She looked as perfectly made-up as ever. Not a curl of her peroxide-blonde hair out of place. Perish the thought that the village bombshell should let herself go, even in a time of crisis. But despite the way she looked, the barrage of words illustrated Ursula’s nerves at what state she’d find us in, bless her.
She held the casserole out to me again.
‘That was kind of you,’ I said, touched.
I took the heavy dish, even though the thought of food made me feel sick, and passed it straight to Jacob. How long had it been since I’d eaten a solid meal? Mum and Dad had bought us sandwiches at the hospital, but I’d only had a little nibble before putting it down, fearing I’d vomit again. I’d managed a banana not long before leaving the hospital. Was that all? I should have been ravenous.
‘How, umm, how is Beth?’ Ursula asked, head on one side. She used the sort of hushed tone more usually associated with people talking of the recently deceased.
‘She’s… Ursula, would you like to come in?’
‘Well, I’d better get back to Chloe. She’s upset by what’s happened, understandably.’
‘Of course, of course. I just wondered if Chloe had any idea why Beth was on the marsh in the middle of the night.’
‘I’ve asked, believe me. But she doesn’t have a clue.’
Of course she didn’t have a clue. Your best friend wasn’t exactly blessed in the brains department, was she, Beth? I know you two had been inseparable since nursery school, but she didn’t understand half of what you said these days. Her idea of a deep conversation was discussing what the Kardashians had been up to. Why did it have to be you lying in that hospital bed, fighting for your life, when you had so much potential compared to her?
Are you shocked that I could think that way, Beth? I was. Fear and exhaustion were making me feel out of character. As soon as your attacker was arrested, and you had come round, I’d be back to my old self. We all would.
Suddenly, a thought occurred…
Twelve
I frowned. It didn’t take a psychic to work out my thoughts, and Ursula soon twigged. ‘Melanie, I believe her. She’s not hiding anything – she knows how serious this is.’
‘Of course, sorry. But you know what best friends are like at that age. They share everything. I just… I just hoped.’
‘We’re desperate for answers,’ interjected Jacob.
‘Of course you are. I’d be exactly the same.’
Ursula reached out and hugged me. Taken by surprise, I hugged her back.
We’d grown up together, living in the same village, but as kids the fact that she’d been four years older than me had put her in a different sphere. As we’d got older things had changed, of course. We’d made mutual friends, and then when our daughters had become best friends at nursery we’d got to know each other much better. But she and I had never been close. Ursula was the kind of person who wore her heart on her sleeve, but could be a little superficial. She always had to look perfect, get perfect marks in school, have the perfect wedding, buy perfect furniture. Now she was thirty-seven, it was easy to imagine her becoming one of those women who tried to cling to their youth by having Botox and dressing identically to her daughter.
You know me, Beth, I couldn’t give a toss about my looks or what people think. I’d always been comfortable in my own skin, doing my own thing. People thought I was mad for giving up a place at university after falling pregnant with you, and that I was too young to raise a family. There had been plenty of gossiping and judging going on about me. So what? The timing may not have been ideal, but you were a gift that I’d never, even for a moment, regretted.
When Ursula and I pulled apart she gave me a watery smile. ‘So, how is Beth doing?’
‘As well as can be expected. It’s all too soon to tell,’ replied Jacob.
‘She’s in a coma. An induced coma. The doctors have told us to prepare for the worst… but she’s clung on, so we’re hopeful.’
‘They don’t know what type of injuries she’ll have when she wakes, though.’
‘It’s bad. Pretty much as bad as it can get.’
Ursula’s head moved back and forth between us as Jacob and I played fact tennis about your prognosis. Her face paled as she heard the news, and she grabbed my hand.
‘I’m so sorry. I mean it – if there is anything I can do, please let me know. And, could I ask a huge favour from you? Could you let me know if there’s any change in Beth? Anything at all? Chloe is going out of her mind.’
‘Of course,’ I promised. ‘And if she does think of something, anything at all, that might help the police figure who did this, or why, or—’
‘I’ll let you know. It goes without saying.’
We said our goodbyes, tears in our eyes. It meant a lot that everyone in the village had rallied round us.
Jacob lifted the casserole dish and sniffed it.
‘Smells good. Steak stew. Do you want some?’
‘Umm, maybe a little bit.’
As he walked through the lounge and into the kitchen with it, I walked after him. ‘But only a tiny bit, Jacob.’
Even then, he gave me more than I wanted. I’d known he would, of course, hoping that my appetite would kick in once I started eating.
‘We’ve got to keep our strength up for Beth. She’ll be coming round soon, and I don’t want her worrying about us,’ he reminded me.
True. You were a sensitive girl, Beth. Always worrying about others, and taking in injured birds and wild animals, trying to fix them. When one died – as they so often did – you were always heartbroken. The thought of you fretting about me instead of concentrating on getting yourself better made me force down a mouthful. But the food seemed to stick in my throat, then sit heavy in my stomach. Ursula was a great cook – after all, she ran the village café and did the catering in the pavilion for the cricket matches every summer. But my stomach was churning too much for anything to seem appetising.
Lack of sleep was making me feel sick too. We’d only snatched an hour before Ursula had woken us. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep going. My eyes felt gritty. They started to droop as Jacob launched into his second bowl of casserole, mopping up the gravy with a slice of bread.
Another knock at the door.
For a second we stared at each other. Then jumped up and ran to the door, Jacob still clutching the dripping bread.
It was Jill Young, armed with what looked like a huge lasagne. Her frizzy, steel-grey hair was pulled into a high ponytail, as usual, and bobbed up and down as she nodded her greeting. It always seemed strangely girlish compared to her flat shoes and sensible clothes.
But Jill’s hair wasn’t what caught my attention at that moment; it was who was behind her. A car was pulling up, and inside was DS Ellen Devonport.
Thirteen
This was my first chance to look properly at the detective sergeant. Last time had been too much of a rush. There had been so much to take in, having gone from thinking you were dead to discovering you were alive.