Where the Memories Lie (16 page)

with but I was afraid to, as well. Eventually, Tom’s voice made me

look over sharply at him as he woke.

‘Who are you?’ He blinked sleepily at me.

‘Olivia,’ I said with none of the gentleness I usually reserved for my visits. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Are you a nurse?’

‘Yes, but I’m not your nurse. I’m your daughter-in-law.’

He looked sceptical. ‘No, you’re not. She’s blonde. Who are you?’

‘That’s Nadia who’s blonde. She’s your daughter.’

‘I don’t have a daughter.’ He sat up in bed and began fiddling

with the blue waffled blanket.

‘I need to ask you something, Tom.’

‘I don’t need to go to the toilet.’

‘That’s good, but I need to ask you something else.’

‘It wasn’t my fault. It was an accident.’

I gripped the arm of the plastic chair harder, steadying myself

for what he would say. ‘I’m sure it was, but I need to know exactly what happened.’

He shook his head, tears springing into his eyes. ‘It wasn’t my

mess. I didn’t do it on the floor. Someone else . . . someone came in and did it when I was asleep.’

‘What?’

He pointed slowly to the bathroom with a shaky hand.

‘Accident. I forgot.’

‘You’re talking about having a bathroom accident? You didn’t

get to the toilet in time, is that it?’ I tried to keep my voice calm while my heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears.

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He was getting agitated, flapping his hands in the air, his

breathing coming fast, so I grabbed his hands and placed them in

mine, even though I didn’t want to touch him.

‘It’s OK, don’t worry. The nurses see it happen all the time. Just

breathe slowly.’

Tears dribbled down his cheeks. ‘It’s not me.’

‘Everything’s all right. No need to get upset, OK?’ I grabbed a

wad of tissues from a box on top of his bedside cabinet and wiped

his eyes.

He stared at the blanket and wouldn’t look at me. ‘You’re not

like her, are you?’

‘Who?’

‘Eve. She doesn’t come anymore.’

I decided against telling him again Eve was dead. I didn’t think

he could handle a fresh tide of grief in his fragile state. ‘She’s a bit busy today, but she’ll come soon.’ I patted his hand. ‘I’m Olivia.

Do you remember me?’

He looked at me then, his eyes watchful, flitting back and forth

in their sockets. ‘You made me a chocolate cake.’

I was hit with a memory of his seventy-first birthday, just

after we’d bought Tate Barn and moved in with him. Nostalgia

rose up inside. I’d wanted his first birthday with all of us living in the house to be a special occasion for him, not knowing how

much time we’d have left before the Alzheimer’s took its toll.

I bought him one of those old newspapers you get online, dated

the year he was born, which he loved. Anna made him an impres-

sion of her hands encased in pottery at school and painted it red.

I don’t know what happened to that. Ethan bought him some

fifty-year-old single malt whisky that he shared with the guys.

I can’t remember what the rest of the family bought. It was a great day, though, and Tom was on top form. He had a blast. Didn’t

even get confused once.

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My eyes stung behind my eyelids, but I blinked back the tears

threatening to flood out. ‘Yes, I made you a chocolate cake.’ It was awful. It tasted rubbish but Tom had pretended it was the best thing he’d ever eaten, and I’d loved him for it.

His face softened, the lines smoothing out as he smiled, his eyes

lighting up in recognition. ‘You like pink nail varnish.’

‘No, that’s Nadia.’

‘No, you had it on your toes when you got married. You looked

beautiful. I was so proud when I gave you away.’

It was definitely Nadia but I wasn’t going to argue.

‘Tom, do you remember what you told me the other day about

Katie? About how you buried her?’ I said gently, trying to ignore the cramping in my stomach.

He stared blankly at me.

‘Katie? Katie Quinn? Do you remember her? She was my

friend. She left the village when she was eighteen.’ At least I very much hoped she had.

‘Katie,’ he whispered and fiddled with the edges of the blanket

again, twisting it one way and then the other.

‘Yes, she was going out with Chris. She was at your house a lot

that summer. Do you remember her, Tom?’

He nodded and screwed up the edge of the blanket in his fist.

‘What happened to her? Did you do something to her? If you

did, it’s all right.’ Even though it wasn’t all right at all. What was I talking about? ‘If you did something, we can sort it out. I just need to know what happened.’

He took a shallow breath. The tears fell down his cheeks, splashing onto the blanket, which he gripped tightly. ‘I didn’t mean to do it.’

‘Yes, you said it was an accident, wasn’t it? Just a bad accident?’

He closed his eyes for a long time and I thought he may have

fallen asleep. Eventually his eyelids flew open and he said, ‘I got rid of her. It’s OK; no one will find her body.’

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My stomach lurched. Acidic bile rose up my oesophagus into

the back of my throat. ‘Where, Tom? Where did you get rid of her?

Where did you bury her?’

He wiped his wet cheeks with the back of his hands and looked

at me, shaking his head. ‘You won’t tell them, will you? I was just protecting my family. I was just doing what a parent should.’

‘I won’t tell them, but I need to know what happened to her.

Where is she? Did you really bury her?’

He muttered something so quietly that I had to lean forward,

unsure I’d heard him correctly. Hoping with all my might I hadn’t

heard him correctly at all.

‘What was that?’ I asked as a wave of dizziness hit me. ‘Can you

tell me again?’

‘My house.’

‘Which house? Not Tate Barn?’ I squeezed my eyelids shut

tight and took a deep breath in and out, willing my stomach to

stop spinning. When I opened them again he was staring at me, his

bloodshot eyes etched with sadness.

‘Yes.’

‘Where at Tate Barn?’ I managed to say, even though it felt like

I had cotton wool stuffed in my mouth.

‘I’m sorry, Olivia. I’m sorry.’

‘I know. Where at Tate Barn? I need you to tell me. Where’s

her body?’

His voice, when it came, was raspy and cracked. ‘Underneath

the garage.’

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Chapter Fourteen

I don’t know how I made it home without spilling the contents

of my stomach at the side of the road. Even then part of me

was still trying desperately to cling on to the idea that this was

all one huge innocent mistake, but I couldn’t ignore the facts that were piling up.

Katie went missing and was never heard from again. She’d van-

ished without a trace. Tom had confessed to killing her and burying her under the garage of the barn he’d been renovating at that time.

The barn that we now lived in.

Had Katie really been under our feet this whole time? For

twenty-five years? Had I parked my car overtop of her body with-

out knowing? Walked over her skeleton? Ethan had worked on his

bike there. Anna had helped him, when she was going through a

tomboy stage and wanted to do everything her dad did, following

him around, copying his every move. Had we all been just inches

away from a corpse?

I’d seen and heard some horrific things in my time as a nurse,

and I wasn’t squeamish, far from it, but this . . . this went above and beyond anything I could comprehend.

Sibel Hodge

Terrible thoughts chased around in my head. And the real

question, the one ballooning in my brain, was what to do about

it. I was convinced Tom was completely lucid when he was talking

about Katie. But should I tell someone or should I keep quiet?

It’s going to destroy the whole family. You can’t tell anyone!

You can’t NOT tell. This is a murder!

You don’t know that. It could’ve been an accident.

Why would he have tried to hide it so long if it was just an

accident?

Can you really stay silent about it? This was your friend. Don’t you
want to know what happened to her?

You’ll wreck everything. Think of Anna and Ethan, and everyone

else if you’re wrong!

Back and forth I went. I didn’t want to go home yet. I needed

to think. I drove to Chesil Beach and walked along the shore,

agonising over what to do. But after three hours of soul searching, the only thing I was certain of was that I needed to talk to someone.

I needed to talk to my husband.

When I finally drove in through my gates, I saw Ethan’s Range

Rover parked on the driveway, outside the garage that just maybe

happened to have my friend’s body buried under it.

Bile rose again and my mouth flooded with saliva. Beads of

sweat broke out on my forehead.

Do not be sick.

I took a deep breath, got back in the Mini and drove it forward,

parking behind Ethan. Then I closed the gates and headed for

the house.

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‘Hey, Mum.’ Anna swung the door open before I could even

unlock it. ‘Guess what? Dad’s back early.’

I forced a smile and kissed her on the cheek before stepping

inside and dropping my handbag on the quarry-tiled floor in the

hallway next to the stairs. The place was now thankfully boxless,

returned to our usual semi-tidy chaos of a few pairs of shoes

randomly kicked off by Anna and Ethan, and Ethan’s briefcase.

‘Yes, I saw his car,’ I said brightly. Or tried to, anyway. I think it came out sounding more wobbly and off-key. ‘Where is he?’

‘He’s in the shower. He said he was going to take us to the pub

for dinner before he goes to see Granddad.’

‘Right. I think we’re going to have to do that another night.’

I marched into the kitchen and picked up the hands-free phone.

‘But Mum, I already know what I’m going to have!’

I dialled Nadia’s number and listened to the ring tone on the

other end.

‘Mum! Are you listening?’

‘Huh?’

‘I’m going to have their carbonara. It’s yum.’

‘Hello?’ Nadia picked up, breathless, on the other end.

‘Hi, it’s me.’

‘Can I ring you back in a minute? I’m just in the middle of

working out some costings for the charity bash and—’

‘No,’ I butted in.

‘What?’ she asked incredulously

I turned to Anna. ‘This is a private conversation. Can you wait

in the lounge for me?’

‘What’s going on?’ Nadia said down the phone

‘Why are you acting all weird?’ Anna frowned. ‘I want to go out

for dinner. Dad said—’

‘I’m not acting weird!’ I snapped again, unable to control myself

any longer. I didn’t do this. I wasn’t a snappy person, but under

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these circumstances I thought it was justified, plus I think I was a little hysterical by that point. ‘And we’re not going for dinner! Go in the lounge and shut the door.’

A flash of hurt sparked in Anna’s eyes before she turned away.

‘Suit yourself.’ Then she muttered something that sounded like

‘weirdo’. She slammed the lounge door and turned on the TV to

ear-splitting volume. Even for a good girl, she still had her moments.

She wasn’t an angel.

‘Can Anna come over to yours tonight?’

‘What’s going on?’

I debated whether to tell her yet. She had a right to know, but

I still wanted to cling on to that little sliver of doubt that I couldn’t trust what Tom was saying. Even though he’d been pretty clear in

what he’d done and where he’d put her body, I couldn’t reconcile the Tom I knew with someone who would murder Katie, and I didn’t

want to tell anyone else until I had concrete evidence. There was

no point upsetting the rest of the family until I was one hundred

per cent certain.

‘Just a family emergency,’ I said. ‘So, can she?’

‘Have you had a row with Ethan?’

Not yet, but I can guarantee one will be happening in the next few
minutes.
‘No. But we need to sort something out in private.’

‘Oh, God.’ She dropped her voice. ‘You don’t think
he’s
messing around, too, do you?’

‘No! It’s nothing like that. Look, can I drop Anna round or

not?’ I said impatiently.

‘Yeah, of course.’

‘She hasn’t had any dinner yet, though. Can you feed her?’

‘We haven’t eaten yet, either. We were waiting for Lucas, who

should be here any minute. I’ve made miles too much, as usual,

anyway. Yeah, she can come over whenever.’ She paused. ‘Are you

OK? You sound really weird.’

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How did I answer that? No, I wasn’t OK. I wanted to vomit and

yell and cry. Probably all three at the same time.

‘I’ll be there in a minute.’ I hung up, grabbed the car keys I’d

only just put on the island and opened the door to the lounge.

‘Anna, you’re going to Charlotte’s for a few hours,’ I shouted over the noise of the TV.

‘What? Why? I want to go out with you and Dad.’ She pouted.

‘Sorry, but we’re not going out. There’s been a change of plan.

I need to talk to him about something important. Come on, you