Echoes on a Cornish River, page 2
‘Did you have the nightmare again?’ He wraps his arms around her cold body.
She nods, unable to prevent herself from flinching at his touch. She’s had this reaction to him ever since the near-fatal flight. Even though she knows he’s being caring and protective, each time he encloses her in a cuddle she feels trapped, and is instantly back in the grip of her attacker.
‘You’re safe now,’ Simon whispers, close to her ear. ‘No one can hurt you.’
Tentatively – as if in experiment – she leans into his body, attempting to gain some inner strength from his reassurance. But quickly she steps away.
‘Come to bed,’ he says softly.
‘In a minute.’
He frowns. ‘When is your next counselling session?’
She sighs. ‘Not until Monday week.’
‘Perhaps you can bring it forward?’
‘Maybe. Go back to bed, Simon. There’s no point in us both getting cold.’
He leans in to kiss her lightly on the lips and she braces herself, determined not to recoil.
‘Don’t be long, Elli.’
‘Go on,’ she coaxes. ‘You’ve got to be up in three hours.’
His bright blue eyes are full of concern. ‘If you’re sure?’
She gives a small nod and gently pushes him away.
Simon retraces his steps across the room, but as he reaches the door he looks back. Silently, he regards his wife who, once again, gazes out of the glass doors into the darkness, and a small frown settles on his brow.
The light illuminating the living room only further accentuates the deep, impenetrable blackness beyond the glass. Ellinor gazes up at the night sky. Clouds shroud the moon and she shivers. How long will the horror continue to replay in her mind? It’s as if it’s on a never-ending loop. As her body remembers the three fractured ribs, she rubs her side gently.
It was a few weeks after the incident that she learned that the six-foot-five-inch assailant had attacked the pilot and tried to wrestle the controls from him. During the ensuing fight the autopilot had been disengaged, which sent the plane into a steep climb and caused the engines to stall. That was the awful noise they’d heard before the plane tipped upside down and plummeted twelve thousand feet. With superhuman strength, the co-pilot attempted to pull the madman away, only to suffer a broken jaw in the fracas. It wasn’t until the brave passenger had appeared – a rugby player, as it turned out – that between them they were able to restrain the attacker, which allowed the pilot to restart the engines and level the plane, despite having had half his ear bitten off.
Ellinor shudders and rubs her arms. It was such a close call. She now knows that if the plane had fallen for four seconds longer, the pilot would not have been able to save them. Even now, months on from that fateful day, it feels surreal, and she finds it hard to comprehend that she’d nearly died. She’s still reeling from the experience – despite having been laid off work on health grounds and receiving regular counselling sessions – and now it’s left her fearful and questioning every decision in her life. If only she could put to rest the recurring nightmares. But she suspects that this one flight will remain clearly etched on her memory forever.
Running her index finger along the raised ridge of skin on her neck, Ellinor knows she was fortunate to get away with just a three-inch scar. It will fade in time, but the internal scars will be more difficult to eradicate. She sighs deeply and turns away from the darkness outside. Walking to the door, she switches off the lights and makes her way to the relative security of the bedroom.
Two
When Ellinor comes to, the bed beside her is empty. Dressing quickly, she makes her way downstairs, pausing on the half-landing when she hears her husband talking in hushed tones. She lingers just out of sight.
‘Yes, again last night. I’m not happy leaving her on her own but I’ve called a meeting this morning and I can’t miss it.’ He falls silent. After a long pause, he continues, ‘That would be helpful, Chloe. You’re a lifesaver.’
Ellinor continues to descend the stairs and Simon glances up.
‘I’ll let her know. Bye for now.’ He replaces the handset.
‘Why is my sister a lifesaver?’ Ellinor asks, stopping on the bottom step.
Their eyes are on a level as Simon walks across the hall towards her. ‘She’s coming over in half an hour, after dropping off Max and Tara at school.’
Ellinor shakes her head. ‘She doesn’t have to do that! She’s got enough on her plate, what with the baby as well.’
Simon places his hands on either side of Ellinor’s waist and, involuntarily, her stomach muscles clench.
‘Chloe said she was happy to call by. Says she wants to catch up with you, anyway.’
Ellinor pulls a face. ‘I don’t want to be a bother to anyone. I can cope.’
He smiles at her. ‘I know you can, but after the night you’ve just had, wouldn’t it be a good distraction to spend time with your sister?’
‘I guess so.’
Removing his hands, he glances at his watch. ‘Sorry, but must dash. Can’t be late for the quarterly sales meeting, seeing as I’ve arranged it!’
‘What time will you be home tonight?’
‘I doubt I’ll be much later than six, but if it’s any different I’ll phone.’ Her husband drops a soft kiss on her mouth and Ellinor tries not to recoil. ‘Take it easy today. I promise you, Elli, things will get better.’
What does he know of the terror I’ve faced?
She forces a smile and sternly reminds herself that it’s kind of him to be concerned.
Crossing over to the hall table, Simon picks up the briefcase at its feet and walks to the front door.
‘See you later,’ he says, giving her a tender smile before stepping out onto the gravelled driveway.
Ellinor follows. Standing in the open doorway, she breathes in the quiet, still morning. There’s a hint of spring in the air, and away to the east the sky is a beautiful, milky pink. She watches as her husband unlocks the doors of his Audi and slides the briefcase onto the passenger seat.
‘Don’t get cold,’ he says, glancing back at her. ‘The weather may seem fair, but it is only early March.’
She nods and gives him a wave, as he climbs in and drives towards the opening electric gates. The next minute the car sweeps out onto the private road … and then he’s gone.
Ellinor glances across at the properties on the opposite side of the road. The houses in this gated, private estate are mock-Tudor in style, and each has a slight variation to its neighbour. Some are part-faced with terracotta tiles and several have large oak-framed extensions; all enjoy large grounds – a rarity in these days of infill – which are neatly manicured and orderly. A moneyed, organised air prevails on the estate. Nothing ever disturbs this quietly assured environment, and yet, as Ellinor looks around, she’s aware how quickly this could change in the blink of an eye. Her neighbours have no notion of how fragile life can be as they go about their daily lives, ferrying children to and from school, commuting to work, and wives and house-husbands enjoying regular coffee mornings, not to mention the thriving book club in the community. She used to be involved with the ‘Ladies that Lunch’ club, when she was between flights, but she hasn’t been able to face that since the incident. It all seems too much of an effort to put on a brave face when the slightest noise sets her on edge. And crowds! She now possesses highly attuned radar at a hundred yards to any unusual attitude or ‘oddball’. No, she’s better off taking it a day at a time, as she has been advised to do.
In her pursuit of leading a quiet, uncompromised life, Ellinor’s recently taken up painting, but her art is not the pleasing, serene landscapes she’d hoped to produce. Mostly, it features dark, jagged, brutal images, which her counsellor assures her is all part of the healing process. And she’s read so many books that she’s become a bit of a celebrity amongst the members of the book club and can recommend a plethora of new authors whenever asked, although she finds it a trial to attend the get-togethers, however safe they are. It’s the one social event she’s attempted to continue with because, after all, where’s the danger in exchanging ideas about novels over a glass of wine or two? But still … it’s such a small life in comparison to the one she had, and she’s ever impatient to reclaim her former self.
Sighing with frustration, Ellinor turns away and enters the house, firmly bolting the door behind her.
‘So, sister Chloe is coming to babysit me!’ Her voice echoes around the empty hallway.
It’s not that she doesn’t want to see her sister; they were close growing up. Ellinor just wishes she could be more dynamic and regain some of her lost confidence. She used to be so positive and full of life, but she’s a mere shadow of that former woman. Simon must surely wonder who he’s now married to! Walking through to the kitchen, she switches on the kettle and busies herself preparing coffee while waiting for Chloe to arrive.
Ninety minutes later, Ellinor watches her sister and baby Leo through the leisure centre’s expansive, plate-glass café windows as they splash about in the toddlers’ pool. Reluctantly persuaded by Chloe to attend her nephew’s ‘ducklings’ swimming session at the local baths, Ellinor attempts to relax and ignore the loud and startling, echoing sounds around her. She’d tried to object, but Chloe was so insistent that Ellinor had eventually agreed to come, although she’d refused to bring a swimming costume and join in. The place is heaving with mothers, babies and toddlers, and the mix of heat and chlorine in the air makes her feel claustrophobic. In fact, she may have to slip outside to get some fresh air.
Standing thigh-deep in the pool, Chloe turns to look at her sister with a proud smile as she guides baby Leo around the pool. Encircled by bright orange armbands, his little chubby arms thrash the water. Ellinor smiles and gives her sister the thumbs-up. What different directions their lives have taken. With only two years between them, their childhood had been spent playing together – harmoniously, for the most part – and being the elder, Ellinor had looked out for her sister. Even now she feels a sense of responsibility towards her. But when Chloe fell for Duncan, a lad in Ellinor’s class at school, an imperceptible fissure had crept into the siblings’ relationship. At eighteen, Chloe married Duncan, and children soon followed to complete their happy family. Inevitably, the sisters’ relationship changed, but Ellinor is happy in her role as Godmother to Tara, and she loves her niece and nephews and would do anything for them. But some days it’s hard to remember that Chloe is the younger sister; her life is so full of grown-up responsibilities.
Ellinor picks up the cup of coffee from the small café table. Suddenly a hand lands heavily on her shoulder and she whirls around in her seat, watching as the hot contents of her cup fly in slow motion towards the perpetrator. For a moment she’s transported back and can only see the face of her attacker on the plane. She cowers away from her assailant, but as her senses realign she cringes with embarrassment. The man is a stranger, and he stares at her in astonishment, as a large brown stain spreads across the front of his white shirt.
‘I’m so sorry!’ Ellinor says, quickly replacing the cup in its saucer and getting to her feet. Picking up a paper napkin, she dabs at his chest, noticing that his shirt is made of fine linen and expensive.
The man stands back smartly. ‘Don’t. It’ll only make it worse,’ he says, holding the front of his shirt away from his body.
‘You took me by surprise.’ Ellinor’s face flushes with humiliation.
‘My mistake,’ he says. ‘I thought you were someone else. I should have approached more sensitively.’
‘Can I pay for your shirt to be cleaned?’
‘As I said, it was my fault,’ he says graciously. Holding up a sports holdall, he adds, ‘I’ve got a clean T-shirt in here. I was on my way to do a few laps during the lunch hour.’ He smiles awkwardly.
Ellinor breathes more easily. He seems pleasant enough … And it could have been so much worse.
‘There’s not much coffee left in that cup. Let me buy you a refill,’ he offers.
‘Oh, no,’ she exclaims. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’
He hesitates. ‘Well, I guess I’d better get on.’
But he doesn’t move and Ellinor glances at him in surprise. Is he suddenly going to produce a knife and hold it to her throat? She steps away, increasing the distance between them.
‘If you want to complete those laps in your lunch hour you’d better get on,’ she says more confidently than she feels. She glances towards the pool but there’s no sign of Chloe or Leo. Turning back to the man, she nervously fingers her scar. ‘Don’t let me keep you.’
He smiles politely and then turns away, striding purposefully towards the men’s changing area.
Ellinor sits down with her back to the plate-glass window. Clasping her hands together, she attempts to stop the tremors and looks around for her sister. All she wants to do is go home. As her breathing gradually regulates, she cringes at her overreaction to the man. How mortifying to cover him with coffee! But then he shouldn’t have slapped his hand down on her shoulder. It was all a silly mistake, but she’s so jumpy and reacting to the slightest thing.
At last, she sees Chloe walking towards her with baby Leo in her arms.
‘That was good,’ says her sister, removing the holdall from her shoulder and placing it on the floor. ‘Did you see how well Leo was doing?’
‘I did.’ Ellinor gives a brief smile.
‘Fancy a spot of lunch?’ Chloe asks.
‘I’d rather go home, if you don’t mind.’
‘What? We’ve only been here an hour!’
Ellinor pulls a face. ‘I feel claustrophobic.’ She gets to her feet. ‘Can we do lunch another time?’
Holding her baby up in front of her, Chloe pulls a sad face and says in a childish voice, ‘Aunty Elli doesn’t want to play with Mummy and Leo today.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, it’s not that!’ Ellinor snaps. ‘Let’s just go.’ Picking up her sister’s holdall, she walks smartly towards the exit.
‘What’s got into you?’ Chloe says, trailing after her with her baby on her hip.
Nothing! Just the little matter of a life-threatening encounter that has scarred me more deeply than people seem to realise …
She turns back and forces a smile onto her face. ‘Sorry, Chloe, but I’m having difficulty breathing in here. Leo did well today. Bet he’s going to represent the UK at the Olympics one day.’
‘Did you hear that, Leo?’ Chloe croons to her little boy. ‘The Olympics, here we come!’
Three
Two days later, Ellinor stands in front of the easel where she’s been for the past couple of hours. This particular painting is not proving the therapeutic experience she’d hoped for. Standing back, she scrutinises the canvas – an abstract comprising discordant shapes with angry, barbed edges and full of fury. She sighs in dismay. Even the colours she’s chosen have blended and produced a depressing, sluggish brown.
‘Disgusting. You’re disgusting!’ she growls, as she throws the paintbrush onto the palette.
Ripping off her paint-splattered shirt and sending buttons scattering in all directions, she storms from the conservatory and marches into the kitchen. Angrily, she grabs the kettle, fills it with water and switches it on.
‘It’s obviously a brown day today,’ she mutters, as she takes down a bone-china mug from a cupboard.
Eyeing the jars of coffee neatly lined up on the shelf, she wonders if she can be bothered to make the real stuff. Her hand hovers over a canister of Colombian coffee beans, but instead she selects a jar of instant, just as the shrill sound of a ringing phone slices through the silence of the house. Crossing over to the cordless handset sitting on the kitchen counter, Ellinor picks it up and speaks into the mouthpiece.
‘Hello,’ she says in a flat voice.
‘Hi, cuz!’
‘Ian!’ Her face breaks into a smile.
During Ellinor and Chloe’s formative years, their cousin Ian and his family had lived in the neighbouring street of their leafy Hertfordshire village. They’d all attended the same school and subsequently spent a lot of time hanging out together. He was two years older than Ellinor and she’d considered him the brother she never had. He, in turn, had looked out for her, especially when several of his classmates showed an increasing awareness of, and interest in, his attractive, vivacious cousin.
‘It’s so good to hear from you,’ Ellinor says genuinely. ‘How are things in Cornwall?’
‘Good, thanks. Hectic, but all positive. Thought I’d phone and find out what you’re up to.’ When she doesn’t answer, he quickly continues, ‘How’s that high-flying husband of yours?’
‘High-flying,’ Ellinor echoes drily. ‘Unlike his wife. She’s not flying anywhere.’
Awkwardness crackles down the line.
‘Sorry, Elli. Bad choice of words.’
She sighs and walks back to the kettle. ‘Oh, ignore me. I’m just being churlish. I’ve had a rotten morning and thought I’d do a spot of painting, but what I’ve produced may soon line the bin.’
‘Don’t be so harsh on yourself. I bet it’s not that bad.’
‘Believe me,’ she says, with a self-deprecating laugh, ‘it most certainly is!’
‘You’ve had a dreadful experience,’ Ian says sympathetically. ‘It’s bound to take time to recover from it.’
‘You’re right, but I wish my recovery would hurry up.’ She sighs again. Wedging the phone between her shoulder and chin, she spoons coffee into the mug. ‘But enough of this, let’s talk about something more uplifting. How’s Pippa?’
‘She’s well, thanks, although she’s constantly telling me that I work her to the bone.’
‘You’d better not drive her away.’ Ellinor pours hot water onto the granules and watches them dissolve. ‘I have no idea how you persuaded her to marry you,’ she teases, ‘but she’s a keeper, that wife of yours.’
‘I don’t know how I did either, and duly noted,’ Ian says with a laugh. ‘Anyway, we wondered if you and Simon would like to come and stay for a weekend. We want to show you the improvements we’ve made to the farm, and I’d like some business advice from the man himself.’
