The Black Path (22 page)

She walks slowly, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, afraid of what lies ahead. Gradually the voices become louder. There are boys laughing, and then a man’s voice shouting. She can’t decipher the words but she recognizes the voice.

‘Daddy?’ she calls out. ‘Is that you?’

There’s a movement behind the trees and then a figure emerges. As he steps forward she sees that it’s her father. But he looks different from the man of her childhood. His skin is grey, his eyes red and hollow. When he opens his mouth, his teeth are as black as the soil.

‘Helen,’ he says. ‘Come with me. There’s something I have to show you.’

She reaches for his hand but he turns away and walks quickly ahead. She tries to follow, but the light is so dim and her legs are so heavy she can barely keep up. With a growing sense of panic, she watches him disappear into the gloom.

‘Daddy!’ she cries out. ‘Wait for me!’

Then she sees it – a white gravestone rising up out of the black earth. She falls to her knees, sees her husband’s name etched into the stone. Something brushes against her hand. She looks down and sees a wreath made of paper poppies. The flowers are heavily weathered, the colour faded from deep red to the palest purple. He’s been dead a long time.

Frantically, she starts clawing at the soil, pulling up chunks of earth with her fingers, tears pouring down her face as her nails break and bleed.

‘Helen?’

The voice seems to come from another place. Is this a dream, or has she woken up?

‘Helen!’ The voice is closer this time. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘He’s dead!’

‘Your father?’

‘My husband. Owen.’

‘Where are you?’

‘The Black Path.’

‘Who else is there?’

‘Nobody. I can’t see anybody.’

Strong hands grip her shoulders. A light explodes into her face and she opens her eyes, gasping for air.

Siân’s face looms over her. ‘It’s okay. You were having a bad dream.’

A rush of air fills Helen’s lungs as the nightmare fades and the room comes into focus. She rubs her eyes.

‘What time is it?’

‘Half eight.’

‘I overslept.’ She throws back the covers and hauls her body up into a sitting position.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ asks Siân.

‘Why didn’t you wake me? I have to go back to the hospital.’

Helen tries to swing her legs out from under the covers, but they feel like lead.

‘You need to rest,’ Siân says.

‘I need to see Owen,’ Helen snaps. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t wake me.’ Angry, she summons all her strength and struggles to her feet. Her head spins, tiny stars exploding in the blackness.

‘Are you okay?’ Siân asks.

Obviously not
, Helen thinks and reaches for the wall to steady herself. ‘I feel a bit dizzy.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Siân says. ‘You’ve had a terrible shock. You’ve hardly eaten. Now do you see why I thought it was best to let you sleep?’

Helen feels her anger subside, nods and lowers herself back onto the bed.

Siân smiles down at her. ‘You’ll be fine,’ she says. ‘You just need to take better care of yourself. Drinks lots of fluids. Get plenty of rest. And try not to worry about Owen. He’s in good hands. I was at the hospital earlier. There’s no point in you going there now. You can see him again in the morning.’

Still smiling, she places a restraining hand on Helen’s shoulder and tucks her back in bed, like an over-efficient nurse dealing with a difficult patient.

‘There,’ she says. ‘Now try and get some more sleep.’

Helen sees that her eyes are glazed. There’s alcohol on her breath, coupled with the smell of – what, aftershave? She wonders where Siân has been all this time, why she didn’t leave a note. She wonders how she’s managed to sleep so long when her nerves are so shredded.

Siân frowns. ‘What’s the matter?’

Helen tries to gather her thoughts. There’s something else she was meaning to ask. What was it? She glances at the bedside table. There’s no coin there.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ asks Siân.

‘Like what?’

‘Like I’ve done something wrong.’

Helen forces a smile. ‘I’m not.’ But try as she might, she can’t escape the feeling that something isn’t right. The memory of the coin seems so vivid. She can still recall the feel of it in her hand, the way the light from the bedside lamp glinted on the metal.

‘Are you pissed off because I left you on your own for a couple of hours?’ Siân says. ‘Because this isn’t easy for me either, y’know. And I thought we’d agreed that you need to rest.’

Helen watches as she saunters over to the mirror and inspects her face, wiping the remains of her lipstick from her mouth. There’s a purple mark on her neck that looks suspiciously like a love bite.

She looks back over her shoulder. ‘Well?’

It’s clear from the way Siân walks and the tone of her voice that she’s had a fair amount to drink. Now probably isn’t the best time to challenge her.

But Helen can’t help herself. ‘There was a coin –’

Siân cuts her off. ‘Oh, that!’

Helen doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or more agitated. She hadn’t imagined the coin. But what was it doing in Siân’s bag?

‘You were talking about it in your sleep,’ Siân says.

‘Was I?’ Helen props herself up in bed, struggling to remember.

‘Yeah. Something about a coin and the Black Path. You seemed okay at first. But then you started tossing and turning. I figured you were having a nightmare so I woke you up.’

Siân turns away from the mirror, sits on the edge of the other bed and starts smoothing the bedspread with one hand. ‘I don’t suppose there’s anything worth watching on the TV,’ she says, and reaches for the remote.

Is she deliberately avoiding eye contact, Helen wonders. ‘How long have you been back?’ she asks.

Siân shrugs, flicking channels. ‘Dunno. About half an hour. I was trying not to disturb you. If I’d known you were having a bad dream I’d have woken you earlier.’

She seems to feel Helen watching her and turns to meet her eyes. ‘So what’s the significance of the coin? I remember you telling me about the Black Path. But where does the coin come in?’ She frowns. ‘You’re not worried about money, are you? Cos I told you I’ve got this covered. However long it takes. It’s not a problem.’

‘My dad used to collect old coins,’ Helen says. ‘I have some at home. They’re in a box under the bed.’

Siân smiles. ‘That’s so sweet. Are they worth anything?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Well, they obviously mean a lot to you. That’s the main thing.’

Neither of them speaks for a moment.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Siân says.

Helen’s scalp prickles. ‘Do you?’

‘Of course. The hospital. It’s bringing it all back – what happened to your father.’

Helen feels her throat tighten and her eyes fill with tears. She blinks and wipes her face with the back of her hand. Siân is right. Her head’s a mess. She mustn’t let her emotions get the better of her. She mustn’t give in to dark thoughts and paranoid fantasies. She’ll go mad.

‘Hey,’ says Siân. She comes over and places a comforting hand on Helen’s shoulder. ‘We have to stay strong for Owen, remember? Hang on. I’ll fetch you a glass of water.’

She disappears into the bathroom. Helen hears the tap running and her voice calling, ‘Won’t be a sec. Just waiting for the water to run cold.’

Moments later, she’s back. ‘Drink up,’ she says, handing Helen the glass and perching on the edge of the bed. ‘It’s probably shock, you know. You’ve been through a lot these past few days. It’s no wonder you’re having nightmares.’

Helen takes a sip of water. Her head feels foggy. Her mouth is still dry. She takes another mouthful of water before placing the glass on the bedside table. ‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘Those painkillers really knocked me out.’

‘What painkillers?’

‘The ones in your bag.’

Siân’s face stiffens. ‘I don’t like people going through my things.’

‘Sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind.’

‘It’s alright.’ Siân eyes her for a moment, then tilts her head sympathetically. ‘You poor thing. You’re really not yourself, are you?’

Helen chokes back tears, swallowing them with heavy breaths. She’s not sure she even knows who she is anymore. A sudden thought lodges itself in her brain. ‘I should call work. Tell them I won’t be in.’

‘No need,’ Siân says. ‘Angela called while you were sleeping. I answered the phone so it wouldn’t disturb you. I hope that’s okay.’

‘Of course. What did she say?’

‘She said she’d cover for you. She seemed to think she was doing you a big favour. If you ask me, it’s the least she can do after the way she abandoned you on Friday.’

‘Maybe she was calling to apologize?’

Siân snorts. ‘She didn’t sound very apologetic. Anyway, forget about work. It’s all sorted.’

‘I should call my mum too,’ Helen says, though the thought of it makes her chest tighten.

‘Do you really think that’s a good idea?’ asks Siân. ‘I mean, from what you’ve told me, I don’t think she’ll be much help. The last thing you need is someone else stressing you out.’

Helen pictures her mother’s anxious face, wonders how she’ll cope with her and Frank at a time like this. ‘I know, but she’s still my mum. She’ll be wondering where I am.’

‘Do you want me to call her? I don’t mind.’

‘But what would you say?’

‘Whatever you want me to say. But if I tell her the truth, she’ll be here like a shot. Her and that stepfather of yours. Is that really what you want?’

Helen thinks, imagining the combination of her mother’s nervous energy and Frank’s know-it-all remarks. ‘Not really.’

‘I didn’t think so,’ Siân says. ‘Why don’t you wait a few days? Give yourself time to adjust. Now, let’s put the kettle on.’ She leaps to her feet and goes over to the hospitality tray. ‘They’ve got some herbal teas here. Camomile will help you relax. Or there’s peppermint?’

‘Either is fine.’

Siân turns on the kettle and picks up the room service menu. ‘We should order you something to eat. What do you fancy? The club sandwich sounds good. Or there’s a burger.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘But you should try to eat something. You haven’t had anything since breakfast, and you hardly ate then. We can’t have you wasting away.’

Helen wonders if it’s a measure of how stressed she is that such an innocent remark can conjure up images of death and disease.

‘I’m fine, really,’ she says. ‘So what happened at the hospital?’

Siân shrugs and drops two teabags into a couple of mugs. ‘Sue wasn’t too friendly, to tell you the truth.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She’s a bit self-important, don’t you think? But I managed to grab a moment in her busy schedule.’

‘What did she say?’

‘That I should let you sleep. And that you can see Owen again in the morning.’

Siân pours boiling water from the kettle into the mugs. Helen can see the purple mark on the side of her neck, the deep bruise surrounded by smaller red dots. It’s definitely a love bite. ‘You’ve been gone a long time.’

Siân glances over her shoulder and smiles coyly. ‘I bumped into that soldier. Remember? The one I met earlier?’

‘I remember.’

‘Don’t be like that,’ Siân says, bringing the mugs over and placing them on the bedside table. ‘And before you accuse me of anything, I didn’t forget about you. In fact, it’s you I was thinking of.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I thought he might be able to tell me something about what happened.’

‘And did he?’

‘He was a bit cagey at first, but I have ways of making men tell me things.’ Siân smirks and lies back on her bed, piling pillows behind her shoulders and unbuttoning the top of her jeans. ‘I took him to the nearest pub and plied him with alcohol. You know how soldiers like a drink.’

‘Owen’s not really a drinker.’

‘Well, this guy certainly is. He knocked back three pints in under an hour. You know how some men can drink really heavily and you wouldn’t even know they were drunk?’

Helen thinks of Frank and nods.

‘He’s one of those types. But then I got him onto the whisky. That soon loosened his tongue.’

‘Well? What did he say?’

‘They were out on patrol and there was some sort of explosion, one of those improvised devices. Owen was thrown clear of the vehicle. One of the other lads wasn’t so lucky.’

‘I don’t think “lucky” is the word you’re looking for,’ Helen says. ‘My husband is in a coma.’

‘Yeah, but he’s alive.’

‘Oh. I see.’

Siân nods. ‘Blown to bits, apparently. And he was only nineteen. His parents came to identify the body.’ She reaches for her mug of tea and blows gently on the surface of the steaming liquid to cool it. ‘That can’t have been easy for them.’

Helen remembers the man she saw consoling the grieving woman at the hospital. Were they the dead boy’s parents? What must they have thought of her, staring at them like they were some sort of sideshow?

‘Nineteen,’ she repeats softly. ‘Those poor people.’

‘I know,’ Siân says. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?’

‘No,’ says Helen, but she can’t help herself from doing exactly that.

At least Owen’s alive, she thinks. At least he wasn’t blown to bits.

She wonders what strange twist of fate meant that one man died while another was expected to make a full recovery. What were the circumstances surrounding the explosion? She might never know.

‘Did he say anything else?’ she asks, reaching for her mug. ‘Your soldier friend?’

There’s no response. Looking up, Helen sees that the expression on Siân’s face has changed. Her eyes are wide and there’s a sadness around her mouth that wasn’t there a moment ago.

‘Siân?’ Helen says. ‘What’s wrong?’

Siân smiles tightly and looks away. When she does finally answer, her voice is different – smaller and less confident, almost the voice of a child. ‘There’s something I haven’t told you.’

‘What is it?’

‘My brother joined the army.’

‘I didn’t know you had a brother. What regiment is he in?’

‘He’s not. Not anymore. He died.’