Little Girls Tell Tales

by Rachel Bennett

  I frowned. ‘Not as far as I’m aware.’

  ‘In that case, your brother is being unnecessarily dramatic. He fell over into some leaves.’

  ‘Hey, something I should’ve mentioned before we set off,’ I said, ‘but this place is a nature reserve.’

  ‘Yes, we know.’

  ‘So you should be careful where you put your feet. One of my neighbours just stopped to ask why we’re trampling around. She’s very worried about the rare flowers.’

  Cora tilted her head. ‘Did you tell her why we’re here?’

  ‘I mentioned it, yes.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Just that we should be careful of the flowers. And the nesting birds.’

  Cora tapped her pencil against her teeth. ‘Does she remember the day you found the body?’

  ‘She only moved here a few years ago. All she’s heard is the story from everyone else.’

  ‘Who would’ve told her?’

  I shrugged. ‘Everyone in this area knows about it, even if they weren’t here at the time. I used to tell anyone who asked. I even had a few people from magazines phoning up, asking if I wanted to sell my story. My mum told them all to go jump in the sea.’

  Cora still looked thoughtful. ‘So, is there anyone who might remember the event first-hand? Anyone who joined in the search?’

  ‘Nicole and Patrick. They live at the farm down the road. They were there that day.’ It was Nicole who’d given me the packet of biscuits and told me to eat as many as I wanted. ‘Do you want to talk to them too?’

  Cora nodded. ‘If possible, yes.’

  ‘I can ask. I don’t know what good it’ll do you. They didn’t see the skeleton or anything. All they saw was a hysterical little girl.’

  ‘Yeah, but how long have they lived at the farm?’

  ‘Decades. Nicole’s family has owned the land for generations. Why?’

  ‘Because,’ Cora said, ‘that means they were living here when Simone went missing.’

  I frowned. ‘So?’

  ‘If Simone did come here, someone might remember her. And if someone left her body in the curraghs—’ Her voice tightened around the words. She cleared her throat. ‘They might’ve been spotted. The locals around here could know more than they realise.’

  I’d never thought to ask myself how the body ended up in the wetlands. It could’ve been an accident – some horrible, unpredictable accident that killed the girl and left her to lie forgotten forever – but if it wasn’t … if someone had taken her there deliberately …

  In fifteen years, I’d never fully wondered whether the girl in the curraghs might’ve been murdered.

  ‘If the locals knew anything,’ I said carefully, ‘don’t you think they would’ve said something by now?’

  ‘No one ever bothered to question them, because no one connected Simone’s disappearance to the body you found. So maybe we just need to jog the right person’s memory.’

  ‘It’s a longshot.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Cora said. There was no anger behind her words; it was a simple statement of fact. ‘Everything we’re doing is a longshot.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll phone around and see if anyone remembers anything.’

  ‘Thank you. What about your mum?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I don’t know anything about her. This is a whole aspect that Dallin didn’t see fit to share with me. She was living here when you found the remains, right? And for a while previous to that?’

  ‘That’s right. She moved here five or six years earlier.’ I wasn’t sure I liked where this was going.

  ‘So, she might know something,’ Cora said. She was staring off into the trees as if seeing something no one else could. ‘She might’ve seen my sister, even if she doesn’t remember.’

  ***

  On days when Ma and Da fought, the house would shake like it was under bombardment. Me and you would barricade ourselves in our room. You would pull the duvet off the bed and make a protective nest for us both.

  ‘Tune it out, Cora,’ you’d say.

  We’d lie with our heads close together, both watching the ceiling tremble with the force of slammed doors downstairs. We knew to keep quiet. The wrath of the storm would blow past if we kept our heads down long enough.

  ‘We’re stronger than them,’ you’d say.

  But sometimes we weren’t fast enough to outrun the storm.

  You were out of the house when a particularly bad one hit. Weren’t answering your phone, so I couldn’t even warn you. You walked into the middle of it, and our ma rounded on you like you were the root cause of everything.

  Two nights later, you said, ‘It’s you and me against the world.’

  During the calm, it was different. You lost your tolerance for me. I was a hinderance, an annoyance; your tag-along shadow always getting under your feet. Tempers flared between us – minor squalls in comparison to our parents’, not enough to rattle the house. I don’t know why I infuriated you so much.

  More than once, I found myself wishing for another storm between our parents, just so you would shut the bedroom door, drag down the blanket, and talk to me like a person. Like a fellow survivor. Even though the storms left me shaken and sick, still I craved those rare moments of closeness with you.

  ‘They can’t keep me here forever,’ you’d say.

  And I’d wonder what it would take to make you stay.

  Chapter 8

  I couldn’t face going into the curraghs again that afternoon. Just the morning had exhausted me. I’d always assumed I was in fairly good shape, but eighteen months of nothing more strenuous than walking up and down the stairs had apparently depleted whatever reserves I’d had. I was used to taking my time. When was the last time I’d had to run to anyone’s schedule but my own?

  The argument with Dallin definitely hadn’t helped. I’d waited until I saw him emerging from the trees before I got in my car and drove off. Just to make sure he hadn’t got himself lost or fallen into a bog. It was weird how I hadn’t thought about him for so long – not to wonder where he was or if he was okay or anything – and now he’d unexpectedly come back into my life, I’d fallen into my old fretful routine. Like somehow I was responsible for him.

  It was something I’d picked up from our dad. Whenever Dad talked about Dallin, it was always in terms of concern. ‘I worry about that boy,’ he would say. ‘Cooped up in that house.’ Dad never quite got over Dallin’s insistence on living with Mum. Maybe I didn’t either.

  I stopped myself looking in the rear-view mirror more than once as I drove away.

  Back home, I automatically checked the doormat, but no more letters had arrived. Thank God. Sometimes they arrived in scutches – four or five in the space of a week. Other times, a full month could pass without a single one of those awful, accusatory envelopes. If they’d been regular, I perhaps could’ve braced for the anger and guilt each one caused.

  I made a cup of tea and drank it at the kitchen table. The kitchen was still the most neutral room in the house despite the invasion of people yesterday. I turned my chair so I was facing the room instead of the windows. The magnets on the fridge door were bright spots of colour. Places we’d never gone; never even intended to go, not really. I’d never quite understood why Beth insisted on collecting them. But maybe I saw it now. They were aspirations, dreams. Never intended to be real.

  I spent the afternoon cleaning the kitchen. It was out of my routine – usually I did the kitchen on Mondays – but everything was out of routine anyway. It would take me weeks to find my equilibrium again.

  Cora wanted to speak to Mum. But, of course, she didn’t need me for that. Dallin could make the introductions. Presumably once he’d actually told our mother he was here on the island.

  I scrubbed harder at a non-existent stain on the worktop. Dallin. Why hadn’t he called her? His own mother. What on earth was his problem? Why was he never here except when we didn’t want him to be?


  Had they argued? Mum hadn’t said anything. She told me everything. Didn’t she?

  I blew a strand of hair away from my face. Tomorrow was Saturday. I was due to visit Mum on Sunday morning as usual. If Dallin hadn’t told her by then, I would have to. That would be a fun conversation.

  Perhaps I should call her now. Give her fair warning her son might possibly be in contact with her.

  But talking to people was something else I’d fallen out of the habit of. I hadn’t used the telephone in weeks. The last person I spoke to, thinking about it, was probably the scammer who called me last month asking if I wanted to change my service provider.

  No, I didn’t want to tell Mum over the phone. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell her at all. Quite apart from anything else, it was Dallin’s job. I felt another flash of anger. Why should I do anything for him? After the way he’d treated me and Beth … after what he’d said this morning …

  The house phone rang with a sharp jangle that made me jump. I stood in the kitchen, listening to the noise as it echoed through the house. Then, even though I knew it had to be Dallin, I went to answer.

  As it turned out, it was Cora. Her voice was much nicer to hear than my brother’s.

  ‘I just wanted to check you’re okay,’ she said. ‘Dallin gave me your number. I hope that’s alright.’

  I sat down on the third step of the stairs. The phone cable was just long enough. ‘Sure, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’

  ‘Well, I guess because you were upset earlier. And that’s pretty much my fault.’

  ‘What? No, no, of course it’s not.’ I laughed. ‘It’s just me and Dallin. Nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Still, it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been here.’ There was background noise behind her; wind, possibly trees. She was still out in the curraghs. ‘I’m heading to The Raven tonight to see if anyone remembers anything. From what Dallin says, people in the pubs here are more than happy to chat.’

  ‘Sure.’ I didn’t hold out hope that anyone would remember anything useful.

  ‘Do you—’ Cora’s voice was hesitant, shy. ‘Do you want to come with me tonight? I’d like to buy you a drink. For your help.’

  I closed my eyes. Leaned my head against the cool plaster of the wall at my side. Briefly, I pictured the warmth of the pub, the noise of people talking and laughing. Beth and I had enjoyed a few evenings at The Raven, although it wasn’t our favourite haunt. It was slightly too far to walk there. But it was as close to a local as we’d had. I wondered, if I strolled in tonight, whether the same old faces would be there to greet me. People who’d known me since childhood.

  I imagined sitting at one of the cramped tables with Cora, our elbows so close they would touch every time we lifted our drinks.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said carefully.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said at once. ‘It’s been a busy day. I understand if you’re not feeling up to it.’

  In the background, I heard Dallin’s voice, asking a question. Cora covered the mouthpiece briefly while she answered him.

  ‘Is Dallin going with you?’ I asked.

  ‘No. He’s staying at the campsite. I’ll be fine on my own.’

  I had no doubt of that. I’d just wanted to check if he’d be at the pub. After what he’d said that morning, I was quite sure I didn’t want to talk to him.

  ‘What time are you going?’ I asked.

  Chapter 9

  It felt as though every head in the room should’ve turned towards me as I pushed open the door. Thunder should’ve crashed or a choir should’ve sung. Something at least should’ve happened to mark what was, for me, a momentous occasion.

  But no. No one even looked up from their drinks.

  The Raven was a cosy pub, recently renovated to give it that modern, homogenous feel in keeping with the other pubs in the brewery’s chain. Grey walls and dark wood. Some of the original features remained untouched, such as the open fire in the lounge bar and the little alcoves that were barely big enough to squash a table and two chairs into.

  I paused at the threshold. The room was filled with light and noise, even though there were only a handful of people inside. I expected a wave of memories to flow over me. But I was too anxious, my nerves wound too tight, for me to focus on anything except how loud it was.

  Cora spotted me before I spotted her. She gave me a wave from the bar. I went over to her gratefully.

  ‘So glad you made it,’ she said.

  She’d obviously just arrived as well, as the barman was pouring her a drink. I tugged off my hat and shoved it into the pocket of my jacket. It was warm in there after the cold of outside. I felt the heat of the fire on my face and hands. Even though my scalp started to prickle, I was reluctant to take off my jacket. I’d thrown on a T-shirt and jeans before leaving the house, and it suddenly occurred to me I might be wrongly dressed. I glanced covertly at Cora. She was wearing the same muddy trousers and jumper from that morning. Obviously she hadn’t worried about getting changed.

  ‘What’re you drinking?’ she asked.

  I shook my head. I’d driven, since I didn’t drink, but my brain stalled at the simple question. I didn’t want anything with caffeine, or too much sugar, or large amounts of artificial sweeteners. That severely limited my choices. I settled on a slimline tonic.

  While Cora ordered my drink, I sneaked a look at the people around us. Maybe a few had noticed me, but most minded their own business – or pretended to. I caught a couple of ill-concealed side-eyes from two women at a table. A man at the other end of the bar regarded me and Cora, flicked his eyes up and down us both, then dismissed us in favour of the television above the bar. I felt the familiar urge to hunch my shoulders and make myself unobtrusive.

  ‘Anyone useful here?’ Cora asked. She too was people-watching, although much better than me. She used the same cool, appraising glance as the man at the end of the bar, making it look like she was mostly uninterested.

  I forced myself to lift my head. ‘Those two women at the table near the back door,’ I said. ‘Kendra and Felice. They both went to school with Dallin. And over there, that fella with the dog, he’s always here.’ I gestured as subtly as I could at a man in a battered leather jacket at the other side of the room. He had a broadsheet newspaper spread out in front of him, covering the small table, one corner weighed down by a pint of lager. Beneath the table, a black-and-white terrier snoozed, its ears occasionally twitching if someone walked too close.

  ‘Who is he?’ Cora asked. She sipped the pint the barman had delivered.

  ‘Lenny. He’s a handyman, I suppose. One of those people who do odd jobs for everyone. I think he’s a landscape gardener, officially, but he’s the unofficial person everyone calls if they need something done.’ I picked up my glass of tonic. ‘He did some building work for Mum, before she had to move out.’

  ‘So, he knows all the local gossip?’

  ‘If there’s anything to know, he’s the person to ask.’

  ‘Perfect. Let’s go say hi.’

  I was glad not to have to speak to the two women, Kendra and Felice, instead. I remembered Kendra vaguely, because she’d been at some of the same parties as me and Dallin over the years. Felice, I knew, had been good friends with Beth, once upon a time. Both Kendra and Felice – and Lenny, now I thought about it – had been at Beth’s funeral. I couldn’t remember speaking to any of them at the time. I certainly hadn’t spoken to them since. So I had no idea how they felt about me. At best I could expect sympathy, maybe pity. At worst …

  Well, I knew how some people felt. I had the letters to prove it.

  As soon as Lenny saw us approaching, he straightened up in his seat. His smile crinkled his whole face. Years of working in the sun had weathered his skin. Only the deep creases of his laughter lines were still pale.

  I introduced Cora and asked if we could sit down. Lenny scooted his stool over so there was room for us at the tiny table. I kept hold of my drink rather than put i
t on his newspaper.

  ‘And how’re you keeping?’ Lenny asked me. ‘Haven’t seen you out for a good while. Everything alright?’

  ‘Fine. Thank you.’ I reddened under his scrutiny.

  ‘And your mam? I’ve not seen her in town for a few weeks. She keeping okay?’

  One reason why Lenny knew everyone was because he made such efforts to keep tabs on us all. He’d turned up unannounced several times at my house, ‘just on the off-chance you needed something doing’. He was like the caretaker of the whole neighbourhood.

  I fielded some small talk until I could direct the conversation back to Cora. ‘I was telling Cora about the time I got lost in the curraghs,’ I told Lenny.

  ‘Oh, aye. That was a right time. Your mam phoned me as soon as she realised you were gone. I got there first, but of course none of us knew where you’d gone.’ Lenny took a sip of his pint. His eyes crinkled at Cora. ‘She gave us a right scare. I was right at the front looking for her. Took me an hour before I found out she’d come back to the road. And then the next day she had us out again, looking for that skellington.’

  Cora leaned forwards. ‘You went searching with the police?’

  ‘Well … it wasn’t with the police, exactly.’ Lenny scratched his stubbled chin. ‘Me and me brother went out the next morning on our own. Figured if anyone had a chance of finding the skellington you’d mentioned, it’d be folks that know the land. So we set off in there to have a skeet before anyone else showed up. Of course, once the police turned up we had to pretend like we’d only just arrived. Didn’t want them thinking we were doing them out of a job.’

  I hadn’t heard this before. I glanced at Cora. She’d narrowed her eyes in thought. ‘I take it you didn’t find anything,’ she said.

  ‘Not a thing. That’s not to say there wasn’t something to find. Just that we didn’t happen to see it.’

  ‘And your brother, he didn’t see anything either?’

  ‘Neither of us did. I’d ask him for you, but he’s been dead ten years so he’s not likely to say much.’ Lenny laughed.