*
With the sun finally up, I could see properly the landscape I knew off by heart. The land squeezed into a couple of inches; the rest of the view taken up solely by a huge sky. Squatting in the distance, a mere speck, stood the old RAF lookout tower.
I drank it all in, defying the feeling it gave me of insignificance. Then anger twisted my stomach.
Now or never.
Wiggins was leaning against me, warming me with his body and no doubt leeching a little warmth from mine too. I grabbed his collar and led him a couple of feet away, moving stiffly after being frozen with cold.
‘Stay.’
His head cocked on one side. The second I stepped away he moved towards me.
‘Stay!’
This time, he listened.
I tugged at the rucksack’s drawstring. Come on, come on. Yes! The knot gave beneath my unfeeling fingers. Then I pulled out the small axe Jacob used to chop firewood.
The balance of it felt alien to me, the heavy head pulling earthward. But I gripped it with both hands and made experimental swings through the air.
Should I use one hand or two? Two.
The axe made an impressive whooshing sound as it cut through the air.
I turned to the tree.
The pathetic sycamore.
Stunted and twisted from the wind bullying it every day.
The soiled ribbons festooning it fluttered towards me, imploring. I swung back my arm then let it fly. The helplessness of your situation; the frustration of James Harvey being released; the betrayal by your father; the bittersweet agony of my dream that morning – they were all behind that blow. It landed with a satisfying thunk, the sharp blade biting into wood; the impact reverberating up my bones.
I tugged the axe free. Swung again. A strangled sob escaped my lips.
The third blow bounced off the bark.
No more sound from me, just the wind whistling in my ears, egging me on as I thought of bone cracking beneath my blows, of blood running rather than sap. I’m not a violent person, God knows, Beth, but anyone with a child would understand my dreams of parting flesh with my axe.
Missing the tree altogether, my next blow sank into the frost-hardened ground, splitting it open to reveal the clay beneath. Sweat mingled with tears. My arms burned.
I didn’t feel any better.
Why don’t I feel any better?
The scrawny tree stood firm. I couldn’t even get that right.
Still I swung. Feet sliding in the mud created from the thawing of the ground where I stood. Another blow, another, another… My feet slithered from beneath me and I landed heavily beside the axe, which sheared the teddy bear in two.
Wiggins gave a bark of distress and rushed forward, nosing through my balled-up body to plant feverish licks on my face. I wrapped my arms around his neck gratefully and buried myself in his fur. Let the sobs come.
Maybe I was having a breakdown, Beth. Maybe I’d welcome one, to escape reality.
Back at home, it was only just gone 8 a.m. There was no note from Jacob, who had left for work.
Feeling dissatisfied and unsettled, I had no idea what to do with myself. So opened a bottle of wine to help me relax. After two glasses, boredom hit. It was a little after 9 a.m.
I stumbled from the house again. Wiggins by my side, as ever. We crossed the road and went down by the paddocks, along a little walkway that ran from the churchyard through to open fields.
Davy was stroking the neck of one of the horses.
He knew something. Whether about James Harvey or someone else, I wasn’t sure. That look he had given me. The way Jill came over all protective. The fact that he hadn’t been seen at the store since our chat. Call it a mother’s intuition, but I knew he held another piece of the jigsaw. I needed to talk to him again, this time when there was no chance of being interrupted by his mum.
He didn’t notice me until Wiggins ran up and danced around his feet.
‘I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable the other day,’ I said.
‘Don’t be daft. You got a lot on, Mel.’
‘I just want the truth. Beth’s my only child, and someone hurt her. I need to understand why. If it was deliberate then that person could be a potential danger to others. And if it was an accident, well, that could be understandable. They should get it off their chest; it will make them feel so much better.’
Luckily I’d been running through what to say to Davy for days, while he’d been busy avoiding me, so my speech was all prepared. Even though the lies almost stuck in my throat, the alcohol lubricated them until they slipped out easily. I’d no intention of forgiving anyone who hurt you, Beth, accident or not. But I’d do or say anything to get them brought to justice.
‘It’s nothing to do with me or Mam,’ Davy protested. Despite his bulging muscles, he looked like a worried child.
‘I’m not the police. I’m simply a mother trying to find out what happened to her baby. If you do know anything, even a tiny thing that might help me… please, let me know.’
He shook his head, eyes wide, tiny potato nose reddening. ‘Mel, I didn’t have anything to do with this. I were with my mam when Beth were hurt – I told the police that.’
Something about the way he moved clicked into place. ‘Davy, why were you watching me on the marsh the other day? Have you been following me?’
‘Just keeping you safe.’
Keeping me safe, or keeping tabs on me?
‘Safe from who?’
‘Whoever hurt Beth.’
‘Why do you feel responsible for keeping me safe? Come on, Davy, you’re a good guy. Please tell me the truth – because I know you’re hiding something.’
The damn booze meant my emotions were all on the surface. To my horror, I started to cry. This was stupid. Maybe I’d just imagined the look of guilt he had thrown when I’d spoken to him and Jill the other day. Something kept me pushing on, though. I tried to stem my tears and speak, but they kept on.
‘Don’t cry!’ begged Davy.
‘You and your mum, you both know something, don’t you?’
‘Mam’s got nothing to do with this, I promise, Mel. She knows nothing.’
‘What about you? Do you know who did it? Was it you? Are you lying about being with your mum? Promise you know nothing about what happened to her!’
He hesitated, drowning in my swimming eyes.
‘Please, Davy. The truth will come out in the end. Better now than later. Help me! Promise you don’t know anything!’
‘I… I can’t promise, because…’
Davy did this. Why? Why would Davy hurt you?
My heart hammered against my chest, as if trying to break free and punch him. My hands were curled tight.
‘I were with Ursula Clarke,’ he finished.
It took a second before words would come, and when they did all I could manage was, ‘What?’
‘I were with Ursula Clarke.’
‘You’re having an affair?’
‘We are.’
So that was his big secret. That was why he looked so shifty.