by Lisa Sell
I tried to be friendly to her. On the rare occasions I was in her house, I offered to help with chores or looking after Benny. She viewed it as an attack on her domestic skills, declaring not everyone had it as easy as those on Renoir Road. I couldn’t confess I’d rather have her as a mum. Rose was lazy and occasionally on the wrong side of the law but she loved her children without question.
I took one for the team and phoned her.
My ears are still ringing from Rose’s convincing imitation of a banshee. I was informed I’d always been a stuck-up tart like my mum, was asked why I upset Johnny, and where the hell did I get her number? In closing, she warned me to stay away from her family or else. It’s what I expected. I didn’t get the opportunity to ask if she and Rob were still together.
Claire had the tasks of contacting Ian and Benny. We spent an afternoon trawling through the Internet as we’re aware, barring Johnny, you don’t approach a Rose or Morgan without ammunition. An article from 1992, reporting Benny’s disappearance, was upsetting. After reading the Buckinghamshire newspaper archives, we learned he’d never been found. Anniversary reports in the first few years revived the story. After, Benny became a memory and no longer news. Perhaps this explains Rose’s harshness on the phone. Maybe speaking to someone who reminds her of back then, when Benny was still around, is too painful. He was the centre of the family. Even Anthony and Ian softened around their little brother. Rob and Rose adored Benny. I cannot contemplate how it affected Johnny. Benny was Johnny’s shadow. I wish I’d been there to support Johnny, but maybe Benny wouldn’t be missing if Johnny hadn’t seen me hurt Kelly, and then his family moved away. No. I won’t take the blame for this too. This isn’t about me.
Benny’s disappearance makes me think of Mandy. She’s in her late thirties. I can’t imagine what she looks like. Is she married? Does she have children? Did her life turn out well? As soon as we find out what happened to Kelly, I’ll try to reconcile with Mandy. I need to fill the missing part of me.
Ian was his old offensive self when Claire called. Rose had prepared him as he lives with her. None of the records Claire collated showed him as being resident there, confirming Ian is still shady. Before Claire could ask a single question, he warned us to stay away from his family or we’d find ourselves cut into small pieces. Claire brushed it off. In her line of work, it’s nothing she hasn’t heard before.
I struck gold with Anthony if that means being told he couldn’t refuse such a stunner. He scorned how Rose and Ian said he mustn’t talk to us. No one tells him what to do. I’m meeting with him for a chat. He said he’d rather talk in person.
Anthony made me want to take a shower after being near him, to wash off the filth of his stare. Even though I was a kid, he mentally undressed me and remarked upon my “hotness”. Johnny always defended my honour. Anthony’s references to how we must be having sex embarrassed us. His crudeness was another reason to avoid their house.
Anthony will learn he’s no longer dealing with a timid girl. Much has happened since we last saw each other. Jen Taylor has grown up. I’m ready to face him.
56
Present
The car park of The Weary Ox is full of pimped-up BMWs, motorbikes, fat exhausts, and, oddly, a new Fiat Panda. My Astra doesn’t stand out, which helps when you’re already feeling conspicuous. Anthony chose the renowned ropey pub for our meeting place. It’s on the Burtonfields Estate, Oxford’s hotspot of crime, and where Anthony lives.
I assured Claire that coming here on my own is fine. She was torn between investigative duties and attending Matty’s drama club’s play. I’m a stickler for parents not disappointing their kids. Even if Matty was backstage, Claire should be there. Her daughter has a main part so Claire has no excuses. Seb avoided it due to a client’s financial disaster. Claire joked about marrying a geeky accountant, bitter at having to endure the musical alone. I promised to call if Anthony got out of hand. I scroll to her number, making sure it’s ready if needed.
Anthony plays on a fruit machine while gulping a pint. A bullmastiff lies on its back next to him. I hope it’s friendly as I stopped being a dog lover when I was bitten by one. On a rare occasion of Mum’s parents visiting, they brought their Jack Russell. The snappy thing growled throughout and when I hugged Nan goodbye, it bit my shin. I still have a scar where Pixie took a chunk out of my leg.
Anthony’s dog is more interested in sleeping than attacking. Its owner could learn from his mutt. The notion that pets resemble their owners holds true. Anthony is built like the proverbial brick outhouse. He was always chubby, but now he’s really stacked on weight. His hard man image remains with the close-shaven haircut. The ill-fitting suit is a strange choice. I approach, determined to be confident and in charge.
‘Out the way, Nuts. Lady coming through.’ Anthony nudges the dog with his foot.
Anthony points to a booth more suited for a date. I hope he doesn’t think this is a romantic meeting. The idea is so comical I pretend to get something from my bag under the table, to hide the amusement.
‘What are you having?’ Anthony’s grown into his gruff voice. As a teenager it sounded ridiculous.
I shift along the bench, away from the sticky patch, origin unknown and best it remains that way. ‘Lemonade please. I’m driving.’
‘Have a proper drink with me, for old time’s sake.’
To keep him happy, I agree to a small white wine, intending not to drink it. I haven’t broken my sobriety in a while and I’m certainly not going to do so for Anthony Rose. He returns from the bar and places a goldfish bowl glass on the table. He waits for me to sample the wine. As I fake taking a sip, I resist sucking in my cheeks. The smell confirms it’s more suited to being sprinkled on chips.
‘Nice?’ he asks.
‘Lovely.’ I hope there’s no trace of sarcasm. ‘Thanks so much for seeing me, Anthony. How are you?’
‘It’s Ant, remember? Let’s make it nice and friendly.’ He straightens his tie, covered in burlesque dancers. ‘Life is good. Your phone call was unexpected. I couldn’t believe you wanted to meet with me. You always preferred Johnny.’
I keep it professional. ‘Are you working at the moment?’
‘No. Why? Are you from social services?’
‘The suit. I thought you might’ve come straight from work.’
He sticks out his chest. ‘I scrubbed up, for you.’
Damn it. He does think we’re on a date. Do I continue so I can gather information or say I wouldn’t go near him if he were the last Neanderthal on earth? I decide for a variation of the former: be nice, don’t crush him, and find out what he knows.
‘That’s kind of you, Ant. But you needn’t have bothered.’
‘Like your men tougher?’ He winks. ‘I’m not a fan of suits either. Rough and ready is more my style.’
My mind is screaming “leave”, but I have to talk to him. ‘You said on the phone you knew what Rob was up to, the day Kelly died.’ I neglect to mention how he also said he’d only provide more information in person.
‘Why are you so interested in Rob?’ The offence taken at me talking about another man is noticeable.
‘I saw Priscilla Staines recently. She shared something interesting about him.’
He lets out a booming laugh. ‘That old slut? A few blokes I know in Troddington had a dose of the clap from her.’
‘I have no interest in male bravado regarding sexual conquests those men probably never had.’ Priscilla and I may not be friends but I won’t allow him to shame her.
He chuckles. ‘Look who got fancy with her words.’
‘Anyway.’ I steer it back, desperate to escape this oik as soon as possible. ‘Priscilla said Rob was having sex with Kelly and got her pregnant.’
I await Anthony’s indignation. Instead he almost chokes, trying to breathe through hysterics. ‘Are you having a giraffe? Rob wouldn’t have touched her if his todger depended on it. Priscilla didn’t mention how she was stalking Rob, then?’
>
I’d rather he was laughing than this hard-faced seriousness.
‘Priscilla posted cards through our letterbox, telling Rob she loved him. She even wrote her name on them, the dappy cow. Mum and Rob put up with it for a while. Then she began hanging around our gate. Rob told her to do one. He tore up the cards in front of her and she still kept on. It kicked off when Mum found a teddy bear under Rob’s pillow, with “Priscilla” sewn on it. I think it was just before Kelly died.’
‘What happened?’
Anthony swipes lager foam from his lip with the back of his hand. ‘After giving Rob grief and checking he wasn’t a kiddy fiddler, Mum marched round to the Staines’s house and had it out with Priscilla. It was classic.’ He sniggers.
I move along the bench, no longer caring about the stickiness if it means I have a rapid exit route.
‘The rest of us, apart from Johnny, joined Mum,’ Anthony says. ‘Priscilla’s mum blew her conkers. Priscilla said she asked Kelly to slip the teddy under Rob’s pillow when we were out. Kelly did it because no one ever noticed her. Mum threatened to whack Priscilla. Priscilla’s dad was ready to deck Rob for leading a young girl astray. Nobody got hit, more’s the pity. That nutter never went near Rob again.’
Johnny didn’t tell me this story. I expect he grew weary of sharing his family’s embarrassing escapades.
‘Why would Priscilla say that about Rob and Kelly?’ I ask. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘She’s lying, you stupid cow. Priscilla’s still bitter but it won’t do her any good anyway.’
‘Why?’
‘Rob’s dead.’
57
Present
‘I didn’t know about Rob. What happened?’ I ask Anthony.
‘Dickhead smashed his bike into a lorry on the opposite side of the road, back in 1993.’ Anthony remains impassive.
‘Sorry to hear it.’ The Roses have been through so much.
‘Don’t be. Rob was an arsehole. He was good for getting the drinks in but not a lot else.’ Anthony pulls the dog’s lead and Nuts lies on his feet.
I decide not to mention Benny’s disappearance. Anthony is riled enough already. ‘Do you know where Rob was the day Kelly died? Priscilla said he was lingering by the train track around the same time Kelly was there.’
‘For a brainy bird, you can be so dumb. Priscilla’s trying to get Rob into trouble. That’s sick, doing that to a dead bloke.’
I worry I may have put Priscilla at risk. Anthony always settled scores. ‘Leave it, Anthony.’
‘I told you, it’s Ant. Don’t tell me what to do. If you must know, Rob was waiting for me. We were sloping off for a few pints. Then he took me to a strip bar in Oxford. There were tits and arse galore.’
I teeter on the end of the bench in response to the licking of his lips. ‘Why did you meet at the track?’
‘Out of respect for Mum.’ Ant’s frown relaxes. ‘She’d have lost the plot if Rob and I had left together and she found out I was going there. As for Rob, she would’ve made earrings out of his “nads”.’
‘Right.’ I need to move on from the strip club topic considering he’s looking at me like I work in one. ‘You don’t think there was any way Rob could’ve been the father of Kelly’s baby?’
‘You haven’t drunk your wine. That cost more than a pint, you know.’ He pushes it closer to me. ‘Apart from Rob not touching Kelly with a bargepole, he had the snip after Benny was born. Mum wanted more kids but he didn’t. He confessed when we were pissed and then threatened a slow death if I told Mum.’
This avenue is closed. ‘Thanks so much for your time. I must go as I’ve got an early start tomorrow.’
He grabs my wrist. ‘Finish your drink.’ Fanciful pretences disappear. This is the real Anthony Rose.
I move the glass aside and pull away from his grip. ‘I’m leaving, right now.’
‘Suit yourself,’ he grumbles.
Anthony moves to my side of the booth. My finger hovers over dialling Claire’s number and I’m ready to shout for help. Anthony clasps me into a smothering hug. Foul breath accompanies the whisper calling me a prick tease who stringed Johnny along.
The repressed anger of the last few weeks rushes to the surface. Anthony will not intimidate me further. I raise my knee, aiming – on behalf of the female race – to put him out of action. He performs a footballer dive, cupping his crotch. A crescendo of laughter ripples across the pub. I pick up my bag and step alongside him.
Through the pain, Anthony shouts, ‘You’re a stuck-up slag, like your mum! I had her once.’
I shake my head. Mum was many things, but she wasn’t blind.
…
I’m still laughing as I get into my car. Turning the key in the ignition, I relish speaking to Claire. Voicemail messages play as I drive. Claire asks if death by show tune is a thing because she’s approaching it. I chuckle and move on to the next message. It’s Priscilla.
‘Hello, Jen. Sorry I was off when we met. Seeing you two looking so good and having done well made me feel crappy. I’m just a waitress, lugging bags of rubbish outside at the moment. My life is rubbish too. It’s time to tell you the truth.’ She pauses. ‘Oh, shit. You’re here. I didn’t know we were meeting today.’
I can hear rustling and a muffled male voice.
Priscilla returns. ‘Stop calling me. I’m not interested in making an accident claim. Goodbye.’
Why did she end the call when she was ready to share something? She sounded terrified.
I try to phone her throughout the evening. An announcement the number isn’t available is the only reply. My unease turns to horror when Claire appears on my doorstep, at 4am.
Priscilla is dead.
58
9th October 1987
Charlie Pullen teased and harassed Kelly for years. Everyone was convinced of his hatred. In trying to conceal his crush, Charlie shifted too far in the opposite direction. The attraction to the girl many loved to hate scared him, but the time for waiting was over. He needed to declare his feelings for Kelly and ignore others’ opinions.
Charlie accepted he wasn’t a catch. Numerous takeaways increased his girth. Since his mum left, a house of males led to little housekeeping and poor nutrition. His dad’s nickname, Porky, was apt for a man who thought nothing of eating a double portion of fish and chips, washed down with lager. Trying to be healthy, Charlie once made a salad for dinner. Porky called him a poof as limp as the offensive lettuce on the plate.
Charlie realised he wasn’t attractive but figured it meant he was suited to Kelly. They held their attributes inside rather than relying on an outer veneer. Her kindness to others moved him. When he insulted her, she never retaliated. Kelly was a lady, reminding him of his mum’s gentle manner. Charlie wished his mum, Annette, was still around to ask for advice.
Weary of being married to a slobby alcoholic with a volatile reputation, Annette left Porky in 1985. Her letter, blaming Porky’s slovenly ways for her decision, offered little comfort for Charlie and his brother, Glen. Annette’s prolonged absence confirmed she’d left them too. The last they’d heard, she lived with an ex-criminal in Abingdon. A man from the pub told Porky, who shared the news with his sons, triumphant at not being the only crap parent.
Glen took Annette’s departure hard and made all females the enemy. At twelve, he swore off the opposite sex for life. It wouldn’t last long. Charlie didn’t hate women, not even Annette. He planned to find her and move in. The only obstacle was never seeing Kelly again.
Charlie held his unrequited love tight. If Porky or Glen found out, their mocking would reach a new level of nastiness. For sport, they often ridiculed the estate’s residents. Charlie seethed when they discussed Smelly Kelly, a specimen so ugly you’d have to put a bag over her head to kiss her. To avoid suspicion, Charlie joined in and continued as Kelly’s chief bully. It had backfired. Convincing her of his worthiness would be difficult, especially after overhearing her confession the previous day.
&n
bsp; …
Seeing Kelly and Priscilla sitting on the bench outside the shoe menders was unexpected. Charlie always tried to prepare for Kelly’s appearances. The girls’ conversation caught his attention. He hovered near the bin, swinging his dad’s shoes by their laces and casting glances at his watch as if waiting for someone. Priscilla gave him suspicious looks, unconvinced of the subterfuge.
As Kelly chatted, Charlie beamed. He loved hearing her voice even though she talked for England and a few other countries. For a supposed thicko, Kelly spoke well. Charlie worked on his speech every evening, with an etiquette tape he’d found in a box Annette had left behind. He considered joining the girls to show off his enunciated vowels. Before he could move, Kelly dropped a bombshell.
Charlie stooped over the shoes that slipped from his grip. If he stood, Kelly would have seen his face. He swallowed hard, begging humiliating tears not to surface. When he rose, Kelly looked over. Her bitter stare pierced his heart on the way home.
Later, Charlie reasoned Kelly was afraid he knew her secret. He would show her his loyalty by offering to be her boyfriend and a father to her child. Fourteen was young but his intentions were honourable. Whoever had made Kelly pregnant didn’t sound reliable, from what Kelly told Priscilla. Charlie decided to find out the father’s identity so the Rose boys could get to work on him.
Soon, Kelly would understand Charlie wasn’t the enemy but someone who adored her. Soon, Kelly would be his, whatever he had to do to make it happen.
59
10th October 1987