by Suzy K Quinn
‘Danny will take you,’ says Michael. ‘He’s at the gate. Limo ready and waiting. Okay?’
‘Sure.’
Cat stumbles away, and Michael comes back to sit with me and picks up the guitar.
‘We’ve had a good day, right?’ he says. ‘Shall we leave things on a high and talk another time?’
‘Please, Michael.’
‘Did you see how upset Cat was? Do you get how heavy all this stuff is? I just can’t, Liberty. Another day, any other day. But not this day. Our perfect reunion day. I will remember this day for as long as I live. And I won’t have it ending with you upset.’
‘Can I stay here tonight, then?’
Michael looks up from the guitar. ‘Lorna will go crazy if you do that. I mean, like certifiably crazy.’
I look at my tanned feet in flip-flops, toenails painted black. ‘She already is crazy. Just … nobody admits it.’
We fall silent as Diane walks towards us carrying an earthenware plate of fresh focaccia bread sprinkled with rosemary and pink sea salt.
‘Liberty wants to stay the night,’ Michael tells her.
Diane tilts her head. ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’
‘Please don’t send me home,’ I say. ‘I can’t go back to my mother tonight. She’ll lock me up and throw away the key and then I’ll never see you again. Please. I’ve been without a father my whole life. I’ve only just got you back. I need more time. And I want to find out more about my mother. I don’t want to leave without knowing everything.’
Music plays from the stage – an acoustic version of ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go?’ by The Clash.
‘Irony,’ says Michael. ‘If you go there will be trouble. If you stay there will be double.’
Diane shivers in the night air. ‘Well, I’d love you to stay over, Liberty. We have the turret room made up for guests. I’ll can take you up there now if you like. It doesn’t seem proper for a man to do it, does it?’
‘Um … I mean, my best friend is a boy. He holds the toilet door with the broken lock for me sometimes. And he’s gone to the school office to get me tampons before. But okay.’
‘Well, you know what I mean,’ says Diane. ‘And I fancy heading in, too. I’m not much of a party animal. I’ll show you the room.’
Michael stands to give me a hug. ‘Night-night, sweetheart. It’s good to have you home.’
‘Will you stay up much longer, Michael?’ Diane asks.
‘You know how it goes, Diane. This lot won’t let me get to bed before midnight. But I won’t be later than that.’ He kisses her cheek.
Diane smiles. ‘Promises, promises.’
In the main house, Diane shows me to the turret room: a round room with a Johnny Rotten decal painted over a fake fireplace and bright white walls. I spend a moment looking at Johnny Rotten, following his lines and curves.
‘Cool picture,’ I say. ‘I love the Sex Pistols.’
‘One of Michael’s set painters did it,’ says Diane. ‘He has a talent for decals.’
The bed looks comfortable, made up with red sheets, and there’s a private bathroom and shower with towels and a basket of organic cookies. There’s also a bookshelf with a few Zen Buddhism books on it, one tattered Dicken’s novel and a book of Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales.
Diane follows my eyeline and goes to the bookshelf. ‘Ah. Someone asked about this one.’ She picks up the book of fairy tales. ‘I’ll bring it down.’
‘This is an eclectic mix,’ I say, looking at the books. ‘Asian spirituality, fairy tales and Dickens.’
‘Oh, Michael picks up all sorts of different books on his travels,’ Diane tells me. ‘I bet he hasn’t even read half of them. But at least if you can’t sleep, you can broaden your mind instead. We’ll have a chat over breakfast tomorrow, okay? And work out how to handle things going forward.’
‘You mean handle my mother?’ I say.
‘Yes.’ Diane hesitates in the doorway, then comes to sit beside me on the bed. ‘Look, I’m angry with Lorna. You may as well know. I’ll never forget what she did. But I’m Catholic. We believe in forgiveness. The aim is to move forward.’
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Anything, love.’ Diane rests the book in her lap and strokes hair from my face.
‘What do you think happened to Cat’s daughter? Annalise?’
‘How do you know about her?’
‘Old newspaper articles. When I was looking up stuff about Michael.’ I watch Diane closely. ‘And … my middle name is Annalise.’
‘God.’ Diane’s eyes widen. ‘Why on earth would Lorna … Oh, who knows with that woman. Never mind.’ She sighs. ‘I have no idea what happened to Cat’s daughter. She was a very sweet girl but a bit of a mess. I always thought perhaps a suicide, but they never found … you know, a body or anything. Cat’s whole rock and roll lifestyle certainly took its toll on the poor girl. It couldn’t have been easy being Cat Cannon’s daughter. Maybe she just wanted anonymity and is safe and well somewhere. It’s the happiest ending any of us could hope for.’
‘My mother says something really bad happened to Annalise,’ I say.
Diane shakes her head. ‘I don’t know about that. But I’ll tell you something. Lorna knows something she’s not letting on about that girl. You know what they say about mud slingers. They’re the dirty ones. And it’s odd that your mother gave you that middle name, to say the least. Like she has a guilty conscience.’
‘My mother says Annalise stayed here,’ I say. ‘With you and Michael.’
‘That was just Lorna pot-stirring, love,’ says Diane. ‘Divide and conquer. Cause trouble between Michael and Cat. Hell hath no fury.’ She meets my eye. ‘For what it’s worth, I never believed what Lorna said about Michael. Not for one second. Do you think I’d still be with someone who was capable of something like that? I’ve had Cat here in floods of tears. If Michael knew anything, he’d have told her. Lorna makes me out to be some shy little fawn, hanging on to my husband’s coat-tails. But I make my own money. I have my own clothing line business. I might not be Coco Chanel, but my jumpsuits are big sellers on the home shopping channels. If Michael was as awful as Lorna said, I’d have left long ago.’
‘So why does my mother believe Michael had something to do with Annalise’s disappearance?’
‘Honestly, I think Lorna lost her mind a little bit and has never put all the pieces back together.’ Diane lets out a long sigh. ‘Lorna … she was like some fatal attraction thing. The poor girl had this fantasy in her head. She made up a fictitious relationship. And then when it all went wrong, she convinced herself Michael was this evil abuser. Which I’m telling you now, he isn’t. Your mother hadn’t long recovered from cancer. She thought Michael was her fairy-tale ending. When it didn’t work out like that, well … as I said, hell hath no fury.’
‘Do you hate my mother?’
Diane twists her wedding ring. ‘Sometimes.’
I put my head in my hands. It feels weird that my hair isn’t long anymore. Usually it would tumble through my fingers.
‘Mum and I used to be best friends,’ I say. ‘I believed everything she said. But lately … I mean, it’s just a joke how overprotective she is. And now Nick has moved in, it’s chronic. Just so bad. Mum says something crazy and Nick is this nodding puppet going along with her. My head is all over the place. I don’t believe most of what Mum says anymore. And I sometimes hate Nick for being too stupid.’
‘It must be hard,’ Diane ventures. ‘When your mother … I mean, she’s not the most stable of characters. Sorry.’ She catches herself. ‘Well, at least you’ve got a port in a storm here now. If things get too terrible you can come and stay with us.’
‘Diane,’ I say, head flicking up. ‘How come you and Michael never had children?’
‘I always wanted to,’ says Diane, going to the door. ‘But after Lorna took you, Michael just didn’t want to go there. Too much pain. So we never did. You could say Lorna stole that
from us too. Our chance of having a family. But it’s okay.’ She manages a smile. ‘Maybe you can be our little girl. I know you’re nearly grown-up, but teenagers still need a bit of guidance. Right?’
‘I think I’m all guided out.’
Diane laughs. ‘We’ll be friends then. I can be your shoulder to cry on. Night-night, sweetheart.’ Diane’s hand lingers on the door. ‘You know, I’m happy you’re here. I’m sorry for saying that about your mother. It doesn’t reflect on you at all. Okay? Have a good sleep. If you get cold, you just turn the radiator up here.’
‘Okay.’
Michael and Diane are not what I expected. None of this is what I expected. I had hoped to have more answers by now. But one thing’s for certain – I’m not leaving here until I do.
Lorna
It’s 7 a.m.
Liberty’s been away all night.
I’m waiting at the Heathrow arrivals gate, pacing like a mad woman. Sleep is still a stranger.
All night. Liberty’s been there all night. In his house full of lies and hunting weapons.
Maybe she’s dead already.
I throw up into my takeaway Starbucks cup and look up at the Heathrow arrivals board.
The board flashes and my eyes flash with it, twitching.
Then I see my her – my sister.
Dee strides through the arrival gates like the commanding soldier in an army. She wears a bright red coat around her soft shoulders. Shiny calf-length black boots. Her hair is cut short, flecked with blonde streaks and she wears dangly Perspex earrings and glasses with green frames.
For a plus-sized woman, my sister has bold dress sense. Most larger women try to blend in, but not Dee. She’s not a blend-in person.
I throw my coffee cup into the trash (rubbish bin, Lorna) and walk towards her.
Dee’s face tenses when she sees me. ‘Oh, Lorna.’ She hugs me, pulling me into lavender-scented softness. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
I let myself fall apart, sobbing as my sister holds the pieces together. Then Dee lets go and finds my eyes with hers.
‘Liberty will come back. She just has to find her own way out of the woods. Okay? A leap of faith, huh? We have to trust our kids. She’s not stupid.’
‘Don’t you get it?’ I say. ‘He’ll be getting into her mind, twisting her thoughts. You know what he does, Dee.’
‘You knew this day would come. We both did. I could see it coming a mile off. You held on too tight to her and she ran.’
‘I tried to keep her safe,’ I say. ‘That’s all I ever did. I need a plan, Dee. He’s too clever. I’ve been coming at this like an angry bull, and it’s not the way. He sees me coming.’
‘We need breakfast,’ says Dee. ‘This is too upsetting on an empty stomach.’
‘Isn’t it like 2 a.m. your time?’
‘So call it a late dinner then. But who cares about me. You need breakfast. I bet you haven’t eaten. I had to practically force food down you as a kid.’
‘You know I can’t eat when I’m upset.’
‘Listen, I know how distressing this is for you,’ says Dee. ‘I know you never wanted to revisit the past. You nearly lost your mind back then. Honestly, Michael was worse than cancer for you. I thought you weren’t going to make it. But things are different now. You have this Nick guy. Your own business. A nice home. Liberty will get this out of her system and you’ll all be better for it – you’ll see.’
‘How can you be so calm? He’ll be telling her all sorts of things about me. How unhinged I am. A desperate groupie. And … the rest. All the rest. And then she’ll hate me and never want to come home. And he has guns at that place—’
‘Come on.’ Dee puts an arm around my shoulder. ‘You need to eat. And even if you don’t, I need to eat.’
‘We can’t—’
‘You said we need a plan, right? So let’s go make a plan.’
In the first-class lounge, we’re served poached eggs, mushrooms, roasted basil tomatoes, fruit and Buck’s Fizz – or mimosa, to use the American.
If Nick were here, he’d be measuring grams of protein.
When the mimosas are placed on the table, I feel Dee’s eyes on me.
‘I don’t want alcohol,’ I tell the waiter. ‘Thank you.’
‘Are you sure?’ Dee asks. ‘It might calm you down.’
‘No. I need to stay sharp.’
I choose to eat instead of drink. The food tastes of nothing, but I force it down. Dee is right – I’ll be no good to Liberty if I’m fainting from hunger.
‘Well done,’ says Dee. ‘This is just like when we were little, do you remember? Me making sure you finished your plate. You were so cute, always licking your plate clean.’
‘You were the best big sister/mother in the world.’ I look up. ‘When I was with Michael, he said you resented me. That anyone in your position would.’
‘Resent you? For what?’
‘You having to bring me up when you were still a kid yourself. Mom being the way she was. Turning our childhood into one big hippy love-in.’
‘A love-in?’ Dee laughs. ‘Where was the love? No, I never resented you at all. You were just a kid. I liked looking after you. You know how I am. A nurturer. And I don’t resent Mom either. She had us too young and didn’t want to miss the party. That’s the thing with having kids, isn’t it? It’s not a mistake you can take back.’
‘I would never change my time with Liberty,’ I say. ‘I’m so scared, Dee. That he’ll take her away from me.’ I start to cry. ‘Dee – how am I going to get her back?’
‘Okay.’ Dee cuts up little pieces of food in her neat, tidy way. She always takes so long to eat. It’s like a religious experience for her. ‘Well, you can’t go back to his house. That’s a definite no. You can’t get arrested.’
‘I need the police to believe me,’ I say. ‘If only they’d search his property. We just need proof—’
Dee gives me sad eyes. ‘There was no evidence. Nothing to make them search his grounds. In fact, it made them think you had something to hide. Remember?’ She raises an eyebrow.
‘I’ve got it.’ I click my fingers. ‘I’ll talk to Cat. She knows the truth about Michael and she’s clean now. Maybe I can ask her to go to the police again and they’ll believe her—’
‘Cat Cannon?’ Dee pauses, mid-forkful. ‘Annalise’s mother?’
‘Yes.’
‘When you say she knows the truth …’
‘She was the only one who believed me back then.’
‘If the police didn’t listen to Cat before, why will they believe her now?’ asks Dee.
‘Because she’s stone-cold sober these days,’ I say. ‘I saw an interview with her in the Guardian. Clean as clean. She’s even been ordained.’
‘She’s been what?’
‘Ordained. You know. Like a Buddhist monk type thing. She was in this article. Celebrities who found God. Except Cat didn’t find God. She found chanting.’
‘Cat Cannon? A Buddhist monk? Wow. You can just never guess how life is going to turn out, can you?’
‘You can say that again. I mean, look at me. I make monsters for a living.’
‘Well, I hope Cat’s finding peace. Isn’t it better just to leave her be? I mean, her daughter is gone. Life must be hard enough.’
‘She believed me about Michael,’ I say. ‘She knows her daughter stayed at the house.’
‘Does she know though? For certain? Can it be proved?’
‘She … not exactly. But she was on my side. She went to the papers with me. And the police.’
‘So if it can’t be proved …’
‘She knows Michael lies,’ I say, and I must say it loud because people turn to look at me. ‘He tells people we never had a relationship. That I was just some one-night-stand groupie. That I never went to his house. But Cat met me on tour. She saw I was more than just a one-night thing. Diane was talking to me like I was a total whore.’
I begin to hyperventilate.
‘Go to the police. Again. Tell them what I told her to say last time. Give it another try now she’s sober. Maybe they’ll believe her now she’s not on drugs.’
‘Maybe Michael did lie,’ says Dee gently. ‘To save his marriage. And maybe he lied about Annalise too. Maybe she was at his house and he didn’t want anyone to know he had a teenage girl hanging around. Because she was so young and there would be implications. He wanted to sign her, right?’
‘So he said.’
‘Michael might even regret lying now. He might wish he’d told the truth. But now he can’t back down without the police suspecting him of something sinister. And if he was honest about you, he’d ruin his marriage.’
‘He regrets nothing because he feels nothing.’
‘I don’t think you should contact Cat,’ says Dee. ‘She’s been through enough. For all you know, she might have forgiven Michael and made her peace with him. She’s probably trying to let things go.’
‘Like I should do, you mean?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You implied it. Look, Cat is the only person who ever called Michael out on anything. Everyone else is blinded by his magnificence. Too scared.’
Dee watches me with sad eyes. ‘Lorna,’ she says gently. ‘I’m not sure this is the best way forward. We’ve been here before, haven’t we? You trying to ruin his reputation.’
‘That’s not what I was trying to do. I was trying to make everyone see the truth.’
‘You weren’t trying to get your own back? Not even a little bit?’
I take a gulp of Americano, ignoring the burning.
‘It didn’t work,’ Dee points out. ‘Did it? It just made you look crazy.’
‘But I’m not crazy. I’m not.’
Dee puts a hand over mine. ‘I know, sweetie. I know. You’re past all that now.’
Liberty
It’s morning.