ she adds. ‘You still feel it now and again. You’ve told me that.’
‘Right.’
‘But Wayne didn’t.’
Oh, no.
I suddenly get it. I get more or less everything.
‘I was driving,’ Ellie says, ‘and I cracked my ribs on the steering wheel. So, if Wayne was driving, how come you broke your ribs and he didn’t?’
There’s an answer, something obvious – except I can’t think of anything. My mind is blank.
‘Say it,’ Ellie demands.
Chapter Forty-Seven
23 Years Ago
Wayne is sitting on the bonnet of his car, tossing the keys from one hand to the other.
‘No way,’ he says.
I press myself up against him, running my nails along his chest. I dig them into his T-shirt just enough so that he can feel it and a grin creeps onto his face.
‘Pleeeeeeease,’ I beg. ‘Please let me drive.’
‘No.’
There’s something particularly gorgeous about him today. He’s been working on his car most of the day and, because of the heat of the day and the fact he never drinks enough water, the muscles in his arms are bulging. He’s really become a man.
‘I’ll make it up to you,’ I purr.
The grin grows wider. ‘How?’
‘You know…’
He glances past me towards the dusty, deserted car park outside the mill. His is the only vehicle here. After spending the day with his car, I finally persuaded him to bring me out here. Just us this time. No Ellie or Jason to disturb us. Nobody else from the town was around either, not even a nosey dog-walker. It felt like the world was ours and ours alone.
He glances up to the sky but only for a moment. His eyes are for me. ‘It’s getting dark,’ he says.
‘So let’s get going. I’ll be really careful.’
‘You’ve not passed your test yet.’
I press against him again, lips level, barely a couple of centimetres between us. ‘No one’s going to stop us. I do know how to drive. It was that stupid examiner who spoiled things. You know that.’
I’ve cracked him now. I can see it in his smirk.
I press the car keys out of his hand and peck him gently on the nose before pushing my lips hard onto his. I’ve been trying to get Wayne to let me drive his pride and joy for weeks but he says no to everyone. This is a victory. This means he loves me.
I have to shunt the driver’s seat forward so I can reach the pedals.
Wayne fusses by telling me about how fourth gear sticks sometimes. ‘You need to shove it hard,’ he says.
‘Whatever.’
‘Not “whatever”. Listen to me.’
‘I am!’
I almost stall the car on the way out of the car park but blame it on a sticky first gear and try again. The engine purrs powerfully and beautifully. It’s much better than being behind the wheel of the instructor’s car. He complains if I get out of third gear but this is real freedom. The vibration of the engine surges up through the bodywork of the car, making the driver’s seat hum with thunderous power.
‘Good, innit?’ Wayne says from the passenger seat.
I turn out of the lane that leads to the mill, moving onto the windy country roads. Wayne scolds me for not indicating but it’s not as if there are any cars near. Whenever I push harder on the pedal, the engine roars its approval. I can feel Wayne watching from the passenger seat, not quite approving as I accelerate out of a bend. It’s only when the tyres skid across a loose coating of gravel that he speaks up.
‘Slow down,’ he says.
‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘You’ve not passed your test yet.’
‘I know how to drive.’
I slow for the next bend but forget one turn leads into a second. At the last moment, as the black and white chevrons blare large in front, I brake and then make the car lurch by going straight from third to first.
Wayne is thrown forward in his seat and then turns to stare in disapproval: ‘What are you doing?’
‘It’s the car.’
‘You’re going too fast.’
‘No I’m not.’