Carl was still crouching before her. His face was serious, his brows drawn together but she could see a lightening in his eyes, a release of tension. He could see her belief in his explanation dawning. He gave her shoulders one last, friendly squeeze and stood up.
For a moment, there was silence in the kitchen. Bella was aware of the four of them, locked for a second, in a curious tableau: Carl, frozen in the act of stepping back from his crouch; Jake, staring down at the table top; Veronica, cringing back against the cooker; herself, sitting static on her kitchen chair.
Jake looked up. His eyes were tear-filled.
“Am I mad?”
No one spoke. He asked again, in a faltering voice.
“Am I mad? Am I really mad?”
Bella felt her whole face clench in pity. She opened her mouth to answer him, to say something, to reassure him.
Veronica pushed herself away from the cooker. She stood straight, very upright, her blonde hair gleaming brightly under the light. She was trembling but when she spoke, her voice was surprising calm.
“No, you’re not mad, Jake. You’re not mad at all.”
She was looking at her boyfriend, full in the face.
“Carl’s lying,” she said.
Bella, gaping, looked from her to Carl, watching his face begin to darken. Veronica took a deep breath.
“He’s lying about everything. You’re not mad, Jake. That girl – Candice - she was here, and Carl pushed her down the stairs, and she died. We put her under the shed. Then Carl made me help him dig her up, and we moved her far away. He wanted to make sure she would never be found. And he wanted to make sure he had a scapegoat, just in case she was.”
Bella felt the muscles of her face contract in shock. She watched Carl take a step forward, his face black with anger, the denial of Veronica’s words trembling on his lips.
Veronica gasped in another breath. She was speaking fast, as if racing against some inner deadline.
“He went back to look a couple of times. I saw him do it the first time. He was fascinated by the body. You didn’t know I watched you the other times, though, did you Carl? I watched you do it. You couldn’t keep away from that shed.”
Carl drew his lips back from his teeth.
“You fucking bitch,” he said.
Veronica didn’t flinch. She kept on talking.
“Jake, you’re not mad, you’re not. Or you’re no madder than I was, than we have been. It was a terrible thing we did but we don’t have to put up with it any more. It’s over, it’s past. It’s too late, Carl, can’t you see? It was inevitable. I knew it then, but I couldn’t speak out. You cowed me down too much. Bella – “ her eyes turned to Bella, who clenched her fists beneath the table, “Bella, I wanted to tell you, to warn you but I couldn’t. I’m sorry. And now it’s too late for salvaging.” Veronica took a deep breath. She looked at Jake and her face softened. She looked at him, almost tenderly.
“I’m sorry Jake,” she said. “We should have stuck together, the first time. It would have been better for us all.”
In the silence that followed, Bella was suddenly aware of her held breath. She let it out in a giant whooping gasp, her heart stuttering against her ribs. She watched Carl open his mouth, to say something, to refute, to retaliate – she never found out.
Then there was a roar from Jake, so loud she jumped and nearly screamed herself, a inarticulate cry of pain; loss and fury rushing forward from his lungs. He exploded upwards, unfolding in an ungainly ballet from his chair. The roar went on, reverberating from kitchen wall to kitchen wall. Bella cringed back in her chair. She caught sight of Veronica, turning, her mouth an ‘o’ of surprise, her beautiful face stretched in shock. By then Jake had moved, his chair flying in a clatter of wood, Veronica in his way, pushed aside, the glint of metal as his arm came down, Veronica falling, her swathe of gold hair flying, Carl’s eyes wide with shock, Jake’s arm moving around, down, thudding against his brother’s body. Bella felt the scream come up inside her, her hands up to her face, digging her nails into her skin. Veronica hit the kitchen floor, crying out in pain as her head smacked back against the cabinet doors. Carl’s legs were sliding, sliding across the tiled floor, his hands grasping Jake’s hands, the two of them locked together, Carl’s eyes wide and his mouth gaping.
Jake had his hands knotted at Carl’s stomach. He sucked in his breath in a gasp and stepped back, letting go of what he’d been holding. Carl’s fingers slipped back over the handle of the knife that was embedded in his stomach. Jake put his bloodstained fingers up to his face, his eyes stretched open, red smears on his stubbled cheeks.
Carl’s face was going grey. His hands slowly fell away from the handle of the knife, protruding obscenely from just above the buckle of his belt.
“You stupid fuck,” he said in a whisper, and dropped to the floor.
Bella screamed. The sound seemed to galvanise Jake. From looking down at his prone brother, he leant back over him and tugged at the knife handle. Bella screamed again as the dripping blade came up, thinking he was going to stab Carl again. Instead he turned and looked at her. His eyes were bloodshot, just as they’d been the first time she’d seen him, stepping out of the tunnels into daylight. His mouth moved, saying something she couldn’t hear. Then he drove the knife blade into his own chest, once, twice.
Both Veronica and Bella screamed. Bella jolted forwards, catapulted from her chair, her hands reaching out in a futile attempt to stop him. The first blow of the knife glanced off the bottom of his ribcage but the second went in deep. Jake cried out, the sound barely heard over the girls’ screams.
Bella got to him just as he fell down, crumpling onto the floor by his brother. Jake’s hands fluttered over the shaft of the knife still buried, quivering, in his chest. His eyes were squeezed closed with pain. Bella knelt, sobbing, wanting to touch him, afraid to touch him. She was dimly aware of Veronica behind her, crouched and wailing.
“Oh Jake,” she said.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. One of his hands fell limply across his stomach and she picked it up, feeling his palm damp and clammy, the ebbing warmth of his fingers. She thought that it was the first part of him that she’d known, his hand, his palm, his fingers holding hers, leading her through the tunnels and up into the light.
“Bella,” he said. His voice was so quiet, she could hardly hear him above the sound of Veronica’s cries. She leant forward, her tears falling onto his upturned face.
“It was so dark down there,” he said, and closed his eyes.
Epilogue
The wind threw a handful of rain against the pub windows as she ducked inside the doorway. Bella paused, head down, shaking her wet hair towards the floor. The pub was warm, dark, smoke hanging in writhing grey ribbons as she made her way towards the seats at the back.
“Hi Bella.”
Mark held a hand out towards her, directing her towards the empty bench. Bella smiled weakly and sat down.
They faced each other for a moment. Then Mark leant forward. She felt the momentary press of his mouth against her cheek and closed her eyes. His lips were warm and soft.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’m okay.”
“I got you a drink. I thought – wine?”