The first thing I see when I walk through the gate is Nathan’s car glinting in the moonlight on the driveway. My heart skips a beat. I tell myself to relax. I’ve done nothing wrong. I took the dog out. That’s all. I take her out every night. It’s normal. Breathe. You’ve done nothing wrong.
Breathe.
I follow the gravel path around the side of the house and take Cass in through the kitchen door. The lights are off. The dishwasher is on and whirring softly. The door closes behind me and the air immediately tightens. As soon as I step into the kitchen the smell hits me, an unpleasant hint of something in the air, sweet and rancid. It catches the back of my throat. I turn the light on and scan the room, searching for the cause of it, but the surfaces are cleared of everything, polished down, spotless. There’s no way Alex would have done it and the thought of Nathan cleaning the kitchen so thoroughly gives me the chills.
I walk to the sink and the smell gets stronger. I open the cupboard beneath, where the bin is, and when I do, I pull back and lift my hand to my nose. Whatever is causing the stench is in the bin. I peer in and there, on the top of the rubbish, is a plastic bag. I can see something brown and soft inside it. I flick back the opening of the bag to reveal whatever it is and, when I do, draw back in shock and cover my mouth with my hand. Inside the bag is a collection of rodents curled around each other in a Celtic knot. Their matted fur is wet and putrid, their eyes rotted away, lips pulled back from sharp yellow teeth in macabre grimaces. The smell is hideous. They’ve been in the bag for some time, which I imagine must have been sealed and somewhere warm.
‘Jesus,’ I whisper. I breathe through my mouth and keep as far back as I can, while I reach in and pick the bag out.
As I grasp hold of it, Nathan appears at the door. I hold the plastic bag out towards him, my hand still blocking my nose, my heart racing. ‘Did you put these mice in the bin?’
‘Not mice. Voles. Nasty little voles which were attacking my seedlings so I poisoned them. Did you know they can eat through a whole greenhouse of plants in a matter of hours? I collected them up and put them in the bag, but forgot about them. They stank the greenhouse out spectacularly.’
‘Why are they in the house bin?’
‘Because they’ve been poisoned?’ he says as if I’m stupid. ‘You said I wasn’t to throw poisoned animals in the bushes or over the fence in case the dog ate them. Remember?’
‘They should be in the wheelie bin. Outside not in.’
‘I didn’t know you were quite so sensitive. I can double-bag them if you’d prefer?’ A glint of maliciousness flickers in his eyes.
I stare at him for a moment or two before turning towards the kitchen door and marching the hideous creatures to the black bin inside our gates. When I come back he has taken a bottle of wine from the cupboard and is retrieving a bottle opener from the drawer.
‘So how come you’re home so early?’ I say as casually as I can muster. I turn the tap on and squeeze some hand soap on to my hands to wash them.
‘I didn’t feel like it in the end.’
The smell of the rotting voles still hangs heavily in the kitchen. I knot the bin bag and as I do he clears his throat and leans back against the worktop.
‘I thought I’d spend the evening with you instead. Where were you?’ The lightness in his tone masks a direct accusation. I watch him driving the corkscrew into the bottle. He yanks it out easily and it gives a soft pop as it releases. He inspects the cork and holds it up to his nose. ‘I didn’t know you were going out.’
‘Walking Cass.’ I open the back door and put the bin bag outside. My knees threaten to buckle.
‘Nice walk?’
My heart picks up speed as I bend to retrieve the disinfectant from beneath the sink. ‘Yes, thank you. It’s a lovely evening.’ I reach for a cloth and tip the liquid on to it and begin to wipe the inside of the bin. The chemical pine smell is acrid and almost as unpleasant as the lingering odour of decomposed rodent I’m trying to get rid of. ‘I stayed out longer than I expected to because you were out and Alex went up to bed, and, well, I like walking at night. Especially when it’s not too cold…’ I stop myself, aware I’m rambling.
‘Where did you walk?’
‘Across the fields.’ The answer is instinctive and I regret it immediately. The thing about a good lie is it should be as close to the truth as possible.
‘You seem jumpy. Is everything all right?’
I swallow, but my throat is dry. ‘Yes, of course. It’s nice you’re home. I might join you with a glass of wine.’
He doesn’t move immediately, but then takes a second wine glass from the cupboard and pours some red wine. He holds it out to me. For a moment I imagine it’s poisoned and I’m going to end up like the voles. I take it and he turns to pick up his own glass.
‘Cheers.’ He stares at me and raises his wine. ‘By the way, if you still want me to take you to visit your mother tomorrow, I want to leave at eight. I need to get to the garden centre for some more poison. I seem to have used it all up on those vermin.’
I watch his face like a hawk but his smile doesn’t falter. Something’s going on, there’s something he’s storing up, and he wants me to worry about what it is. My mind jumps back to the woods. To what Cam said to me. How much pleasure, I wonder, would I get from turning myself in and seeing Nathan go to prison for concealing a murder? Cam would be collateral damage. Alex and my mother, too. But would it be worth it?
‘We can catch the train if you’d prefer. It’s not far to walk from the station.’
‘Half an hour.’
‘Not far.’
We are dancing around each other, watchfully, as if engaged in the opening bars of a dangerous tango.
‘I said I’d drive you and I will.’ That smile again.
I nod.
‘Hannah?’
His voice has turned flinty and my stomach spasms.
‘Are you sure you walked in the fields? Not the woods?’
I remain as passive as I can.
‘Only, I drove home through Gulval and Trevaylor tonight.’
He knows.
I sip some wine. ‘Yes. Definitely the fields. The woods are too dark at this time of night.’
‘There was a car parked on the side of the road. Near the track down to the woods.’ He smiles. ‘It looked familiar. But, of course, I could be mistaken.’
The tremor in my voice is hard to conceal. ‘I was in the fields.’
‘It’s just the crappy old jalopy parked at the woods was remarkably similar to the one Cameron Stewart drives. Almost identical, in fact.’
‘But he’s gone back to wherever he lives, hasn’t he?’
‘I thought so, but, well, it’s hard to be in two places at once, isn’t it? And if his car is parked at the top of Trevaylor Woods, it’s almost impossible for it to also be parked on a street in some shitty part of Reading.’
‘Why do you think it was his? It could be anybody’s. Lots of people walk there and all those red cars look the same, don’t they?’
His exaggerated smile finally slips away. ‘You appear to think I was born yesterday.’
I don’t react. I am careful. I drink some wine then place the glass down and cross my arms firmly. This bravado is a mask; inside I am jelly.
‘You never stopped seeing him, did you?’
‘What?’
‘You kept in contact. You’re still in a relationship. Alex knows him. That’s why he went there.’ He steps close to me and moves his face so close to mine I can smell the wine on his breath. ‘You’ve been fucking him this whole time, haven’t you?’
I shake my head and hold back tears.
‘Will you visit him in prison?’
‘You can’t,’ I begin, struggling to get the whispered words out. ‘You can’t prove anything.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘It’s been too long. We’ll tell them you’re lying. I’ll tell them he was with me… in his… car. All night. At Lamorna.’ I swallow hard and clench my fists in the hope it gives me strength. ‘It’ll be our word against yours. I’ll say… I’ll say you’re making it up because… you’re jealous…’
‘Jealous?’ He erupts with laughter, dabbing imaginary tears of mirth and shaking his head as if I’ve told the funniest joke in the world. ‘Your word against mine? The word of a housewife with depression who can’t get a job or manage a bank account? And that of a pathetic drifter? You think they’ll believe the two of you over me? A respected lawyer and upstanding member of the community?’
Each word stings. I have to dig deep. I think of Alex and the way he stands up to this man and how proud it makes me. When I speak, I do so slowly, pausing between words to steady my nerves.
‘But not upstanding enough to go to the police and report a crime.’
The sentence is no more than a whisper, but I see him double-take, a flicker of surprise skims his face.
It emboldens me.
‘You watched Cam put a body in his boat and head out to sea with a dingy tied to that boat. You waited until he returned. Empty-handed. No body. No dingy. You witnessed him dispose of a body, but never breathed a word. You let a village believe a man had drowned at sea. You withheld evidence.’ Adrenalin pumps through my veins like a drug. ‘A lawyer withholding evidence that might lead to a conviction for murder? What would this do to your reputation?’ Hatred fills me like an inflating balloon. ‘You know something?’ My words drive into him. ‘If it wasn’t for you, following me around, refusing to leave me alone, none of it would have happened. If you’d just stayed away then Cam and I could have had a chance at being happy. I could have married someone who truly loves me.’ I laugh bitterly. ‘Jesus. Imagine that?’
He stands, open-mouthed, as if I’ve slapped him.
‘I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you,’ he says, brow furrowed with incredulity. ‘You consumed me.’ I struggle to keep looking at him under the burning heat of his stare. ‘I saved you, Hannah. I got you away from that man. I didn’t contact the police for you. He was no good for you. A murderer? Is that the type of man who’d make you happy?’ He pauses for a moment or two to study me, searching my face for some sort of reaction. ‘I gave you a second chance, a beautiful home and family. I gave you all of this,’ he says, as he gestures around him with a dramatic sweep. Then he takes my hand in his. His thumb strokes mine. ‘Tell me, who stood by you, Hannah? Him or me?’ He raises his hand to my face and trails the backs of his fingers down my cheeks. ‘You’re misremembering it all. Things happened differently. When I found you, you were barely functioning. You were a shadow of the girl I knew. And when he abandoned you, I was there for you. If he loved you even half as much as I do, he’d never have left you. He’d have fought for you. Like I did. If it were me back then? I never would have run away from you. I’d have taken you with me. Left in the night. I’d have moved heaven and earth to not be separated from you. And I did. You asked me to let him go free. It went against everything I knew was right and I did it only for you. And what did he do? This man you think would have made you happy?’
Nathan is speaking softly now, his demeanour gentle and unthreatening. His words are muddling me, as if he’s taking a jar of my memories and shaking it until it’s silty and unclear.
‘He abandoned you, Hannah. I watched him walk away from you. He didn’t even look back.’
An image of Cam leaving blindsides me and I’m catapulted back to that afternoon.
My voice telling him to go. Telling him I never wanted to see him again. Him pleading with me. Trying to hold on to me. Both hands against his chest. Pushing. Powered by anger at the staggering injustice of it.
It’s over, Cam. I don’t love you. Just go.
And that was it. He turned his back on me and didn’t look back.
My mind wrestles with everything Nathan said. Is he right? Am I so swept up with the fantasy of Cam that I’m not remembering things correctly? Why didn’t Cam fight for me? For us? If he truly loved me, how could he walk away?