The Unmaking of Ellie Rook Episode 55

The relief is overwhelming. “Typical Shelby. Is he okay? At least he won’t be there when they go to the hospital tomorrow.” “That’s why he left. He said Dad won’t give up until someone dies.” We both shudder.

“Anyway, he says he’s going to lay low for a while. He has a mate in Aberdeen. He’s okay – busted ribs, concussion – but he says he’ll live to fight another day.”

We both look at Mum. His choice of words feels chillingly prophetic.

Fifteen Days After

The next day, Dad leaves early, taking River with him. He doesn’t say where he’s going, but he’s taken the leaflet too.

I hope to goodness Shelby is lying low. Offshore Dave is left in charge, although we all know it’s Julie who’ll keep everything going.

I can see her through the windows of the Portakabin, fielding phone calls while Dave slopes off to smoke behind the toilets.

I don’t want to go near her. I can’t deal with her sympathy while I’m harbouring a dead woman in my room.

Even with Dad away, I daren’t let Mum downstairs. She’s restless – talking about crows and the woods and the garden – but leaving the fragile safety of that room is not an option.

All we need is for Sharon Duthie to catch the vaguest glimpse of her and the news of the resurrection will spread around the countryside like wildfire.

I bring her a cup of tea and some toast after Dad leaves. “I’m worried about River. He’s being torn in two.”

She’s brushing her hair at the dressing table, sitting where I’d sat and worried the night before.

The resemblance between us is clear, although I see my brother there too – the unruly hair, the half-shy, half-defiant expression.

“That last day, down by the waterfall, we talked more than we’d ever talked before,” she said.

“I never let on to him about Shelby and me, but I told him I had to disappear. It was the only way I could get away from Lawler.

“He argued with me. He said I’d be abandoning him.”

“It’s true. You really think Dad’s a good role model?”

“Do you really think he’d let me walk out of here with his son?”

She has me there. River is Dad’s shadow. He has a much better relationship with him than I’ve ever had, though he can see his flaws too.

“I told River we could meet up at some point, that I wasn’t going to be out of his life – or yours – for good, but I needed a... a breathing space. He said he understood.”

“No wonder he’s so bloody angry. He’s trying to please everyone. He’s a teenager, and you’ve put all this” – I wave my hand distractedly – “all this responsibility on him.

“Imagine what it was like for him, having to come home and lie for all he was worth. Lying to his dad, for God’s sake.”

In the mirror, I see tears forming in her eyes.

“He was so full of rage,” she whispers. I think of Mandy Cotton and family services. “I didn’t know how to handle him.

Compassionate

“I was scared he was turning into his father, and I could see everything getting worse. So much worse.”

“I think there might be more to this.” I rest my hand on her shoulder.

“He seems to spend a lot of time with Ned.”

“Ned’s a friend. A kind, compassionate friend. Someone who’s not covered in filth and constantly cursing.

“And River is only 15 years old, for goodness” sake.”

“I’m not saying there’s anything going on, but River’s at that age where he’s getting to know about himself. His preferences.

“Who’s going to be there for him when he’s feeling his way through the next few years?”

She bites her lip. A wave of anger quivers through me. It’s going to be me, isn’t it?

If I want to be there for my brother, I’m going to have to give up my wandering lifestyle.

I’m going to have to move back home and be the mediator, the buffer, just as my mother was.

Meanwhile, Mum will be travelling the roads with the love of her life. It will be the making of her. The irony of this role reversal isn’t lost on me – nor, probably, on her.

When I glance back at the mirror, her eyes are watchful, calculating.

“So let’s talk about Plan B,” she says. The longer Dad and River are gone, the more agitated I become.

It’s impossible to settle, and I find myself trying to second-guess their progress, where they might be and what they are getting up to.

My thoughts keep straying to Shelby too. Is he okay? What if he’s taken a turn for the worse and is readmitted to the ward?

I torment myself with bleak scenarios: Shelby lying collapsed in the hospital grounds; or Dad looming over his bed with a pillow and River unable to prevent murder.

I don’t even want to be around Mum just now. Her presence reminds me of how close we are sailing to the wind.

I have no idea what’s going to happen next.

Familiar

I’m outside, mooching around the cars, when a familiar voice stops me in my tracks.

“Hi, Ellie.”

Piotr catches me off guard, and I have no time to temper my reaction.

Blood rushes to my face and I stutter a greeting.

I’m shocked at how pleased I am to see him. It’s only natural, I tell myself, after all that’s been going on, to crave a friendly face.

He’s like one of those bothies on the beach – a port in a storm. It doesn’t mean there’s anything deeper.

“I thought you were gone – going – catching a bus?”

“I had to stick around.”

It’s going to be me, isn’t it? If I want to be there for my brother, I’m going to have to give up my wandering lifestyle.

More tomorrow.

Copyright Sandra Ireland 2019, extracted from The Unmaking of Ellie Rook, published by Polygon, an imprint of Birlinn Ltd, at £8.99.