Page 44 of Forgive Me Not
‘No. Because of the landlords… what were they called? Polly and…’
‘Alan.’ Emma stopped chewing for a moment. ‘I lost count of the times they barred me. That’s one couple I know for sure won’t be pleased to see me return to Healdbury.’ Heat flooded her face as she recalled the week before that last Christmas. Out of all the embarrassing things she’d done in the pub, this was the worst. She’d stolen the charity box from the bar. It was for a local cause – Emma didn’t know what, and at the time she didn’t care. She must have taken it in blackout, because she didn’t realise until she found it hidden, days later. It was extremely heavy, so most of the regulars must have chipped in. Polly and Alan always said that a sense of community was everything, and would never forgive her for stealing from the village.
‘It’s so sad about their son,’ Rachel said.
‘What, Ned? He must be nearly eighteen now. What’s happened? Is he okay?’
‘No… no, he isn’t, Emma. I’m sorry… He died in an accident.’
‘What, Ned? Surely not.’ Emma shook her head. ‘That’s so terrible. He was a kind lad. He saw me crying in the street once and offered me a stick of chewing gum. I can’t believe it. Are you sure? He was so young.’
Rachel rubbed Emma’s arm. ‘I’m afraid he got knocked off his bike doing his paper round. It was a hit-and-run.’
Emma put her half-eaten biscuit on the bedside table. ‘Poor Ned. Poor Polly and Alan. They had fertility treatment to have him, you know. He was their only child.’ She shook her head again. ‘It just doesn’t seem possible. They were always so proud of him.’
‘I know, it’s just so tragic, and to make matters worse, it happened early one Christmas Eve.’
Emma’s body gave an involuntary shudder, and coldness crept across her back like a winter chill, settling into her chest.
No. That was a stupid thought. She’d been drunk, the roads were icy and she’d been using her phone at the wheel that last day she drove back to Healdbury after leaving the hotel in Manchester, so she hadn’t actually seen the animal she’d hit, but if it had been a boy on a bike, she’d have definitely known. No question. People didn’t kill other people without having some idea.
‘Which Christmas Eve was that?’ she asked weakly.
‘It must be two years ago now… that’s when you left home, right?’
Emma ran to her bedroom sink. Her body went into spasm and red pasta sauce from dinner splattered across the white basin like blood on ice.
Ned? No, please, universe, she thought, please let this be a mistake and he’s still alive; please don’t let it have been me. I hit a fox. Or a sheep. Not a sweet, much-loved son.
Memories flashed into her mind. Leaving the hotel. Blood on her dress. Somehow managing to drive out of the city centre. The winding road as she approached Healdbury. She’d been looking at friends’ photos on Instagram – her phone on the passenger seat – and singing at the top of her voice to an old One Direction hit on the radio. Suddenly her body was thrown forward. The car had hit something and skidded. She’d struggled to keep control of the wheel and screamed. Screams turned to manic laughter as eventually the car slowed…
Rachel hurried over and rubbed her back. ‘You’re shaking,’ she said, and ran the cold tap. Emma scooped up mouthfuls. Rachel passed her a tissue. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
‘It must be such a shock,’ said Rachel, and gave her a hug.
Emma pulled away. She didn’t deserve kindness.
‘I… I wonder where exactly it happened,’ she said, without meeting Rachel’s eye. Another wave of nausea rose at the back of her throat, and fear gripped her, like the terror of waking up after blackout and wondering what she’d done. She collapsed onto the bed.
Just as she’d thought she was leaving the nightmare of living on the streets, of losing Joe, of miscarrying Josephine, another black hole of despair had appeared and she was falling in head first.
‘Just past the Christmas tree farm, on the outskirts. I remember driving past it on the way back. Apparently Ned loved his paper round because most of it served isolated customers, away from the village, and he didn’t have to carry as many newspapers as his friends. The police think he left his bike outside the farm because the driveway was so icy. He delivered the paper on foot, and when he walked back to his bike…’
‘Was anyone caught for it?’
Rachel shrugged. ‘Dunno. Didn’t like to ask. I don’t think so, though, not when I was told about it.’
Emma nodded slowly, but inside, her mind raced. Within minutes she’d pleaded a headache and seen an understanding Rachel out of her room, declining her friend’s offer to hunt out an ice pack. All she could hear was the wordsthe Christmas tree farm. That was where she’d hit something that morning.
She drew on the tools she’d learned about to control her negative thinking and took a deep breath. Mustn’t catastrophise. Mustn’t tell myself I’m a bad person. She’d seen hit-and-runs in the movies. If she’d knocked a person over, they’d have been tossed into the air. There was no way she wouldn’t have known about that.
Not even if you were drunk and tired and more bothered about your friends’ social media than how you were driving?asked a small voice in her head.
Chapter 15
‘Have you heard this, Bligh?’ said Andrea as he came over from the greenhouse carrying a basket of cucumbers. He was preparing some vegetable boxes for delivery. The internet orders were providing a modest but steady income. ‘Emma has invited some rough sleepers to visit Foxglove Farm and they’re arriving in a couple of hours.’
Andrea stood in the sunshine just in front of the barn, hands dusted with soil. Emma and Gail were sitting outside – Gail on the old rocking chair, and Emma on one of two deckchairs; she always put an extra one out in the hope that Andrea or Bligh might join them. Nearby, an upturned crate served as a table for their mugs. Dash lay next to them on the ground next to a small children’s trampoline. Emma had found it discarded by the roadside and had spent the afternoon mending the leg. It would be perfect for the goats to jump on. She’d also created interesting feeders for the rabbits using toilet paper tubes and hay. Gail had been able to help.
