Find out the truth.
Jacob trusted the police to do their job. Or maybe he preferred the investigation to stall? That missing hour. The police’s insistence his reaction was distancing and depersonalising. No, that wasn’t fair. Jacob simply questioned everything less than I did. He had blind faith in the authorities. I was losing faith in them.
As I walked, the haunting pe-pee-whit call of lapwings in flight pierced my thoughts occasionally, or the gabbling of brent geese feeding on the coarse grass, their white rumps bright against their neat, dark grey bodies and black heads.
By the time Wiggins and I returned home, three hours later, my stomach was growling like a rabid dog. Stupid of me to walk so far on an empty stomach and hung-over. Wiggins had a drink then stepped into his basket, turned round three times and lay down with a contented sigh, glad to be home and out of the wind. He was too exhausted even to bother watching me as I made a peanut butter sandwich with shaky hands. I wolfed it down, along with a handful of Brazil nuts and a banana, disgusted with myself for needing to eat when you were being fed through a tube.
My body insisted on more food, though. I sipped a hot chocolate that both warmed me and filled me up, while Wiggins twisted onto his back and made little noises in his sleep, his legs twitching as he raced through a dream world.
No chance of rest for me. Glenn’s words haunted me. I needed to see him again, check if he had meant what he’d said.
I headed upstairs and got changed. Nothing special; still jeans, but clean ones, and the blue-grey jumper you always liked. The one you said matched my eyes exactly, remember? It was size 14 and didn’t fit as nicely as it used to, the shoulder seam hanging low down my arm because of my weight loss. The result was baggy and disappointing.
Silly, but there was no denying the drive to make a good impression on Glenn. If I wanted him to help me, I needed him to know I was together and sane, not the drunken slob I’d been the night before, sobbing like a child going through the terrible twos. I brushed my dark blonde hair, pulling it into a neat ponytail that had no stray hairs escaping from it. I even dug out some mascara from the bottom of my drawer and put it on. My eyes looked strangely large, dominating my pinched face. My naturally pale skin – the kind that never tans, just goes red then white again – was a blotchy grey. In desperation, I furiously scrubbed a blusher brush over my cheeks.
Great, now I looked feverish.
This was daft. What could I discover that the police hadn’t? I decided to give Flo a call, see if there was an update.
‘We’re pursuing several—’
‘Lines of enquiry. But, let me guess, you can’t say any more than that at the present time?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Not as sorry as me,’ I finished, hanging up.
That decided me once and for all.
Trembling, I walked over the crossroads, past the church and into The Poacher. There were a handful of customers inside already, and a group playing darts. The sound of the darts thudding into the board was strangely comforting. As I’d hoped, Glenn was leaning on the bar, but he didn’t see me.
Dale spoke up.
‘Melanie, look, we all know you’ve been through a lot. But I’m sorry, you’re barred.’
I clenched my jaw, biting back the anger instantly surging because he couldn’t bring himself to say what I’d been through, or ask how you were doing. Instead I made myself speak calmly, unlike my display the previous night.
‘I’ve come here to apologise.’
Glenn turned to look at me.
Please be impressed with my humility.
‘Mate, last night was my fault,’ he said, putting his hand on his heart. ‘It was me who kept buying Mel drinks, and asking her about what happened to Beth.’
He said your name as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I silently thanked him for that. No one else did any more, as though you had become a curse, like Macbeth.
‘Come on. Blame it on the stupid newcomer. Don’t blame Mel.’
Dale hesitated. Then the tension in his face and shoulders slid away. It was obvious he’d relented before he said the words.
‘Go on, then. One more chance.’
Glenn held out his paw and the men shook on it.
‘Stupid newcomer,’ repeated Dale, laughing. Clapped Glenn on the back. ‘Like our dads weren’t best mates.’
That was the thing about Fenmere: we all knew each other, our families woven together for generations. Friendships forged through grandfathers working side by side, or enemies made because a great-grandfather cheated someone out of land. Our battle lines and alliances drawn up before we were born. All the villagers were my family.
Jacob and I weren’t like that. Our families shared no history. He had moved to Wapentake, along with his elder brother and younger sister, from Leeds when he was fourteen. The fresh blood had caused quite a stir at school when he arrived, and all the girls had fancied him. He had gone through them like a hot knife through butter, dating them then casting them aside, no one lasting longer than a couple of months. When he’d asked me out, I had turned him down, not because I didn’t fancy him but because I didn’t trust him. So he had stopped asking and instead become my friend.
Later, he’d admitted that, while friendship was great, he had always hoped it would turn into more. He’d confessed on our first date, just a handful of days before I turned seventeen.
After that we’d been inseparable, our friendship the foundation that made us solid enough to last through anything. Even this.
Glenn waved a hand in front of my face to regain my attention.
‘Drink?’ I asked. ‘I’m having an orange juice.’
‘Yeah, the same.’
‘What about you, Dale?’
He poured himself a pint, then wandered back to his stool and the day’s crossword.
My stomach fluttered as I took a seat beside Glenn, and it had nothing to do with the final remnants of hangover. Well, not much, anyway.
‘So, umm, sorry about last night…’
He held his hands up. ‘Don’t worry about it. Enough said.’
My mouth quirked up at the ends into a small smile. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.’
‘Surprised you can remember.’
‘Yes… Did you mean it? About helping me find out what happened to Beth?’
He took a long sip of orange juice. Clearly buying time, trying to think of a way of letting me down that wouldn’t turn me into the gibbering, tearful loony I had been the night before. I picked at the skin on the side of my thumb, bracing myself for the inevitable.
‘Of course I’ll help you. Not sure how, though.’
The relief!
‘Just listen to me as I work through my mad theories,’ I gushed. ‘Two heads are better than one, and all that.’