Chapter 29
We establish a base of operations in the kitchen, which is a more reassuring place to gather than the drawing room with its echoes of accusation and last night’s drunken vanity, or the sitting room where the smoke from the metaphorical gun I just pulled on the two couples in our midst still hangs in the air.
Becca and Euan, Kimmy and Leo – the bullet has ricocheted, ripping through us all. Our group feels fractured, coming apart at the seams.
Kimmy is sitting at the breakfast bar, cool and expressionless, when Jameson and I enter the kitchen.
She looks perfect – not a hair out of place, her make-up flawless.
Leo is flushed from the wine he’s drunk, his blond hair in disarray.
He’s trying to get Kimmy’s attention, but she’s ignoring him completely. I don’t have a lot of sympathy for him.
This is what he did to Gen; he’s never been able to resist the attraction of greener grass.
She loved Leo, and the betrayal stung. Their relationship was a bit of a minefield, but if Leo wanted to look elsewhere he should have split up with Gen first. Now, I don’t imagine for a second that he’s seriously interested in Becca – or in sabotaging his future marriage.
It’s just that innate entitlement of his asserting itself.
He wanted her in the moment, so he went for it.
Euan leans against the wall by the door, gazing moodily out of the window as flurries of snow continue to fall.
I’m tired of it now – it no longer looks pretty, and Tarnmore no longer seems like the cosy retreat.
It feels like there won’t be any end to this weather, that we’ll be trapped here in a maelstrom of snow and suspicion forever.
Becca is making a cafetière of coffee, her hair piled on top of her head. She looks up when we enter the kitchen, and I see the tear stains still on her cheeks. At least she cares about Alex in all of this.
Unless she’s crying for her fractured relationship; but I don’t think so.
‘Our phones are not in our rooms,’ Jameson says, pulling out a chair for me at the table as if we’re on a date rather than dealing with death, stranded by the storm.
I slip into the seat and steeple my fingers beneath my chin.
Anxiety claws up my throat, but I focus on breathing deeply.
A black-and-white image is imprinted on my retinas, like the inverted negative of an old photo: Alex’s black suit against the blinding snow, his limbs splayed.
Euan’s head whips round. ‘What? Are you sure you left them there?’
Jameson and I nod. ‘They were there before we went out.’
Euan folds his arms over his chest, and glares at Leo and Kimmy. ‘You two know anything about this?’
Leo flushes, while Kimmy’s stare is stony. ‘Don’t look at us,’ Leo protests. ‘We’ve not touched your phones. Why on earth would we?’
Euan comes to join us at the table, very obviously avoiding walking past Becca.
She brings over the cafetière, and considers where to sit – aware of the political ramifications of sitting next to Leo and the fact that Euan doesn’t seem to want to be anywhere near her.
She chooses the seat next to me – not, I’m sure, that she wants to sit beside me either – and starts pouring the coffee.
‘So, let me get this straight,’ Euan says. ‘We currently have one phone between us – yours.’ He looks at Leo.
‘And then there was one,’ Leo intones in a spooky voice, earning himself disparaging looks all round. None of us find it funny. ‘Sorry. My battery died, but I stuck it on to charge. I’ll go grab it and we’ll ring for help.’
But he doesn’t make any move, as though reluctant to make the call and cement this nightmare. Once we’ve called the police, what happened to Alex will be anchored in reality.
Unless … is there another reason he’s reluctant to ring them?
I haven’t considered the possibility that someone else might be guilty of the crimes I stand accused of. In my head, it’s been a clear choice between me drowning Gen and it just being a terrible accident.
Alex’s death could be an accident too …
If I could just find an explanation for my boot prints up on the falls, the mess in my room.
I’ve been so quick to leap to the certainty of my own guilt but now another possibility occurs to me.
Could someone be … setting me up?
Horrible as the thought is, it’s also a breath of fresh air, a release. The prospect, however slim, that I’m not losing my mind, that I’m not capable of killing my friend, is welcome. I hang on to it like a life belt in storm-tossed seas; I have nothing else.
‘Mine is upstairs,’ Kimmy interjects. A flicker of doubt passes over her face, and she jumps up. ‘At least it was. I should go and check.’
‘Mine is still missing,’ Becca says tonelessly.
‘Helpful.’ Euan doesn’t look at her.
I sigh. ‘Things are bad enough, don’t you think, without everyone being at each other’s throats?’
Becca turns on me. ‘Oh sorry, Eilish. So sorry if we’re making you uncomfortable. You’re the one who decided to blab about what you thought you saw the other night – happy to spread rumours without any facts to back it up. You did this.’
That seems vastly unfair, considering she’s the one who decided to invite Leo into her bedroom and fool around behind her boyfriend’s and his fiancée’s backs. She always was jealous. Gen was convinced Bex had had a thing for Leo back then.
‘I’m not the only one spreading rumours without back-up,’ I point out. My heart thumps again at the thought of the damning evidence behind my closed bedroom door. If they knew about that, they’d be more convinced than ever of my guilt – even Jameson would find it difficult to defend me.
Becca sags, her anger fading. ‘You’re right, Eils. I’m sorry. Maybe I got carried away again with what Alex said last night. Up at the waterfall today I was in shock, upset.’
I stare into the depths of my coffee – has she changed her mind again? I can’t handle the constant flip-flopping.
Either she believes I’m a murderer or she doesn’t. We can’t keep going back and forth like this.
‘Hopefully you all realise that this nonsense about Eilish hurting Genevieve, and being up on the falls with Alex last night is just that … nonsense.’ Jameson again – so steadfast, so loyal. I close my eyes. I hope I don’t let him down.
Tears flood Leo’s eyes. He’s a bit drunk. ‘Eilish, I don’t think you’ve killed anyone either. I don’t think any of us has killed anyone.’
Euan reaches for a coffee mug. ‘It does seem like a stretch. It sounds like your friend died in a horrible accident, and Alex probably did too. He was drunk, possibly high. He decided – for reasons known only to him – to take a walk. Maybe the snow had stopped when he set out. It’s easy to forget how dangerous the weather can be, how quickly it turns.
Things just got out of hand last night, and emotions are running high today. ’
Becca considers this. I can almost see the cogs turning in her brain. ‘The boot prints,’ she murmurs. Then she takes a deep breath. ‘But, yeah, you’re right.’ She finally looks at me. ‘I’m sorry, Eilish. I shouldn’t have accused you.’
They’re the words I wanted to hear on that horrendous walk down from the waterfall. I should be elated.
But there’s the mess in my room: the mud, the footprints, my wet clothing …
There’s still doubt in my mind.
‘The boot prints are odd,’ Leo muses. He’s still holding a wineglass, having declined the suggestion of coffee.
‘They probably are just from yesterday,’ Euan says. ‘Maybe that patch was sheltered by overhanging branches and her prints didn’t get filled in.’
I appreciate his attempts to rationalise the prints, especially given the fact that he threw me under the bus earlier with that theory about me navigating in Alex’s footsteps to hide evidence of my presence. But overhanging branches wouldn’t explain the absence of Jameson’s prints.
And they don’t explain the evidence in my room.
Beneath the table, Jameson’s hand finds mine. I glance at him and he’s smiling. He’s pleased that I’m no longer under suspicion.
‘I just wish we knew what had happened to our phones …’ Becca frowns and sets down her mug.
‘Speaking of which,’ Euan says, downing the dregs of his coffee with a grimace. ‘Kimmy, you were going to go look for your phone, and Leo, you need to grab yours from wherever you put it to charge. I’m going to try and contact the emergency services; we’re not sitting on this any longer.’
Five minutes later, Leo and Kimmy are both back. Kimmy’s raging, because her phone is missing too.
I can’t shake the fear this lodges in my heart. It’s not feasible that we all just randomly mislaid our phones at the same time.
So where are they?
Leo hands his phone over to Euan, but after a few moments of pressing buttons, he sighs and says he can’t get it to make even an emergency call.
Apparently, that’s sometimes the case – it’s a myth that you can always make an emergency call.
Phones will piggyback on any available network, but in a total dead zone, it isn’t always possible.
‘We need to get out of the basin of these hills and try and pick up some reception at the main road.’
He doesn’t sound all that hopeful, but it’s our best option.
There’s some debate about this. Becca – not usually risk averse – would prefer no one went out in the blizzard, but she also doesn’t like the idea of leaving Alex lying out there in the ravine.
Leo wants to mount a rescue operation to retrieve his body, but he’s drunk and soft from city life, so no one takes him seriously.
Those of us who stood at the edge of that drop know how dangerous it would be to even try.
It was risky in daylight, but it would be reckless in the dark.
Kimmy also wants everyone to stay put, bank up the fire and open more wine. Like we can just put Alex from our minds and get on with the party.
Jameson asks my opinion. I don’t like the idea of being at Tarnmore without him, but I accept that someone needs to go with Euan, and Jameson is the right person for the job.
All I want to do is race upstairs and try to obliterate the mud from my bedroom, clean up the inconvenient evidence of my nocturnal adventure.
Jameson tries to reassure me before he leaves. We’re standing in the boot room and he’s all kitted out again. ‘The snow can’t last forever, Eilish. Another day or so at the most. Worst-case scenario, we might need to wait until it thaws and they get the phone lines back up and running.’
He doesn’t get it – how terrified I am to be stuck out here with no way to contact the outside world.
I follow him and Euan outside, reluctant to let Jameson out of my sight.
Euan says something about a strong flashlight and heads off to the stable to collect it, leaving Jameson and me alone.
The sky has cleared – I know better than to get excited about that; there’s more snow to come, undoubtedly.
For now the stars glitter overhead and the skin of frost on the surface of the snow sparkles.
It’s a bitterly cold night, and I’m not wearing my jacket.
Jameson rubs my upper arms. ‘I’m glad the others have realised how stupid they were being … as if you could kill anyone.’
The ache in my belly intensifies. ‘Thank you for believing in me.’
If only I completely believed in myself.
‘This will all be a memory one day,’ he continues. ‘We’ll grieve for Alex, of course. Do you think it might be possible for us to stay in touch this time … grieve together?’
I can hardly stand the look of hope in his eyes. I’ve been desperate for a second chance with this man – a sliver of one. Now he’s offering me everything I thought I wanted, but I can’t reach out and grasp it with both hands.
My doubt sits between us.
He bends to kiss me and despite myself I stretch to meet his lips.
It’s all heat and hope. Hungry, all-consuming.
One hand is on the small of my back, the other buried in my hair.
I’m freezing, but I’m burning up too. Our lips and tongues twine, saying everything we haven’t been able to say with words. I’m tingling from head to toe. I want …
More.
Everything.
We break away, gasping for breath when someone coughs pointedly behind us. Euan is waiting, flashlight in hand. I giggle and hide my blushes in Jameson’s chest.
‘When you’re ready.’ Euan smirks.
Jameson kisses my forehead. His voice is low, confidential. ‘Perhaps it’s wrong to feel any sort of happiness, with Alex lying out there … but you’re the only thing keeping me sane right now, you know that?’
I kiss his cheek, breaking out of the embrace. I pray he’s enough to keep me sane – but I fear not.
‘I won’t be long,’ Jameson promises, and then he’s gone.
*
Back in the kitchen, Kimmy is wrestling the cork from another bottle of wine, while Leo lines up glasses and Becca lays out bowls of olives and antipasti. Her attempt at recapturing a party atmosphere sickens me. ‘I’m going to nip up and take a shower,’ I say, declining a drink.
On my way up the cold staircase, passing beneath the sinister stare of the stag once more, the missing phones are front and centre of my thoughts. One mislaid phone is careless, two is a coincidence that might begin to be troubling …
Four, though?
Impossible.
Except, it’s not. It’s real. I try to remember if I definitely saw my phone on the bedside table this morning. I think so – as much as I’m sure of anything just now.
The residual heat of Jameson’s kiss trickles through me.
I run up the last few stairs and along the corridor to my room, shove the door hard enough to clear the rug – it’s already becoming automatic – and slam it behind me.
I lean against the wood and breathe hard.
My room looks exactly as I left it, but something turns the heat in my veins to ice and a shiver creeps around my ribs.
I look around carefully, click on the overhead light since the bedside lamp is dim.
The bed is tossed, the mud streaks on the sheets sending nausea shooting into my throat again. I’m not sure how to go about washing my sheets, but at least I can wash the mud out of the shower, scrub the carpet, and rinse and hang up my socks and gloves.
I start to do just that, but something catches my eye. Something that shouldn’t be here—
A phone on the bedside table.
It definitely wasn’t there when I left with Jameson.
I am certain of that. I reach for it, only to freeze.
The phone is not a rose-gold iPhone in a clear cover …
it’s a Samsung in a metallic-grey case. The screen is splintered, a spider’s web of cracks covering the glass. Beneath it, something else.
A strip of white fabric. Without thinking, I let curiosity take over and lift the phone clear of the material. It’s a bow tie.
Striped red and white, smears drying to russet.
Blood.
I sink onto the bed and stare at the device, the bow tie.
I think this is Alex’s phone, and the bow tie he was wearing last night. The other men were in black tie, but his was white.
Which means it is Alex’s blood.