Forgive Me Not Page 23

  ‘Beginning to take shape, isn’t it?’ said Ted, nodding towards his shop.

  The blackened walls had been scrubbed and the windows cleaned. A joiner’s van stood outside, along with an electrician’s.

  ‘That Stig’s been a godsend. He wouldn’t take payment for helping me redecorate upstairs, so I’ve promised him free cheese for life when we’re up and running.’

  ‘You might regret saying that. His dog is especially partial to a slice of Cheddar.’

  ‘No regrets – I can never pay him back enough. Or any of you who got us out that night. When I think about what could have happened…’ Ted’s hand cupped his bald head. ‘And remember, if you need any cheese for your soup run sandwiches, just call on me.’

  Emma gave him a thumbs-up and moved on, spending time recalling past visits to the chemist, the hairdresser and the toy shop. Wrapped up in memories, she ended up at Healdbury stream. She took off her trainers and socks and paddled for a while, flexing her toes and inhaling sharply as the cool water washed over the top of her feet. She and Bligh would go there as children with brightly coloured nets to catch tiddlers. Gail always gave them strict instructions to throw back any fish straight away. Often they’d spot a majestic kingfisher, swooping across the water’s surface. In the spring, nothing pleased them more than watching a string of baby ducks paddling furiously to keep up with their mother. And in winter, they’d dare each other to stand on the frozen stream’s surface. Once it had cracked under Bligh’s weight and his right leg got soaked to the knee. Their sides had ached with laughter.

  With a heavy heart, she went back through the town and past the supermarket, where Rita used to sit. Emma wondered how she was doing. And Tilly. There was no way of knowing. She’d have to keep her eyes peeled next time she went into the city – whenever that might be.

  As she made her way up Broadgrass Hill, she recalled running up there with Bligh after school. In the winter, as a treat on a Friday, they’d stop off at the teashop and walk back sipping takeaway hot chocolates. In the summer, ice creams would be the order of the day, if their pocket money allowed it.

  When she walked around Healdbury now, faces and shop windows reminded her of the better times, when Mum was well and she and Andrea were best buddies. She passed the lamp post where Dash most liked to pee and carried on up to the farm.

  1 month before going back

  It had been a busy day at the charity shop, ending with Emma giving in her notice. She entered the Quaker meeting house. The door creaked its familiar welcome. The floorboards groaned their approval as she walked in. How frightened she’d been of this place the first time she’d turned up. Now it felt like a friend. Somewhere she’d shared the best and the worst of times. A building that kept her secrets.

  She turned right and ran her hand along the sage-green wall as she entered the bright room. It was almost eight. Most of her friends here knew she wouldn’t be attending meetings so regularly now – she would find somewhere closer to Healdbury – but she would always consider this her home group.

  Old Len’s face cracked into a smile. Pushing himself up, he got to his feet. They hugged. He adjusted his glasses.

  ‘How are you today?’

  ‘Not bad,’ she said.

  ‘You haven’t drunk?’ he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Then it’s a great day, never forget that. And never forget to keep connected to these rooms.’

  ‘You know me – like a bad penny, I keep turning up.’ She smiled and gave a thumbs-up, then gazed around the circle of faces, warmth spreading through her chest. She loved how the older members looked after those in new sobriety. Len never failed to remind her to keep doing everything she needed to in order to keep well. One year dry seemed like a long time to her, but to the old-timers she was still in a raw, unpredictable place. She waved at a couple of people and got squashed between several more pairs of arms. She congratulated someone on getting their degree; asked another member if her longed-for divorce had finally been granted.

  She helped herself to a cup of coffee from the trolley and took her usual seat next to Rachel. Julie was chosen to chair the meeting. On the hour, she asked for quiet. She asked if there were any newcomers or visitors, and then nodded at Rachel, who read out her favourite inspirational pages from the Big Book. Then Julie proceeded to share her story. About twenty minutes later, she opened the meeting. No one spoke for a few moments.

  Emma cleared her throat. ‘My name’s Emma and I’m an alcoholic.’

  ‘Hi, Emma,’ said everyone as they looked at her and smiled.

  ‘I’ll keep it short – it’s a big meeting tonight. It’s just… well… firstly I wanted to express my gratitude. A couple of us are coming up to our first sobriety birthday next month.’

  She glanced across the room at Bev, who winked.

  Everyone murmured, ‘Well done.’

  ‘At one point I never believed that day would come. I thought stopping my bad behaviours was all there was to it, but I soon realised that staying stopped was the real challenge. I detoxed, had my treatment, but knew I would need something else to keep me on the straight and narrow – and that’s been this fellowship. I certainly couldn’t have done it on my own.

  ‘That’s not to say I didn’t have my doubts about you all at the beginning. The first drink’s the worst? What rubbish was that? And when you all said you never had drinking thoughts any more – I knew you were downright lying.’

  A few people chuckled.

  ‘But here I am, and… a few of you know this, but I’m going home in two weeks, to try and make amends. I’m nervous – a letter of apology I wrote has already been returned unopened – but I’m hoping my family will give me a chance when they see how much I’ve changed.

  ‘On my way here tonight, I walked past a homeless man. He was out of it, an empty bottle by his side.’ She looked at Bev, who nodded encouragingly. ‘Some people are lucky and get here before having all the “yets”. They haven’t lost their partner yet. Their kids yet. Their job yet. I lost everything I had, but it’s not the tangible things that unite people like us – it’s the feelings we relate to.’

  Grunts of agreement.

  ‘Inside I’d hit my rock bottom and was hanging onto my sanity by a fraying rope. A rope I sometimes wished would curl around my neck. The only thing that kept me going was the whoosh of the first mouthful of drink that made me feel invincible.

  ‘Nowadays I don’t wake up to the crazy inner narrative. It’s a Friday night and I’m glad to be sitting here, amongst you lot, instead of lying comatose on the street. You’ve all helped me stick to the Twelve-Step Programme… being part of this group has given me continued strength and is one of the reasons I am able to try to put right the wrongs of my past. So thank you. I’ll leave it there.’

  ‘Thanks, Emma,’ everyone chorused.

  ‘Great share,’ Rachel said an hour or so later after the meeting ended. People were clearing mugs and starting to put away the chairs.

  ‘At least my body doesn’t shake any more when I speak in front of everyone.’

  Rachel hugged her. ‘So… you’re off soon. Best of luck. Keep me posted.’

  Emma nodded.

  ‘And remember – if things don’t pan out as you expect…’

  ‘I know. I have to accept the things I can’t change.’

  ‘It is the most challenging thing ever, to look back on our behaviour and acknowledge that we can’t turn back the clock. I wish I could get back all the times I never gave Mum the benefit of the doubt, so easily casting her as the villain – but I can’t.’ She rummaged in her jeans pocket and pulled out a shiny gold metal disc. ‘I got you a small gift.’

  Emma’s face flushed as she accepted the one-year sobriety coin.

  ‘It’s a little early, so put it away somewhere safe until your date arrives.’ Rachel smiled. ‘And don’t forget what’s written on the front.’

  Emma didn’t need to look. ‘To
Thine Own Self Be True,’ she murmured.

  ‘Yes. We don’t need to impress or worry about fitting in any more, do we?’

  ‘No, thank goodness. All I can do is be myself – I hadn’t done that for a long time before I finally left Healdbury.’

  ‘Whatever happens back at the farm, keep listening to your conscience that tells you the difference between right and wrong; the good voice you ignored before. As long as you keep that happy, then you’ll be all right.’

  ‘Simple, isn’t it? But I could never have worked that out for myself.’

  ‘Me neither.’ Rachel slipped into her light jacket. ‘You’re a strong woman, Emma. I know that. Everything will work out. Take care, darling. I’m here for you, no matter what.’

  ‘You too.’

  A while back, Emma had told Rachel about the car accident and Ned. Her friend hadn’t judged or acted shocked. Instead she’d sat quietly and let Emma talk through her concerns. They’d discussed how she could satisfy that voice of conscience and kept coming back to the same conclusion – she could no longer keep this secret.

  Now Rachel looked at her watch. ‘Idris will be waiting, and I’d better go or I’ll miss Graham Norton on the telly.’

  ‘Living life on the edge, eh?’ said Emma, and smiled.

  The two women looked at each other, and a lump formed in Emma’s throat. Both knew how lucky they were to now be leading lives so ordinary.

  Chapter 28

  ‘Andrea? Bligh?’ called Emma as she walked into the yard. No one was in the greenhouse. She scoured the animal pens and planted areas and looked in the shop. Stig came out of the barn, water on his face, a towel in his hands.

  ‘Your sister and I have just finished cleaning out the chicken coop. She and Bligh are inside doing a stocktake.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘I just need a word with them.’ Emma squeezed his arm before pushing open the back door and entering the kitchen. She downed a glass of water, then headed into the lounge, glancing at the forget-me-not watercolour.

  Voices came from upstairs. She clasped her hands together and headed up to the bedrooms. Except hers wasn’t for sleeping in any more. The door was wide open. Bligh and Andrea were counting jars of jam and pickles. Emma went in. Mum stood looking out of the window, fiddling with bubble wrap in her hands. The other two sat on the floor. It was strewn with paperwork.

  Andrea looked up. ‘We’re in the middle of something.’

  Emma sat down on a wooden chair. She looked around, her mind filling in the decor from her teenage years. The Rihanna poster… she used to drive her sister and Mum mad, every time it rained, by singing that ‘Umbrella’ number. Then there were the scented candles. The broad selection of DVDs.

  ‘I… Could we just… You see…’

  ‘What?’ said Andrea, and sighed.

  ‘It about something I did.’

  Andrea’s brow furrowed and she sat up straight. ‘When? What’s all this about?’

  Emma’s heartbeat pounded in her ears. ‘I just saw Polly and Alan in the churchyard. They—’

  ‘It’s Ned’s eighteenth today,’ said Andrea. ‘I know.’

  ‘He died on the day I left.’

  ‘It wasn’t the best Christmas for the village for lots of reason,’ said Bligh, and gave Emma a pointed look. He put down his calculator. ‘The cold snap turned to torrential rain that week and floods hit the day after Boxing Day. The shops at the base of Healdbury stream were devastated.’

  ‘It was icy that Christmas Eve,’ said Emma, quietly. ‘I had trouble steering straight.’

  ‘And that had nothing to do with you enjoying too much champagne?’ said Bligh, and shook his head. ‘We examined the car. We know you what you did.’

  ‘You do?’

  No. That wasn’t possible. Surely they’d never have kept a secret like this?

  ‘One of the headlights was cracked.’ Andrea pursed her lips. ‘How exactly did you do it? No surprises, you didn’t stop.’ She shook her head in disgust.

  ‘I… But why haven’t you told the police?’ Emma’s heart pounded louder.

  ‘And spend our valuable time down at the station filling in forms over a scratched parked car they’d probably never find?’ Bligh picked up his calculator again. ‘Time was – still is – a luxury for us.’

  Emma felt sick – with relief or disappointment, she wasn’t sure. ‘So you think I smashed into another car?’

  ‘What else?’ said Bligh. ‘A bollard, perhaps? Don’t tell us you crashed into a building.’

  Andrea glanced at Gail, who was still distracted by the bubble wrap. She turned back to the stock. ‘Look, we haven’t got time for guessing games. Whatever it is, Emma, can’t it wait?’

  ‘No. I’m sorry, but I can’t put it off any more. I’ve been wanting to tell you for ages, and Polly and Alan, but—’

  ‘What have they got to do with it?’ asked Andrea.

  ‘It could… It might have been… You see… Oh God – I think I killed Ned.’

  Silence hung in the air for a few moments.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Bligh looked at Andrea. ‘Have you been drinking, because you aren’t making any sense?’

  ‘No, I don’t drink any more. I’ve told you that.’ Emma fiddled with the hem of her T-shirt. ‘I didn’t find out until rehab. My friend Rachel mentioned she’d been to Healdbury… the Badger Inn… She told me about Polly and Alan’s loss. That morning Ned got hit, I was driving back from Manchester… the hotel…’ Her cheeks blazed. ‘I was looking at my phone. It was dark. I hit something just outside the Christmas tree farm – where Ned was found. Please believe me, I just didn’t see and decided I must have hit… I don’t know… a sheep or a deer. When I got back, there was blood on the front of the car and I wiped it off with hay.’

  ‘You didn’t stop?’ said Andrea. ‘Jesus, how much lower could you go?’

  ‘But I never in a million years thought I’d hit a person.’

  ‘So why tell us now?’ said Bligh. He and Andrea looked at each other again.

  ‘Because first thing tomorrow I’m going to talk to the police.’

  ‘You’re doing what?’ Andrea’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re confessing? Handing yourself in?’

  ‘A hit-and-run… driving under the influence… manslaughter… you’d be looking at years behind bars,’ said Bligh.

  ‘I know. And it twists me up inside. I’m scared, but most of all I’m so sad that I can’t stay here long term and help with the farm… help look after Mum.’

  ‘Is that why you’ve never committed to staying here, every time I mentioned that no doubt you’d soon be moving on?’ asked Andrea.

  ‘Yes. I couldn’t lie to you. I’ve stayed as long as I could to help out, but my conscience just won’t let me rest any more. It’s only fair to Ned – and Polly and Alan. They deserve some sort of closure. When I saw them at Ned’s grave today…’

  ‘But prison?’ Andrea’s eyes widened. ‘You’d really take responsibility for your actions, even if that means being locked up? Last time you lived here, you wouldn’t even admit to lying or finishing off a bottle of Mum’s favourite sherry.’

  ‘I’m going to miss her so much, but I’ve thought about it a lot. Since coming back, I realise that working with animals is all I want. I’d never get the grades to be a vet, but I’m hoping that I can at least do some reading in prison, or perhaps an online course, to help me eventually train as a veterinary nurse as close to Healdbury as possible – if the village will ever be able to stomach my return.’

  ‘You really have considered what you’re about to do…’ said Bligh, and his voice petered away.

  ‘I can’t ever make up for what I did to your dad, Bligh. But I can do this for Ned and his parents.’

  Andrea’s shoulders bobbed up and down. ‘Why come back to face the consequences? Why not just keep your mouth shut and go on the run?’

  ‘Because I can’t run away from me,’ said Emma quietly. ‘That’s wh
at the drinking was all about – trying to escape my messed-up thoughts and the problems they created. I don’t do that any more. I do what it takes to keep my head straight.’ She glanced at Gail. ‘If I end up inside, I hope it doesn’t have repercussions for you and Mum. I’m so sorry if it does.’

  Andrea stood motionless.

  ‘I just want you to know I won’t ever come back unless you approve. I’ve embarrassed and let you down enough. All I ask is that now and again you give me updates on how Mum is. I’ll give you the rest of my money from Aunt Thelma. It might help if Mum…’ Her voice cracked. ‘If she ever has to go into care.’

  ‘Stop right there,’ said Andrea. ‘There’s something you ought to know.’

  ‘You didn’t kill Ned,’ said Bligh.

  ‘What? But it was a hit-and-run. My whereabouts match the time and place, and—’

  ‘Someone confessed six months later,’ he continued. ‘Didn’t your friend know that?’

  Emma stood up and wrung her hands. ‘No… no, she didn’t. But… are you sure? All this time I’ve—’

  ‘No doubt about it,’ said Andrea.

  ‘I can’t believe it.’ Emma’s voice choked up.

  ‘It was a lorry driver,’ said Bligh. ‘He fell asleep at the wheel. The same thing happened to him six months later and he almost killed somebody else. He owned up to everything. That night, that Christmas Eve, he did stop and get out to look. He saw the mangled bike and Ned’s body; the damage and blood on the front of his cab. It was at least some relief to Polly and Alan to find out that Ned didn’t suffer – he was already dead when the driver got out of his cab.’