“Let’s cut the bullshit,” Steve started, “it’s no surprise to me Harry started playing away after the horrendous way you treated him. I know all about what you were doing to him, and it’s fucking disgusting.”
“You don’t know anything about our relationship.”
“I know that if he jumped off Filey Brigg, as everyone says, you may as well have pushed him yourself.”
The rage instantly ignited within me, and I leaned over the coffee table to smack Steve right across the face, but he caught my wrist before it could make contact. He then took his free hand and slapped me across mine, knocking me to the floor.
“Harry may not have defended himself against you, but I definitely will,” Steve said as he stood up.
“Steve! She’s pregnant!” Kim shouted.
“She should have thought about that before she started throwing her hands about,” Steve said with a shrug, “get out, the pair of you.”
Kim helped me up. I’d bitten my lip hard on the impact, and it was bleeding down my chin. Kim grabbed my bag and escorted me out of the flat, and Steve slammed the door behind us. The tablets had kicked in, and after being hit by Steve, I was feeling very dizzy. Kim put me in the passenger side of the car, and then got in the driver’s side. As soon as the tension of the situation had blown over, I started crying my eyes out.
“Are you okay, Amelia?” she asked.
“He’s right. I deserved that,” I sobbed.
“No one deserves that.”
“You’re right. And Harry definitely didn’t deserve it.”
“No, he didn’t.”
Kim was wrong. If anyone deserved a slap across the face, it was me. If anything, I deserved far worse. As the blood flowed into my mouth, leaving me with the bitter taste of iron on the back of my throat, I couldn’t help thinking this was how Harry had felt. Every time I hurt him, he must have felt this vulnerable and helpless, like I did with Steve towering over me. For a time, I was adamant Harry gave as good as he got, but I knew deep down that he didn’t. Steve was right; if Harry had jumped off Filey Brigg, then I might as well have pushed him myself.
With each awful and devious thing I said to him, I doomed him even closer to the precipice. Each time I placed my hands on him in anger or hurt him, he was pushed even further. I’d given him an infinite amount of reasons to leave and barely any to stay, which made his decision an easy one, in the end. He was going to end our marriage and leave, and I could hardly blame him for that. I just wished I could turn the clock back and fix it all, but even if it were possible to go back, our marriage was beyond repair. I’d taken Harry, a bright and joyful soul and trampled him underneath my boot to the point of suffocation.
One thing that kept playing on my mind over and over again was what Steve had said about Kim. I remembered what he had said back at his house, that he didn’t want Kim there when he spoke to me. I started to think she was more heavily involved in all this than she had originally let on.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to drive us somewhere,” Kim said softly.
“Where?” I asked through the tears.
“You will see when we get there.”
Kim started driving excruciatingly slow, and about halfway to our destination, I realised where she was taking me. I’d specifically avoided going there ever since it happened. Kim was taking me to Filey Brigg. I’d only visited once since my husband lost his life there, and it was only because of the police investigation. They had to basically drag me there kicking and screaming, and after that ordeal, I knew I never wanted to go there ever again. We arrived at Steve’s caravan site, which had remained closed since the day of the fire. Kim pushed opened the unlocked gates and then returned to the car to drive through them. We made our way down the gravel road to where Steve’s house once stood. The rubble was still there, and it was just a pile of burnt roof timbers and bricks. Kim parked up in front of it and turned off the engine.
“We can walk the rest of the way,” Kim said.
“I can’t go there,” I said frantically.
“Of course, you can. There’s something you need to see.”
We walked beyond the caravan site and towards Filey Brigg viewpoint. I was dragging my feet, and Kim constantly stopped and turned to me to urge me quicken my pace to catch her up. She was acting really mysteriously, and I didn’t like the vibe I was getting from her. I took out my phone and texted James as we walked.
Why is Kim taking me to Filey Brigg? Is she involved?
Continue walking the path. All will be revealed to you soon.
James' words did little to encourage me to go on. I could already feel the panic rising, and once we had reached the viewpoint, Kim stopped a few feet away from the place where Harry had lost his life and turned round to look at me.
“Look over the cliff,” she said.
“I don’t want to. Just tell me what your game is. Now,” I replied sharply.
“Do it. And I’ll tell you.”
I slowly made my way over to the exact spot where Harry had died. It was plain to see how easily he could have lost his footing; the rocks were coated in seawater from the mist of the constant crashing of the waves thunderously buffeting the craggy cliff. The surface was as slippery as ice, and I took tiny steps to avoid falling myself. I looked over the cliff, as Harry had, and stared down onto the rocks below. I don’t know what I was expecting to see, but any trace of what had happened had been washed away by the tide a thousand times since.
The ceaseless barrage of waves from the North Sea pounded against the indifferent cliff face overpoweringly. The wind was already picking up when I arrived, and it felt stronger the closer to the edge I got. I could barely remain standing against the blusterous onslaught. The wind brought with it a freezing mist of seawater that glazed my skin and was giving me goosebumps. The imperceptible salt lingering in the air made my mouth dry. I turned to Kim with a shrug. I was unable to figure out what she had driven me here for.
“I brought you here so you could stand in the same place as Harry did when he lost his life and hopefully tell me the truth,” Kim shouted.
“Okay?” I yelled back.
“Harry didn’t end his own life, Amelia. He was in love.”
“I know he was in love.”
“No. Not with you, Amelia. With me.”
“What?” I shouted, taking a single step towards her.
“Harry loved me, not you. And he was excited about the future, not planning on killing himself.”
“So, this whole time, it was you? You were the other woman?”
