She found herself sitting next to Ava on the coach with Claire and Sarah in the seats behind them. As the bus careened round the corners, Laura felt glad she’d got the window seat. She sometimes got travel-sick.
As if reading her mind, Ava said, ‘We’ll be out of Belfast soon. It’ll be a smoother ride once we get onto the motorway.’
‘I hope so. The driver clearly fancies himself as the next Eddie Irvine,’ Laura said.
‘Who?’
‘Oh. He was a Formula One driver. From Newtownards? My father was a fan.’ Apparently. At the thought of her father, Laura’s heart clenched.
‘Was he killed?’ Ava asked.
Laura’s eyes and mouth opened wide. How did she know? ‘M … my father?’
‘No. I meant Eddie Whatshisname. You said was.’
‘Ah. No. Eddie Irvine. He wasn’t killed.’ My daddy was. ‘He retired from racing, that’s all.’
Laura fell quiet after that and Ava soon gave up trying to make small talk, becoming engrossed in her book and leaving Laura to her thoughts.
Over twenty years after his death and she still missed her father with a raw, visceral pain. And yet, the few memories she had of him were vague. Perhaps they weren’t recollections at all and merely images pieced together from what she’d been told about her father over the years. She was only six when he was murdered.
She’d spent her childhood trying to patch up her mother, who had understandably gone to pieces. Laura had tried to make Noreen proud, but no matter what she did, it was never good enough, never enough.
‘You remind me too much of your father,’ Noreen would say to Laura.
Laura didn’t look a lot like him – she got her red hair, freckles and pale skin from her mother’s side of the family. So she supposed that meant she must have a similar personality. Laura liked the idea of being like her da. But she wondered if Noreen secretly wished she’d lost her daughter instead of her husband. Laura sometimes felt as if she’d lost both her parents that day.
Tears sprang to her eyes, so she followed Ava’s example, pulling her novel out of her handbag to take her mind off her father. But after a few minutes, Laura realized she’d read the same paragraph four or five times and hadn’t taken in a word of it. She closed her book with a sigh. She still felt nauseous, so she looked out of the window. The bus was hurtling along at an alarming speed. At least they should arrive at the airport in good time.
But just outside Dublin, they hit traffic and came to a standstill. At first Laura’s nausea was replaced by relief.
Until Ava looked at the time on her mobile and said, ‘It’s going to be tight now.’
Sarah spotted it first. There had been a car accident, a collision between a white car – a Ford Fiesta, maybe, which was on its roof, and a badly damaged grey Audi a few feet away from it. There were also emergency vehicles with flashing blue lights – Garda cars, ambulances and fire engines – and a lot of broken glass. There was no sign of the drivers or any passengers. Laura hoped they were all right. They had a good view of it all from the bus, although Laura tried not to look. Once the traffic had trickled by in the one lane left open, the bus picked up speed again.
‘We’re going to be late,’ Ava said.
Oh no. They couldn’t miss the flight. Not now. Laura had psyched herself up for it. Plus she’d received her passport and gone on a diet – although she’d not lost much weight in the end – and spent months brushing up her French. And she did want to see The Naturals.
‘No, we’ll be all right,’ Claire said. ‘We’ll have to get a move on, though.’
‘At least we’re in the bus and not in one of the cars back there,’ Sarah said.
Despite her impractical footwear, Ava sprinted into the airport first, making a beeline for the Aer Lingus check-in area. The others followed, zigzagging around travellers pulling suitcases or pushing luggage trolleys. Laura jogged as fast as she could, struggling to keep up. Her heart was hammering, partly due to the physical effort and partly because she was terrified of losing the group. Thank goodness her new suitcase had wheels.
‘Take a carry-on,’ Claire had advised Laura when they’d bought the tickets. ‘If we all travel light, we won’t have to pay extra in Dublin or faff around when we get to Lyon.’
Laura only had the one suitcase. It had once belonged to Noreen. It was massive and heavy even when empty, so she’d rushed out and bought a smaller one.
‘We don’t need to go to the Aer Lingus desk,’ Sarah called after Ava. ‘We’ve already checked in online.’
This was true. Claire had talked Laura through it on the phone and she’d printed out her boarding pass. She also had it on the app on her phone.
‘Sensible Sarah,’ Claire said jocularly. Laura was grateful to Claire for keeping calm. It was saving her from losing it.
Ava stopped by the departures board. ‘The gate’s up,’ she announced.
‘That way,’ Sarah said, pointing towards a sign for Security.
The two of them started to run again, but Claire called them back. ‘The gate’s up, but the flight’s not boarding yet. We don’t need to rush.’
Laura followed the others through security, watching what they did and copying them. She hadn’t known to put liquids into small containers and transparent plastic bags, so most of her toiletries were confiscated.
‘Not to worry,’ Claire said cheerfully. ‘I’ve got shampoo and conditioner and we can always buy some more when we get there.’
In the end they got to the gate with five minutes to spare before boarding. Laura needed to rest but the seats were all taken, so she slumped to the floor with her back against the wall. Sarah sat down next to her.
‘You should check your suitcase in that metal stand over there, Ava,’ Sarah said. ‘It looks like it’s about to burst open. If it doesn’t fit in there, you’ll have to pay for it to go in the hold.’
Ava wheeled her suitcase over to the baggage sizer and as Sarah had predicted, it didn’t fit. Claire offered to take some of Ava’s clothes in her luggage.
‘You have to pack your own things,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s a safety thing. You’re not supposed to carry anyone else’s stuff.’ Everyone looked at her. ‘What? You’re not. Just saying.’
Claire and Ava ignored her, knelt on the floor and transferred some clothes from Ava’s suitcase into Claire’s. Sarah messed about on her phone. Laura resisted the temptation to take out hers and send a text to Mrs Doherty to ask after Harry. It had only been a few hours since she’d dropped off the cat at her neighbour’s.
And then it was time to board the plane. Laura’s stomach clamped in panic. By the time they’d got onto the plane and found their seats, she felt as if she were about to faint. Claire had to put her case in the overhead bin for her. Laura sat down, sandwiched between Claire and Ava. She fumbled with the safety belt – it seemed complicated and her hands were shaking.
‘Is something the matter?’ Ava asked as she deftly attached and adjusted hers.
Helping Laura with the seatbelt, Claire replied for her, ‘She’s never flown before.’
‘Away on!’ Ava exclaimed, then added, ‘Sure, the pilot can’t be worse than that buck eejit bus driver.’
Laura tried to grunt her agreement, but it came out as a sort of squeal.
‘The plane’s the safest means of travelling, so it is,’ Claire said, patting Laura’s hand.
‘There’s a first time for everything,’ Sarah said from across the aisle. There was no one next to her, but some passengers were still standing, stowing luggage or waiting for someone to sit down so they could get to their seats.
‘Do you want the window seat?’ Ava asked.
Laura managed to shake her head and force a smile.
‘You should never swap seats on a plane,’ Sarah piped up again.
‘Why not?’ Ava asked, leaning forwards to look at Sarah.
‘Well, in case the plane crashes and they have to identify the bodies.’
Laura blanched.
‘Not helpful, Sarah,’ Claire said.
‘What? It’s true.’
A large man put an end to their conversation as he lifted his suitcase to put it in the locker above Sarah’s seat. Claire nudged Laura and nodded in his direction. They observed him as he shrugged off his jacket. Laura could see huge wet patches under his armpits as he raised his arms again to cram his jacket on top of his case.
‘Um, I’m in the middle,’ he said, turning round to Sarah, who got up and squeezed past him into the aisle to let him get to his seat. As the man wedged himself into the seat next to her, Sarah turned towards the others, wrinkling her nose and waving her waving her hand in front of it.
As Sarah sat down again, Ava said to Laura, ‘I bet she wishes she could swap seats now.’
That made Laura laugh in spite of the kittens tumbling around in her tummy.
Shortly after everyone had boarded, Laura heard the thrumming of the aeroplane’s engine and felt it vibrate through her. She was suddenly cold and regretted putting her cardigan in the overhead locker. She rubbed the goose pimples along her arms. With her eyes glued to the flight attendant, she hung on his every word during the safety demonstration, wondering why no one else was paying attention.
They were several rows away from the nearest emergency exit, which did nothing to reassure Laura. By the time the flight attendant got to the words brace! brace!, Laura had freaked out. Her mind conjured up images of masked hijackers, crashing aeroplanes, inflatable yellow slides, and black boxes sinking to the bottom of the Irish Sea. As the plane accelerated along the runway, Laura gripped the armrests so tightly her knuckles turned white. Claire placed her hand on Laura’s arm.
Once they were airborne, it got worse. The plane turned abruptly, tipping to such an angle that Laura could see the ground out of Ava’s window. She closed her eyes, convinced they were going to flip upside down. The plane continued its ascent, but the higher it climbed, the bumpier it got. Laura wanted to ask Claire what was happening, but the words got stuck in her throat.
But Claire seemed to sense her unease. ‘It’s OK, Laura. It’s just a wee bit of turbulence,’ she said.
Laura wasn’t convinced, but the plane gradually righted itself and once it was cruising horizontally and had stopped bouncing up and down, she began to relax.
Until there was a strange ding. ‘What was that?’ It came out as a whisper and Laura was surprised she’d been heard over the noise of the plane.
‘It’s to let you know you can take your seatbelt off,’ Ava said, pointing at the sign above their heads.
‘Why would I want to do that? I’ll never get it back on again.’
Ava laughed. ‘You can go for a wander.’
‘Wander where?’
‘Well, the toilet, for example.’ In a more serious tone, Ava added, ‘You know what your problem is?’
An unbidden image of her mother’s face flashed before Laura’s eyes. That was a question Noreen asked Laura often, and there were various possible answers to it. You’ve no self-confidence / dress sense / common sense or you’re always gurning / talking / thinking about yourself.
Declan had recently asked Laura the same thing. ‘Do you know what your problem is?’ She’d shaken her head and waited for him to enlighten her. ‘Your mother,’ he’d said.
‘You need to get out more,’ Ava finished, folding her cardigan to use as a makeshift pillow.
Laura forced herself to chuckle. ‘Yeah, I know. I’m not very good with people, though.’
‘What on earth makes you think that?’ asked Claire, who had been listening in on the conversation. Laura shrugged. ‘That’s so not true,’ Claire said. ‘You’re brilliant with those kids when you do Rhythm and Rhyme at the library. You were really patient with that old man the other day, even though he was very rude, and a lot of our regular readers specifically want you to recommend books for them.’
Laura didn’t know what to say to that and the three of them were silent for a while. She glanced at Sarah, who was asleep. After a few minutes, Laura could hear Ava snoring. She suddenly felt tired herself. She’d got up early this morning and now her anxiety was dispersing, it was taking her energy with it. As the plane began its descent, Laura nodded off, only to wake up a few minutes later with a jump as it landed.
As soon as the four of them stepped off the plane, the heat hit them. They walked towards the terminal building, wheeling their suitcases. The pilot had told them there was a slight breeze in Lyon, and Laura had assumed this would feel refreshing, but she felt as if she were surrounded by people, all aiming hairdryers on full blast at her.
‘Oh my God. My clothes are sticking to me already,’ said Sarah, flapping her T-shirt away from her with her free hand.
Once inside, they followed the signs for the Douanes – passport control – and soon stepped outside into the intense heat again.
‘Shall we get a taxi?’ Sarah suggested. They’d been planning to take the tram into Lyon. ‘It won’t cost much if we split it four ways and there’ll be air conditioning in the car.’
‘Good idea,’ Claire said.
Laura heaved a sigh of relief. The journey had been a total nightmare so far. There had been no end of obstacles along the way – Claire had almost missed the bus; they’d all nearly missed the plane. The bus ride and the flight had both been horribly stressful. But here they were. They’d arrived safely in Lyon, all four of them.
As she got into the cab, she felt anticipation and excitement flow through her body, even though it was sweating profusely. The worst bit was over. Or at least, Laura hoped it was.
Chapter 8
THE DAY BEFORE THEY DIED
Laura
Laura lay wide awake, her earplugs not quite blocking out the snores coming from the other twin bed. She’d always been a light sleeper and she couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t spent the night in her own bed. She’d not slept well and she didn’t feel particularly energized. She did, however, feel hungry.
A tempting smell of coffee was drifting its way towards her from the kitchen of the aparthotel. Or perhaps it was her imagination. Laura threw off the sheet and tiptoed out of the room so as not to wake Ava.
Claire and Sarah were both up already. Claire was sitting on a bar stool, dressed in denim shorts and a grey tank top. Sarah, who was still in her nightie, was fiddling with a coffee machine.
‘Morning. Come and have some brekkie,’ Claire said. ‘I’ve been to the bakery and bought some croissants and pains au chocolat. And some of these bright pink praline brioches. Some sort of local speciality, apparently. Hopefully they taste better than they look. The lady in the bakery spoke a bit of English, luckily, although she didn’t seem to understand a word I was saying.’
‘Oh? Did you try out your GCSE French on her?’
‘No.’ Claire chuckled. ‘I just repeated everything more loudly in English. I think it was the Norn Iron accent that threw her.’
Laura laughed.
‘I’m making coffee,’ Sarah announced unnecessarily, without turning round. ‘Milk’s that UHT stuff. Bloody disgusting. So we’re having black coffee instead of tea. When in Lyon and all that.’
By the time Ava emerged, Claire and Laura were poring over a map of the city of Lyon and the guidebook, planning their day’s sightseeing. Sarah was checking bus, tram and tube routes on the Internet on her phone.
‘The basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourvière is a must-see,’ Claire said.
‘We could take the funicular,’ Sarah suggested.
‘Why don’t we walk?’ Claire said. ‘You can go through the Rosary Gardens, it says here. It would be nice to go for a wee dander after all that travelling yesterday.’
Laura thought if it was going to be as hot as yesterday, they’d be better off taking the funicular, but she kept that to herself.
‘Sounds good,’ Ava said, her mouth full of croissant.
Sarah googled La Voie Lactée, the arena in the seventh arrondissement where The Naturals were performing their gig the following evening. ‘La Voie Lactée means the Milky Way,’ she said, reading from her phone. ‘It has a capacity of fifteen thousand – that’s massive! It opened as a concert hall in 1985, but it was previously used as a hospital during the Second World War and an armoury in the 1920s. The original building opened in 1910 as a cattle and pig market and a slaughterhouse.’
‘Yuk!’ Ava exclaimed.
Laura’s imagination created a graphic scene of row upon row of pig carcasses hanging upside down on huge metal hooks and dead cows lying on a bloodstained concrete floor. She shuddered, dispersing the image.
The walk up to the basilica turned out to be less of a “wee dander” and more of an uphill hike. Thankfully, it was in the shade, but it was hot even so, and they were all sweating liberally by the time they were halfway up. Laura’s right knee was throbbing, although she put on a brave face and said nothing of her discomfort to her friends.
The panoramic view from the top made the climb well worth it. They could see for miles – as far as Mont Blanc. And inside the basilica, it was cool. Laura was struck by how sumptuous and ornate everything was. The walls with their mosaics and gold leaf, the colourful stained-glass windows. You could probably enter this building every day for the rest of your life and still notice a detail you’d never picked out before.
Ava dipped her fingers in the font and crossed herself with the holy water. No one said anything. Laura had known Ava was Catholic. Her name was Irish for a start and she wore a gold necklace with a crucifix pendant. Sarah was a Protestant. Laura didn’t know what Claire was – she didn’t know which part of Belfast she lived in or which school she’d gone to. Her surname – Quinn – didn’t give anything away. Laura didn’t care either way. Here she was, on holiday with her friends, and religion had never been an issue between them. In fact, they’d never discussed it. But it had mattered a lot more when Laura’s parents were her age.
When Laura’s father had announced to his parents that he was going to marry Noreen, they’d disowned him, and so Laura had never met her paternal grandparents. She wasn’t even sure if they knew she existed. They’d never forgiven her father for marrying a “Taig” – a Catholic.
Laura’s mummy had taken her to mass when she was younger; her daddy had taken her to Orangemen marches. Northern Ireland was a very different place when Laura was a small child. The two religions could coexist now, but they’d caused a lot of damage to many Northern Irish families during the Troubles, including Laura’s. A lot of damage and a lot of death.
Laura couldn’t go there. She dismissed her thoughts before they got too dark, before she upset herself thinking about her father’s untimely death. Instead, she forced herself to listen to Sarah who was reading aloud from an online guidebook she’d brought up on her phone as the four of them walked around the basilica.
Afterwards, they visited the Roman amphitheatre, then walked down the hill to Le Vieux Lyon, the old quarter, to get a beer before going back to their aparthotel. They’d had a lovely day. The only thing that marred their enjoyment was the heat. They drank litres of water and walked in the shade, but the heat was oppressive. It was like being in a sauna, except you couldn’t come out and jump into a cool pool or dive under a cold shower. They didn’t walk all that far, but Laura felt drained.
It was as they were sitting at a table in the shade in a charming cobbled square that Laura heard it. A Northern Irish accent. And then another. She turned round and looked behind her. And then she saw them. The four men were sitting at the table behind her. She gestured over her shoulder.
‘Oh my God. It’s The Naturals,’ Ava exclaimed, loud enough for the members of the band to hear. Sarah spluttered on her beer.
‘I’m Ava,’ she said, getting up and reaching across the table to shake their hands.
Claire coughed.
‘Oh, and these are my friends Claire, Sarah and Laura.’
‘I’m Niall, the lead singer.’
Ava rolled her eyes, which made Laura giggle. It might be obvious to Ava, but Laura didn’t know the names of the members of the band. Apart from Connor.
‘This is Rich, our guitarist and my backing vocalist,’ Niall continued. Laura looked at Rich, who had tight blond curls and tanned arms. ‘This is Tom. He’s our drummer.’ Tom was tall with a receding hairline and a nice smile. ‘And last but not least our bass guitarist and my best mate, Connor.’
Having dispensed with the introductions, they pushed their tables together. Laura ended up next to Connor. As he sat down again, she got a whiff of his aftershave – a pleasant citrusy, musky scent. Thinking she was probably giving off a rank smell by now, Laura tried not to sit too close to him.
Niall did most of the talking, and he was the main topic of conversation. Ava acted like an overexcited groupie, taking photos of them with her phone, asking them for their autographs and trying to wangle backstage passes, all of which amused Laura and seemed to please Niall no end.
‘So, yous have come all the way over to Lyon to see our gig, then?’ Connor asked Laura.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We got here yesterday. We’re staying for a week. I’ve seen you play before, actually. A long time ago. In The Dirty Onion. I was with my cousin, Declan.’
‘Declan. Of course. I remember now. I knew I’d seen you before! I didn’t dare say it in case it sounded like a cheesy chat-up line!’
They laughed at that. Connor was easy to talk to and as they chatted together, Laura tuned out the others and almost forgot they were there. She no longer felt the heat, either.
Niall paid for another round of beers.
‘So, are you nervous about tomorrow?’ Laura asked.
Connor, who had been upbeat until then, didn’t answer for a few seconds. A cloud passed over his face. ‘I’m terrified,’ he said.
‘Well, I suppose it’s normal to get nervous before you go on stage,’ Laura said. ‘And it’s a big arena.’
‘Aye, I do get stage fright – we all do,’ he said. ‘There’s always a lot of adrenaline and it’s not such a bad feeling. But this time, I feel like … I don’t know … it’s daft … It’s more than that this time.’
‘How so?’
‘Och, it’s pathetic. I think I’ve got myself worked up or perhaps the heat has gone to my head. I just don’t feel good about this concert.’ He shrugged. ‘I can’t explain it.’
‘I think I know what you mean,’ Laura said. ‘I felt like that on the plane. It was the first time I’d flown, and I imagined all sorts of things going wrong – the plane crashing, hijackers on board, you name it, it went through my mind. But all my worries turned out to be unfounded. We landed safely. It will be fine, you’ll see. I’m sure you’ll be grand.’
‘Thank you,’ Connor said, sounding sincere. ‘You’re right. I’m panicking over nothing.’ He smiled at Laura, but it didn’t reach his lovely blue eyes.
Chapter 9
THE NIGHT THEY DIED
Laura
They all agreed that the musicians playing for the opening act were pretty “meh”, as Claire put it. Whenever the lead singer of the French band sang into the mic, high-pitched feedback filled the auditorium. To his credit, he carried on regardless.
‘I hope they get the sound system sorted out before The Naturals come on,’ Sarah shouted over the music.
Laura was more concerned about going for a pee before The Naturals came on. Sarah had wanted to be as near to the stage as possible and had insisted on them all arriving at the arena an hour and a half before the doors opened. They’d waited at the front of the queue in the still-blazing evening sun, taking it in turns to sit in pairs in the shade of the plane trees along the boulevard. Laura must have drunk nearly a litre of water and they’d bought a plastic beaker of beer each when they’d got in.
