No Good Reason (37 page)

The room felt as if it were collapsing in on Sanne, Eleanor’s question barely making it through the ringing in her ears.

“About three years ago, Billy asked me out,” she whispered. “I laughed at first. I thought he was mucking about. I had to tell him I was gay.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Sanne wrapped her arms around herself, shivering uncontrollably. “Can you find Meg? I want to go home.”

*

The late evening sun still felt warm on Meg’s face. Above her, the treetops caught the lingering rays, their leaves bright and lush after all the rain. The stream was high, rushing over her bare feet and splashing her ankles. Keeping her toes in the water, she leaned back on the rug spread across the bank.

“I think I need a holiday,” Sanne said, shifting a little to give her more room. They were the first words she’d spoken since Meg had brought her down into the garden. She sounded shattered.

“Where do you fancy?” Meg kept her tone light, trying to engage Sanne’s interest.

“I have no idea.” Sanne turned toward her. “Somewhere with perfect blue sea, sandy beaches, and wall-to-wall sunshine.”

Meg looked at her in mock-horror. “Sanne Jensen, are you actually planning to leave the country?”

The ghost of a smile touched Sanne’s lips. “I might well be. Not till after the trial, but yeah, a break would be good.”

“Do you think it will go to trial?”

“I’m not sure.” She sighed, and her shoulders dropped in defeat. “The weight of evidence against Billy is enormous, but some people like him get a thrill out of forcing their victims to testify. He didn’t even mention that today. He just…well, you know what he did.”

“I know, love.” Meg had coaxed most of the details from her before they left headquarters. She still felt livid, but she tried to keep her expression neutral. Sanne was upset enough and didn’t need Meg’s reaction to contend with. Instead, Meg returned to a less emotive subject. “So, what about one of the Greek Islands? They’re supposed to be beautiful.”

“Mm.” Sanne yawned and scratched her nose absently. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I’d love to, but I’d cramp your style something rotten.”

“That’s not true.” Already half-asleep, Sanne didn’t seem to be processing much of the conversation.

Meg took hold of her hands and pulled them until she sat up. “Bedtime, San.”

“I’m comfy here. Can’t we camp out?”

“No.” She saw Sanne’s frown and ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “We’ll get midged to death, it’s already getting chilly, and we’re not twelve years old. Our bones are too brittle to spend a night on the ground.” She hauled Sanne to her feet. “Oh, and did I forget to mention your head injury and the bruise covering most of your back?”

“Okay, okay, point taken.” Sanne stumbled up the bank and walked zombie-like toward the patio doors.

“Go and get ready for bed,” Meg said. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Can I have a cup of tea?”

“I reckon I can manage that for you.”

Sanne stopped in the kitchen doorway. “And a couple of biccies?”

“Don’t push your bloody luck.”

Sanne laughed as she carried on up the hallway, the sound so heartening that Meg found a brand new packet of biscuits for her, and then added cake.

“I really appreciate this,” Sanne said. The traffic jam ahead of them crept forward as people lugged suitcases from car boots and ran through the rain into the departure lounge.

“Not a problem.” Nelson pulled on his handbrake and let the engine idle. “We bring the girls here sometimes to watch the planes. I might park up, grab a bacon butty, and wave at you taking off. Who are you flying with, again?”

“QuickJet.” Dread made Sanne’s mouth dry. A plane roared overhead. She craned her neck to watch it go over, trying to convince herself that thousands of people did this every day and hardly anything bad ever happened.

Following her sightline, Nelson could guess what she was thinking. “Come on, you’ll love it. It’s no different from being in the chopper, really.” A smile lit up his face, all the strain of the last two months vanishing.

“You’re going to text me and let me know about the sentencing, aren’t you?” she asked.

“As soon as I hear anything, I promise.” He gestured to the newspaper on her lap. “What does that have to say?”

Unfolding the paper and holding up the front page so he could see the headline, she paraphrased the lead article. “Last-minute change to a guilty plea by mother and son. CPS delighted for the victims and the victim’s families. Sentencing to be determined in the next ten days, and both defendants can expect lengthy prison terms. DI Stanhope is very proud of everyone involved in the investigation, and wishes Sanne Jensen all the best on her first holiday abroad.”

Nelson laughed. “You made that bit up, you bugger.”

“I might have embellished a little.” She refolded the paper, leaving the back page uppermost. “Let’s see the local forecast. Rain, rain, rain and wind, oh, and more rain.”

“I hate you.” He pulled into a drop-off slot. “Need a hand with your bag?”

“I’ll manage, thanks.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, partner.” He shooed her away. “Go on, before I start blubbing.”

She dragged her holdall from the backseat and set it on its wheels as cars farther back in the queue beeped their horns impatiently. She blew Nelson a kiss and waved until he rounded the corner. The rain began again with renewed vigour. She touched her pocket to check her passport was still there and joined the crowd heading into the departure lounge.

*

Jetting off to a private villa on a Greek island had sounded dynamic and adventurous, but thus far it had involved a mauling from a woman on security, followed by a lot of sitting around. Sanne played her finger over the shutdown option on her phone before deciding to leave it on for another five minutes. Although her flight had been called, nothing seemed to be happening at the gate. The screen of the phone had gone blank, and it stayed blank. It was only eight a.m.; Meg was probably still in bed after her late shift.

Hugging her rucksack to her chest, Sanne rested her chin on it and tried to look on the bright side—two weeks of sea and sunshine, with a list of gay-friendly bars and restaurants that Meg had downloaded for her. As the people in the priority boarding group began to form an orderly line, she buried her face in her bag and wondered what the hell she had been thinking when she’d booked this holiday. She had never been on a plane before, she’d never even left the country before, and she didn’t speak a word of Greek.

On the verge of turning around and fleeing back through Duty Free, she remembered the twenty Euro note tucked into her wallet, and the panicky sensation eased a little. Her mum had given her the money yesterday afternoon, a gift she must have rushed out to arrange the instant she heard about Sanne’s last-minute deal. All she’d wanted in return was a postcard and plenty of photographs.

A woman with a fake tan to match the airline’s bright orange uniform announced the second boarding group. Sanne checked her ticket, even though she knew she should be joining the queue. The budget airline allocated its seats on a first come, first served basis. If she didn’t move soon, she’d end up squashed in the middle of a row. She inched to the edge of her seat but got no farther.

“Are you going to sit here all day, or are you getting on the bloody plane?”

The familiar voice made Sanne snap her head up. At first she thought she’d been mistaken. All she saw was a wide-brimmed straw hat and a pair of legs sticking out of rain-dampened shorts, but then Meg laughed and plonked down in the seat beside her.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Sanne said. It came out more abrupt than she intended, but the last she’d heard, Meg’s request for leave had been denied.

Meg proudly displayed her boarding pass. “Well, after I did all that research for you, I got to thinking that two weeks wearing my skimpies and drinking cocktails in the sunshine sounded like a lot of fun. I did a few swaps, called in a bunch of favours, and just finished”—she paused to do the calculation—“fifty or so hours of shifts. I’m quite tired. Could do with a holiday.” The toothy grin fell from her face as Sanne continued to gape at her. “Fucking shit. You’d rather go on your own, wouldn’t you? I’m going to be a complete cramper of your style. Bollocks.”

Sanne shook her head so vigorously that her hair slapped in her eyes. “
No!
I just…” She paused and smiled. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” She looked at the dwindling number of passengers in the line. “Shall we continue this conversation on the plane?”

The flight was almost full, but they found a row at the back with two spare seats, one of which came with a window. Sanne cinched her seatbelt, unconvinced that it would do her any good in a catastrophe, but bound by the rules regardless. She squeaked as the plane began to taxi. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Meg grabbed her hand. “Squeeze tight if you want to.”

“I might.” Rain sluiced down Sanne’s tiny window. On the tarmac, she saw a man wearing headphones, guiding the plane toward the runway. “I phoned Josie yesterday,” she said, attempting to distract herself. “After the news broke.”

“How was she?”

Sanne hesitated, as a smiling flight attendant stopped to check their bags were correctly stowed. “Relieved,” she said, once the attendant had moved on down the aisle and they were assured of privacy. “I didn’t stay on long, but they’re doing better now they’re back in Edinburgh. We have an open invitation to visit.”

Meg nodded. “Maybe give them a while, eh?”

“I can’t imagine I’ll ever go. I’d only remind them of what happened.” Sanne rubbed her neck, trying to relax her muscles. The case felt like a constant weight, pressing down on her, no matter what. She didn’t want to keep thinking about it, but it always seemed to lurk in the background, and she’d been suffering nightmares for weeks.

“San?”

“Mmhm?”

Meg waited until Sanne looked at her. “We’re on holiday. Leave it behind, okay?”

“Okay.”

The plane came to a sudden stop, and Sanne could see the runway stretching ahead of them. She clamped down on Meg’s hand and shut her eyes as the engines roared and the force of the plane’s acceleration pushed her back in her seat. Seconds later, a weird, floating thump in her chest told her they were airborne.

“San, look.”

Sanne shook her head, willing the plane to keep climbing.

“You’re missing it all!”

Steeling herself, Sanne peeked out of the window. Below them, the redbrick sprawl of Manchester’s suburbs and the plains of Cheshire spread almost to the horizon, the hills of the Peak District and Saddleworth rising gracefully beyond. The plane began to shudder as it rose into the thick cloud blanketing the region, and a grey shroud distorted and then obliterated the view.

Meg interlaced their fingers, holding on to Sanne through the turbulence. “There you go,” she said softly, nudging Sanne toward the window again.

“Oh.” Sanne caught her breath. Brilliant blue sky now surrounded them, and the clouds formed a pristine carpet of white.

“Didn’t you know, San? It’s always sunny up here.”

Sanne smiled, tracing her fingertips across the ice crystals forming on the glass. “No one ever told me that.”

“It’s pretty, but it’s not as pretty as me in my new bikini.” Meg waggled her eyebrows.

Sanne elbowed her in the ribs. “Do you mind? I’m trying to have a moment here.”

“It’s red and black, and
very
flattering.” Meg shaped curves with her hands, making the man across the aisle cough and turn scarlet.

Feigning a sudden interest in the inflight magazine, Sanne used it to hide her face. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Apparently, you’re taking me to your Grecian villa.”

The magazine pages rustled as Sanne started to laugh. “I might just leave you at the airport. You’d get into far less trouble there.”

“You don’t mean that. You’d miss me.”

“Maybe,” Sanne conceded. “A little.”

The flight attendant paused at their row, and Meg ordered two teas and a KitKat. She broke the chocolate bar in half and raised her plastic cup. “Here’s to getting away from it all.”

Sanne tapped her cup against Meg’s. “That sounds bloody lovely.”

The End

Cari Hunter lives in the northwest of England with her wife, two cats, and a pond full of frogs. She works full-time as a paramedic and dreams up stories in her spare time.

Cari enjoys long, windswept, muddy walks in her beloved Peak District and forces herself to go jogging regularly. In the summer she can usually be found sitting in the garden with her feet up, scribbling in her writing pad. Although she doesn’t like to boast, she will admit that she makes a very fine Bakewell Tart.

Her first novel,
Snowbound,
received an Alice B. Lavender Certificate for outstanding début. Her second novel,
Desolation Point
, was shortlisted for a Goldie award and a runner-up in the 2013 Rainbow Awards, and its sequel,
Tumbledown
, was a runner-up in the 2014 Rainbow Awards.

Cari can be contacted at: [email protected].

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