Bella stood up abruptly.  Her heartbeat actually hurt – she could feel it thudding against her ribcage, making her catch her breath. For a second there, she’d actually thought… you idiot, she told herself in fury. You have no idea what’s going on.

She looked out over the valley, holding her clenched hands in her pockets. Behind her, she could hear Jake shifting from foot to foot.

“Bella – “ he said, tentatively. There was a plaintive, hopeless note in her voice that made her throat close up. Oh God, what to do… She heard herself give a gasp that was close to a sob.

Then Jake’s arms were around her, warm and close and holding her tight. She buried her face against the roughness of his jacket, her tears making a small damp patch on his shoulder. She heaved with sobs, holding Jake about the middle, feeling his hand stroke her hair, hearing his small, wordless soothings.

Eventually, her tears ceased. She disentangled herself gently and stood back, swiping her hand under her running nose. I must look like hell, she thought, before the following thought came immediately – who cares?

Jake put a hand on each of her shoulders. She stared into his face, his well-known face, drawn and tired and furred with stubble, but still beautiful to her. She’d seen that face in first morning light and in the last rays of the evening sun; in the ash-choked darkness of a London tube tunnel; twisted in pain, clenched in ecstasy, swollen with tiredness; had seen it smiling, laughing, crying. It was more familiar to her than her own. She put a hand up to his cheek.

“I’ll help you,” she said and listened with a thudding heart to his sigh of relief.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Bella went to work the next day. She’d been off for nearly a week. She had no sick note and no real excuse, but after a glance at the black smudges under her eyes and the bones that were showing through her skin, no one commented. She went through the motions of the day, keeping quiet, nodding and smiling when required. At lunchtime she bought a cheese and ham sandwich and threw it away after one bite. She’d lost her appetite totally; even the smell of food made her feel sick. Her heart beat erratically at times, bringing her odd bouts of breathlessness. She subsisted on paper cups of coffee, holding them to her for warmth as much as refreshment.

At five thirty she left, without a goodbye to her colleagues. Her feet took her automatically to the bus stop but as she approached the crowd of people that were waiting there, she slowed and faltered. Could she bear going home? How could she face Carl and Veronica? How could she face Jake? She dithered miserably for a moment, shivering in the harsh little wind that had picked up at dusk.

She ended up in a cinema, having had a hasty evening meal of a burger oozing grease, of which she managed to eat half. She sat in the cinema in the warm dark, surrounded by strangers, staring unseeing at the fluffy comedy unfolding before her eyes. What was she going to do? When she was away from Jake, when he was physically absent from her, she could understand the enormity of what he was asking her. He was asking her for her silence. He was asking her for her complicity in covering up a crime. Concealing a body – that was a crime, wasn’t it? It wasn’t as if it was murder – but still… Did an accident count as a murder? Bella rubbed her temples. Her head hadn’t stopped aching all day.

Eventually the film finished and she was driven out into the cold. She stood in the foyer of the cinema, holding her mobile in her hand. Having switched it off for the film, she could somehow feel the weight of the myriad text messages and calls from Jake that were no doubt clogging her voicemail inbox. She dropped it back into her bag, still switched off, and pushed open the door, making her reluctant way to the bus stop.

She turned into Fever Street and began to walk hesitantly towards the house. The streetlights here were wide spaced and she stepped in and out of pools of light and blackness, a chiaroscuro walkway that her feet now knew better than the driveway of her mother’s home. She stared down at her toes, slipping in and out of her view, as her footsteps became slower and slower. At the entrance to the front garden, she paused. Inescapably, she thought of what lay behind the house, beneath the shed and a galvanic shudder ran through her.

The first person she saw as she pushed open the front door was Carl. Her heart stuttered and she couldn’t stop the little gasp that escaped her. He stood by the hall table, sifting through the wads of junk mail that littered its surface. Bella fumbled the door shut. Her hands were actually shaking.

“Hi Bella,” he said, casually. He wasn’t looking at her. Bella mumbled something in reply and edged past, trying not to betray her nervousness. She reached the kitchen, hoping that Jake was there but it was Veronica that stood by the stove, stirring something in a saucepan. She had a cigarette slotted between the long fingers of her hand, and a grey tendril of smoke curled upward towards the ceiling. She glanced up and smiled briefly.

“Hi Bella.”

“Hi.” Bella dithered by the table for a moment, wanting to leave the room but unable to see how she could do it without looking rude. She went to the fridge, hoping for alcohol. There was half a bottle of wine there, thank God, and she reached for a glass.

“Haven’t seen you for ages, it seems like.”

Bella tried to smile. “Well, yes – I’ve been busy.”

“Work?”

“Mmm.” She finished her glass in one chilly gulp. “Is – er, is Jake here?”

“Not yet,” said Carl, unexpectedly behind her. Bella jumped, she couldn’t help it. She sensed rather than saw his smile. Veronica had turned back to the stove and was frowning down at the saucepan, her cigarette-free hand moving the spoon in one constant, smooth circular motion. Bella dragged her eyes away, half hypnotised. Carl leant his long length against the kitchen counter and folded his arms.

“Jake alright?”

“What?” said Bella, jolted.

“I said, is Jake alright?”

“Yes. Of course.” She could hear the defensiveness in her voice but she couldn’t stop it. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

As she said that, panic rose up in her throat. She was trapped here with the two of them, trapped… she sloshed the remaining wine into her glass, the neck of the bottle chiming against the rim of the glass.

“Steady,” said Carl, sounding amused. “How are you, more to the point?”

“I’m fine,” said Bella. She took another gulp of wine and fought for something non-committal to say, something to deflect Carl’s interest. “I’m just a bit stressed, you know – “

He was still looking at her. She was very aware of the size of him, the way he seemed to fill the room, the essence of him pressing outwards, suffocating her. Bella swallowed. She took a tighter grip of her wineglass, pressing her fingertips against it, hoping to stop her hand shaking.

“You look a bit stressed. Jake not taking care of you, is that it? I should have a word with him.”

Bella made her mouth stretch at the corners in an approximation of a smile.

“Really, Carl, it’s fine. He’s a bit under the weather at the moment, actually – “

“We’ve noticed.”

Beside Carl, she saw Veronica stiffen slightly. The sudden urge to scream out I know took hold of her. Bella closed her eyes briefly, fighting down the words. Carl was looking at her intently. She felt panic begin to rise up again and fought against it. Say something, Bel, you idiot, deflect his curiosity…

Then Carl seemed to abruptly lose interest. He turned to Veronica and pulled her sharply against him, so quickly she let out a little exclamation of surprise. He kissed the side of her head with a violent smack.