Читать книгу My Sister’s Secret - Tracy Buchanan, Tracy Buchanan - Страница 11

Charity

Busby-on-Sea, UK

March 1987

The light from the rising sun illuminated the car’s exterior and in a flash, Charity saw a woman’s face streaked with mascara.

Tyres screeched over the road, the smell of petrol filling the air. Charity couldn’t move her legs, panic flooded through her.

But then strong hands were gripping her under her arms, pulling her out of the way as the car careened past her.

She looked up, saw Niall staring down at her. His cheeks were stubbled, his face tanned, dark circles under his eyes. Her whole body throbbed from being so close to him, from feeling his warm breath on her face, seeing those lips so close. She was shocked to feel the urge to press her lips against his like she used to do again and again.

Then the reality of the situation hit her.

She dragged her gaze away from Niall’s, watching the car zigzag across the road, finally coming to a stop with a shudder.

They both jumped up and jogged over.

Sitting in the driver’s seat was a dazed looking Lana North, the woman from the mansion, a small graze on her head, blood dripping down into one eye.

She peered up at Niall and Charity. ‘Whoops,’ she said sheepishly.

Charity placed the two mugs of steaming hot coffee on the table, avoiding the intense gaze of the elderly couple sitting there. It was clear word was getting out about what had happened that morning…and that Charity had been there with Niall. By the time the paramedics arrived to check Lana over, the road was busy – it was the only main road linking Busby-on-Sea to Southampton – giving residents plenty of time to see Niall and Charity standing there together. She’d been desperate to leave but Lana had grabbed her hand, told her to stay, a vulnerable look on her face.

How could she say no?

Niall could have left. But instead, he’d hovered nearby, watching Charity as though he were trying to figure out if she was real or not. She daren’t look back at him, her thumping heart betraying emotion she was trying hard to bury.

Charity peered towards the entrance to the café. Hope was at a doctor’s appointment so they hadn’t seen each other that morning. But she was due in soon, so Charity was hoping she could pull her to one side to break the news gently to her.

Charity wrapped her thick orange cardigan around herself and hurried back into the café. Was it her imagination or was it even busier than normal, despite spring being held off today by sharp winds and the threat of rain? People glanced up at her as she passed but she kept her eyes ahead of her, jaw clenched.

It was a small town. Gossip spread like wildfire, one of the many things that hadn’t changed in the years she’d been gone.

The door swung open then and her sister walked in. Hope paused at the entrance, eyes on Charity, and Charity knew in that moment Hope had already heard. Then she slammed the door shut and strode to the counter.

‘Tell me you didn’t know Niall was back,’ she hissed as she flung her purple suede coat off and grabbed an apron, barely looking at Charity.

‘No, of course not, Hope!’

‘They’re all loving this, aren’t they?’ Hope said, lowering her voice and casting her eyes over the busy café as Charity passed an order to her over the counter. ‘Nice bit of gossip to stave off the monotony. I just can’t believe Niall bloody Lane really is here. It makes me sick. What’s worse is people won’t just focus on the fact Lana North crashed her car. They’ll also be talking about the fact the man who killed Faith Winchester was with you, her sister, at the time.’ She scrutinised Charity’s face.

‘It was a coincidence, I swear,’ Charity said. ‘I just needed to go to the road, it is the anniversary of Faith’s death after all. Niall told me he’d gone there for the same reason. We—’

Charity fell silent as Mrs McAteer approached the counter.

‘What can I get you?’ Charity asked her, forcing a smile on to her face, pleased for an excuse to get away from her sister’s rage.

‘Just a hot chocolate, love,’ Mrs McAteer said, patting Charity’s arm. ‘Good work saving Lana North’s life.’

‘I didn’t save her. She was fine, just a bit dazed.’

‘My Gav knows one of the ambulance men. Apparently she’d had too much to drink.’

Charity thought of what Lana had said to her and the unmistakable smell of stale booze in the car.

‘Poor you, having to witness it after what happened to your poor sister on that road,’ Mrs McAteer continued, shaking her head. ‘And then to have Niall there too, the scum.’ Her lip curled up. ‘Bloody cheek, him returning to town. My Addie will be mortified when I tell her. Your poor sister must be rolling in her grave.’ Charity tried not to catch Hope’s eye. ‘And then to have some drunken rich girl driving her—’

She clamped her mouth shut and a hush fell over the café as Lana’s husband walked in.

He looked just as otherworldly as he had the day before. But when he stepped into a beam of hazy sunlight shining through one of the windows, the perfections slipped away. Dark shadows showed beneath his green eyes, the faint hint of stubble on his chin and cheeks and, as Charity peered closer, what looked like a trace of oil on the cuff of his shirt.

He looks better in the light, Charity thought. He looks better with those imperfections.

‘Can we talk somewhere, Charity?’ He glanced towards Mrs McAteer and smiled tightly. ‘Somewhere quiet?’

‘Of course, let’s go out back,’ Charity said, grabbing a bag of rubbish.

Dan took the bulging bag from her and smiled, following her out of the door. He threw the rubbish into it then got a pristine white handkerchief out with his initials on it, wiping his hands.

‘Long time since I put the rubbish out,’ he said.

‘How’s your wife?’

‘Fine. I must thank you for being there, she said you were a real comfort.’ He looked down at the tomato skin on his handkerchief. Then he peered back up at Charity and she noticed how very black his pupils and long lashes were, making the green of his eyes even more prominent. ‘I heard you’re a psychiatrist.’

‘A counsellor.’

He seemed to think about something for a moment then leant closer, lowering his voice. ‘I was wondering if you might talk to my wife? I’d pay of course: double whatever your hourly rate is.’

She frowned.

‘I’m afraid I’m not practising in any official capacity at the moment,’ Charity said. ‘Your wife would be better off going to a proper clinic or via the NHS.’

‘Lana will refuse, I know what she’s like. But she seemed to really like you. If we arranged for you to come to the house, have some privacy, she might open up more. I can pay double, treble.’

Charity sighed. She really wanted to help but it didn’t feel right. ‘I’m sorry. I can recommend a great counsellor a few towns away though?’

Dan raked his fingers through his blond hair. Then he forced a smile. ‘Of course. I’m sure she’s okay. Look, why don’t you come to dinner as thanks?’

Charity examined his face. Was this a ruse to try to get her to treat his wife over dinner?

‘That’s very kind of you,’ she replied, ‘but that’s really not necessary. It’s been enough for you to come here in person to thank me.’

‘Let’s say seven on Saturday evening?’ he said, as though not hearing her. ‘I know Lana would love to see you. I presume you know where our house is?’

‘But I—’

He smiled. ‘If you turn up, wonderful. If you don’t, then we feed the food to the fish. And if you see Niall Lane, can you mention dinner to him too? I hear he was quite the hero. I’ve tried to track him down but I think he may have left town.’ Charity felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Dan said. ‘But I very much hope we see you Saturday night, Charity.’

Charity watched him stroll away, his hands in his pockets. He paused a moment to watch a seagull fly across the grey skies above, then he disappeared around the corner.

‘So Niall’s left town, has he?’

Charity turned to see her sister standing at the door. ‘You heard that?’

‘Some. That’s good news though isn’t it? That Niall’s left.’ Her sister was scrutinising her face again.

Charity nodded. ‘Yes, I’m relieved. Very relieved.’

‘He better not come back. Now he knows you’re here, he might not be able to resist.’

‘Don’t be silly, Hope, it’s been years.’

‘Why silly? Feelings grow more intense with absence, especially when someone’s behind bars. They have time to think, to obsess…’

‘Hope, please don’t do this.’

Hope sighed. ‘Fine. So, are you going to go for dinner?’

‘It’ll be awkward, I don’t know them.’

‘It’ll be good for you to make new friends. I go out with the writing club lot, you ought to get out a bit too. Who knows, maybe you’ll become friends with Lana North and you can teach her how to drive properly?’

‘Oh, Hope,’ Charity said, shaking her head in disapproval. ‘You really are naughty.’

Charity went to walk back in but Hope grabbed her arm, looking Charity in the eye. ‘Just remember one thing if Niall does come back. He killed our sister. No matter what spin he puts on it or how you used to feel about him, he killed her.’

Charity peered up at the ruby-coloured gates guarding Dan and Lana North’s huge white mansion. This place had been a dilapidated mess when she was a kid, once owned by a duke and then left in a state of disrepair after a fire. Local kids would sneak in through the gates, smoking drugs and making out in the rooms. She’d even come here with Niall once but they preferred the comfort of the sea shore and caves near her house. It was quite something to see what the Norths had done to it since.

She paused at the marble steps leading up to the house, smoothing her hands down her cream trousers and adjusting the collar on her cerise blouse. She hadn’t been sure what to wear; these weren’t the kind of people she’d usually have dinner with. Back in London, all her friends and associates were other NHS counsellors. It was an unspoken rule that every dinner was a casual dinner, so Charity usually turned up in what she’d been wearing to work, jeans and a large bright shirt cinched at the waist with a belt.

She took a deep breath and walked up the stairs. Behind her, the sea rippled, the cliff the house was sitting on diving into the craggy rocks below. She put her hand out to lift the ornate gold knocker made from a lion’s mouth. But before she had the chance, the door was whipped open by Dan. He was wearing a casual white suit rolled up to the elbows, a pastel blue shirt beneath it, the shirt undone slightly to reveal the smooth tanned skin of his chest.

‘You came!’ he said. ‘I have to confess, I was worried you’d be a no-show.’

She had thought she would be a no-show too. But Dan had seemed so worried about Lana, and the vulnerable look in her eyes as she’d clutched at Charity’s hand after the accident ate away at her.

The truth was, Lana reminded her of Faith a little. Beautiful, vivacious, a slight hint of vulnerability. No one else noticed that about Faith apart from her sisters. All everyone saw was confident, clever, beautiful Faith. While she was all of those, she also had her insecurities. Charity recalled an Easter holiday when Faith returned from university and was blanked by a group of girls she used to go to school with while out shopping with Hope and Charity. She’d laughed it off at the time but later, Charity saw her crying in her room.

Charity stepped inside the mansion, taking in the huge hallway and marble floor draped with a black and gold rug. Ahead of her was a long stairway that swept up to a balconied landing, like a scene from Gone with the Wind. When Dan closed the door, she felt stifled. It was as though the heating had been on all day.

‘Your place is gorgeous,’ she said as he took her lime-coloured jacket. ‘I remember when it was a crumbling mess.’

‘So do I. It’s taken us two years to sort it out. Well, I say us. Lana’s done most of the work. She found the place too.’

‘I’m very impressed.’ Charity held out the bottle of Blue Nun. ‘Sorry, it was the only bottle of wine I could find at the local newsagent’s. My dad used to say it tastes like vinegar.’

Dan laughed. ‘I happen to like vinegar very much.’ He led her to a set of doors on their right, pushing them open to reveal a large room with a gilded table running down its centre. She realised with a shock that on the dark walls around it were murals of couples in various states of undress. Her eyes homed in on one particular image of an olive-skinned man kissing the neck of a voluptuous woman with blonde hair and porcelain skin.

‘Lana has a very vivid imagination,’ Dan said, following her gaze.

‘It must be interesting when the in-laws come for dinner,’ Charity joked.

‘Don’t worry, we use our other dining room for them,’ Dan replied.

‘You have two dining rooms?’

‘I know. It’s a bit much, isn’t it?’ Dan gestured to a number of bottles sitting on a small gold table in the corner. ‘Champagne? Wine?’

‘Red wine, please.’

Dan pulled out a chair for her then reached for a bottle of expensive looking wine, pouring Charity a glass. As she took a sip, her mouth filled with a delicious cherry flavour and she relaxed a little.

‘Thank you so much for coming, Charity,’ Dan said. ‘I know Lana will be very pleased.’ There was the sound of heels clicking along the marble floor outside. ‘Ah, speak of the devil.’ Dan leant forwards, lowering his voice. He was so close, she could smell the black cherry scent of the wine on his breath. Behind him was a mural of a man’s blond head dipped in between the legs of a woman, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Charity felt her face flush hot. ‘I’m not expecting you to do a psychological profile,’ he said. ‘But maybe you can give me some advice on how I might be able to help her?’

‘But I didn’t say I would, Dan. Really, I—’

The door swung open and the overwhelming scent of musky perfume wafted in as Lana stepped into the room. She was wearing a short red V-neck dress with huge shoulder pads that engulfed her tiny frame. It was more suited to a society party than dinner. She blew Dan a kiss then quickly strode down the room and took the chair across from Charity’s, leaning over the table and taking her hand. Her glossy curve of caramel hair covered Bambi-like eyes. She licked her bee-stung lips nervously. Charity noticed her hand was trembling.

‘Thank you so much, Charity, you were so lovely the other morning,’ she said, her words almost tripping over one another, her navy blue eyes bright.

‘It’s fine, I’m pleased I was there to help you. How are you feeling?’

‘Oh fine,’ she said, sweeping her hand through the air. ‘Back to my old self.’

The truth was, beneath the glossy veneer were telltale signs all was not entirely well. Lana’s movements were erratic and jittery; she was incredibly thin, even thinner than she’d been in the photos Charity had seen of her in the papers; the purple bruises under her eyes suggested problems sleeping; and, though immaculate from the front, her hair was all matted at the back. There was also a large stain on the hem of her dress and bruises down her legs.

Dan stared at his wife’s matted hair then he looked imploringly at Charity.

Lana glanced at Charity’s glass of wine and smiled. ‘It’s delicious, isn’t it? We got it from this wonderful vineyard in Umbria last year. Did you know the rate of divorce is at its lowest in that part of Italy? They say it’s down to the Umbrian “super” wine, as they call it. It makes couples crave each other.’ Lana looked into Dan’s eyes. ‘I can confirm it’s not just an urban myth.’

Charity took another gulp of wine, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

Lana peered towards the door. ‘Is Niall in the bathroom?’

Charity spluttered on her wine. ‘Niall?’

‘Lana managed to find him in the end,’ Dan explained. ‘He’s been staying just out of town.’

‘He’s coming to dinner?’ Charity asked, struggling to get her words out. Dan nodded.

‘Didn’t you both come together?’ Lana asked Charity, a confused look on her face.

Charity shook her head. She should never have come. She looked towards the door. She ought to make her excuses and leave right now. What would Hope say? What would the whole town say?

Dan frowned as he looked at Charity’s face. ‘Have we put our foot in it by inviting him?’

Charity didn’t know what to say.

‘But the way he looked at you the other day,’ Lana said, looking at Charity. ‘I really thought you were together.’

‘We weren’t together,’ Charity said, peering at the door to the dining room, imagining Niall walking in any minute. What would she say to him? ‘We haven’t been in touch for years,’ she added, trying to compose her face.

‘Oh well,’ Lana said, reaching for the bottle of wine and sloshing more into her glass. ‘It’ll be good for you to catch up then, won’t it?’

Dan looked at his wife, an exasperated expression on his face.

‘So what’s the deal with you two, anyway?’ Lana asked, scrutinising Charity’s face. She smiled. ‘Oh look, she’s blushing!’

Dan put his hand on his wife’s arm. ‘Darling…’

‘Were you childhood sweethearts?’ Lana continued, ignoring him.

The door clicked open and Niall stepped in, a bike helmet under his arm. So Niall was riding a motorbike nowadays.

His eyes rested of Charity, a frown appearing on his face.

Dan rose from his seat, shooting Charity a concerned look before composing his face and smiling. ‘Please, do come in, Niall.’ He walked around the table and pulled out the seat next to Charity. As Niall walked behind her, Charity looked down at the table, trying to control her thumping heart.

He sat next to her, the scent of him making her think of the sea and the summer evenings they used to spend together on the beach.

She curled her hands into fists. Damn it, why had she come?

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were coming,’ he said quietly.

‘I didn’t realise you were.’

His frown deepened. She took the chance to properly look at him. He was wearing black jeans and a grey t-shirt, his cheeks flushed from the cold. The long black hair she’d once so loved was now shaved close to his head. There were fine lines around his eyes that weren’t there ten years before and a small scar across his chin. She wondered if that had happened in prison, and her stomach twisted with nausea at the thought.

There were new tattoos entwining his arms too, black warped clock faces and gothic anchors, even a whole tree stretching up the olive skin of his right arm. And then that tattoo etched onto the side of his neck, the same tattoo she had on the small of her back, a black cresting wave beneath a blue moon. As she stared at it, she could almost feel the needle burning into her skin.

He caught her eye and a host of emotions seemed to run over his face.

Niall shifted uncomfortably.

She could pretend to be ill and leave, couldn’t she? Say the wine had been too rich, that her tummy was fragile. What would it matter? She didn’t have to see any of them again.

Dan looked from Charity to Niall and took a deep breath. He could definitely sense the atmosphere. ‘What can I get you to drink, Niall?’ he asked.

‘Do you have beer?’

‘Of course.’

Niall looked around him, brow furrowing as he finally noticed the explicit murals on the walls.

‘Oh, do you like them?’ Lana asked, twisting around in her chair, one thin arm elegantly draped across the back of Dan’s chair. ‘I had them done when we moved in. They’re wonderful, aren’t they?’

‘They’re different,’ Niall said.

Dan handed his beer to him and sat down.

‘Your house is gorgeous,’ Charity said, desperate to bring some sense of normality to the dinner. ‘You must feel a bit lost in a big house like this, just the two of you?’

‘We manage to fill it with all Lana’s knick-knacks, don’t we, darling?’ Dan said to Lana.

‘I may have a teensy bit of an obsession with antiques,’ Lana replied, laughing. ‘It fills the time. We’re off to Paris soon so I can’t wait to do some shopping there.’

‘You really do live the life, don’t you?’ Charity said, smiling.

‘A very bourgeois life,’ Niall said as he looked around him.

Dan frowned. ‘We’re hardly bourgeois. Lana’s dad was a dustman. My father worked on ships, my mother was a nurse. My shipping business wasn’t handed to me on a plate, I started out in the docks with my father, hauling equipment about.’

Niall’s eyes lit up the way Charity remembered they did when the subject turned to politics. ‘Doesn’t matter how you got there,’ he said, ‘you’re still an owner. That makes you bourgeois. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, I’m just making the point.’

‘Fine,’ Dan said with a smile. ‘If working hard makes me one of the bourgeoisie, then so be it.’

‘What about your staff, do they work hard too?’ Niall asked Dan.

‘I don’t operate that kind of business culture,’ Dan replied. ‘My staff aren’t expected to work long hours.’

Niall fixed him with his blue eyes. ‘But they do, don’t they? Some of them, anyway. And yet you’re still the one with the mansion, the fast cars, the expensive champagne,’ he said, gesturing around him.

Charity noticed the tops of Dan’s cheeks going red.

‘Ladies and gentleman,’ she said to ease the tension, ‘meet the modern-day Karl Marx.’

Dan’s shoulders relaxed and Lana laughed.

‘Never could impress you with my political rants, could I?’ Niall said, holding her gaze.

‘So, Charity, what brings you back to Busby-on-Sea?’ Dan asked her. ‘You worked as an NHS counsellor in London, right?’

‘Counsellor?’ Niall asked. ‘I didn’t realise that was your thing.’

‘It is now.’ She turned to Dan. ‘I was made redundant so had to return.’

‘Bloody Thatcher,’ Niall said.

Dan smiled to himself.

‘I bet that must be fascinating,’ Lana said, ‘hearing about people’s more intimate secrets as they lie on a couch.’

‘It’s not quite as exciting as that,’ Charity said. ‘More like a battered old chair in a stuffy office with stained carpets. People are referred by their GPs and a lot of the issues are ones many people deal with: insomnia, anxiety, depression.’

‘Oh, you must speak to Dan then,’ Lana said. ‘He’s a terrible sleeper, up most of the night.’

‘That has nothing to do with my state of mind, darling,’ Dan said, ‘and everything to do with your snoring.’ He turned to Charity. ‘So what’s next for you? I presume the plan isn’t to work in your sister’s café all your life, as wonderful as it is?’

Charity sighed. ‘I’m looking for jobs but there’s nothing out there.’

Niall nodded. ‘Hearing that a lot lately.’

‘Have you thought about going private?’ Lana asked. ‘Setting up your own practice?’

‘I’d love that. But I don’t have any capital.’

‘Dan can give you money,’ Lana declared, clapping her hands. ‘I can decorate your office!’

Dan laughed. ‘Darling, you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself.’

‘Why couldn’t you?’ Lana asked. ‘It would help Charity out.’

Charity laughed nervously. Lana didn’t seem to have any kind of filter. ‘I’m sure Dan has better things to do with his money.’

‘Like buy my wife antiques in Paris,’ Dan said with a raised eyebrow. He turned to Niall. ‘What about you, Niall?’

‘I’m not into antiques,’ Niall said with a smile. ‘Don’t have a wife either.’

Dan laughed.

Niall leant back, his long legs stretching out in front of him. Charity glanced at his thighs, remembering how she had found it hard to hide her feelings from her sisters as she watched him strip his wetsuit off to reveal his muscular thighs the day after their first kiss.

‘I’m an underwater photographer,’ he said. ‘Mainly advertising jobs.’

Charity looked at him, surprised. Sure, he used to lug around an old camera, but she didn’t realise that was what he’d ended up doing.

‘Wonderful. How did you get into that?’ Lana asked.

‘Happened by accident really,’ Niall replied. ‘An old school friend ended up working for an advertising agency, knew I was a photographer and that I could dive, asked me to do a last-minute job a couple of years ago. More assignments came in.’

‘Is that why you’re back in Busby-on-Sea, an assignment?’ Dan asked.

‘No. I’ve been trying to find a submerged forest that’s supposed to be here actually.’ His eyes caught Charity’s briefly then flickered away.

Charity went very still. Faith’s underwater forest?

‘Why would a forest be submerged?’ Lana asked.

‘They were once land forests,’ Niall explained. ‘But due to lots of different reasons – dams bursting, floods – they get submerged by water. They’re all over the world, in oceans and lakes, even rivers. Some are quite beautiful to look at.’

‘So, like a woodland Atlantis?’ Lana asked. Charity thought back to the first time Faith had told her and Hope about them. She’d asked the same thing.

‘Exactly like that,’ Niall said. She wondered if he was thinking of Faith too. She wished he’d change the subject, this was becoming too painful.

‘What makes you think a submerged forest lies off the coast here?’ Dan asked Niall.

‘A fisherman got lost at sea once and thought he saw it,’ Niall explained. ‘Became a bit of a local legend.’

Dan went quiet, a thoughtful look on his face. ‘I think that fisherman may have been right about that forest, you know. I have a viewing glass on my boat and I saw something very interesting during a trip the other day.’

‘Really?’ Charity and Niall asked at the same time.

‘Really.’ Dan rang a bell by his side – an actual bell! – and an older woman with dark hair walked in. ‘Those photos you had developed for me the other day, Clara, can you bring them down?’

When Clara reappeared with a bunch of photos. Dan handed one to Charity and her eyes widened. In the top right corner of one was a shadowy outline of what looked like branches.

‘Where exactly did you see this?’ she asked Dan.

‘Across from the lighthouse. The co-ordinates are in the top right corner, see?’

She looked at Niall, unable to contain her excitement despite how painful the memories were. It was just where he’d suspected. He smiled at her and Charity’s stomach contracted. He rarely smiled but when it happened, it set the room on fire, the lines around his mouth deepening, his blue eyes sparkling. It suddenly felt like something was blossoming inside Charity again; something she’d stifled for so long. Had she ever stopped loving him?

She thought of Faith. If she hadn’t started loving him maybe her sister would be there now?

‘Can I have the co-ordinates?’ she asked Dan.

‘I can do one better,’ Dan said. ‘How about we go out on my boat tomorrow. You can both dive off it, see if you can find the forest for yourself?’

Charity looked at Niall. How could she possibly spend the day with him? It was out of the question. ‘I’m afraid I’ll be working at the café.’

‘The weekend then?’ Dan asked.

She shook her head. ‘Sorry.’

Niall sighed, looking down at his plate.

The door opened and Clara walked in again with a large gold tray. At first, Charity thought it was a tray of seashells of all different shapes and sizes but, as Clara drew closer, she noticed eight plump oysters in their shells were lying on a bed of seashells, a dollop of what looked like black beads on each one.

Niall’s eyes lifted to meet hers. She knew he too was thinking about their first date.

Dan lifted one of the oysters into the air and looked at Charity then Niall. ‘To real-life heroes and damsels in distress.’ Then he tipped his head back and let the oyster slither into his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. When Charity ate hers, it tasted just as the oysters had that moonlit night with Niall: of the sea, salty and earthy, the subtle taste of the caviar now making it even more delicious.

‘So how did you first meet?’ Lana asked Charity and Niall.

Charity looked down into her drink. She didn’t want to talk about the past.

‘On the beach,’ Niall said. ‘We were just kids.’

Lana leant her chin on her hands and smiled dreamily. ‘Oh, how romantic, meeting on a windswept beach!’

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’ Dan said, laughing.

‘No. I have a nose for these things,’ Lana said, tapping the side of her nose. ‘You can sense the chemistry oozing off these two. I’m right, aren’t I?’

Charity squirmed in her seat while Niall’s neck flushed red.

‘I am right!’ Lana said.

Dan put his hand on Lana’s. ‘Darling, I don’t think—’

‘So you’re not together now,’ Lana said, tapping her lower lip with her finger as she narrowed her eyes at them. ‘Why did you break up?’

Charity peered at the door. She should have left.

Niall opened his mouth to say something but Lana put her hand up. ‘No, wait, let me guess. You cheated on Charity!’

‘Lana, that’s enough,’ Dan said sharply.

‘No, wait,’ Lana said, looking between Charity and Niall. ‘She cheated on you.’

‘It wasn’t like that,’ Niall said quietly.

Charity felt tears sting her eyes. She took a quick sip of wine and looked away. Her last meeting with Niall had been so abrupt, a few moments on a windswept dark beach the week after Faith died, the terrible incident throbbing between them. It had been horrific enough to be told by her parents the day after she’d learnt of her sister’s death that she’d been knocked down in a hit and run. But then to discover Niall’s car was seen screeching away from the scene of her death. It was unbearable.

Hope had been livid. ‘You must never see him again,’ she’d hissed at Charity.

‘It was an accident,’ Charity had said, so confused, still in shock and trying to process the news herself.

‘He killed our sister.’

Charity hadn’t said anything. What could she say? She knew she must talk to Niall. But she hadn’t seen him since Faith had died and he wasn’t in their usual spot that night either. Each night, she waited for him, until a few nights later when she saw him waiting in the moonlight, head down, shoulders hunched.

That’s when he’d told her they couldn’t see each other again; that she had to get on with her life. She’d been devastated. People might think him a murderer but she knew he wasn’t. He was as grief-stricken as she was. He’d loved Faith too, spent many summers with her.

It was a terrible, terrible accident.

But Charity knew he was right. When she got back to the house, Hope was waiting for her.

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ Charity had quickly said, before Hope could say anything. ‘It’s over.’

Relief had flooded her sister’s face. ‘Thank God.’

How would she feel now, knowing Charity was having dinner with him?

Charity stood up. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go.’

Niall looked up at her, brow creased.

‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Lana said, pouting.

Niall stood with her. ‘I’ll walk you out.’

‘No,’ she said, her voice firmer than she’d intended. ‘Please don’t.’

His blue eyes flickered with an unbearable sadness. She felt that same sadness well up inside her. That fateful night had changed the course of both their lives. Charity hadn’t just lost a sister and Niall a friend. They’d lost each other too. Seeing him again made her realise just how utterly sad that part of the whole tragedy was. And how painful it was to dredge it all back up again. It also made her realise how much she still cared for him.

‘Take care, Niall,’ she said softly.

His eyes seemed to grow glassy. Then he blinked, forcing a smile on to his face. ‘You too, Charity. I hope you get a job soon, yeah? Don’t let Thatcher the Milk Snatcher beat you down.’

She smiled. He seemed to understand. ‘I won’t.’ She turned to Lana. ‘You take care, too, Lana.’

Lana shot Charity a flimsy smile then turned away.

When Charity got outside, instead of walking to her little car, she headed to the edge of the cliff. It was dark now, the moon above bright enough to light up the grass in front of her and the sea below. To the right, the cliff stretched out for miles, the odd light or two beaming in the distance. To the left, lights flickered from Busby-on-Sea, one road that stretched away from it in darkness: the road Faith died on.

Charity looked out over the sea as it splashed against the cliffs below. How Faith would have loved to dive that submerged forest.

She peered behind her at the huge white mansion. Over the years, she’d been unable to stop herself imagining how things would have been if that fateful night hadn’t happened. Would she and Niall have stayed together? How would their relationship have evolved over the years? Maybe they’d be here together, a loving couple? Maybe they’d be at Hope’s…or Faith’s.

She imagined them sitting around a large dining-room table made out of driftwood – Faith had always loved driftwood – bookshelves lined with oceanography books, beautiful underwater photos of submerged forests on the wall. She saw them laughing, drinking, Faith’s long hair a sheen of blonde down her back. Or maybe she’d have it cut, more practical for diving for samples. She’d still look stunning. She saw Niall relaxed, smiling; Hope happy with some man or another, the book of poetry she’d just got published lying on the side. Yes, that would be what the dinner was for, a celebration of Hope finally being published. Maybe having Faith around would have pushed her to do more with her poetry, Faith had always been so inspiring, making her two sisters want to do something special with their lives. With her gone, any real hope and ambition left them.

The scene disappeared. The truth was, she was on this cliff top alone, Faith gone, Hope a closed book. She collapsed to her knees and let out a sob.

‘Charity?’

She looked up to see Niall peering down at her in the darkness, face filled with concern. He put his hand on her shoulder. She quickly stood up, brushing grass and mud off her trousers and wiping her tears away. ‘I’m fine,’ she said.

‘I had no idea you’d been invited.’

‘I know, don’t apologise.’

‘I shouldn’t have mentioned the submerged forest.’

She got her car keys from her bag, unable to look at him. She went to walk past him but he softly grasped her arm.

‘I feel like I have so much to say to you,’ he said, eyes pained. ‘I didn’t reply to all your letters because I wanted you to just get on with your life.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘On Tuesday, when I saw you on the road…’

‘Niall, I said I don’t want to talk about it. Please just leave me alone.’

She shrugged his hand off and strode away. He stayed where he was, watching her with hooded eyes. More tears started rolling down her cheeks. She angrily wiped them away and then jumped into her car. She felt bad for walking away from him like this but she couldn’t let the past infringe on her future, she just couldn’t.

As she drove away, she saw Niall standing at the edge of the cliff, looking out towards the unlit road where Faith had lost her life.

Charity quietly let herself in when she arrived home ten minutes later. She was hoping she could sneak upstairs without her sister noticing.

But before she had the chance to even step foot on the first stair, Hope appeared at the door to the living room. ‘You’re back early.’

‘I had a funny tummy,’ she lied. The thought of telling her sister she had been sitting at the same table as Niall Lane was just too daunting.

‘That’s a shame.’ Hope lifted her pen to her mouth and nibbled on it. ‘So what are they like, the glamorous couple?’

‘A bit strange. I think Lana gets very bored in that huge house.’

‘I’m not surprised. And Dan North, is he still as charming and handsome as he was the other day?’

Charity shrugged. ‘I suppose, if you like that sort of thing.’

Hope narrowed her eyes. ‘No, I suppose your sort is tall, dark and murderous.’

‘Jesus, Hope!’

‘I can see it in you. It’s happening all over again.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Niall. He was there, wasn’t he?’

Charity clutched the banister. ‘I didn’t know how to tell you.’

‘I knew it!’ Hope said, sighing as she looked up at the ceiling. ‘You’re sullying Faith’s memory by seeing him.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Charity said in a raised voice. ‘I had no idea he’d be there.’

Her sister didn’t look convinced. ‘And now what?’ Hope asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Will you see him again?’

‘Of course not!’

Hope shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said before slamming the door of the living room behind her.