“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing. Just some men have more than one phone. A phone that their wives don’t know about?”

It dawned on me. If Yvonne could see it, it must have been obvious: a second mobile phone. When a married woman finds out her husband has a second phone, there’s usually only one explanation. But I’d learned about Harry’s deceitful side. There could be a multitude of reasons why he would have another phone other than an affair. Was it for his dodgy dealings with the criminal underworld? Or was it indeed just garden-variety infidelity? I stared at the ceiling and gritted my teeth, feeling embarrassed I hadn’t arrived at the same conclusion sooner. A lump appeared in my throat as I tried desperately to stifle the inevitable tears that would ensue. I didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of this woman, but I could barely hold it in any longer.

“Was another phone recovered by the police?” I asked, trying to choke back the tears.

“Not that I know of,” Yvonne shrugged.

“Are you sure? No mention of it anywhere?”

“I think I’d remember that, Amelia.”

The lump in my throat bloated and grew until I could almost taste the disappointment. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, and they prickled lightly with the change in temperature. I could feel the tears building on my eyelids. Even the slightest provocation would have sent me into a full meltdown. Yvonne could sense it, and I didn’t want her to see that side of me. The weak one. I’d always projected an image of strength and maturity, but in truth, I felt like I was behaving like an anxious and paranoid little girl.

“Do you think he was cheating on me?” I uttered pitifully.

Yvonne didn’t respond verbally at first. It was more of a look of pity, and I could feel myself losing control, which instantly turned the waterworks on. She left the room to get me some tissues, but the supply was rapidly outstripped by demand, and I pretty much used the whole packet within minutes. I loved Harry, and I thought he loved me. My initial response should have been disbelief, but the disturbing evidence that I was digging up was mounting and leading me to believe that Harry wasn’t the man I fell in love with. I just wanted to look him in the eye, grab him, and force him to explain himself. Knowing I wouldn’t ever be able to do that was a gut-wrenching reality I had to content myself with.

“Amelia, you can’t think like that,” Yvonne said softly, “you never gave him a reason to play away, did you?”

“Of course not!” I shouted.

“He loved you; I know he did. He wouldn’t have uprooted his life and moved to Manchester with you if he hadn’t.”

“Do you know something that you aren’t telling me?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Well,” she sighed, “he was a man, after all.”

Yvonne walked to the fridge, leaving me in blubbering pieces on the kitchen island, only to return with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She brimmed them both and drank deeply. I hesitated at first; I could almost hear Harry protesting, but in his absence, I quickly followed suit. Yvonne and I didn’t speak for what seemed like hours and silently polished off the whole bottle. Yvonne stood to get another, but I put my hand on her arm to dissuade her. I knew I shouldn’t be drinking, and even in his absence, I didn’t want to disappoint him like that. 

“No, thank you,” I mumbled, “I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”

“Where?”

“Steve’s place. He promised me he would tell me what he knew about Harry tonight.”

“Don’t listen to a word that pathetic man has to say. He’s nothing but trouble, that lad. He never did a thing for anyone but himself.”

“I know, but he knows things about Harry, and he promised me he would tell me everything.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, and let me tell you, it wouldn’t be very far. Let me come with you.”

I understood why she was so aggressive in her discrediting of Steve, and I agreed with her, to be honest. Besides, I wasn’t sure if Yvonne was holding something back. He was repulsive, but that was as far as I’d go. He always seemed to be there for Harry when he needed him. Steve and Harry were friends in school, and they were always getting into trouble. It was not real trouble; it was more like hijinks, but when they got a bit older, Steve obviously progressed to criminality. Yvonne was a fellow blunt instrument, and I couldn’t risk her ruining the chance of getting more information from Steve.

“No, it’s fine. Kim is coming with me,” I lied.

“Kim? Who is this Kim you keep talking about?”

“The girl from the funeral. I just need to use the bathroom before I head out.”

I stood up from the table and made a beeline for the bathroom on the first floor. Everything in this house was pristine, which I thought was unusual given Yvonne’s lack of sobriety. As soon as I had walked into the bathroom, I took two of the Alprazolam that I kept in my bag. I needed to get back into a routine of taking them as prescribed. I knew the early signs of a panic attack very well, and my hands had already started shaking slightly. The advice was to not take them with alcohol, nonetheless, I would descend into a full panic attack without them. I hated relying on these pills just to feel normal, but I’d taken them on and off for years. I had suffered from panic attacks and anxiety ever since childhood.

I stared into the bathroom mirror. I didn’t know whether it was the medication or the alcohol, but I could almost see Harry gazing right back at me. Inappropriately, he had that signature cheeky grin on his face. I wanted him to comfort and reassure me and tell me it was all a lie, but he didn’t; he remained silent. I splashed cold water on my face, and he was gone again. By the time I’d returned downstairs, I was feeling a little woozy. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to drink on these tablets. Yvonne was at the back door again, on the continuing task of smoking every cigarette within a ten-mile radius.

“Are you leaving now, dear?” Yvonne asked.

“Yes, can I leave my car here? I don’t think I should be driving.”

“Of course. You can always stay here tonight if you’d like?”

“I’ll think about it. I’ll let you know once I’ve spoken to Steve.”

I’d already made up my mind about it, and I’d rather sleep underneath a bus stop shelter than stay at her house. In fairness to Yvonne, she had largely been very supportive and almost nice to me since Harry’s passing, but that just made me uneasy, if anything. She always seemed to have an angle she was working, and I knew her sudden personality change wouldn’t be without a hidden motive.

I started walking towards Steve’s caravan park. It was only a twenty-five-minute walk, and the exercise would give me a chance to clear my head and hopefully work some of the alcohol out of my system. Every step I took on the pavement had to be carefully calculated because I felt like I was going to topple or keel over without warning. I regretted drinking at such a pivotal moment in my search for the truth, but I couldn’t resist myself. I found myself thinking about getting soused a lot more since Harry died because it was the most effective coping mechanism I had, unfortunately. I heard my phone ping and clumsily took it out of my bag to read the incoming message. It was from James.

Amelia. You need to hurry. I can sense you don’t have much time.

What are you talking about?

What does that mean?

He didn’t reply, but I set about walking as fast as my inebriated legs could transport me. I was making my way drunkenly through the high street when all of a sudden I noticed the plumes of smoke rising into the sky. It was coming from Steve’s caravan park.

In spite of sharing half a bottle of wine and the two tablets, I was instantaneously seized by the feeling of panic that broke through and rushed over me like wildfire. I broke out into a jog towards the source, almost breaking an ankle every other step. That was my only opportunity to find out what Steve knew about Harry’s death, and it was quite literally going up in smoke. The adrenaline I felt pushed the alcohol and chemicals out of my pores in the form of sweat, and I could feel my faculties returning slowly. I was almost in full sprint when I reached the entrance to Steve’s caravan park. A large group of holidayers stood at the gate, watching the inferno from afar, filming it with their phones.

I pushed through them at speed and continued running down the gravel path towards the blaze. The closer I got to Steve’s house, the blacker the sky became. His once-decaying abode was turned into a towering beacon of light in the darkness, throwing a million red-hot embers into the sky. Before I got halfway down the path, the roof had already started to collapse, leaving only the ignited framework behind. Emergency services were already working at the scene, trying to make a futile attempt to quell the fierce blaze engulfing Steve’s abode. They dodged and dived the huge burning chunks of the roof as they exploded into the ground.

I didn’t know what my plan was: whether I should be running into the building helplessly or stand by and watch the flames engulf my opportunity to know the truth. The choice was stripped from me when I was tackled and restrained by some firemen before I could find out what my intentions were. There was only one thing I knew for certain. If Steve was still in that blazing building, he wasn’t alive, and anything he knew about Harry would die with him.

VII

THE SUN

AMELIA

The sun was now completely blacked out and replaced entirely by the smoke and ash falling from the sky. The debris of the house lightly steamed against the mist of the fire hoses. The inferno was finally extinguished, along with my last hope of finding anything new about my late husband. I stared into the rubble of Steve’s house at a distance, and it was no more than a smouldering wreckage. Almost the entire town of Filey had made their way down to the caravan park to witness the fire out of morbid curiosity. Kim had seen the smoke from the café and came to see it too. She looked a lot more shaken up than I did while she stood beside me gripping my hand tightly for comfort. It seemed too much of an odd coincidence for it to happen just before Steve was about to give me the full lowdown on what happened to the love of my life. I didn’t know, nonetheless, who it would benefit for him to remain silent.

The fire was intentional, according to the fire investigation team. It had started at multiple points and spread quickly throughout the whole building. They still didn’t know if Steve was in the house at the time, and it would take them a while before they could say for certain. Kim tried phoning him a few times, but the calls went unanswered. Most probably, any secrets that Steve held about Harry perished in that fire with him. On the one hand, I was mortified that I’d missed an opportunity to find out what had happened, but on the other, I don’t think I could take much more. I never thought I’d be in this position; the desire to get in my car and return home was almost overwhelming.

I could taste the ash on my tongue; it coated the inside of my nose and throat, making it difficult for me to breathe properly. I started coughing violently, and Kim, as she lead me to her borrowed car, guided me through the table of onlookers now crowding around the ashes. I leaned on the bonnet with my hands on my knees, and we were far enough away from the fire to be able to breathe again. Kim looked genuinely upset about what could have happened to Steve, but I was more dismayed about being unable to discover what he actually knew. I couldn’t banish the filthy feeling that Harry was cheating on me, and I would have found out with whom if it wasn’t for the fire. Kim looked at me with tears in her eyes either from misplaced emotions or just the sheer amount of carbon in the air. I wanted to cry, too. Yvonne was probably right, and I should just let it go. I didn’t know why I was even here anymore. Every day I spent investigating, the worse I felt. I didn’t know if it would be better to just leave it and preserve the perception I had of him. I should have gone to the police there and then and told them everything, but I couldn’t.