I shake my head and bite my bottom lip. I’m straight but there was something intoxicating about Quinn. I liked her in that moment, as a person, not as a girl or a boy. When we kissed it felt like the most natural thing in the world, but I look at her now and I don’t want that at all. It was a coming-of-age thing for me but obviously it meant more to Quinn.
She interrupts my thoughts. ‘I’ve had a lot of short-term relationships, a million one-night stands – that’s an exaggeration obviously, but I could never stop thinking about that kiss and you. Then’ – she lets out a little laugh – ‘I thought I’d never see you again. Over the years I gave up hope completely but then I heard you were coming back. When your husband came over and said he was preparing a part of the house for you all to live in, I got excited to see you again. I dared to hope…’ She tuts and sighs. ‘I feel so stupid now.’
My mind is awhirl and I don’t know what to say. ‘I don’t feel the same, but I was happy to see you again.’
‘Was?’ She pauses. ‘Was it the memories?’
I nod. I can’t get Jasmine out of my mind. She went missing after she caught us kissing in the woods. Quinn got upset because Jasmine had been sitting on that log, gripping her little handbag with a dog on the front, and we were both so caught up in the kiss, we didn’t even see her. I remember that day like it was yesterday. One of the neighbours had a fire on the go and the smoke had reached the den. As it dispersed, I saw Jasmine staring in our direction. She came over to us and started teasing and… I don’t want to think about that day, but I can’t ignore the past anymore. Zoe had a letter and it mentioned the log and the fog… or smoke as it was. The only people there that day were me, Jasmine and Quinn. I don’t trust her but there is something much bigger at play than a few letters and a break-in. This is all because of Jasmine.
‘Forget them. It was a long time ago.’
It’s easy for Quinn to say that. No one is blaming her for sending those letters. In fact, she has remained nicely tucked away in the background, away from all of the drama. How convenient. I have something a bit more pressing to say before we leave Clover Lane forever. She mentioned her one-night stands. I’m sure that she’s hurt a lot of people but I never thought she’d hurt me. I think back to that kiss, the one from our past, and also the more recent one in her studio, then I recall the letter I stole from her post box. ‘You wanted me, you had Ethan. Why stop at one when you could have both of us? You’re nothing but a tramp, Quinn.’ I can’t believe I used that word but I’m livid.
‘Gemma, why are you saying that?’
We’re only about half a mile away from Clover Lane now. I can’t do this. ‘Stop the car.’
‘But it’s cold. We’re nearly back and you shouldn’t be alone. You haven’t even told me why you were in hospital.’
‘And I’m not going to either. Stop the car.’ I bang my hand on the dashboard. ‘You just take what you want, Quinn. Take, take, take. If you were such a good friend and you loved me so much, why would you break my family up like this? I know everything, Quinn.’
She slams the brakes on and we both jerk forward a little. I unclip my belt and step out with my bag.
‘Was my husband just another one of your conquests? You make me sick.’ I’m not saying any more on the matter. She knows what she’s done. I turn my back on her and step into the woods. I glance back. She wipes tears from her face as she pulls away.
As I enter the woods, my breath is almost taken away. The sense of panic I can feel building up is something I have to face. Breathe, Gemma, I tell myself as I keep stepping forward. I have to walk through these woods to get back to my children. They need me.
Quinn slept with Ethan and there’s no way she can deny it. I have absolute proof and I’m sure she’s behind all the bad things that are happening to us because she wants to destroy us. Either she wants him all to herself or she wants me to split up with him. That’s why she kissed me, not because she wants me. She wants to break us up.
I have news for her. She can have him. They’re welcome to each other.
Forty-Five
Gemma
I follow the edge of a smaller road, one that traffic rarely goes down because it tails off and leads to nothing more than a field of sheep. As I reach the end of the road, the den comes into view. My heart palpitates at the sight of it. The snow has thawed slightly but from what I heard, we’re heading into the mother of all storms tonight, so I need to hurry back. Morgan, Cora and I are leaving. Whatever Ethan chooses to do is no longer my business because I’ll never forgive him.
I gasp as I stare at the den. I can’t move. It’s like the snowy carpet underneath my feet is made of glue. My heart bangs until it’s beating in my throat. I’m putting stress on Beanie. The doctor said light walking was fine, but here I am, trudging through woods that terrify me.
I throw my bag over my shoulder and place a protective hand on my stomach. My cervix is inflamed, which led to the bleeding. I now know why it stings to pee and why my lower back has been aching. I take a few deep breaths and think of Beanie. Breathe in and breathe out.
I stare ahead and tremble. The past haunting me isn’t something I can breathe through. The den calls me. It wants me to go in and face my past, but my feet feel like lead. I stumble slightly as I spot several pink ribbons tied around a tree.
Back then, Jasmine kept hanging around here but it was our den, mine and Quinn’s. It used to only be one shed, and it belonged to a man who died of alcohol poisoning. I notice that it has more parts to it now and it creeps me out that Morgan was in the woods the other night.
I need to go home. My arms ache to hold my children and I have to pack before the storm takes hold, but my legs take me closer to the den.
I open the first door. A gust builds up and the wooden panels rattle. On stepping into the windowless plywood section, I’m plunged into darkness.
Lightheadedness sends me off balance. I place a hand on the wood to steady myself. How do I get into the main shed? I pull out my phone and shine my torch app around. I flinch as my arm gets caught in a huge cobweb. There’s a box on the floor. I know there’s a third shed so I move it out of the way. There’s a gap in the wood that reaches my waist. I place my bag down and kneel onto the rotten floor then I shuffle through, careful not to catch my head on the jagged wood or exert myself too much. On standing, I see that there is nothing in the tiny end room but a dark curtain. I don’t remember there being a window in the den but maybe I was wrong. As I tug the material, I gasp as it drops to the floor, exposing a whole wall full of clues. There are notes on some of the letters that have been sent to the neighbours, including the one that I took from Quinn’s post box. Worst of all, I recognise some of the writing. It’s Morgan’s. The whole board is titled ‘Detective Morgan and Detective Harry’s Investigation into the Case of the Clover Lane Poisoner’. This is what Morgan has been up to when she’s been ‘at Harry’s’ or ‘walking the dog’. Jasmine’s name is scribbled in the bottom corner. How does my daughter know of Jasmine?
I try to make sense of the board. All this time, I’ve been confused, my suspicions bouncing around between Ray and Tessa, but looking at this, I feel it has to be Quinn. She knew when I left her house that day that I might check her post box, because why wouldn’t I? Everyone had received horrible letters. It would be a natural thing to do. It could have been her way of telling me about her and Ethan. I run that scenario. She writes letters to everyone, making it look like I have it in for them and she also writes letters to herself, so that we don’t suspect her. She’s trying to make me look unstable so that everyone hates me. Why would she do that when she’s meant to love me? I don’t understand.
I’m shaking, knowing that my daughter has been here. I told her she wasn’t allowed to come into the woods, but she lied and came here regardless. This shed is closing in on me. I need to get out. I crouch and as I do the light catches another letter, stuck to wood, just above the hole. It’s on the same type of paper and the note is written in the same black ink capital letters.
JASMINE WOZ ’ERE!
Forty-Six
