How to Fall Page 16

  ‘That sounds like a challenge.’

  ‘You were planning to do it anyway.’

  ‘You’re right. And you don’t have to take any responsibility for me. What I do is my choice, and I choose to keep poking around.’

  ‘You really don’t give up, do you?’

  ‘Not often.’

  We started down the path, walking side by side. I slid a little on the steep slope. ‘They really need to put in a cable car.’

  ‘Why did you decide to come up here?’

  ‘I told you, I had nowhere else to be.’

  ‘You could have gone to the beach. Stay on the level. Much less effort all round.’

  ‘I like it up here. Besides . . .’ I hesitated and Will stopped, eyebrows raised. ‘I wanted to get away.’

  ‘From what?’

  ‘My mum.’ To say it or not to say it. Before I’d decided, I heard my own voice: ‘And your dad.’

  ‘Dad?’ He frowned. ‘What about him?’

  ‘Mum and I were going for a walk. Then he turned up and she decided she’d rather spend the rest of the day with him.’

  Will’s face was grim. ‘She needs to stay away from him.’

  ‘That would be my preference too.’

  ‘I mean it. You have to tell her.’

  ‘I’m not sure she’ll listen to me.’ I looked at him curiously. ‘What’s the history between them? Do you know?’

  ‘I know my mother would be gutted if she knew they were together.’ He was angry, I realized. ‘Mum’s not in a position to compete with yours. She shouldn’t take advantage of that.’

  ‘Compete? I don’t think my mother is that sort of person.’

  ‘Don’t you? It sounds as if you’ve got a lot to learn about her.’

  I folded my arms, annoyed. ‘I know her a lot better than you do. If you’re so worried about it, why don’t you tell your dad to stop flirting with her?’

  ‘He was flirting?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘That bastard,’ he said, more to himself than to me. Then, abruptly, ‘I have to go.’

  Without waiting for me to reply, he turned and began to stride off, far too quickly for me to be able to follow with my knee still aching from Natasha’s kick. It was as if the past hour had never happened; he was as withdrawn and remote as ever, and it sharpened my irritation into anger.

  ‘It’s nice that you care about your mum,’ I called after him. ‘But don’t you think it’s their problem, not ours? I mean, your mum is old enough to stand up for herself.’

  Will stopped and half turned. ‘That’s the one thing she can’t do, actually. She’s in a wheelchair.’

  Oh, shit. I was never going to take anyone’s side against Mum, but it changed things to hear that. It was hardly a fair fight, if it was a fight at all. I was remembering what Tilly had said about her, or not said, and the look in my mother’s eyes when Dan Henderson spoke to her, and I didn’t want to know anything more about it all but I couldn’t stop myself from asking: ‘What’s wrong with her?’

  Will’s face was as bleak as I’d ever seen it. Quite suddenly I knew what he was going to say even though I hoped I was wrong.

  ‘She’s dying.’

  12

  THERE WAS NO sign of Mum at the cottage, which was both a relief and a worry. I didn’t want to talk to her if I was going to have to break the news about Mrs Henderson and exactly how much of a disloyal dirtbag Will’s dad was. On the other hand, it would have been nice if she’d been back already, bored to tears by him, so I could reassure Will that she wasn’t a threat to his mother’s peace of mind. As it was, I didn’t know what to think. Please, Mum, just don’t make another bad decision because you’ve fallen for the wrong man.

  I got a drink from the fridge and lay down on the ratty old couch, propping my feet up on the back of it without being too concerned about how dusty my shoes were. I was more tired than I could remember being, and even lifting my drink was an effort. I was glad to be on my own for a bit. It gave me time to think. I needed to organize what I’d been told about Freya, and the people around her, and work out where to go next.

  Which made it all the more annoying that the only thing on my mind was Will, and the look on his face when he’d told me about his mother, and the motor neurone disease she’d been enduring for years that meant she was unable to walk. Oh, and the stupid, clichéd things I’d stammered before he took pity on me and strode off, leaving me to walk home alone. I hadn’t known what to say – and it wasn’t as if there was anything I could do to make him feel better, not when his mother was dying – but I still burned at the memory. I needed to apologize. I picked up my phone and put it down again.

  I didn’t have his number.

  Tilly would have it. Or Hugo.

  I picked up my phone again, hesitated, then put it back on the table. It wasn’t as if I was going to ring him up anyway, and sending him a text was a bad idea. I would end up saying something even more crass than I had already.

  Although I wasn’t sure how you could get more crass than, ‘How long has she got left?’

  I turned over and put my face into the cushion beside me, burrowing into it as if I could escape my thoughts by running away. It smelled musty and a little bit damp, like everything else in the cottage. That was the smell I would remember, I thought, when I looked back on this holiday. Not the sea air or the fresh green scent of the trees on the way up to the headland, or the warm smell of Will as he held me against him, his body totally relaxed even as he was daring gravity to pull the two of us off the cliff and spin us into oblivion far below . . .

  I woke up properly when I snored so loudly I disturbed myself. After a quick panicky check – still alone, thank God – I rubbed my eyes, then tied my hair up. The air on the back of my neck was cool. It would keep me awake while I definitely didn’t think about Will any more and considered what I knew about Freya instead.

  Talk about having a one-track mind. All I ended up thinking was how glad I was that Will was off my list of suspects, and how pleased I was that he wasn’t the mystery boyfriend. The thought of him falling for Freya and wooing her with anonymous messages and gifts . . . but it hadn’t been him.

  My phone vibrated against the table, making me jump. I snatched it up to read the message on the screen.

  Sorry bout leaving u w/out proper gdbye. Meet on beach @ 10? Full moon 2nite. Ull luv it.

  ‘You’re not wrong,’ I said out loud, sending back a brief message before I ran upstairs to get changed. I was singing as I went. I’d been thinking about Will and he’d been thinking about me, and he’d gone to the trouble of getting my number, and the full moon was rising over the sea on a clear, warm night, and I couldn’t help feeling totally, utterly happy.

  Experience should have told me that the happy feeling wasn’t likely to last. I made it to within a hundred metres of the beach before I realized the mistake I’d made. Unfortunately, the reason I realized was because I’d been spotted, and there was nowhere to hide.

  ‘Jess, over here.’ Ryan was heading in my direction, waving. There was enough light from the moon to pick him out from the group that had gathered on the beach anyway. It gleamed on his hair and the white shirt he was wearing – and that hadn’t been an accidental choice, I thought, raising one hand in a sketchy attempt at waving back. He’d known the impact it would have.

  ‘I wasn’t sure you were coming,’ he said when I was almost close enough to talk at a normal level. But not quite. His voice was loud enough to carry quite a distance. I was aware of faces turning towards me, peering to see who Ryan was talking to. And not turning away again, either. Whatever he did was news, I recalled, passionately not wanting to be part of the headline myself.

  ‘Am I late?’ I was, by ten minutes. I would have been even later if I’d known the message was from Ryan. Like, not bothering to turn up at all. The feeling of tiredness was dragging at me again as the disappointment really started to kick in.

  ‘You’re no
t very late. But I was watching for you.’ Ryan grinned down at me, not having a clue how unenthusiastic I was about seeing him. ‘I didn’t want you to miss out on this.’

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the moon, which was round and pure white and made a perfect path across the waves, or the party that was in full swing behind him. There were twenty or thirty people there, all around my age, lounging on the sand like something out of an ad. A gangly boy with untidy hair and a dreamer’s face was strumming gently on a guitar, the music floating over the murmured conversations around us.

  ‘How did you get my number?’

  ‘Darcy.’ He raised his can in a salute and I spotted her sitting cross-legged in front of the guitar player, along with a couple of other girls I didn’t know. It made sense that she was there, paying rapt attention to the music. Darcy was born to be a fan. A word that was short for fanatic, I reminded myself. She was completely dedicated to pursuing her goals, to the extent of getting up at six to do her full beauty ritual before she faced the day, or persuading her best friend to make Ryan feel he had a chance with her, just to be in with the in crowd. I wondered, looking at her upturned face, if she had been frustrated enough with Freya to give in to her temper, on a dark night when no one was watching. One shove would have done it. It needn’t have been premeditated. And I’d seen Darcy’s temper when I wouldn’t try on the stupid dress at the shop. It hadn’t taken much to make her angry.

  I must have been looking grim, because Ryan looked at me doubtfully. ‘I hope you don’t mind about getting your number.’

  ‘Of course not.’ I smiled at him. I was managing my disappointment well, I thought. It helped a tiny bit to discover that Ryan was responsible for the textspeak in the message, and not Will. It had surprised me that he would text at all. He probably didn’t even have a mobile phone; I’d never seen him use one. And there was no point in looking for him on the beach, I knew. He wouldn’t be at a party.

  ‘Want a drink?’

  ‘What have you got?’

  ‘One of these?’

  I looked at the can in his hand and was surprised to see it was an energy drink. I had caught a hint of alcohol on Ryan’s breath and his eyes weren’t totally focused. ‘Is that really what you’re drinking?’

  ‘Not exactly. It’s mainly vodka.’

  ‘Nice.’ I looked around, noticing that everyone was carrying innocent-looking bottles and cans. Even the girl who was throwing up in a rock pool had a bottle of lemonade beside her. ‘Let me guess – everyone’s drink is spiked.’

  ‘If they want it to be. Not if they don’t. What’s your preference?’

  ‘Without.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Being good?’

  The girl who’d been throwing up wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, giving herself a sand beard in the process, and not exactly selling it to me.

  ‘I’ll build up to something stronger.’

  Ryan handed me a can. ‘Just let me know if you want some of this instead.’

  ‘Sure. Why do you have to pretend you’re not drinking? Some of you must be over eighteen.’

  ‘Town rules. No alcohol on the beach. No dogs on the beach. No fires on the beach.’ He shrugged. ‘It would be nice to light a fire but it’s not worth the hassle. Inspector Henderson would be down on us straight away.’

  ‘Inspector Henderson? Will’s dad?’

  ‘None other. He runs this place, you know.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me. He acts as if he does.’

  ‘So you’ve met him.’

  ‘And Will.’

  ‘Will.’ Ryan sounded very casual.

  ‘A couple of times. We were over there today.’ I pointed at the headland and he half turned to look, but swung back quickly once he realized what I meant. I’d noticed that before – he didn’t even like to look at the wall of rock that formed one side of the bay. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t know about it already.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Your girlfriend was there too.’

  ‘Natasha’s not my girlfriend,’ he said automatically. ‘What were you doing up on the cliff?’

  ‘Not falling off it.’ I sipped my drink then smiled at his expression. ‘Never mind.’

  ‘I’d stay away from there if I were you.’

  ‘Is that a warning?’

  ‘Sort of. It’s dangerous. You should know that. You know what happened there.’ Ryan looked past me and acknowledged a guy I didn’t know who was calling to him, a quick flick of the fingers that said Not now, I’m busy . . .

  ‘I know what the outcome was. And I know that you didn’t like being up there.’

  ‘Ah. I wanted to apologize for that.’ He looked sheepish. ‘Don’t tell anyone but I am shit-scared of heights.’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘They make me feel sick. I get dizzy. I know, it’s pathetic. It doesn’t fit in with my image.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t.’ I was remembering him somersaulting off the railing the first time I’d met him. Scared of heights? Well, maybe. ‘How high are we talking?’

  ‘Anything. A foot off the ground.’ He shook his head. ‘Can’t deal with it.’

  He was so convincing I almost doubted what I had seen him do. Almost.

  I was wondering what to say next when someone knocked into me from behind, gasping a sort of apology that didn’t sound very convincing at all, especially when it trailed off into a giggle. I recognized the girl without remembering her name. She staggered off towards a little group of hair-tossing, chain-smoking girls and I wasn’t remotely shocked to see Natasha among them, glowering at me.

  ‘Come for a walk with me?’

  I looked up at Ryan, heartbreakingly handsome in the moonlight, and I knew I should find some way of putting him off without making it into a big deal. There were so many reasons to say no, starting with the fact that he had just lied to me. Why did he want me to think he didn’t like heights? Because he knew I’d seen him panicking on the cliff? Or to make me think he’d never go up to the headland if he had a choice? Either way, it was a fib, and a stupid one at that, but I should take it as a warning. Ryan was by no means as straightforward as he wanted me to think. Then there was the little matter that going for a walk with him was the equivalent of painting a target between my shoulder blades and handing Natasha a bow and arrow.

  So of course I nodded and let him put his arm around me, guiding me away from the music and the people and the hostile stares. Instead of heading down to the sea, he struck back up the beach, towards the promenade. I’d have preferred the firmer sand near the surf, but when I moved that way his arm tightened around me, and he was a lot stronger than I was. It wasn’t worth a fight, I thought, following his lead. We walked in silence, not quite matching our strides so I kept knocking into him and having to apologize.

  ‘I’m not usually this clumsy.’

  ‘I’m probably not walking in a straight line. What can I say? Any excuse to be close to you.’

  ‘Very charming.’

  ‘You can’t blame me for trying.’ Ryan drained his can and tossed it towards a bin on the promenade, over-arm like a basketball player. It went in with a noise like a rifle-shot.

  ‘That was impressive.’

  ‘Good. I only did it to impress you.’

  ‘How much have you had to drink?’

  ‘Too much.’ He pushed his hand through his hair. ‘I’ll start talking rubbish in a minute.’

  ‘I’ll look out for that.’

  ‘You can be quite mean, can’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but you like that in a girl.’

  His eyes widened. ‘I was just going to say that.’

  ‘What an amazing coincidence,’ I murmured. Chapter Three in The Big Book of Chatting Up Girls: ‘The Put Down That’s Really a Compliment’. I’d been on the receiving end of that kind of thing before. And it had worked, once or twice.

  ‘So Will said you used to be friends.’

  Ryan’s a
rm jerked on my shoulders: surprise, I gathered. ‘Will was talking about me?’

  ‘About what happened. Years ago. Your broken arm.’

  ‘Oh. That.’

  ‘It sounded awful. Hurting you deliberately – in cold blood.’

  ‘It wasn’t fun. Bye-bye tennis, though.’ He laughed. ‘I should have been grateful.’

  ‘Grateful that you couldn’t pursue your dream?’

  ‘That sounds more fun than spending a million hours running around a court hitting little yellow balls so I could be not quite good enough to turn pro.’ There was a cynical undertone to Ryan’s voice that I hadn’t heard before, a hardness that I didn’t associate with his usual laid-back style. If telling himself he’d have failed anyway was how he’d come to terms with what had happened to him, I wasn’t going to try to persuade him otherwise. I didn’t know any better, anyway. But I was more inclined to believe Will’s version of it than Ryan’s.

  ‘Anyway, it was all a long time ago,’ Ryan said, offhand.

  ‘But you’re both still living with the fallout. I can’t believe you’re still punishing Will for something that happened so long ago.’

  ‘We don’t get on. If it hadn’t been him snitching on us to his dad, it would have been something else.’

  ‘From what Will said, he was trying to help. And he didn’t mean to snitch in the first place.’

  Ryan pulled a face. ‘You know you don’t have to spend time with him, don’t you? Just because he’s friends with your cousins, you don’t have to feel sorry for him.’

  ‘I don’t, exactly. But I don’t like people being treated unfairly.’

  ‘Why are we talking about him again?’ Ryan was definitely sounding edgy.

  ‘I don’t know. I’m just interested in finding out about what I missed. A lot happened last year before Freya died. I missed out on a lot of key moments.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like what happened with you and Freya.’

  ‘We talked about her already.’

  ‘No, we talked about how you went off her after she cut her hair. What we didn’t discuss was who cut her hair and why. I just found out it was your not-girlfriend who did the Vidal Sassoon impersonation.’