Chapter 36

36

I woke up in a hospital bed.

     My first thought was, ‘Ow!’

     I must have said it out loud, because Becky jerked awake from where she’d clearly been snoozing in the chair beside me. Taking a moment to orientate herself, she spotted that I was also awake, and quickly shuffled the chair up close enough to take hold of my hand.

     ‘Eleanor. How are you feeling?’

     I tried to answer, not that I knew what to say, but my throat was hoarse and dry, so instead what came out was an ugly croak.

     ‘Here.’ She offered me a sip of water from a paper straw, smoothing my hair back from my face after I plopped back onto the pillow, finding that lifting my head up an inch for three seconds was about as much as I could manage.

     ‘Okay?’ She peered at me, her expression a mixture of concern, compassion and relief.

     I nodded. Clearly I was not okay, but I thought she probably knew more about that than I did.

     ‘What happened?’ I rasped.

     ‘It was Lucy. Do you remember? You were in the old cider store.’

     ‘How?’ I flicked my eyes around the room, hoping she’d understand my question.

     ‘How did you get here?’ Becky gave the barest of smiles. ‘Daniel heard you scream. After you left, there was a whole big kerfuffle with Nora. She was ranting on about the retreat. Daniel told her to leave, and eventually while the band got going, he and Alice called a taxi to drive her to her hotel. It was pretty clear that she’d lost it, though.

     ‘And then I remembered about the knife in the arbour, so I called Brenda and left a message, and tried to find Daniel to tell him, but he was putting Hope to bed, so that took me a while, and people kept wanting to stop and talk to me, ask if I was okay, if you were okay. I ended up yelling at DJ Vapes to leave me alone so I could try to find out. So,’ she paused to take a deep breath, ‘I eventually found Daniel, once Hope was in bed and Billie and Rob were babysitting. Once I’d managed to get him alone and explain, and then we’d found Luke and a couple of other guys to help search for you, Brenda had called back and said she was on her way. But we couldn’t find you anywhere. You weren’t answering your phone. The band were winding down, so we asked more people to help, but a lot of them assumed you’d simply gone off on your own. To be honest, we did too. If we’d seriously thought… maybe we would have looked faster.’

     She stopped, wiped a stream of tears from both eyes, blew her nose and wiped her eyes again. ‘I’m so sorry, Eleanor. This is totally my fault.’

     ‘Er, excuse me?’ I said, trying to heave myself up into a sitting position, and ending up sliding several inches further down the bed. ‘You didn’t do this. You didn’t even make her do this. The two Noras are completely to blame.’

     ‘Yes, but…’

     ‘Yes, but I’m going to get really angry if you even hint at being in any way responsible for that woman’s crazed campaign of revenge. And that will make my head hurt even more, which will be your fault. Now, please carry on.’

     ‘Okay.’ She rubbed her face, gave her head a brisk shake and carried on. ‘We’d all spread out, looking for you. Other people were busy tidying up and sorting everything out. Daniel had stayed by the farmhouse, in case you came back – and because he wanted to be near Hope. Then he heard you scream, and got there just as Nora was about to… well. Do something horrible. She was startled and you fell backwards. Your head smashed into the concrete floor.’

     ‘So that explains the thumping headache.’

     ‘You’ve also hurt your knee, and are covered in bruises and cuts. Oh…’ Her eyes filled with tears again, as she gently stroked my hair. ‘That monster pulled out a chunk of your hair.’

     ‘What happened to her?’

     ‘She’s been arrested. Daniel restrained her while he waited for the police.’

     ‘It was all her?’

     ‘Looks like it. The Bee Murderer is vanquished. The queens and their boys can rest in peace, and so can you.’

     Not likely. Becky was ushered out soon after that, but the last thing I felt was peaceful.

     I hadn’t asked her where Daniel was, why he wasn’t here. I had a fairly good idea every time I remembered the look of revulsion on his face.

     I tried to start thinking up a plan, but my thoughts were a jumbled mess, and before I could process more than a few disjointed phrases about ‘sort business,’ ‘new place to live,’ ‘pack,’ ‘car,’ I had forgotten what I was trying to think about.

     Later that afternoon a nurse came to give me a thorough inspection, and straight after they’d brought me a plate of flavourless mush and a tub of ice cream, my phone – thoughtfully left on the scruffy bedside table – rang.

     I snatched it up, my anxious, hopeful heart plummeting back into disappointment when I saw it was my parents. Not that I was sorry to hear from them – their brusque, matter-of-fact manner was as comforting as a cosy blanket and a mug of cocoa.

     ‘Your friend said you’ve been in an accident, but you’re okay.’

     ‘Yes,’ I whispered, my throat contracting with unshed tears.

     ‘Nothing broken, no permanent damage, just plenty of rest and as much time as it takes.’

     ‘I think so.’

     ‘Sounds like you’d better come home. We’ve made up Goosander, and don’t worry about getting here, we’ll book a taxi.’

     ‘Thanks, Mum.’

     ‘Grandma’s paying, you can thank her. Try to get some sleep.’

     She hung up before I could say goodbye.

I slept about as well as is to be expected when in a strange bed, an elderly woman wheezing on one side of me, another groaning and muttering all night on the other, the weight of my guilt and shame pressing down on my skull, the pain of my heartache sharper than my injuries. By the time the doctor did his rounds the following morning, I was ready to lie through my teeth while performing a tap-dance if it meant I could be discharged.

     Alice had popped in for a few minutes the evening before. Ziva had stayed a while longer, chattering about nothing, answering my questions about the rest of Damson Day with brief, bland answers before directing the conversation back to something else. In the end, I couldn’t help asking her where Daniel was.

     She stilled, face a careful blank, hands clasped in front of her in a pose I imagined she had adopted when delivering bad news to thousands of patients over the years. ‘He’s taking care of Hope. She’s spent a lot of time being passed between babysitters in the past couple of days, and after everything it’s only natural he’d want to keep her close.’

     ‘He’s not called. Or messaged.’ I tried not to choke on the words. ‘He hates me.’

     ‘Of course he doesn’t! It’s been a hectic day. Can you imagine how busy he is trying to get the farm straight?’

     ‘I can’t imagine being so busy he can’t take ten seconds to send a text.’ To the woman he had said ‘I love you’ to only a day earlier.

     My heart was so heavy it pulled my gaze down to the sheet, unable to look Ziva in the eye.

     ‘He’s probably giving you time to rest…’

     ‘Right.’

     Ziva was quiet for a moment.

     ‘I’m so very sorry.’

     I shook my head, feebly. ‘I was going to tell him.’

     ‘You’ll get a chance to explain. For now, you need to concentrate on resting up and getting better. Daniel will be ready to talk in time.’

     It was late afternoon by the time I left, clutching a bag of prescriptions as I hobbled to Becky’s car on my injured leg, which was refusing to bend more than about two millimetres. She’d brought me a clean pair of yoga pants and a hoodie, but there was still blood encrusted in my hair, and I both looked, smelled and felt like I’d been sleeping under a bush. We’d agreed that she would take me back to the farm to help me pack what I could fit in the boot of a car – fortunately I’d not added much to the items I’d brought from London. A taxi would then collect me. I’d sort out what to do with the hunk-of-junk car later on.

     Arriving at Damson Farm in about the same state as the first time, I saw Luke’s van and another couple of cars parked near the orchard entrance, and as Becky helped me limp inside, the sound of voices drifted over the gate.

     ‘Does he know?’ I asked, my voice close to a whisper.

     ‘I told him you were on your way,’ Becky said.

     So, he was deliberately avoiding me.

     I nodded, ignoring the tear that dribbled out as I levered my stiff leg over the doorstep. Ignoring that there was no strong, caring man here to help me.

     It was a long, laborious ordeal to get up to my bedroom. My head throbbed in time with every broken heartbeat, and the wound in my knee felt as though it had been shredded open all over again. Still the tears streamed constantly, like a faulty tap. I mutely started opening drawers while Becky beavered beside me, packing several bags by the time I’d weakly stuffed three tops into a holdall.

     Noticing my pathetic progress, she stopped and handed me a towel that had been draped over the chair. ‘I’ll sort this, you go and have a shower. Even better, run a bath.’

     I glanced towards the window. ‘I think I’m best just getting out of here as soon as possible.’

     ‘Eleanor, do you really want your parents to see you like this?’ She gently turned me towards the mirror, and I watched my face crumpling.

     Hair looking like a bad wig, face and arms flecked with dark red scrapes and purple bruises, an ugly crimson slash across my chin, haggard eyes ringed with black. I was almost relieved that Daniel hadn’t seen me. Becky was right. Never mind my parents, no respectable taxi driver would allow me in their cab looking like this.

     Once in the shower, it was almost impossible to drag myself back out again. The sensation of the near-scalding spray, how the sound muffled both the world outside and within my ravaged head, the frail hope that if I let the water wash over me for long enough, I would feel clean.

     Eventually I had to come out, or else risk passing out into the shower tray. I gingerly got dried and dressed, every wincing movement a vivid recollection of the last time I had stood in this bathroom battered and bruised. A lifetime ago. Back then, I had been mourning the loss of Charlie. Now, the grief at having to leave her family engulfed me.

     And yet.

     Beneath the shroud of bleak despair, I still had a tiny spark of hope.

     Maybe Daniel was busy.

     He needed some time, like Ziva said.

     He wouldn’t leave the others to clear up the orchard without him, he wasn’t that type of person.

     He loved me… he would listen because he loved me…

     He would see that the woman he’d fallen in love with was the real me, after all…

     He would surely ask me to stay, at least until we’d talked about it, until he’d let me explain…

He was waiting in the kitchen.

     Face grim, arms folded. It was only when he looked at me that I saw hiding behind the defensive stance was pain.

     Becky helped lower me into a chair. ‘Right. We’re all packed up. Taxi should be here in about half an hour. I’ll leave you two to talk.’ She bent down to envelop me in a hug, her face pressed against my now not-quite-so-terrible hair. ‘I’ll speak to you soon. Don’t worry about the retreats, I’ll keep things going until you’re ready.’

     I nodded, meekly, not having the strength to argue. She turned to Daniel. ‘You’ll make her a drink and something to eat before she goes?’

     Daniel gave one sharp nod, before Becky gave me a squeeze goodbye and left us to it.

     For a long moment, the silence hung between us, dripping with unspoken questions and the unwelcome answers. Eventually, Daniel flicked the kettle on, fetching two mugs from the dresser. I felt another flicker of hope when I saw he’d used my favourite mug.

     ‘I don’t really know where to start,’ I said, voice trembling.

     ‘You don’t need to say anything. The internet told me plenty. Brenda filled me in on the rest.’

     ‘I was going to tell you,’ I gabbled. ‘Yesterday. After Damson Day.’

     ‘Tell me what?’ he asked, placing my drink on the table. ‘That you’ve been concealing from me who you really are? That you weren’t an honest, hardworking, uplifting food critic, but one who got famous through being vile? Or that you knew a potentially violent stalker was here, on my farm, where me, my daughter and hundreds of innocent people were gathered, and you didn’t even tell me, let alone call the police, because you were afraid that we might all find out that you’re not a nice person?’

     ‘Tell you that I’d worked as Nora Sharp, and why I did it, and why I left, and how I hadn’t told you because I hated who Nora had become, which was largely out of my control and not what I wanted. I loathed myself, and the only way I could bear to keep on existing was to stop being her, and go back to being the person I really am. If I’d told you, you’d not have let me stay. You’d not have given me time to show you that I’m not her. If you read her actual reviews, you’ll see they’re mostly constructive, positive ones.’

     Daniel shook his head, scoffing in disgust.

     ‘You must know that if I genuinely thought staying here would have put you, or anyone else – let alone Hope – in danger, I would have left. I’d told Brenda everything, and she didn’t think there was anything to worry about. We thought we knew who it was, and the police were tracing them. I’m so sorry! I’m so, so sorry. If I could undo any of it, I would. I was scared, and lost, and alone. Then you gave me a bed, and a place to stay… A home. You gave me a second chance, a new start. I didn’t want to blow it.’

     ‘But you have blown it.’ Daniel blew out an exasperated sigh. ‘I feel like a total fool. I trusted you, with everything that means anything to me. My farm. My child… my heart. And you took that trust and smashed it to smithereens. You’re not who I thought you were.’

     ‘I am!’ I was trying not to cry because how dare I feel sorry for myself? ‘I have never been more myself than when I was here, with you. This farm, the retreat, being your girlfriend. Baking and cleaning and walking through the fields with Charlie’s daughter on my back. This is who I really am.’

     He looked away, shaking his head. It was then that I knew I’d lost him.

     ‘Daniel. Please…’

     His face was like a castle. Drawbridge up, portcullis slammed shut.

     ‘You can’t believe what Lucy said about me. You have to let me explain.’

     ‘Don’t you see, it doesn’t matter?’ He ran a hand through his hair, the anger rippling through his bicep. ‘It doesn’t matter if you spent every day saving lives instead of wrecking them. You lied to me.’

     ‘I never lied…’

     He simply stared at the floor.

     ‘So that’s it?’

     One nod.

     ‘Can I say goodbye to Hope?’

     ‘She’s with Mum. I thought it best for her not to be around.’

     I couldn’t reply, my throat too swollen with regret and self-loathing.

     ‘I’ll take your bags out to the taxi when it gets here.’

     He left the room, unable to even look at me. I didn’t blame him.

     By the time I’d shuffled outside to the taxi my bags were already in the boot.

     ‘That everything?’ the taxi driver asked, clearly wondering why a man had dumped my bags and left me to limp to the car myself, but knowing better than to ask. It was all I could do to nod in response. Yes. That was everything. My heart. My home. This place, these people, they were everything. But it was my own idiotic fault I’d lost it all. No more than I deserved. No less than the hurt I had done to countless others.