We chatted for another couple of minutes – or rather, she chatted, and I made appropriate affirmative noises in the right places, all the while thinking of my tea which I’d carelessly left on the kitchen counter. No matter how much I stretched the phone cable, I couldn’t reach it.
Eventually, Nicole said, ‘Anyway, I must let you go,’ and made me promise to bring my friend round again before they left. I could hear the gentle inflection in her voice when she said Cora’s name, and it made me wince. I said goodbye as quickly as I could, before she could start telling me how it was so nice I’d made a new friend.
I went back and got my cup of tea, but then, on impulse, I stepped out of the back door and stood on the path for a moment. I turned away from the curraghs and instead looked off to my left, towards the fields that bordered the road.
It wasn’t my imagination. I could hear the drone of a motor.
I abandoned my tea again on the kitchen counter and grabbed my coat instead.
The drizzle had increased to the sort of sprinkling rain that felt light and gentle but soaked through my coat surprisingly fast. I pulled up my hood and walked a little faster.
When I rounded the bend in the road, the noise of the motor grew louder.
I bobbed up and down, trying to see over the hedge at the side of the road. Obviously I was too short. I hurried to a gate further down the road. My legs ached as I hauled myself up the grass verge to the gate. The past few days had seen me do more exercise than I usually got in a month. Right at that moment, I didn’t see it as a positive.
From my new vantage point next to the gate, I could see into the field beyond. At the far side of the field, a figure turned his quadbike around, heading along the hedgerow. This was the only bit of land that Nicole had retained from the sprawling farm her family once owned. At present it was empty, although I’d heard Patrick make vague plans to rent it out as a paddock for a friend who had too many horses and not enough space. Until then, Patrick used it when he wanted to mess about on his quadbike, like now.
I leaned on the fence and waited for Patrick to circle around. There was no point shouting or waving. He wouldn’t hear or see me. I tilted my face up to the drizzle.
The engine noise changed as the quadbike reached the end of the field and turned about. I leaned out over the fence and waved. Patrick acknowledged me with a nod of his head.
He brought the quadbike to a stop next to the gate. The bike was a dirty, patched-together vehicle, made of old parts that he’d bodged together. For what he’d spent on spare parts he probably could’ve bought a sparkling new quadbike instead. But I knew why he hadn’t done that. It was about the build, and the work, not just the finished result.
‘Morning,’ Patrick said. He switched off the rattling engine so we could hear each other.
‘How’s it going?’ I asked, with a nod to the quadbike.
‘Ah, it’s running a little rough today. The wet weather, isn’t it? Everything seizes up more often when it’s cold and wet. Me included.’
Patrick stepped off the bike. He was a tall, lean man, with a slightly lopsided face that made me think he might’ve been a boxer in an earlier life. In deference to the chill air that morning, he wore a fleecy jacket over a Mad Sunday T-shirt. He flexed his cold fingers inside their padded gloves.
‘Everything okay?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yes, everything’s fine. I was just hoping to catch you. Did Nicole get a chance to ask you about the girl we’re looking for?’
Patrick’s brows knit together. ‘What girl?’
‘Oh. Um. I’ve got a, um, friend visiting from England. She’s looking for her sister, Simone. Simone went missing over here about twenty years ago.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Did … Did Nicole ask you about it?’
Patrick’s expression was bemused as he shook his head. ‘Can’t say I’ve heard anything about it. Sorry.’
‘Oh.’ Heat touched my face. I could’ve sworn Nicole had said she’d spoken to Patrick already. ‘Well, that’s the whole story, really. Cora’s looking for her sister. She asked me to go around the houses and speak to, you know, everyone.’ I got out my phone. ‘I can show you a photo.’
Patrick politely looked at the photo before he shook his head. ‘So, she’s got you asking us all whether we remember someone from twenty years ago? How come she’s not looked for her before now?’
‘Cora has been looking for her. Just … I suppose it’s been difficult, to find leads for something that happened so long ago. She’s only just heard a hint that Simone might’ve ended up here.’
Patrick raised his eyebrows. ‘Must’ve been a hell of a good hint.’
‘It wasn’t. Not at all.’ I didn’t really mean to say it that harshly, so I tried to soften my words with a smile. ‘But Cora’s desperate by this point. She’s willing to look everywhere, I think.’
‘Hmm.’ Patrick straightened up. ‘I don’t know what to tell you. Nicole’s probably the person to ask. Offhand, I wasn’t living on the island then.’
‘You … weren’t?’
He gave a lazy shrug. ‘I used to own a couple of businesses in the southeast. It was around about that time. I spent most of my time over there.’
‘Oh.’ Again, that didn’t accord with what Nicole had mentioned. ‘Nicole said she was away a lot as well, travelling for her job. She looked it up on her old calendars.’
‘Well, there you go.’ Patrick smiled. He turned back to his quadbike as if losing interest in the conversation. ‘She’d be able to say with more certainty than me. She’s always kept those calendars. If she says she was away, she probably was.’
‘She also said you were home then. It would’ve been about June 1999?’
But Patrick was already shaking his head. ‘I couldn’t genuinely tell you what I was doing this time last week, let alone twenty years ago. If Nicole says I was here, well, she’s probably right. She’s the one with the calendar. But honestly? I don’t remember.’
I still had my phone in my hand. I unlocked the screen again and Simone’s face appeared, still with that disaffected smile. I held it out to Patrick. ‘Can you take another look, please? Just see if it jogs any memories. I know it’s a crazy longshot.’
Patrick chuckled. He pushed the phone back towards me without looking at the screen. ‘She doesn’t look like anyone I remember,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I can’t help your friend.’
I nodded and put the phone away. Already I was getting used to that response. People wanted to help us. But they couldn’t. It was too long ago. I should’ve stuck with my gut feeling, stayed at home, and phoned Mum, instead of thinking I could dredge anything up by running around in the open air.
‘Do you think Nicole—?’ I started to ask, but got distracted.
Further up the road, someone was walking with their head down and their hands pushed deep into the pockets of their jacket. An angry, sullen youth. It took me a moment to realise it was Dallin. He might not have been a teenager for ten years or more, but he’d retained that air of annoyance, like the entire world was against him. He looked so solitary that I considered letting him walk past unnoticed.
Except he was obviously heading to my house.
‘I see my brother,’ I said to Patrick, by way of a goodbye, then set off up the road.
Before I got more than ten paces, I realised Dallin could easily outdistance me. He’d inherited a long-legged, stork-like stride from somewhere on our father’s side.
‘Dallin!’ I called. ‘Dallin, wait up?’
For a second I thought he might ignore me. It would’ve fitted the angsty aesthetic he was cultivating. But after a few more paces he stopped and turned around.
I slowed down. No point giving myself a stitch catching up with someone who didn’t want to be caught.
‘Where’ve you been?’ he asked when I got closer.
‘Where’ve you been? Weren’t you supposed to be with Cora?’
Dallin pulled a face. �
��I’m deeply regretting ever getting involved with that woman. You can’t believe a single thing she says.’
‘Is this because she dragged you out of bed this morning and guilted you into going out to the curraghs with her?’
‘Listen, I know you’ve been fooled. She’s persuasive, and manipulative, and all that stuff. She fooled me too. So, y’know, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.’
I frowned at him. ‘Dal, honestly, you’re not making any sense.’
‘I told her. Like you said I should.’ Dallin turned away and started walking towards my house. I followed him because I wasn’t sure what else I could do. It was my house, after all. ‘It went precisely as I expected.’
‘What did you say to her, exactly?’
‘I told her we should cut our losses.’ Dallin kept walking. ‘I know she’s gone to a lot of effort to get here, but it’s going to be for nothing, and at some point she’ll have to accept that. No one here remembers her stupid sister. And even if they did, they don’t care. Also, I am one hundred per cent certain Cora’s lying to us.’
‘About what?’
‘Seriously, would anyone go to this sort of effort for a relative who ran away from home twenty years ago? There’s something else she wants. Something other than the resting place of her long-absent sister. She’s got an ulterior motive. Don’t tell me she hasn’t.’ Dallin paused. ‘I asked her outright if she’d cut open her tent on purpose, so she could have a roof over her head instead of sleeping on the ground.’
I let out an explosive breath. ‘Why are you like this?’
‘I wanted to see what she’d say.’
‘Why?’
He blinked. ‘Don’t you want to know if she’s the type who’d do that?’
‘What for?’
‘Well … so you would’ve thought twice about inviting her into your house?’
‘She could’ve easily found a hotel if she’d needed to. Or just gaffer taped the cuts in the groundsheet. It would’ve only become a problem if we hadn’t spotted it before it rained.’
‘Sure. And when it did rain last night, if she’d called you in the middle of the night, distressed and in need of rescue—’
I took a deep breath, held it, while annoyance swirled and built inside me, then let it go. ‘She never once asked about wanting to stay in my house. Didn’t even hint at it.’
As I said it though, I remembered the various conversations we’d had. The times she’d said how exhausted she was. How she was worried about Dallin – not about herself, only him – because he wasn’t coping well sleeping on the ground.
‘She was fine in her tent,’ I said. ‘You were the one who hated it.’
Dallin got an odd look on his face. ‘Who told you I hated camping?’
‘Cora said you were having trouble sleeping.’
‘Not me. I can sleep anywhere.’ Dallin’s frown cleared. ‘You see what I mean? Cora lied to you. She hoped you’d invite me, and by extension her as well, to stay at your house. Except you didn’t take the hint, because you have no people skills.’
‘Says you.’ But the barb stung. Had Cora really been dropping hints? If she’d just asked me outright, I would’ve fallen over myself to invite her to my house …
But, honestly, was that true? Up until yesterday, I’d frozen in terror at the thought of merely having people for lunch. Would I really have welcomed houseguests with open arms?
I was worried Dallin was right. About that one part, not the rest.
Since I couldn’t think of a rebuttal, I shut up. We walked in silence for a while.
‘So,’ Dallin said at last, ‘what’s with all the weird ceramic animals in your sitting room?’
‘They were Beth’s.’
‘And the porcelain teddy bears wearing those little hats?’
‘Also Beth’s.’
I concentrated on my feet. If I disassociated myself enough from Dallin’s stupid questions, I could pretend it didn’t hurt to talk about Beth, or her quirky obsession with tacky ceramic knick-knacks.
‘When did she start collecting those? She never liked that sort of thing before.’
Before. As in, before she met me. Another barb that hurt just as much as the others. ‘A lot of them were her grandmother’s,’ I said shortly. ‘They got passed on to her. She started collecting from there.’
Another minute passed in silence. We were almost at my house. I was still debating whether to let Dallin back in the house. But all his stuff he’d brought with him was upstairs in his old bedroom. If I was going to throw him out, it would need more planning.
‘What about that letter you had tucked into a photo album?’ Dallin asked then. ‘What was that about?’
I’d known the question was coming. But somehow I’d hoped I could keep avoiding it. Even now, I thought we could reach the house, and I could find a displacement activity. Put on the kettle, or go out into the garden, or start another argument. Maybe throw something at him. Anything to keep from having to answer the question.
In the end though, I knew I couldn’t run or hide or incite a random unprovoked act of violence.
‘Did you read it?’ I asked.
‘Not all the way through. I skimmed it. The highlighting helped give me the gist.’
I pulled my jacket a little tighter around myself. ‘It’s from Beth’s parents.’
Dallin blinked. ‘Her parents?’
‘They’ve been sending me clippings like that for a couple of years now.’
‘Why would they do that?’ Dallin frowned. ‘I remember her folks. Mum used to sing in the same choir as them. Neither of them were particularly into, y’know, science and medicine. Why would they send you clippings from medical journals?’
I sighed. ‘You didn’t read the page properly, did you?’
‘I said I skimmed it. It was talking about abnormal brain chemistry and stuff, wasn’t it?’
‘If you want to read it like that.’ I avoided his gaze. ‘Beth’s parents never liked me. No, that’s not completely true. They liked me well enough as Beth’s friend. Even when—’ Even when me and Beth started dating, when we got engaged, when they politely declined an invitation to our wedding. ‘They always acted like me and Beth were just friends. They refused to acknowledge anything else. It was upsetting, obviously, but we thought that, given enough time, we could talk them around. Except …’
Except, of course, we didn’t have nearly as much time as we’d thought.
‘We reconciled with them a bit, when Beth got sick. It pulled everyone together. Sort of. At least, as far as Beth was concerned, we were building bridges. The letters started arriving not long after that. Beth never knew about them.’
We’d reached my house. I got out my keys and used them as an excuse to focus on my hands rather than looking at Dallin.
‘The first letter—’ But I couldn’t put into words how the first letter had made me feel.
It’d comprised five A4 sheets of paper, printed off the internet, and a cover letter in my mother-in-law’s neat handwriting. I still shuddered to think of the gentle, faux-concerned words. Thought this information might help you. Just out of concern for our darling daughter. Something for you to consider.
‘They blamed me,’ I said as I pushed open the door. My voice had taken on that flat tone that made it sound like someone else was talking. Like someone was describing people and events with no connection to me at all. ‘There was something wrong with my brain chemistry, they said. Something that caused this … delusion that I was in love with Beth. I’d tricked Beth into believing it as well. I’d made her sick. And that’s what made her ill.’
‘No way.’ Dallin almost laughed. Not because it was funny, I knew, but because it couldn’t be true.
‘Oh, they have evidence to back it up.’ I went through to the kitchen and filled the kettle. ‘They became quite the experts.’
‘Beth’s parents believe you made her ill?’
‘Google it. I’m serious. Google “does ho
mosexuality cause cancer” and see what pops up in your browser.’ I switched the kettle on. ‘Go ahead, have a look. I’ll wait. You might have to click to the second or third page of search results before you find the bad stuff, but it’s there.’ I took two cups out of the cupboard. ‘You can find evidence of anything you want to believe, if you’re really determined.’
‘And they’ve been sending you the print-outs.’ At last, Dallin’s tone softened.
‘It stopped for a while after Beth died, then it came back with a vengeance. They’re one hundred per cent convinced I murdered their daughter.’
‘Jesus.’ Dallin rubbed the side of his face. ‘You never would’ve thought it to look at the pair of them. They always acted so normal.’
‘People always seem normal. Until they’re not.’ I spooned instant coffee into a cup for him. I very nearly made some for myself as well. At the last instant, I dropped in a peppermint teabag instead.
Dallin rapped his knuckles on the counter, twice, slowly, like either it was helping him think or he had an important point to make. ‘I’m guessing they never came to your wedding, hey?’ he asked.
‘They also tried to bar me from her funeral.’ I stirred the herbal teabag seventeen times more than it needed. ‘They asked the minister if he could omit any mention of me. Thank God he refused.’
Dallin rapped the counter again, harder this time. Anger, I realised. He turned away then immediately turned back. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
Good. ‘What for, precisely?’
‘For – for not coming home. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were dealing with all this. I should’ve come back for the funeral.’
‘And the wedding.’
Dallin let out a breath. ‘I didn’t think it was that big a deal at the time. I’m sorry, but that’s just – that’s how I felt. I figured you’d only invited me out of politeness. It never occurred to me you might actually want me to be there.’
I couldn’t stop myself from saying, ‘It was Beth who invited you. It was important to her.’
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