Just Before I Died: The gripping new psychological thriller from the bestselling author of The Ice Twins. S. Tremayne K.

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СКАЧАТЬ and sad in the snow. ‘The shares and antiques turned out to be virtually worthless. Stuff my mum bought when she was stoned. God, she loved weed.’ I roll my eyes. ‘She used to buy it in Totnes from druids. I hate drugs. Hate them.’

      Tessa writes brisk, efficient notes. Like a proper detective. I wonder if it is displacement activity, to hide her own discomfort. She glances at me.

      ‘So you still feel a certain resentment? Towards Dan, and your mother? About our Salcombe house?’

      ‘Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know. Yes, a little. But not really – I know there’s always that bit of friction between me and Dan, because of the house and all that, but I also love my brother. He’s an extrovert – not like me. He’s funny. And most of all we both endured Mum, together: that’s a profound bond, and of course it’s not his fault Mum was so scatty.’ Our eyes meet; I go on. ‘And of course I like you, Tessa, and I totally love your two little boys, and so, yes, sure, Dan has the big house, and yes, you guys get the money and the life, and we have to rent this place – but he’s loaned us cash when we’ve been hard up, you’ve bought holidays for me and Lyla, and that’s helped, Dan’s been a big, big help.’

      ‘OK. I see.’ Tessa is nearly expressionless. ‘And that brings us round to Lyla.’ She takes another sip of tea, which must be nearly cold. Mine is. ‘Let’s talk about that. And after that we’re nearly there, Kath.’

      Nearly there? Nearly where? The tension builds like snow on snow – that snow which piles up and up, until the roof collapses.

      ‘You only had one child. Or have, I should say.’

      ‘Yes. We wanted more, but remember, Adam got Hodgkins, a few years back, and he needed chemo. And so he can’t have kids any more. So, as you know, Lyla is it. But it’s fine, he’s better. And I adore her, I love her, and Adam’s illness made us stronger.’ I push my mug away, defiantly. ‘It set us back financially, it was horrible – but we saw it through. It united us even more, and here we are. A family. A unit. This is who we are, and I like it.’

      ‘OK. This is my last question, Kath.’

      ‘Good.’

      ‘How are you coping with Lyla’s, ah, quirks?’

      ‘Her Asperger’s?’

      ‘She’s still not been officially diagnosed,’ Tessa says quickly, ‘As far as I am aware?’

      ‘No, but I reckon that’s what it is. Anyway, it means our lives are different; she still hates bustle and towns and loud noises, and new people, they make her panic, and she loves animals. So we live here, in the wilds, in the quiet, where we can have dogs, and there are horses. It’s fine, it’s all fine. Or it was until the bloody accident.’

      Tessa nods and puts down her pen. My session, it seems, is over.

      ‘All right, taking all this into consideration, would you say that, on the whole, you were happy – or at least content – at the time of the accident at Burrator?’

      ‘Yes,’ I say, with some force: because it is true, and the truth is easy to say. ‘Tessa, that’s what makes it so awful! What gives me flashbacks, the horrors: I nearly lost it all. I have a husband I love, a daughter I love, a home I love, and I nearly lost it all, because of some stupid ice on a stupid Dartmoor road. I am very lucky. I’ve been given a second chance. I was actually technically dead for a few seconds!’ I shake my head, marvelling at my own luck. ‘Yes, life could be better: we need more money, Lyla needs help, it’s far from perfect, but what is money compared to life? No one ever died wishing they’d bought a bigger TV.’

      Tessa smiles politely, yet I think I detect a faint, sad blush on her face. For a moment we both listen to the wind, knocking things over in the farmyard outside, like a drunk returning home from the pub. I wonder what Lyla is doing now. At school. Sitting alone in assembly, perhaps. Not talking to anyone. Ignored and friendless. Her mind wandering on to the moor, thinking of her newest bird feathers, and that piece of antler-felt her father found.

      ‘Kath, you clearly know you have retrograde amnesia? Because of the brain trauma?’

      ‘Yes. Of course! I know I’ve forgotten some stuff from before the crash, a week or so, but there are fragments, and the psychiatrists at the hospital say it will all come back. But, Jesus, I wish I could forget the actual crash! I still see the ice, the skid, the water – ugh—’

      I close my eyes to dull the mental pain. When I open them, Tessa is frowning.

      ‘Well, the thing is, Kath: what the doctors at Derriford Hospital might not have properly explained about this amnesia is that you can forget that you’ve forgotten. That is to say, there are holes in your memory that you don’t even realize are there, and the mind tries to fill them.’

      The wind has stopped abruptly. The whole house is quiet. I realize that the dogs must have gone with Adam and Lyla. All I can hear is Dartmoor rain on the window. A tinkly-tankly sound. I feel a sense of congealing fear. Some kind of horror is approaching. Like a moorland witch, creeping along the hedgerow. And we don’t have any hag stones. We have nothing to keep the witches away.

      I can’t stand this any longer.

      ‘OK, this really is enough, Tessa. Tell me why you are here, in my kitchen?’ I am close to shouting. ‘I’ve told you everything. You know most of it already. So now it’s my turn to ask. Why are you here?’

      ‘Because,’ she says, looking deep, deep into my eyes, ‘you didn’t have an accident, Kath.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Your mind has invented this. Invented the ice, invented it all.’

      ‘What?’ The panic rises in my throat, an acrid, metallic taste. ‘What? What do you mean? I had the bruises, I’ve seen the doctors. The bloody car is at the bottom of Burrator Reservoir. I had to buy a new one!’

      ‘Yes, it is. The car is down there. But that’s because you drove it in there, deliberately.’

      I sense my life pivot around this moment. A ritual dance. ‘You mean – you mean – you can’t possibly—’

      Tessa Kinnersley shakes her head, and I see the most enormous pity in her eyes. ‘Kath, there was no accident. You tried to leave your husband and daughter behind, to destroy yourself, to destroy everything. You tried to commit suicide. We just don’t know why.’

       Later Thursday morning

      Absolute stillness. That’s what it feels like. Absolute stillness, as if the beating heart of the world has slowed to a stop. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Then a lash of rain hits the windowpanes, breaking the quiet, and my words rush out.

      ‘How can you think that?’

      Tessa remains calm, doing her job. She’s not here as a friend, but as a professional psychologist.

      ‘You were observed.’

      ‘Sorry?’

      ‘There was a witness at Burrator. By the reservoir. Walking his dog. It was night but there was a full moon, and he saw you drive your car, quite deliberately, into the water.’

      ‘But—’ СКАЧАТЬ