Page 74 of Beautiful Ugly
“You can demand whatever you want, but they won’t let you go. And men aren’t allowed to live on this island.”
“You said that already. Women only, so I’ll pack my bags—”
“I don’t think you’ve understood. Men aren’t allowed toliveon this island.” The expression on my wife’s face is one I’ve never seen her wear before, and it turns my whole body icy cold. “Have you seen the cemetery behind Saint Lucy’s? I think it’s rather lovely. I’ve always thought that a graveyard was a great place to hide a body. A place where nobody would ever think to look.”
I can’t quite process what I am hearing. “I don’t understand—”
“I think you do. Why don’t we talk about what happened the night I disappeared. You do remember that night, don’t you?”
“Of course I remember,” I tell her. “I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I’ve missed you every day and every night since—”
“Then tell me why?” Abby interrupts.
“Why what?”
“Why you lay down in the road, in the dark, in the rain, wearingmy red coat so that I presumed you were a woman. Why you waited for me to get out of the car, knowing I would always help someone in trouble. Why you grabbed me as soon as I was close enough, held a cloth soaked in chloroform over my mouth, then dressed me in my coat, dragged me to the edge of the road, and pushed me over a cliff. Why did you try to kill me, Grady?”
WALKING DEAD
Iam frozen in time. I can’t move. It feels like I can’t breathe.
“I loved you,” I whisper.
“Someone who loved me could never do what you did. I know what happened that night, you know what happened, everyone on this island knows what you did to me. What I want to know iswhy. I’ve waited a long time to ask that question, face-to-face, and I think I deserve an answer. I wanted to wait until you lost everything; the house, your career,everythingyou ever cared about, because that’s what you took from me when you did what you did that night. The thing I cared most about in the world was you. I loved you too, Grady. I really did, but now Ihateyou. So why did you do it? Why did you try to kill me?”
When I look in her eyes all I feel is pure terror.
I don’t want to hear any more of this story. I want to delete it, rewrite it, burn it. I run out of the cottage and across the green. For once, the village is not empty. I can see them, women in the distance, women looking out of the windows, women walking down the lanes, all of them holding walkie-talkies, and all of them staring at me. I feel like one of the walking dead, as though there is a target on my back. I run past Christie’s Corner Shop andThe Stumble Inn, past the church and up the hill. Despite feeling breathless, and ignoring the pain in my chest, I run until I reach the forest. I have to get Columbo and I have to get off of this island. The trees seem to block my path as though trying to stop me. The silhouettes of a thousand branches reach out like arms, slowing me down, scratching my face and tearing my clothes but I don’t stop until I see the cabin in the distance. The lights are on inside and the windows look like glowing eyes. Watching. Waiting.
I push the door open and see someone sitting on the sofa with a glass of whiskey.
Someone I did not expect to see.
“Hello, Grady.”
UNBIASED OPINION
You should close your mouth; you look like a goldfish,” Kitty says. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?” My agent lights a cigarette before I can reply.
Kitty appears to have made herself at home. Columbo is sitting happily at her feet, and the wood-burning stove is casting a series of dancing shadows around the room. It looks like a cozy scene but it doesn’t feel like one. It is strange seeing my agent out of her office. For years I was convinced she lived there, because that’s where she was night and day, always working. It’s like seeing a creature removed from its natural habitat and wondering if it can still breathe the air.
“You might want to take a seat. We have some things to talk about,” she says, and I do, but only because it feels like I might fall over if I don’t.
My agent was the only person in the whole world I thought I could still trust.
It feels like my whole world is ending.
Kitty must have known that Abby was alive. She must have known about this island; she’s the one who sent me here. She must have known everything.
“I read the new book as soon as it arrived,” she says, taking another drag on her cigarette. “I was so moved by it, I knew I had to come and see you straight away. It’s the kind of writing that I don’t get to read too often. The kind of story agents and publishers get very excited about. In my unbiased opinion I think it’s your best book yet.”
“Thank you,” I mumble.
Kitty gently nudges the side of her glasses as though they aren’t straight, even though they are. It was a habit I used to find endearing, but now I don’t know if I knew my agent as well as I thought. I notice the silver thistle ring on her finger, the same ring that the islanders wear. My mind can’t seem to catch up with what is happening. Abby must have told her what I did. Abby always told her godmother everything, and Kitty always loved Abby far more than she ever loved me, so whatever this is it can’t be good. I look over at the cabin door and consider running back out of it, but where would I go? I can’t trust anyone on the island and there is apparently no way to get off it.
“Why would you want to leave?” Kitty says, as though she can read my mind. “You’re finally writing again. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’ve read a lot of your stories over the years, Grady. I think it’s only fair I tell you one. You see,thisstory is mine just as much as it is yours. You know that Abby is my goddaughter, but did you know she was named after me? Her mother and I became friends when we were at school together in London; back then I was called Abby too. Her mother had this wonderful town house in Notting Hill and hosted the most extravagant parties, with string quartets and a seemingly endless supply of champagne. I only changed my name when I left my husband.”
EVEN ODDS