Eventually Ethan starts to get wriggly and tired and Adam picks him up, but Ethan holds out his arms to Heather. His little chin wobbles. He doesn’t want to leave his mummy and it breaks Margot’s heart.
‘It’s okay, little man. Mummy will see you tomorrow,’ says Heather, smiling encouragingly, although Margot can see it’s killing her having to say goodbye. Adam bends over to kiss Heather and she leans forwards to hug Ethan once again, smelling his head with her eyes closed.
It’s not until they leave that Heather allows the tears to run down her cheeks.
Margot’s by her bedside in an instant. ‘I know, sweetheart,’ she says, pressing a tissue into her daughter’s hand. ‘It’s hard. I know.’
‘I can’t bear being apart from him.’ She sobs.
‘Hopefully not for much longer.’
Heather turns to face her, fire suddenly blazing behind her wet eyes. ‘Soon it will be even worse. Soon I’ll only be allowed to see him once a week. He’ll grow up not knowing me. Not really. A prison is no place for a child.’ She’s crying so much now that her shoulders are heaving.
Margot pulls her into her arms. ‘Please don’t cry. I’ve got a brilliant lawyer for you. We’ll do what we can to fight it, okay?’
Heather rests her head on Margot’s shoulder and cries as if she’s still a child. Margot rubs her back, feeling powerless. It’s inbuilt in her, the desire to make everything okay for her daughter, but how can she prevent this? Eventually Heather pulls away, her eyes red and puffy, and Margot sits on the chair. She glances at the clock on the wall. It’s nearly seven thirty. Soon visiting time will be over and she’ll have to go. She doesn’t want to leave her in this state.
‘Mum,’ says Heather. She pulls her knees up to her chest. She looks impossibly young and vulnerable, thinks Margot, assessing her daughter in her oversized pyjamas. She’s lost weight since the … incident. She swings her legs out of bed and Margot jumps up from her chair. Heather is still a little unsteady on her feet. The head injury has caused a lack of balance, although they’ve been assured this is only temporary.
‘What is it, sweetheart? Do you need the loo?’
She shakes her head, then winces, touching her bandage gingerly. ‘No. I need … I need to tell you something.’ She pats the bed next to her, and Margot sits. The bed is high off the floor and Margot’s legs dangle like a child’s.
‘What is it?’ They’re sitting so close that their thighs are touching. Margot realizes, with a jolt, that Heather has suggested she sit so close so that the police at the door can’t hear what she’s about to say. Straight away Margot’s heart begins to beat faster.
‘Jess is going to write a piece about me. With my blessing. I’m hoping it will make the public understand a bit more, that they know I’d never be capable of killing the Wilsons. Not when I have Ethan to think about. It might help if … when … this all goes to trial.’
Margot’s holding her breath. ‘Right?’
‘My brain’s been all over the place since the accident. I can’t remember taking a gun to the Wilsons. I can’t remember driving back to the caravan park and trying to shoot myself in the barn. I can’t remember falling and banging my head. Since …’ she swallows, and Margot’s insides feel as though they’ve turned to ice as she wonders what her daughter is about to say next ‘… since it all happened I’ve been dreaming a lot. All these different thoughts have been racing through my head, fragments of memory. I’ve been trying to piece it all together …’ A tear falls from Heather’s eyes and drops onto her hand resting in her lap. Margot stares in horror at the teardrop, unable to move, to comfort.
Heather swipes at the tears. ‘I loved Flora. You have to believe me when I tell you that. I wanted to protect her. She was different from me. Flaky … dreamy. I never meant to hurt her …’
Margot puts her hand to her throat and fingers her gold locket, bracing herself for Heather’s next words.
Heather turns to stare at her mother and grasps her hand with such intensity that Margot almost pulls off the necklace. ‘Now I’ve got Ethan, I understand,’ she says. ‘I can imagine how you must feel. The pain of never knowing what happened. The torment. It’s not fair to you, Mum. I’m so sorry. I knew the body at Clive Wilson’s house couldn’t belong to Flora. I’m going to tell you what really happened to her, okay?’ She squeezes Margot’s hand. ‘And then you can decide what to do.’
45
August 1994
The spell had been broken. Just like that.
They were walking in St James’s Park, admiring the pelicans. It had been romantic. The sun had been shining and she’d linked her arm through Dylan’s, like they were a proper couple. How grown-up she’d felt, how she’d enjoyed the admiring glances they’d received. Until Dylan went and ruined it.
Now he stood before her, in his tie-dye T-shirt and baggy jeans, his dark hair flopping into his bright blue eyes, and smiled the slow, lazy smile that used to turn her insides to mush. But not now. Now, instead of rushing up and throwing her arms around him, like she would have done earlier, or yesterday, the only desire she felt was the urge to punch him hard in his stupid, idiotic face.
‘What?’ he said, throwing his arms out. ‘What have I said?’
She placed her hands on her hips, like her mother did when she got cross with them. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps the little thing about wanting me to help you peddle your pathetic drugs. I thought you wanted to come to London to spend time with me. Away from Tilby. But no … no, of course not. You just want me to join your … empire,’ she spat.
He lowered his voice so that the couple next to them couldn’t hear. ‘Speedy has a good contact here. Said he’ll give them to me on the cheap.’ He walked towards her with the arrogant swagger she used to find so attractive, but now repellent. ‘Come on, babe. You’re sixteen. You could come with me when the fair moves on … There’s good money to be had from this, if we play our cards right.’
‘What a great future you’re offering me.’ She couldn’t help the sarcasm that dripped from her tongue. ‘A Bonnie and Clyde future.’
He laughed, but his eyes darted about nervously. She was getting loud and he was worried who could hear. ‘I’m not suggesting we kill anyone.’
‘Aren’t you?’
He stepped forward and tried to encircle her with his arms. ‘Babe. You like it. I know you do. I saw how you were when you snorted that coke the other night … but you don’t have to take drugs. Just help me sell them.’ His eyes clouded. ‘I owe Speedy and his brother Clive money, babe. I need to do this. I can’t mess with them.’
She pulled away from him. ‘It’s wrong. I don’t want any part of it.’ She’d felt out of control at the party the other night and she hadn’t liked it. She’d looked around at the crowd she was with, most of whom were off their heads on some substance or other, and she’d been disgusted by them all.
Dylan’s expression became more alarmed and he moved away from her. ‘I thought you were cool.’
‘Maybe I’m not. I want a career. I don’t want to be a drugs pusher or an addict.’
He laughed nastily. ‘You’re a baby. Just like your sister. A fucking prissy small-town girl with no ambition.’
‘No ambition!’ she shrieked, causing the couple in front of them to turn to look at her. ‘I’ve got more ambition than you. Heather was right about you.’
She stalked off before he could answer, heart thudding against her ribcage. When she’d calmed down a bit she stopped by a tree to catch her breath, expecting Dylan to have followed her. But he was nowhere to be seen. She felt a flurry of fear. She was alone, in London, with no idea how to get back to the coach. Calm down, she told herself. She could work it out. Marble Arch. That was where the coach had dropped them off. It would be okay. She took deep, gulping breaths, trying not to panic. As long as she was back before the coach left at five it would be okay.
Flora’s feet hurt as she took her seat on the coach. She’d spent all afternoon wander
ing around by herself. A kindly old man had pointed her in the right direction and she’d spent the last two hours hanging around the coach area, terrified she’d miss it if she strayed too far.
She didn’t see Dylan get on the coach, and was beyond caring if he came back or stayed in London. She sat near the front, by the window, next to a middle-aged woman who had her head in a book the whole way back. Flora clamped her headphones to her ears, so she could listen to her favourite song, ‘Martha’s Harbour’, on her Walkman. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about him ever again. What a lucky escape she’d had. There were plenty more fish in the sea, as her uncle Leo always said when one of his relationships failed, which was often.
Suddenly she longed to be at home, with her uncle and her mum, Heather and Jess. Safe and warm, away from Dylan and his druggie mates and the fair. She didn’t want to go back to the fair ever again. Behind the bright lights and the loud music there was a rotten, seedy underbelly.
It began to rain as the coach pulled into Eastville and she had to walk for fifteen minutes across town to the bus station. The rain continued to lash down and she only had her little velvet jacket to protect her from the onslaught. By the time she arrived she was drenched and shivering in her summer blouse and floaty skirt. The only sensible thing she had on were her trusted DMs. She sat on the bench trying to keep warm as she waited for the Tilby bus. Despite herself, she looked around for Dylan. Then she spotted him. He had bought himself a hot drink and was standing at the other end of the concourse, watching her. She caught his eye and he smiled, looking relieved to see her, but she didn’t return his smile. He’d left her in London. She’d never forgive him. She turned away, hardening her heart against him. It didn’t matter how sexy he was, or how he made her feel, she knew, deep in her gut, that he was bad news, and if she stayed with him he’d drag her further into his murky circle. She was sixteen, with the whole world at her feet. She’d meet someone else. Someone better. She didn’t need him.
Heather hid in the bushes, sheltering from the rain, waiting for the bus to come in. She’d been there for more than an hour and she was cold to the bone, despite her waxed jacket. Because of the sudden change in the weather, the sky had darkened even though it wasn’t yet nine. Did that mean they would miss their curfew of ‘before dark’? This used to be nine thirty but the nights were already drawing in very slightly, and the bad weather made the sky darker than usual. Either way, Heather was past caring. She needed to see Flora, to make things right between them. She was still smarting that her sister had chosen to confide in Jess over her.
The clock tower was empty. The rain was too heavy for the usual youths to hang out there tonight. The streets were wet, with only the occasional car driving past, the whoosh of water under tyres making her think of her best friend. They loved to huddle in the barn, listening to the rain and sketching.
Then she saw the bus rattling towards her, screeching to a halt next to the bus stop. She was surprised to see Dylan get off first, alone. He had no jacket on, just his thin T-shirt, and his shoulders were hunched against the rain as he walked along the street, then turned off towards the fields that led to the fair. Heather’s heart fell. Where was her sister? Why was she not with Dylan? Another couple got off the bus, holding hands and occasionally smooching, not caring about the weather as they wandered in the opposite direction towards the beach.
And then Heather saw Flora stepping daintily from the bus, her heavy DMs landing in a puddle and splashing the hem of her skirt. Her hair hung in dark tendrils and she had her earphones in, the yellow leads snaking around her velvet jacket and towards the bag on her back. Heather’s heart swelled. Her sister looked utterly miserable. A car drove past, obscuring Flora for a second, before moving out of sight.
Heather stumbled out of the bushes and into Flora’s path, making her sister jump in fright. She put a hand to her heart. ‘Shit, what are you doing?’ she hissed, pulling off the earphones so that they dangled in one hand. Her family signet ring glinted under the streetlight.
Family. They were linked, her and Flora. They shared the same blood. And that stupid little dickhead Dylan wouldn’t come between them.
‘Where have you been?’ she said, although she knew. ‘You’ve been with him again, haven’t you? Sneaking off to God knows where. What’s wrong with you, Flora? Why can’t you see what a loser he is?’
‘Not now, Heather.’ Flora looked weary, like she’d rather be anywhere else than there, talking with her. ‘Go home.’
Heather felt the familiar white-hot rage flare up inside her. Go home. Was that how little Flora thought of her, or respected her? She’d confide in Jess but not her. Her own sister.
‘Why are you freezing me out?’ Heather demanded, her hands making fists by her sides.
Flora sighed. ‘I’m not.’
‘You told Jess where you were going this morning but not me. Don’t you trust me?’
‘It’s not that … Listen, I’m tired. It’s been a long day.’
The rain had stopped now and the air smelt fresh, like washed clothes. Flora went to walk away but Heather ran after her, tugging at her jacket. ‘I was only trying to protect you. That’s why I hurt Dylan. Listen to me …’
Flora stopped walking and spun around. ‘I just want to go home,’ she said.
‘You pushed me the other day. You’ve not been speaking to me.’
‘Oh, grow up. I’ve got bigger things to think about,’ Flora replied.
‘No. We need to talk about this now.’
‘We’ll be late.’
‘I don’t care!’ Heather screamed. That got her sister’s attention. Heather always cared about being late.
Flora stared at her sister dispassionately. Flora’s hair had begun to curl in the damp, and her face was ashen with mascara streaks under her eyes.
Before Heather even thought about what she was doing she grabbed hold of her sister’s arm and began pulling her towards the lane that led to the fields. ‘Ow! Get off! What are you doing?’ cried Flora, trying to shake her arm free.
‘We can walk and talk,’ said Heather.
‘Leave me alone, you little psycho,’ shrieked Flora, losing her temper now. She pushed Heather away so that she stumbled backwards, landing in the mud. Heather gawped at Flora in shock, then stood up, mud caked on the back of her skirt and down her legs.
‘Why are you so mean to me?’ she cried. ‘I’m only trying to help you!’
‘Are you going to get your riding crop out and whip me too?’ Flora said, her eyes flashing.
Heather flew at her, pushing her so hard that this time Flora went reeling backwards. Her head snapped back against the wet pavement, and she must have bitten down on her lip when she fell because it burst open, pouring with blood, her eyes round with shock as she landed, before closing.
And then there was silence, apart from the rustle of the leaves in the tree above them.
Heather leaned over her sister, shaking her. ‘Flora. Oh, God, Flora. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please wake up. Please …’
To Heather’s relief, Flora’s eyelids fluttered open and she sat up, groaning. ‘You pushed me!’ she cried.
‘You pushed me first. And I fell into a muddy ditch!’
Flora touched her lip and blood came away on her fingers, dripping down her chin and onto her blouse. ‘I’m bleeding.’
Heather knelt down, her bare knees snagging on the concrete pavement. ‘Here, let me help you.’
But Flora pushed her away. ‘Leave me alone.’ Her voice sounded weird with the fat lip, which had already swelled to twice its normal size. She stood up shakily, brushing down her wet skirt.
‘Flora, I’m sorry. I –’ She reached out, but Flora slapped her hand away.
‘Go home. Now! Before I fucking kill you!’ spat Flora, blood bubbling on her lip. She picked up her Walkman from the pavement and Heather could see that it had smashed in the fall. Flora crouched over it, tears spilling down her face.
Heathe
r wanted to cry too. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She touched her sister’s shoulder. ‘I’ll buy you another. I shouldn’t have come to find you. I was worried.’
Flora covered Heather’s hand with her own and squeezed it gently. ‘I know. But please just leave me alone now. I’ll follow you. Just go. There’s no point in us both being late.’
Heather knew when she was beaten. If she stayed it would only make matters worse. Flora was too cold, tired and angry to listen to her now. She’d follow on. She just needed some space. It was still only a little past nine and not yet properly dark. And Jess would be wondering where she was. She’d left her in her bedroom nearly an hour and a half ago, telling her she was sorting out the pony. Because it was raining Jess had been happy to stay behind. Jess didn’t love horses like she did.
Heather turned back just once as she walked off down the road, before taking a left along the lane that led to the fields. Flora was kneeling on the ground and stuffing what remained of her Walkman into her rucksack, her hair obscuring her face. Heather wanted to rush back to her sister and throw her arms around her. But she knew it wouldn’t be welcome.
And then, her heart full of guilt and sorrow, Heather trudged down the lane that led towards home.
46
Jess
Time seems to stand still as I watch from the window. I press my face to the glass, trying to spot Rory in the building opposite. I’ve got my boots and coat on in preparation, my phone in my hand, ready to call the police if he flashes his torch three times. Nothing. The silence seems worse somehow. I’m imagining all sorts: he’s been stabbed before he can alert me that he’s in danger; he’s been beaten up – murdered.
‘Come on, Rory,’ I mutter to myself, stamping my feet impatiently as though trying to dispel some of my nervous energy. ‘Give me some sign you’re okay.’
Then She Vanishes Page 26