Page 37 of The Girls in the Lake
Beth felt her heart skip a beat. How cruel and unfair was this? If the universe was working its magic it was in the most peculiar way.
‘I’m okay thanks, Jodie. How are you?’
Jodie shrugged. ‘I’ve been better…’
‘Good, I’m sorry. Look, I have to go, I’m in a rush. I have to get to the mortuary. Take care, okay.’
Inside, Beth felt her knees give way and she lurched forward, the palm of her hand resting against the wall to hold her up. What was going on? She felt even more confused than ever. She tried to ring Josh and he didn’t answer. She felt a scream well up inside her chest. All she wanted was an explanation. If she wasn’t such a coward she would go and ask Jodie what was going on. She couldn’t though; she was too scared of what the truth might be. A voice behind her made her jump.
‘Are you okay?’
She turned to see a junior doctor in a white coat, her pink stethoscope wrapped around her neck. Beth nodded.
‘Yes, thank you. I’ve been feeling a bit dizzy; I’m okay now.’ The white lie ran off her tongue so easily.
‘Well you know, you’re in the right place if you need a check-up, Dr Adams.’
Beth stared at the doctor’s name badge. It seemed the whole world knew who Beth Adams was, yet she didn’t even know herself who she was.
‘Thank you, I guess I am. I’m okay; a couple of betahistine and I’ll be good to go.’
‘Good, I’m down in A & E if you need anything for the next eight hours. Although I’m on my way to find a decent cup of coffee first.’
Beth smiled. She was a mess and she knew it, and by the look on the face of the doctor smiling at her she knew it too, but was far too polite to say anything else.
‘Good luck finding the coffee, have a good one.’
Beth hurried along the corridor, eager to be alone in her office once more.
She needed to see with her own eyes that Robert Hartshorn was truly dead if she was ever going to get a grip on her life again. And she needed closure with the demon from her past if she was ever going to successfully confront Josh and the nightmare of her present. Together, it was too much to bear.
Beth pushed the heavy door that led into the mortuary. It was empty and a sigh of relief escaped her lips as she took in the familiar hum of the bank of cold storage fridges lined against the back wall. She slipped inside, flicking on a couple of light switches. Before she knew it, her feet had carried her over to the back wall and she stared at the unnamed drawer which had contained Robert’s body.
Ignoring the voice of reason inside her head, her fingers reached out, wrapping themselves around the cold handle. She tugged it open and dragged the middle shelf towards her. The body bag looked the same as it had on Thursday, but the yellow tag had been cut off, signalling the post-mortem had been completed. She didn’t realise her hands were shaking until she tried to pull down the zipper. Stopping, she took a deep breath to steady her hands, then it was open and she was staring at the man who had haunted her for seven years and consumed her life completely, dominating her worst nightmares. The dreadful memories she harboured had built him into a terrifying, scary monster. When she dreamt about him, he was huge, with black eyes, powerful arms and a grin that made her knees quake. Only he didn’t look so scary now; he looked frail, old and very dead. She stared at his grey stubbled face – once he’d never have been anything but clean-shaven – and whispered, ‘I hope you rot in hell, Robert, it’s what you deserve. Despite everything you put me through I’m not the one who’s decomposing in a mortuary fridge. I won. I bet you hate that, don’t you. I’ve wasted seven years of my life because of you. Not any more. Today it ends. I’m alive, which is more than can be said for your sorry arse.’ Before she’d finished speaking, she was pulling the zipper back together, then shoving the shelf back, she slammed the door and walked out of the mortuary.
She held her head high; this part of her life was over for good.
Forty-Two
Marcus, James and Ethan stood below deck dressed in tuxedos. Even if Ethan said it himself, they did look mighty fine. Marcus and James both had long, heavy fringes which the pair of them were continually running their fingers through to push out of their eyes. Ethan, who normally lived in a bobble hat, caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; those two looked like they’d come fresh off the set forMade in Chelsea, and he looked more like a young, skinny Jason Statham. He liked the difference. It would be nice if the girls appreciated it as well, but he could almost guarantee they would focus on those two, as if they could smell the money exuding from them.
Opening the small fridge in the kitchen, James took out three bottles of Budweiser and passed them around. Ethan took his, hoping it would calm his nerves a little. He always got a bit hot under the collar being dressed up like this; mixing with wealthy people always made him acutely aware of just how working class he was. They clinked bottles together. James and Marcus simultaneously said ‘cheers’ and he muttered it a couple of seconds later. James shook his head.
‘What’s wrong with you today? You’ve been a right grump. I hope you’re going to smile when my customers arrive. I’m not paying you to scare them away. You’ll have to put on a brave show if you want to get laid. I’m telling you now, these girls want a good time. Don’t go making them all feel as miserable as you look.’
‘Are you not even bothered about that girl whose body I found?’
‘No, not really. Christ, Ethan, you can’t keep feeling sorry for yourself because of that. Yes, it was sad, but it was an accident. How many times do you need telling? I don’t get it. We had nothing to do with what happened to her.’
‘How can you say that? She was on this fucking boat, James. Drinking your crappy champagne and vodka. Don’t you at least feel a bit responsible?’
Marcus rolled his eyes. ‘Why should he? Accidents happen and we know that more than anyone. You can’t spend the rest of your life blaming yourself for her stupidity. James is right, Ethan, you need to snap out of it.’
Ethan shook his head. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing; do neither of you have a conscience?’
They both replied ‘no’ at the same time then began to laugh. Ethan wanted to leave them to it, rip off this stupid suit and go home. It might be small, cramped, damp and smell like shit, but it was better than spending time with these two heartless pricks. He wondered if he’d finally outgrown their friendship, if it had ever been more than a way to have a good time without costing him anything. Only now it had cost them something; someone had died. Whether or not it was their fault, it had happened, and he didn’t feel very good about it.
Taking his beer, he went up on the deck, leaving them to their laughter. He should walk away now; this wasn’t his lifestyle, it never was. He’d been playing at it for the last eight years. He began to walk slowly along the ramp onto the jetty wondering if he really had the balls to leave.
