Tremarnock Summer

by Burstall, Emma

  ‘Did you bring more of them biscuits?’ he asked hopefully, and Liz reached mechanically into her handbag and fished out a packet.

  ‘For you,’ she smiled. ‘Make sure you share them with your brother and sister.’

  He grabbed them off her and ripped the packet open immediately, taking out the top biscuit and eyeing it reverentially before stuffing it in his mouth.

  ‘Is Shannon here?’ Liz asked and he mumbled ‘Yes’, indicating with his head towards the cottage behind.

  She took a deep breath and stepped inside, wondering how on earth to handle this unexpected turn of events and praying for strength and inspiration.

  ‘Shannon?’ she called, and the girl soon appeared at the bottom of the stairs, balancing her heavy youngest brother, Conor, on a hip.

  She was wearing a faded pink vest top with the same denim miniskirt that Liz had seen her in previously, and she was reminded of how pale and thin the girl was, with dark circles under her eyes and twig-like limbs that looked as if they might snap in the wind. Rosie was skinny, too, of course, but her hair shone and her big eyes flashed when she was joyful, whereas Shannon seemed worn out before she’d even really lived.

  Most of the folk around here were tanned during such a long, hot summer, and even Rosie, so pale by nature, had a golden glow, while Lowenna’s chubby arms and legs were nut-brown after spending many happy hours pottering around in the garden with Liz or on the beach. Shannon’s skin, on the other hand, was almost blue it was so white, as if she rarely set foot in the sunshine. Perhaps, like some nocturnal creature, she stayed indoors all day, only venturing out after dark.

  You would have thought she’d have wanted to set Conor down because he was so big, but instead she clung on to him as if needing him for ballast. Something in her expression, a mixture of defiance and fear, suggested to Liz that she’d already guessed what was in store.

  ‘What do you want?’ Shannon asked, shuffling the boy around to the front and refusing to meet Liz’s gaze. ‘We don’t want no visitors. I told you we’re all right.’

  They were still standing in the narrow, dingy hallway and she clearly had no intention of inviting Liz in. Doing her best not to appear daunted, Liz pulled back her shoulders and tried desperately to formulate some sentences in her head.

  ‘Well done for writing that nice letter to Barbara at The Lobster Pot,’ she said, for the landlady had made a point of showing her the apology that she’d received the morning after Shannon and her friends had been messing around outside the pub, stealing people’s drinks.

  The girl – clearly expecting punishment, not praise – narrowed her eyes suspiciously and failed to reply.

  ‘I’ve got a suggestion to make,’ Liz went on falteringly, fearing that at any second her courage might fail. ‘I don’t know if it’ll be your cup of tea but...’

  At that moment Conor started struggling so that Shannon had to set him on the floor. She tried to grab his arm, but he toddled off on unsteady feet towards the sitting room before she could catch him.

  ‘You’d better come in,’ she said grudgingly over her shoulder, following the boy, and Liz offered up silent thanks. She hadn’t been turned away – yet – and there might still be hope, if she could only find the right words, the best solution.

  Conor hunkered down beside a plastic toy train and pushed it across the grubby purple carpet, making driving noises, while Shannon knelt beside him. Liz, meanwhile, perched on the battered brown sofa, taking care to avoid the sunken side with broken springs. The half-closed beige curtains made the room gloomy and there were the remains of someone’s sandwich on a plastic plate beside the TV.

  ‘I know you like gardening,’ Liz began, before going on to explain that Bramble, the new incumbent of Polgarry Manor, needed help with clearing up her mammoth grounds and she wondered if Shannon would consider getting involved.

  ‘I don’t think she’ll be able to pay much, but it’s an exciting project and there’s masses to do. Bramble’s young and really good fun; I think you’ll like her. And it could be a great way of gaining experience and building your CV. I expect you could take the boys along with you, or I’d be happy to mind them for a few hours if you prefer. It would be no trouble. Lowenna would enjoy their company.’

  She glanced at Shannon, who looked doubtful, though she hadn’t rejected the proposal outright.

  ‘Why don’t you think about it?’ Liz persisted, reflecting that at the very least it would get Shannon out of the house, and it would be a change of scenery for the boys, too. What’s more, Bramble could certainly do with another pair of hands but had been reluctant to accept Liz’s offer of assistance. Perhaps a vulnerable teenager who needed a break would be more acceptable.

  ‘You could recommend some flowers for her beds,’ Liz coaxed, sensing that she’d captured Shannon’s interest, though she was trying hard not to show it. ‘Maybe we could get some books out of the library about typical plants they might have used when the manor was built?’

  ‘I don’t know nothing about history,’ Shannon responded uncertainly. ‘All I know is what I like and what looks pretty.’

  ‘Well, that’s an excellent start.’

  Conor trundled over to his pile of cars, lining them up in rows, and now that the atmosphere had thawed somewhat, Liz decided that it was time to broach the sensitive subject of Jean’s possessions.

  ‘Shannon?’ she said, mustering all her strength, and the girl, sensing a change of tone, glanced up warily. ‘Did you steal those flowerpots and that statue from Jean’s garden?’

  There was a sharp intake of breath and the air seemed to freeze over, but the question was out and there was nothing for it but to plough on.

  ‘Jean’s my friend and she bought that statue on holiday in Tenerife,’ Liz continued steadily, wishing that she had Robert with her for moral support, for right now this felt like the most difficult thing that she’d ever had to do.

  ‘I didn’t steal nothing,’ Shannon cried in a shrill voice that seemed to slice through the atmosphere like hot wire through ice. Her mouth was thin and hard, but she couldn’t disguise her guilt; it was written all over her face.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about... You’ve got the wrong person... They were a present from my mate; he saw them in this shop, see...’ she went on, piling excuse on excuse, each flimsier than a spider’s negligée.

  ‘She’s really sad about it,’ Liz continued, taking care not to raise her own voice. ‘She doesn’t mind so much about the pots – she can buy new ones of those – but the statue’s of great sentimental value. It really means a lot to her. She’s absolutely gutted.’

  Shannon stared hard at her fingernails, which had been painted blue but the polish had chipped and the nails were broken. Liz feared that she might bolt at any moment or, worse, lash out with her fists, but instead her eyes started to fill with tears.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked at last. ‘You won’t tell the police, will you? Please don’t. They’ll come up here and ask questions and say my dad can’t look after us and they’ll take the boys away.’

  She sounded absolutely terrified, and despite everything Liz couldn’t bear to crush her even further. Thinking on her feet, she came up with an idea that was bold and yet so startlingly obvious that it just might work.

  ‘Listen carefully,’ she said quietly, as if someone might be eavesdropping, ‘here’s what I propose. I won’t breathe a word to anyone...’

  Shannon’s eyes lit up, but Liz quickly doused the flames with cold water. ‘On one condition and one condition only,’ she went on fiercely. ‘And that is that you replace all the stolen items in Jean’s garden, the statuette and every last pot and bloom. You go back and undo the damage you’ve caused and make everything look exactly as it was before.’

  Shannon’s face fell. ‘How can I? Someone will see me. I’ll get nicked.’

  But Liz was having none of it. ‘You managed to get them up here without being spotted; God knows
how. You’ll just have to use the same method to take them back.’

  Shannon started to protest again, but Liz stood firm. ‘No ifs and buts. It’s the only way.’

  At last the girl nodded. ‘All right, I’ll do it. I’ll get Jerry to bring his van round. I’ll make sure your friend’s garden looks just as nice as it was before.’

  Liz clasped her hands together on her lap. ‘Good,’ she said, but she wasn’t done yet. ‘I want you to be completely honest with me. Did you do that graffiti on the public toilets, too?’

  Shannon flinched.

  ‘The broken window in the marketplace?’

  Her bottom lip quivered and she nodded her head.

  ‘The wheelie bin on the beach? The postcard stand?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Shannon said at last. ‘I know it was wrong...’

  ‘It’s got to stop,’ Liz insisted, feeling a mixture of relief and anger. ‘The whole village thinks another boy’s responsible for everything. He’s very upset, and it’s not fair on him and his family.’

  ‘I won’t do it again, I swear,’ Shannon blurted. ‘You won’t tell on me for that either, will you?’

  Liz frowned, uncertain how to proceed.

  ‘Please,’ Shannon begged. ‘I was with my mates. We were just larking around. We won’t go near the place again.’

  This time Liz didn’t hold back. ‘It was really stupid,’ she barked. ‘You caused that shopkeeper a lot of inconvenience, and the graffiti will have to be cleaned off by the council using taxpayers’ money that might have been spent on something nice for the whole community. I bet you’ve used those loos sometimes yourself. If people keep vandalising them, they’ll have to be closed, and then no one will have them any more. Actions have consequences, and you need to think before you do daft, destructive stuff. One of these days you’ll land yourself in real trouble – the courts or prison even.’

  She’d finished her lecture and her shoulders relaxed as she took a deep breath. Shannon, meanwhile, looked duly chastised.

  ‘Are you going to tell?’ she asked again, and Liz sighed.

  ‘I don’t want to, but to be honest I’m not sure what to do. The fact remains that that poor boy, Rafael, who’s only just arrived in England from Brazil, is being accused of something he knows nothing about. Now his uncles are saying they’ll have to sell up and move because of the rumours, which is really sad because they love Tremarnock and it’s been their home for years.’

  The girl bit her lip and frowned, as if she were thinking very hard, which didn’t come all that naturally. Then all of a sudden she sat bolt upright and clapped her hands.

  ‘I know!’ Conor looked up, surprised, before continuing with his game. ‘I’ll ring the shopkeeper and your friend Jean and the council, too, and I’ll tell them it was me who did all those things. I won’t give my name, but they’ll hear my voice and they’ll know it’s not him.’ She glanced at Liz. ‘Has he got an accent?’

  ‘A strong one, yes.’

  ‘Perfect. So I’ll sound completely different. No one really knows me there so they won’t recognise my voice. I’ll say I’m sorry and I’ll swear it’ll never happen again.’

  Liz pondered the idea for a few moments. It wasn’t a bad plan, but people might think Rafael had put someone up to it. There again, most folk were aware that he’d only just arrived and hardly knew a soul.

  ‘It might just work,’ she said, turning things over in her mind as she fished for the mobile phone in her bag. She was starting to scroll down her contacts list when a delicious notion popped into her head.

  ‘Hang on a minute...’ Instead of calling the council, Liz asked Shannon to ring Audrey. It was a bit naughty, but she couldn’t resist. After writing down the numbers, she instructed the girl to act soon, warning her that unless she kept to her word, the police would have to be informed. When she’d finished, she fixed Shannon with a steely stare to make sure that the message had sunk in.

  Liam wandered in from the garden, clutching the now almost empty packet of biscuits, and his little brother, noticing, raised his outstretched hands and set up a high-pitched wail. Liz rose, deciding that it was time to go, and promised to put Shannon in touch with Bramble about the gardening as soon as she’d fulfilled her mission.

  ‘I’ve never met anyone like you before,’ Shannon said, following Liz to the door. ‘You seem so...’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘So good.’

  Liz laughed. ‘You should see me in the morning before I’ve had my first cup of tea. My husband says he doesn’t dare speak to me! But seriously,’ she went on, ‘everything’s going to be OK – so long as you keep your side of the bargain.’

  16

  LIZ FELT TEN feet tall when she left the cottage, but as she drove home through the dusty lanes, replaying the conversation with Shannon and wondering what Robert would say, her spirits started to fail. If she’d followed his advice after the last community meal and called the local authority, they’d have been able to deal with all this, but instead she was in it up to her neck. The more she thought about it, the more worried she became, so that by the time Robert returned from work at midnight she was a bundle of nerves.

  ‘How come you’re still awake?’ he asked when he found the light on in their bedroom and his wife propped up against the pillows, pretending to read. He looked hot and tired but delighted to see her.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she explained, her heart pitter-pattering as he kissed her on the forehead, sat down beside her and started to unbutton his shirt. ‘I need to talk to you about something.’

  Sensing her anxiety, he put his arm around her, but before she was halfway through recounting her story, he rose and started to pace the room, shaking his head.

  ‘I can’t believe you didn’t discuss this with me,’ he groaned when she’d finished. ‘Don’t you know it’s breaking the law to cover up a crime? What if the girl messes up and the police find out it was you who persuaded her to do it? You’ll be in even more trouble than her.’

  Liz felt tears pricking in her eyes because she feared very much that it might be the truth.

  ‘I couldn’t shop her without giving her a chance to put everything right,’ she argued. ‘She’s not a bad person; she’s just a bit lost. She’s crying out for love and guidance, and the boys would suffer if she got punished. It might break the family up.’

  But Robert was having none of it. ‘It was wrong to interfere,’ he barked, staring down at his wife from his great height at the foot of the bed. ‘You’ve probably made everything much worse for that family.’

  He’d never shouted like that before – hardly ever raised his voice, in fact – and she feared that he might wake the children. A tear trickled down her cheek and plopped on to the open book on her lap.

  ‘What can I do?’ she asked, feeling stupid and scared. ‘I should never have gone to her house.’

  Robert knitted his dark brows and growled, but he couldn’t keep it up for long. At last his shoulders relaxed a little and he took a deep breath.

  ‘Oh, Liz, Liz,’ he muttered more softly, settling down beside her once more and passing her a box of tissues. ‘I know you meant well, but the whole thing could backfire horribly. I can’t just stand by and let that happen.

  ‘We’ll drive to Shannon’s place together first thing tomorrow and take her to the police station. At least then she’ll have our support. She’s young, so they’ll probably be lenient. She might even get off with a caution or a small fine.’

  Liz nodded, relieved that there might be a solution, but soon her mind was hurtling ahead again. ‘What if she refuses to come with us? What if she tries to run away?’

  Robert raised his palm. ‘You can’t solve all the problems of the world. You’re not Mother Teresa, you know. If that happens, we’ll go to the station on our own. I just hope for her sake that she’ll have more sense.’

  *

  It was a warm night, one of those evenings when you can’t bear to sleep under a duvet and even a sheet feels
too much. The weather forecasters had predicted thunderstorms the following day and you could sense it in the thick atmosphere, the air of foreboding.

  Liz dozed fitfully, and most people had left their bedroom windows open, desperate to catch the slightest breeze, but still no one heard a van pull up on Humble Hill and a small group of youngsters, laden with weighty items, tiptoeing in the direction of the cottage called Dynnargh. Perhaps it was the hour – around three thirty a.m. – or maybe it was the lulling swish of the distant waves creeping up and down the beach that muffled other sounds. In any case, only seagulls and the odd cat witnessed the miraculous transformation taking place in Jean’s front garden, so that in the morning, when she went outside with her cup of tea to do a spot of watering, she rubbed her eyes, wondering if she were still dreaming.

  Liz woke to the sound of a loud hammering on the front door and jumped in fright, instantly remembering yesterday’s events, and when Robert called upstairs to say that Jean wanted to speak to her, she was tempted to pull the duvet over her head or climb out of a back window and dash for the hills.

  But scarpering wasn’t an option, so she braced herself and padded reluctantly downstairs, to be met in the hallway by an extremely overexcited Jean.

  ‘Come out!’ she cried, tugging on the sleeve of Liz’s dressing gown. ‘You have to come this instant!’

  She sounded amazed rather than angry, but there was no time for questions because she was soon yanking Liz down the hill while Robert followed close behind. There was a slight chill in the air as it was still early, but Liz was in such a state of anxiety and confusion that she scarcely noticed.

  ‘Look,’ Jean said, coming to an abrupt halt outside her house. ‘It’s magic!’

  Liz gazed at the garden and soon a warm glow, like melted chocolate, spread through her body from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, and she breathed in deeply, hoping to capture the feeling for ever. There, in front of her, in exactly the same position as before, was the metal statuette of the boy on the bicycle, his basket still brimming with colour and his face flashing, she could swear, a new, impish grin. Dotted around him were assorted summer flowers in terracotta pots and, to her great relief and pleasure, the display looked just as vibrant and jolly as before. In fact, nothing might ever have been stolen; everything was just as it had been. She’d never imagined in a million years that Shannon would act so quickly, or that she’d do such a great job.