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SATURDAY
Sasha
Sasha strides out of the Manor House and lays her yoga mat in a patch of shade beneath the oak tree on the front lawn. It’s the middle of the day and it’s hot, but the tree casts a deep shade, and the lawn is encircled with woodland. The greenery always makes her feel good, no matter how warm it is, maybe because the towering trees give the place a sort of spiritual feel, as if an ancient ritual might have taken place here.
The Manor House overlooks the lawn. Built from stone, the roof tiled in old Welsh slate, its façade is a mix of styles. The oldest, medieval part of the building is sandwiched between later additions, built over a period of five centuries. Some of the windows are gracious, generously sized; others are smaller, set deep into the stone and leaded. One part of the building retains its original arrow slits. Out here, you could easily feel like you were being watched from inside, but Sasha knows she’s not.Olly is in his study, at the back of the house and Kitty, their housekeeper, is ironing in the laundry room that overlooks the walled vegetable garden to the side. Sasha can enjoy a rare moment of privacy and peace.
She moves into her first pose and holds it, focusing on taking and releasing measured inhalations and exhalations, which help her to let go of some of the tension she’s been feeling. She wants to get out of her head and back in touch with her body.
It’s been a long morning, a long night, and a long few weeks. She taught a private yoga class this morning and that’s on top of running a full programme of classes lately, and two weekend retreats. It’s taken a toll on her. She continues her practice, focusing hard as she transitions from pose to pose and imagining that she’s inhaling the essence of the woodland surrounding her, its goodness and life force, and that it’s feeding into her, strengthening her mind and the bones and tissues in her body, until she feels a part of the ecosystem, and at one with the natural world. It’s a blissful feeling, delicious, bigger than her, and when she finishes, she feels sated and calm, almost post-coital. She doesn’t get up but lies in Shavasana and opens her pellucid green eyes to gaze up at the oak tree’s canopy, taking in with wonderment the spread of the branches, the glimpses of cobalt sky through the green.
She senses Olly before she sees him, his wound-tight creative energy, the gangly height of him, the short shadow that follows him across the parched lawn, and she smiles as he lies down beside her.
‘Hey,’ she says.
‘Hey.’
‘Paradise, isn’t it?’ she says, stretching an arm up, as if it was possible to grab a piece of the beauty above.
‘I know.’ He reaches for her arm and pulls it towards him, taking her hand in his and laying it palm down on his chest. She feels the steady beat of his heart.
If she could, Sasha would lie here forever, leaving the rest of the world shut out, sensing the heat of their envy of her and Olly’s connection. It terrifies her sometimes, how strongly she feels about him.
But their moment of tranquillity can’t last; it never does. They raise their heads at the sound of footsteps, pounding the gravel drive. Olly looks up. ‘It’s Nicole,’ he says, and Sasha hears possibility in his voice. She props herself up on her elbows.
Nicole is coming, but she doesn’t look right. She’s running, her large frame moving awkwardly, her head tilted back. She looks as if she might stumble. Sasha gets up to meet her and Nicole hits her like a freight train, collapsing into her arms with such momentum that Sasha’s knees buckle.
‘It’s Tom,’ Nicole sobs. ‘Tom’s dead.’
Sasha feels the words travel through her like an electric shock. ‘What?’ she says. Nicole’s clothes are soaking wet and dripping.
‘I found him in the pool. Dead!’ Nicole shakes as she says the word. ‘I couldn’t drag him out. He’s too h—’ she stutters. The ‘h’ won’t make itself into a word.
‘Heavy,’ Sasha says and Nicole stares at her and nods before her face crumples and collapses.
‘I tried to take his pulse,’ Nicole says. ‘I couldn’t feel anything. He’s floating in the pool. Help me.’ Her eyes are glassy with disbelief and horror. Sasha supports her as she sinks to the grass.
‘Oh my God,’ Sasha says. She looks at Olly. He’s staring at Nicole. She knows how he feels. Sasha feels strangely detached from the situation, as if it’s happening to someone else. She tries to think what sheshoulddo. ‘Did you call an ambulance?’ she asks.
‘They’re coming,’ Nicole says.
She wails, almost more beast than woman, and it occurs to Sasha that there’s a chance that Tom might still be alive, that Nicole didn’t check his pulse properly. It might be an infinitesimal chance, but they need to check. ‘Go,’ she tells Olly. ‘Quick!’
He looks confused. ‘To the pool!’ she yells, and he jerks into action, sprinting off across the lawn and up the driveway. It should only take Olly a few minutes to run to the Glass Barn, but if Tom’s floating in the water and has been since Nicole found him, there’s surely no chance he’s alive. That’s got to be at least ten or fifteen minutes ago by now. She wants to ask if Tom was face up or face down, but it feels like a cruel question, the last thing Nicole needs. They’ll know soon enough.
She crouches beside Nicole, puts her arms around her and thinks about how Tom is a big lug of a man, and while Olly might be six foot tall, he’s slender and not very muscular. It could be a struggle for him to pull Tom out of the pool on his own.
‘We need to help Olly,’ she says. Nicole looks at her, but there’s nothing behind her eyes. She’s still lost in the horror of finding Tom. ‘It’s okay, I’ll go,’ Sasha says, standing up, but Nicole claws at her clothing and grabs her arm. ‘Don’t leave me,’ she says. Her grip is painfully tight, and Sasha wrenches her arm away. She suppresses an urge to slap Nicole in return for the pain she’s inflicted. This is so raw it’s overwhelming, she thinks. It’s animal.
‘I need to go with Olly to see if we can help Tom, but I’ll fetch Kitty to sit with you. Okay? Do you remember Kitty? Our housekeeper?’ She doesn’t wait for an answer but turns her back on Nicole and races to the house.
She bursts through the Manor’s heavy front door. Shards of coloured light pattern the wooden staircase and the floor, where sunlight filters through a stained-glass window. Her bare feet slap the flagstones as she runs down the long corridor that leads past the Yellow Room, the Music Room, Olly’s study, the kitchen and into a warren of small utility rooms behind it.
‘Kitty!’ she shouts. ‘I need you!’
She bursts in on Kitty who’s in the laundry room, ironing, Radio 4 on low in the background competing with the hiss of steam. Kitty wears cropped cotton trousers and a vest top; a scarf ties her greying hair back from her face. The scene is a picture of domestic serenity and Sasha is conscious that she’s about to shatter it. Kitty looks up as she comes in. ‘What is it?’ she asks before Sasha has said a word, and Sasha explains what just happened, and how distraught Nicole is. ‘She needs some dry clothes. Can you bring her in and look after her while I go to the Barn?’
Kitty doesn’t hesitate. She turns off the iron and rushes outside. Sasha knew she could rely on her. As Sasha hurriedly slips on some shoes in the front porch, she watches Kitty kneel beside Nicole and put an arm around her. Sasha runs right past them as Kitty is helping Nicole to her feet. She needs to get to the Barn as quickly as possible in case there’s any possibility of Tom being alive.
