The Last Weekend Page 6

  ‘What’s that, up there in the corner?’ said Indigo. Mayfly looked at where he was pointing, high up in the corner of the room, where there was a small device attached to the cornice.

  ‘Burglar alarm sensor?’

  He nodded. ‘Sounds likely.’

  ‘Why don’t we get unpacked, then if you come back in here, we can listen to some music or something, then go down to dinner together when it’s time.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Indigo. ‘I’ll knock when I’m ready.’ He went back to his room and unpacked his weekend bag, briefly wondering who would clear up after him and what they would do with the few things he had brought with him, when he no longer needed them. He hung up his jacket, then ran his fingers over the soft leather, caressing the surface.

  The jacket had been ridiculously expensive and bought at a time when he and Emily were making plans for Lauren’s arrival. He had walked away from it without a second glance once he had seen how much it cost, but Emily had seen him covet it, had returned to the shop without him and bought it for him for Christmas. Barely a month later she was dead. Indigo pulled himself together, blinking to clear his vision. It was only natural she was on his mind; under the circumstances it was to be expected. The anniversary of her death fell on Sunday.

  He glanced up at the corner of the room and saw an object attached to the cornice that matched the one in Mayfly’s room – the burglar alarm sensor. At least my jacket should be safe from thieves, he thought, wryly. His things stowed – toiletries in the small bathroom, the few clothes he had brought in the wardrobe and chest of drawers, shaver on the nightstand, along with the book he was reading – he went out and locked the door behind him, then pocketed the key. He saw that Mayfly’s door was ajar and heard Nick Cave and Kylie Minogue singing a murder ballad, the one about the wild roses, inside the room.

  ‘Just me!’ he said, tapping on the door.

  ‘Come on in.’

  He did, and saw that as well as music, Mayfly had brought candles. A myriad of tea lights was scattered over the available surfaces, although the only one she had lit so far was a cinnamon-scented one in a glass jar, which she had set on one of the bedside cabinets. ‘I’ll do the rest later, after dinner,’ she told him. ‘I like the smell of this, though.’

  ‘Your bag must be like the TARDIS.’

  She grinned. ‘I’m a good packer.’ She nodded to the speakers attached to her MP3 player. ‘This okay? There’s a fair old bit of stuff on there, I’m sure there’ll be something you like if this isn’t your thing.’

  ‘This is fine. I never thought to bring music. I’m glad you did.’

  ‘I rarely go anywhere without something to listen to.’

  ‘I rarely go anywhere without something to read.’

  ‘I forgot my book.’ She fiddled with the candles. ‘I won’t ever finish it, now.’

  Indigo looked at her. She looked so healthy, so full of life, and she’d even brought things to make her anonymous room more homely and welcoming. Mayfly looked like she had everything to live for. And yet Reaperman had been persuaded that she should be part of The Last Weekend; she had been through the same selection process as all of them and had been accepted for the project. It just didn’t add up.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Of course.’ She finished arranging candles and turned to him. ‘Although I reserve the right not to answer.’

  ‘Why are you here, Mayfly? What made you want to do this?’

  She stood still and stared at him. She must have liked what she saw well enough because she walked over to the bed, propped the pillows up against the headboard, then sat back and patted the space next to her. ‘Come here. Let’s at least get comfortable if we’re going to talk about this.’

  Indigo settled down beside her.

  ‘It all started with a kiss,’ she said, ‘under the mistletoe at the work Christmas party when I was eighteen. But it ended very differently.’

  Chapter 13

  That first kiss from Mark Norman left Anna Mayfield breathless, and it set their feet on a path that seemed preordained. They strolled through the early weeks and months, then a few years later walked into a flat and began living together. The fact that their journey would take them down the aisle seemed inevitable. Anna was happy, she loved Mark completely, but by then there were moments when she was no longer sure he felt the same. She spoke to her mother about it shortly before the wedding.

  ‘I don’t know, Mum,’ she said. ‘He seems so distant, sometimes.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Like he’s thinking about something else.’

  ‘How long has he been like that, love?’

  ‘Well, since not long after we moved in together, if I’m honest.’ Anna ran her hand through her red hair. ‘Do you think he’s having second thoughts?’

  Avril Mayfield patted her daughter’s knee. ‘Don’t you lose a minute’s sleep,’ she said. ‘He sounds to me like he’s just settling into marriage a little early, that’s all.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, that’s how they go, when it all works out right. Look at your dad.’ She smiled. ‘He couldn’t be more settled and relaxed.’

  Anna thought about what her mother had said. It was true her father left everything up to his wife and seemed happy to follow her lead and do as she directed. Could it really be that Mark had taken her father as a role model? They certainly spent enough time together. She tried to put her worries to the back of her mind.

  It was just one week to the day of the wedding. Her lifelong best friend, Susan Birchwood, was to be her chief bridesmaid. Two young cousins made up the numbers and kept the family happy, but it was Susan that was most important to Anna. And the most worrying, during that last week. All the fittings had taken place, the three bridesmaids’ dresses were hanging up in Anna’s old bedroom at her parents’ house, along with her wedding dress, but Susan had become elusive. Anna left message after message on Susan’s phone and with her mother, but her friend wasn’t returning Anna’s calls. Mark wasn’t around much in the last few days, either – he was spending a lot of time with his folks and with Harry, his best man.

  The morning of the wedding dawned and Anna relied on faith to get Susan to the Mayfield house on time. Faith let her down. The two little bridesmaids were dressed in their frocks, her mum and dad were all done up in their finery, and Anna, who had spent the night before the wedding with them, was also ready.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ her father told her, when everyone else had set off for the church and there were just the two of them left. He was smiling at her, but tears sparkled in his eyes. ‘You make me so proud. You’ll make Mark very happy, I know.’ He gave her a hug. ‘Just make sure he makes you happy as well, all right, love?’

  ‘He does, Dad,’ she said, hugging him back. ‘He’s the one. Always has been.’

  ‘Aye, well, I think we all know that.’

  ‘I just wish I knew what had happened to Susan.’

  ‘Boy trouble, do you think?’ said her dad. ‘She gets through them at a fair old rate, I doubt she’ll ever settle down.’

  ‘It could be, I suppose. She hasn’t mentioned seeing anyone lately, mind. Whatever it is, I can’t believe she didn’t talk to me about it. I must have been so tied up with the wedding that I didn’t notice my best friend was having problems.’

  ‘Not acceptable to let you down like this, though. It’ll take a bit of forgiving, this, love. A lot of making up.’

  ‘Depends what it is, really.’ Anna couldn’t imagine life without Susan. She loved her dearly, had shared everything with her over the years. It was hard to believe that she had simply abandoned Anna on her wedding day.

  Anna’s dad checked his watch. ‘Come on, time we set off for the church.’

  They headed out and climbed into the waiting limousine. Anna enjoyed the journey to the church. She loved her dad, was looking forward to walking down the aisle with him and then walking back up again with Mark.
Her two favourite men; she felt blessed. She looked out of the window and was amused and touched to see a couple of older men bow formally, then straighten up and wave as the car passed by. She took it to be a good omen, and waved back.

  When they got to the church, her two little bridesmaids were waiting in the entrance porch with the vicar.

  ‘Uncle Mark’s here, Auntie Anna,’ they chorused.

  ‘Of course he is,’ she said, and smiled. She had never doubted him.

  ‘You get organised and I’ll go in,’ the vicar said. ‘Come in when you hear the music.’

  The little ones took their places behind Anna and she took her father’s arm. When the organist struck up, they started on the long walk down the aisle. Anna smiled and said hello to family and friends she spotted in the congregation as they made their slow progress to the front. She looked around as best she could, but didn’t spot Susan’s parents. Mark looked handsome in his suit. His friend Harry, the best man, looked uncomfortable. Mark managed a smile, despite being obviously nervous.

  Everything went according to plan. Relatives rummaged in their handbags for handkerchiefs to sniffle into. The little bridesmaids fidgeted and fretted in their fancy frocks, turning around often to see who was watching them. Harry kept patting his waistcoat pocket to check he had the rings, Mark kept looking over his shoulder. Those two are no better than the little bridesmaids, Anna thought. When they got to the bit where Mark had to say his piece, she heard the church door bang. Mark looked to see who it was, then tripped over his words. He went white and then flushed scarlet. He looked at Anna and said, ‘I’m sorry. I can’t do this.’

  Harry was furious. ‘Don’t be stupid!’ he said. ‘Don’t throw away what you’ve got with Anna for that slag.’

  ‘Mark?’ said Anna. ‘Mark, what’s going on?’ She was pretty sure she knew and she felt sick to her stomach, but she wanted to hear it from him. It was the least he could do.

  ‘He loves me,’ she heard someone say. No, not someone. Susan. It was Susan’s voice. Anna didn’t look at her.

  ‘Is this true?’ she asked Mark.

  ‘Yes,’ said Susan.

  ‘I didn’t ask you. Mark, is this true?’

  Mark looked embarrassed. He made an open gesture with his hands, then shrugged. He dropped his eyes. ‘We’ve been …’ he started, then found some conviction. ‘Yes. Yes, it’s true.’ He met Anna’s gaze, suddenly defiant, looking out of place in his morning suit, with the waistcoat that matched the bridesmaids’ dresses. ‘I didn’t want to get married. I changed my mind. I didn’t know how to tell you. I couldn’t seem to find a way.’

  ‘Well, you seem to have found a way now,’ Anna said. ‘Well done.’ She felt tears welling up inside her. She had no intention of shedding them in front of either Mark or her so-called best friend, though. She would have her say, but not here, not like this. She turned to look at Susan. ‘Get out of my sight,’ she said, then looked back at Mark. ‘Both of you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Anna. We didn’t plan this,’ Susan said.

  ‘You planned your appearance here, today, though, didn’t you?’ Anna said, taking in her friend’s appearance: hair done, face made up, new dress and shoes. ‘You timed your entrance perfectly, as well.’ Susan dropped her eyes under Anna’s fierce gaze. ‘You disgust me,’ Anna told her. ‘Now get out.’

  Anna stood firm and made the pair of them slink away, all eyes upon them. Her mother was crying, her father looked shocked, the bridesmaids had gone back to their parents, in the congregation, and the vicar and guests were bewildered.

  ‘Anna, I’m sorry,’ said Harry.

  ‘You knew.’

  ‘I tried to make him see sense when she moved in on him, but she got her hooks in and … well, you know how she is.’

  Anna felt suddenly exhausted. ‘Yes, I suppose I do.’ She stared into the distance for a long moment. ‘It must have been going on for ages.’

  ‘I think Susan was jealous when the two of you got the flat. She felt pushed out, so she pushed back in.’ Harry blinked. ‘I should have told you. I’m sorry. But I really thought it would blow over and he would see sense. I didn’t think there would be any need to hurt you.’ He laughed, a hollow, humourless little bark that echoed in the church. ‘It’s not like she hasn’t cheated on him! He didn’t believe me when I told him, though, he thought I was making it up to get at her.’

  ‘Not your fault, Harry. You did what you thought was best. I certainly don’t blame you for how Mark behaved.’ She turned to her parents. ‘Let’s go home. Dad, Mum, let’s just all go home.’

  ***

  ‘We left, then,’ Mayfly told Indigo. ‘Harry sorted everything out. He felt so awful about it, but he was in a bad situation. He was trying to be a loyal friend to both of us, but he was Mark’s friend, first and foremost.’

  ‘Did you see them again? Mark and Susan?’

  ‘Yes, I got the chance to tell them what I thought of them. They split up about six months after the wedding that didn’t happen. My parents split up around then, too. It turned out my dad had a very brief affair, years and years before. They’d put it behind them and got on with their lives, but the wedding debacle brought it all back. Mum couldn’t get past it this time; she went abroad for six months to stay with her sister, Auntie Peggy. Dad called every day, but she wouldn’t speak to him. So, I had to try to keep my father together and fend Mark off all at the same time. He started a charm offensive. He honestly thought I would just forgive and forget and move right back into the flat with him; our flat, where he had been living with Susan in the meantime. Then, one night …’ She faltered, and teared up for the first time.

  Indigo took her hand. ‘What happened?’

  She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘I got back from work. The lights were off, so I thought Dad must be out. I was pleased. I thought he must be making an effort to get back to normal.’ She paused, then continued. ‘I went through to the kitchen and there was a note on the worktop, by the hob. It was a piece of paper, folded over and with my name written on it. It was from Dad, warning me that I should stay out of his bedroom and ring the police and get them to come and deal with everything.’ Indigo squeezed her hand. Mayfly returned the pressure. ‘But of course, I went up. You would, wouldn’t you? But I wish I hadn’t, I wish I’d done what he said. He didn’t look like my dad any more. He looked … wrong. He’d taken pills. They’d made him sick, but he had passed out beforehand. The pills didn’t get a chance to work; he choked on his own vomit. Jesus, Indi, it was so awful …’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Mum decided to stay in Australia. In less than a year, I lost my parents, my best friend and the man I loved. I feel like the rug was pulled out from under my life. I just can’t seem to move on, you know? Because it was all my fault. If I had only pushed Mark to tell me why he was acting differently, if I had made more of an effort to track Susan down, if I had just been a bit less wrapped up in the wedding, my parents would still be together and my dad would still be alive.’

  ‘None of it was your fault,’ said Indigo.

  ‘That’s what people say, and yet I still feel guilty.’ Mayfly checked her watch and made an effort to pull herself together. ‘It’s time for dinner. Come on, we’d better go.’

  She got up, blew out the scented candle and turned off the music, then walked round the bed to the side where the door was, where Indigo still sat. He stood up and held his arms out to her, she stepped into them and they hugged each other. He stroked her hair as he held her and realised it was the first time since Emily’s death that he had held a woman. They broke apart, and Indigo brushed a tear from her cheek. He felt a deep sense of sorrow for what she had gone through, coupled with a peace he had not known for some time. There were so many parallels in what they had each been through that he felt he had finally found someone who could understand his own experience, someone whose experience he could understand; finally, he had found someone special, someone with whom he could sha
re a death that would be a release from all the pain of loss.

  Chapter 14

  George was tensed up, ready to run the instant the gun went off. He looked around at his fellow prey, a small group of bewildered, frightened people who barely understood the stakes, despite the warnings he had given them.

  The first shot was fired and he took off like a rocket. He heard feet thudding along behind him, heard the voice of the organiser as he shouted at a man whose feet were frozen to the ground to, ‘For God’s sake run, you fucking muppet!’

  It was a cruel thought, but George welcomed the distraction; if the hunters were all looking at the man and laughing, they weren’t watching him.

  The second shot rang out and, as he scrambled behind a bush, George heard a burst of gunfire and much raucous laughter; supposing the man had managed to get his feet moving, they hadn’t carried him far, poor bastard.

  A short while later he heard a volley of shots and knew another of the hunted had fallen, but by then he was far enough away, hiding in a ditch, branches pulled over his head for safety. He stayed hunkered down in his hiding place, fighting the adrenaline-powered urge to keep moving. The moon wasn’t full, but it was still quite bright; he didn’t want to be spotted.

  At some point the noise of the hunt – the heavy footfalls, gunshots and voices – ceased, but George stayed put, even after the car horn blew and the strains of ‘We Are The Champions’ heralded the hunters’ return to the lodge. The cold crept into his bones and he feared it would be the death of him. Finally, his joints frozen stiff, his movements slow, he broke cover. As he crept away over the rough terrain, a quad bike made straight for him. He braced himself, waiting for a shot to be fired, but none came.

  ‘Oi, you. Get on the back, now,’ said Helmand. He was unarmed.

  ‘N–no,’ said George. He stood his ground. ‘No.’

  Helmand produced a handgun. ‘Now,’ he repeated.