Ellie wishes she was wearing sturdier shoes. If Edward had warned her where they were going, she would have suggested she change her trainers. Actually, scrap that, she thinks, cursing under her breath, she would’ve found an excuse to avoid this batshit-crazy trip of his altogether. Tripping and skidding up the misty woodland trail, now churned to mud by the back and forth of the police teams earlier in the week as well as the heavy rainfall, dodging deep drifts of leaves that have come down overnight in the high winds, Ellie is bitterly regretting her decision to follow him blindly. It’s obvious now where he is taking her, and the knowledge makes her queasy with dread.
There’d been no talking on the ride. It had been just the two of them, Ellie clinging to his jacket, the headlamp of his motorbike a single, narrow beam moving ineffectually over the drifting fog until they were bumping down a track and pulling into the small woodland car park. ‘Here?’ Ellie had asked, feeling the first prickle of dread.
Edward had turned the key in the ignition, the deep silence of the woods replacing the thrum of the engine. He’d removed his helmet and fluffed up his hair. ‘I understand how you’ve been feeling,’ he’d said.
She’d nodded, but silently wondered how he could possibly know.
‘Sarah’s death has affected you. Deeply.’
The lump that had been lodged in her throat since Saturday night seemed to swell at his mention of Sarah. She’d busied herself with removing her helmet, fumbling with the clasp.
‘It’s frightening, isn’t it, when the blinkers come off and you understand the world is a chaotic place? No real order. It’s a loss of innocence.’
Ellie had frowned. Was he implying she’d been naïve… childish? That she didn’t know bad things happened in the world? Because if he was, he was wrong. That bubble had well and truly burst the day her Aunt Gemma had died. And again, on the day her dad had moved out of the family home. She was more than aware that life could bring sadness and pain. She’d wanted to protest, but he hadn’t finished.
‘A place like Thorncombe can feel like a bubble, as if nothing bad could ever happen here. But no place is safe, not really. You only have to look back historically to see that.’
She’d frowned, not entirely sure what he meant.
‘Death isn’t something many of us are skilled at talking about, or know how to cope with, especially when it comes suddenly, unexpectedly. Which is strange, don’t you think, given that birth and death are the most natural processes we will experience, and the only two common certainties we all have in life?’
Ellie had tilted her head. ‘I guess. I hadn’t really thought about it…’ She’d trailed off. As far as she knew, there’d been nothing natural about Sarah’s death, but before she could make that point, Edward was talking again, warming to his argument.
‘We don’t like to think about it, do we?’ He’d turned to her again and she’d nodded, wanting to please him, even though she still wasn’t entirely sure where his argument was leading. ‘We live like we’re immortal. Like these lives of ours are going to go on and on for ever. Teenagers are the worst,’ he’d added, a half-smile on his lips. ‘You’re programmed to experiment and take risks… live like you’re invincible. That’s why, when something happens out of the blue, something out of order like Sarah’s death, we often don’t have the language or the skills to work through it.’ He’d shaken his head. ‘It’s no wonder you’re struggling with the weight of it.’
He’d taken the helmet from her hands, helped her down off the bike and made for the start of the walking trail. The knot in her stomach had clenched even tighter. ‘What are we doing here?’ she’d asked.
‘Ellie, my father and I didn’t have the easiest relationship,’ Edward had continued. ‘There was some bad blood between us. Some misunderstandings. He never approved of my decision to pursue an art career. When he died, I realised there were things I wished I’d had a chance to say to him. Regret… guilt. Those emotions can stay with you if you don’t find a way to let them go. They can block you… emotionally’ – he turns to her, his eyes bright – ‘…and creatively.’
Ellie had frowned. ‘What did you do?’
‘A therapist suggested that I say all those things that I’d never had a chance to say to him. To find a place that reminded me of him, and to tell him everything that was on my mind. So, I did.’
Traipsing behind him, Ellie had found herself curious. ‘Did it help?’
‘I didn’t expect it to, but yes, it did. And I think it might help you, too.’
‘Me?’
‘You said earlier that you wished you could say “sorry” to Sarah, that you can’t stop thinking about her. About what happened between you both in the woods on the night of her death? So, how about we go up there’ – he’d jerked his head in the direction of the trail – ‘and you say all the things you want to say to Sarah? In the spot where you were last together?’
Ellie had felt her eyes go wide. ‘That sounds kind of… weird.’
‘Perhaps. But what if it helped you let go of some of these overwhelming emotions? What if it meant you could focus again? You’ve got a full-on year ahead of you, if you want to get to UAL. There’s a lot at stake. It’s worth a shot, don’t you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Ellie, secretly horrified by the idea. ‘I don’t think I want to talk to Sarah. Not in front of you.’
‘You don’t have to speak the words out loud. Talk to her in your head, privately, if that feels easier. I’ll just be there for moral support.’
Ellie had pulled a face, still sceptical. How could she tell him she didn’t want to do it, when he’d shared all that stuff about his own father? When he’d gone to the trouble of bringing her out here? How could she tell him that the last thing she wanted to do was go up into the woods again – to the place where this whole nightmare had begun?
But Edward was already moving towards the path, tugging his jacket collar up against the cold. She’d sighed. If it had been her mum or dad, she would’ve simply told them where to go and refused to budge, but this was Edward – her teacher. She’d hesitated for a second, eyeing the bike and the route back, a jittery feeling creeping up her legs. Everything in her body had seemed to scream don’t go, but Edward was beckoning to her and she could see the hint of impatience creeping over his face. With a sinking feeling, she’d started to follow him up into the fog. It hadn’t seemed as if she had a choice.
Stumbling along behind him now through the mist-cloaked woods, cursing her stupidity for blindly climbing onto the back of his bike, rather than finding some excuse to take her back to the safety of the common room, she focuses on the back of his leather jacket, and on her breath ballooning before her face. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she chants internally to the beat of her footsteps.
‘You know these woods are supposed to be haunted?’ he calls back to her.
Ellie doesn’t really want to think about that. The place is creepy enough on a normal day, but after everything that’s happened, and with the fog slinking between the trees, it seems to have taken on an even more sinister feel.
‘You’ve heard the story about the girl murdered in the folly?’
‘It’s just an old wives’ tale,’ says Ellie, with more bravado than she feels. She glances around, trying to read shapes in the fog. Just tree trunks, looming out at her, branches grabbing and clawing, and Edward forging on up the trail. ‘You know, I’m really OK with not doing this,’ she says. ‘I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself in a few days.’
But he isn’t listening. He’s talking again, his voice trailing down the slope towards her. ‘I’ve been planning a series of paintings based on the local stories from this area,’ he calls over his shoulder. ‘Did I tell you that?’
‘No,’ she puffs, trying to keep up, putting on a sudden sprint to reach him where he’s waiting for her beside a gnarly oak.
‘Yes, I was inspired by you lot. You’ve been working on art projects drawn from the local landscape and I thought I’d do the same in a new collection. I’ve always been interested in the echoes a place holds. I’d been thinking about the story of the girl at the folly, and now here we are. Such a strange coincidence. I was working on a painting of the folly.’ He turns to regard her. ‘But I probably won’t ever show it now.’
‘Why not?’ She’s grateful for the moment to catch her breath.
‘It wouldn’t be right.’
Ellie glances around. She has the strangest feeling, as if someone might be watching them. It feels as if Sarah could slide out of the mist in her white dress and stand before them. The thought makes her shiver.
When they finally emerge from the trees into the folly clearing, the tower looms high in front of them, its apex disappearing into the white. Piles of copper leaves have fallen since she was last here, blown into high drifts against its stone walls. Ellie sees the tatters of police tape dangling from branches in forlorn scraps and hangs back, feeling sick to her stomach to be at the place of Sarah’s death. At the place where they fought.
It’s ominously quiet, the mist only seeming to muffle the silence of the place, making it feel as though they’ve stepped into a vacuum, somewhere out of place, out of time. Not a single bird call. Her gaze trails up the stone walls, dark against the swirling fog, that gaping void at the top from which Sarah had plunged. A reel of imagined images flickers through her mind. She shudders. Poor Sarah.
‘It’s fear that’s blocking your creativity,’ says Edward, seeing her reaction.
Ellie shrugs. ‘Perhaps. I mean… I don’t know…’
‘Do you know how you eradicate fear?’
She shakes her head.
‘You face it head on. You can’t squash it. So, feel it, and then act anyway. Do that and you’re free. Invincible.’
Ellie frowns. She’s still not sure what he’s talking about, or what they’re doing here. Seeing her confusion, he moves a little closer.
‘What’s the thing you’re most frightened of, Ellie?’
She glances up at the folly towering over them.
Edward follows her gaze. ‘That’s it. That’s where we’ll go.’ He is already marching towards the yawning black entrance, stepping through the open doorway before stopping to look back at her. ‘Come on, what are you waiting for?’
‘I… I don’t want to go up there.’
He turns to look up at the internal shaft of the tower, then glances back at her. One foot is still poised on the bottom step, his teeth shining white, though his eyes remain unreadable, cast in the shadow of the folly. ‘It’s not so frightening when you’re in here. Come on.’
There’s more than a hint of impatience about him now. She can tell Edward is growing frustrated that she isn’t embracing his idea and Ellie is frightened not just of the tower, but of letting him down, of disappointing him. He only wants to help. She glances back at the trail and the trees, sees the mist slinking around their trunks, then makes for the tower, stepping through the doorway and following Edward into the shadows.