The Last Lost Girl

by Maria Hoey

  “Why do they do that, do you think?”

  Jacqueline was not even sure that he was addressing her; his eyes were fixed on the sea. He was dressed in a dark-blue greatcoat, and trousers that looked too big for him, the ends of which flapped and billowed in the wind. Jacqueline decided he had been talking to himself. She turned her back on him and decided to ignore him. She put some distance between them, moving slowly sideways in the water. The afternoon was still as beautiful but somehow, now that she knew he was there, she could no longer enjoy it.

  “People don’t thrash around gasping like you might imagine. Sometimes they float for a while. Sometimes they just go under quietly.”

  Giving him a wide berth, Jacqueline began to wade toward the shore.

  “When water is inhaled there is associated coughing and vomiting, followed by loss of consciousness.”

  “I’m not interested!” Jacqueline called over her shoulder. “Go away and annoy someone else.”

  “You’re Irish,” he said. “Dublin.”

  Jacqueline kept on walking. She picked up her shoes and hurried toward the slipway. When she looked back, the man was still standing where she had left him, facing out to sea. Just a madman, she thought, but she felt shaken and angry. Why pick on her when the beach was dotted with other solitary walkers? As she made her way up Shore Road, a flock of birds flew above her; she stood and gazed up at them. They formed a perfect V as though one spirit moved them. Watching them, an appalling sense of loneliness washed over her and she moved on again quickly.

  The door to Sea Holly Villa was open and the house was very quiet. As she went upstairs, Jacqueline remembered that she only had a couple of pages left to read in her book. Dot would hardly mind if she borrowed a book. She doubled back and wandered into the lounge with the awful wallpaper and the claw-legged furniture and the dead things under glass. She crossed to the bookcase. Moving slowly, she read the titles of the books, running her fingers over the spines, and finally pulled out a collection of Somerset Maugham’s short stories. As she opened it, a gentle creak made her turn sharply and she realised with a small shock that she was not alone.

  In a corner of the room, a girl was reclining in a rocking chair. The child Jimmy was in her lap, his upturned face pale and moony in the dim light, his eyes fixed on Jacqueline.

  “I’m sorry,” said Jacqueline. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  The girl looked up and met Jacqueline’s gaze but did not acknowledge her presence by so much as a flicker of her eye.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it so,” said Jacqueline and hurried from the room, the book in her hand. Cool little madam, she thought, as she went back upstairs.

  As soon as she opened the door to her room she saw it on the chair by the window. Somerset Maugham was forgotten as she picked up the guestbook and carried it to the bed.

  It took her less than five minutes to find his name.

  Chapter 21

  1976

  Daddy comes into the sitting room. “This fine young man wants a word with you, Lilly.”

  The fine young man is Sexy Sexton.

  Jacqueline looks at Lilly. She is lying on the floor with her elbows on a cushion, watching Opportunity Knocks, and barely glances over her shoulder at Sexy Sexton.

  “Hiya, Eddie,” she says, then she goes back to looking at the television.

  Sexy Sexton is standing in the doorway, his shoulders stooped as he tries not to bang his head.

  Jacqueline decides to ignore him too and stares at the screen. The advertisements have come on and a man is pouring a pint of Guinness. A voice says, “This summer sit back, relax and enjoy the long cold spell …”

  Jacqueline thinks that it is just one more thing that does not make sense.

  “Lilly, where are your manners?” says Jacqueline’s mother. “Eddie, come on in and sit down. Gayle, move up on the sofa and make some room for Eddie.”

  Gayle’s face goes bright red but she moves up and Sexy Sexton sits down beside her. While Daddy is talking to Sexy about the weather and the match on Sunday, Jacqueline inspects him. He is very tall and skinny and his hair is greasy. Jacqueline tries to find the puss-ball that Lilly says is like a third eye, but there are so many spots and pimples on Sexy Sexton’s face it is hard to tell one from the other.

  Daddy says, “You know I was at school with your father, Edmund?”

  “Were you really, sir?” says Sexy Sexton.

  Jacqueline makes a loud snorting sound – nobody has ever called Daddy “sir” before – but Daddy gives her a look and she stops.

  “In the primary school this was,” says Daddy. “Of course your father went on to the Christian Brothers and the University after that. Most of the rest of us had to leave and go out and get work and –”

  “Oh Daddy, please tell me you’re not going to bore poor Eddie with how you had to go out and sweep chimneys when you were ten,” says Lilly. “Because, if you are, I’ll just go and get my violin.”

  Daddy smiles. “Do you hear the way she cheeks me, Edmund?” he says. “If you must know I didn’t sweep chimneys. My first job was as a nipper on a building site and I wasn’t ten, I was thirteen. Different times, Edmund, different times, but at least your father did a bit better for himself. But what made him want to go and be a solicitor?”

  “Frank!” says Jacqueline’s mother.

  “Well, I only mean that I always had the idea he wanted to be a doctor.”

  “Actually, sir, I think it was my grandfather who wanted him to be a doctor,” says Sexy. “Dad always had an interest in the law.”

  “Ah, well sure, you’ll be the doctor now,” says Daddy, “so everyone wins. And I suppose your dad will end up a judge before much longer, with all your grandfather’s connections in Leinster House. Has he still got that fine boat of his?”

  Sexy Sexton smiles and looks at his feet. “It’s not a very big boat,” he said, “but, yes, sir, Grandad loves his sailing.”

  “Never mind,” says Daddy, “he’ll get a bigger one soon, I’m sure. And please, Edmund, call me Frank. Now, Lilly, are you going to make this young man a cup of tea or something?”

  Lilly, without turning round, says, “Eddie, do you want a cup of tea or something?”

  “I wouldn’t mind a glass of water,” says Sexy Sexton. “It’s awful warm.”

  “Okay, come on into the kitchen and I’ll get you one then.”

  Everyone watches them go.

  “What did you go and do that for, Frank?” says Jacqueline’s mother.

  “Do what?”

  “Embarrass Lilly like that, bringing that young fella in without a word of warning.”

  “Who needs warning?” says Daddy. “Edmund had the manners to knock on the door and ask me if he could take Lilly to the pictures. What’s the harm? And he said Lilly knew he was coming.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “If you ask me,” says Daddy, “it’s nice to see a bit of manners for a change. And, anyway, Lilly didn’t seem to mind, did she?”

  And that is the question Jacqueline keeps asking herself – why didn’t Lilly mind?

  Nothing makes sense. Lilly is going with Sexy Sexton. Sexy Sexton the Crater Face, Sexy Sexton the Creep, Sexy Sexton the Long Streak of Paralysed Piss. He has called to the house three times now in his car, and Lilly has gone with him to the pictures, to bowling and once, on Sunday, just for a drive.

  Jacqueline is not absolutely sure what people do when they go with other people – “sex and kissing” Regina Quinn says, but no matter how she tries Jacqueline cannot imagine Lilly kissing Sexy Sexton.

  “Why did Daddy let her?” Jacqueline asks Gayle. “He said he didn’t want Lilly going out with boys. Sexy Sexton is a boy.”

  “Don’t call him that,” says Gayle. “Yes, he’s a boy, but he’s different.”

  They are lying in the garden on the brown blanket. Gayle is wearing her blue swimsuit. She says she is tired of running. She wants to get a proper suntan for on
ce – just like Lilly’s.

  “How is he different?” asks Jacqueline. “Is it because his father is loaded?”

  “I don’t know if he’s loaded,” says Gayle.

  “Well, his grandad has a boat and they have a fountain in their garden.”

  “I don’t know about a fountain …”

  “You don’t know much,” says Jacqueline. “Regina Quinn says Sexy has a fountain in his garden.”

  “Maybe he has, but anyway that’s not why Daddy doesn’t mind Lilly going out with Eddie. I think Daddy likes Eddie because he’s going to university to study medicine when he leaves school and because he has nice manners and, well, because he’s nice.”

  “He’s not nice,” says Jacqueline. “He smells funny and he has spots and his hair always looks wet.”

  “He doesn’t smell funny,” says Gayle. “Don’t be silly, Jacqueline – that’s just aftershave and I think it smells nice.”

  “Well, I think he stinks,” says Jacqueline, “and I think he’s a long streak of paralysed piss. Lilly said so and she’s right, so why is she going with him? I don’t understand.”

  Gayle sits up quickly. “Is that a car in the lane?”

  “I think so. It’s probably him again.”

  “Who?”

  “Sexy Sexton, who do you think?”

  Gayle jumps to her feet. “Go and see, will you, Jacqueline?”

  “Why do I have to go and see? I don’t care if it’s him or not – you go and see if you’re that bothered.”

  “I can’t go, I’m in my swimsuit,” says Gayle. “Please, Jacqueline, I’m begging you. And if it’s Eddie bring him into the house, okay?”

  “Okay, okay,” says Jacqueline.

  “And don’t call him Sexy.”

  Jacqueline watches Gayle running all the way to the house. She gets up slowly and walks up the garden and round to the front of the house. Sexy Sexton’s car is in the drive and Sexy Sexton is standing in the porch. His back is to Jacqueline and both of his hands are on top of his head, smoothing down his hair.

  “Lilly’s not here!” shouts Jacqueline and Sexy Sexton jumps and turns round.

  “You frightened the life out of me,” he says, then he smiles at Jacqueline. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

  Jacqueline does not smile. She looks Sexy Sexton up and down. He is wearing white shorts, a white T-shirt and white runners and he has a white band around his forehead. Who does he think he is, Jacqueline wonders, Bjorn Borg? She tries to imagine Lilly kissing him.

  “Have you any idea when she’ll be back?” says Sexy Sexton.

  “No.”

  “Right, well, maybe you could give her –”

  “Have you really got a fountain in your garden?” asks Jacqueline.

  “We do,” Sexy Sexton says with a smile. “Would you like to see it?”

  “No,” Jacqueline lies.

  The front door opens.

  “Hiya, Eddie.”

  Jacqueline stares at Gayle. She is wearing a cream dress and white sandals. Her hair is loose around her shoulders and her plait has left it in long wide ripples. She looks, Jacqueline thinks, like somebody else.

  Jacqueline says, “Is that Lilly’s dress you’re wearing?”

  Gayle’s face goes red and Sexy Sexton says, “Hi, Gaye, I was just asking your little sister to give Lilly a message for me.”

  “It’s Gayle,” says Jacqueline, “her name is Gayle not Gaye. And that IS Lilly’s dress. She’s going to kill you, Gayle.”

  Gayle ignores her. “Do you want to come in and wait, Eddie?” she says. “Lilly will probably be back soon.”

  “Sure,” says Sexy Sexton.

  Jacqueline tries to follow them into the house but Gayle shuts the door in her face. Jacqueline marches round the back of the house and in through the back door.

  They are in the kitchen. Sexy Sexton is sitting at the table and Gayle is pouring red lemonade into two glasses. She hands a glass to Sexy Sexton.

  “I want some too,” says Jacqueline.

  “Then get it yourself,” says Gayle.

  Jacqueline watches Sexy Sexton drinking his lemonade. She stares at the funny little ball under the skin of his neck that bobs up and down.

  “Thanks, Gaye,” says Sexy Sexton. “I was parched. Playing tennis in this weather – I must be mad.”

  The front door bangs and Jacqueline hears Lilly calling, “Eddie? Are you here, Eddie?”

  Sexy Sexton jumps up and Gayle stares down at Lilly’s dress. Jacqueline smiles.

  Lilly comes into the kitchen. “There you are, Eddie, I saw your car. That’s a very nice dress, Gayle. Do you want to come into the sitting room, Eddie – at least we’ll have a bit of privacy there?”

  Jacqueline and Gayle watch them go.

  “Do you think she noticed?” asks Gayle.

  Jacqueline is too busy wondering why Lilly and Sexy Sexton want privacy.

  The door opens again and Lilly sticks her head around it. “You’re dead, Gayle Brennan!” she hisses. “Now get my good dress off this minute!” For once, she does not bang the kitchen door.

  “I think she noticed,” says Jacqueline.

  Chapter 22

  Afterwards

  Dot Candy was on the terrace, reclining in one of the striped deck chairs. The terrace was still lit with sunshine although much of the garden was in shadow. She had a glass of wine in her hand and she turned her head when Jacqueline appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “Hello – join me in a drink?” she said.

  Jacqueline noticed that there was a second glass on the table before her. She’s been expecting me, she thought. “Sure.” She came out onto the terrace, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “But just the one, I’m heading into town to get something to eat.”

  Dot poured her some wine and topped up her own drink. “Cheers!”

  “Cheers.” Jacqueline took a sip of the wine. It was good, in fact it was wonderful and she took a second, decent draught. “Thank you for finding that guestbook for me. I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble.”

  “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Some of it,” said Jacqueline.

  “Yes and no then,” said Dot. She leaned her head against the back of her chair and for a while there was no sound but the song of the invisible birds.

  Perverse woman, thought Jacqueline, full of questions when they’re not welcome, but now when I’m willing to offer information she doesn’t want to know. She leaned back too and closed her eyes. When she opened them again Dot was watching her.

  “You have good hair,” said Dot, “nice and thick. I envy people with good hair.”

  “Thanks.” Jacqueline’s hand went involuntarily to her head. “I think I get it from my father – he had good hair too. Actually, it was his name I found in the guestbook. He did stay here after all.”

  “Is that so?” said Dot. She leaned in and replenished both glasses.

  “In 1983,” said Jacqueline.

  Dot took a sip of her drink and settled back in her chair once more.

  “His name was Frank,” said Jacqueline. “Frank Brennan.”

  Dot’s head nodded on her stalky neck. “You look a bit like him. It’s the eyes, I think.”

  Jacqueline put her glass down on the table. “You remember him. But why didn’t you say so before?”

  “I wasn’t certain at first – it was a very long time ago.”

  “And yet you remember him,” said Jacqueline.

  “Some people you just remember,” said Dot.

  “Tell me,” said Jacqueline.

  “Nothing much to tell. He came, he stayed a while and then he went away again.”

  “But why did he come?” said Jacqueline.

  “He never really told me in so many words,” said Dot Candy, “but from what I gathered, there was a child … or a young girl …”

  “My sister. My sister Lilly. She disappeared in 1976 and was never found. And he was looking for her here?”
/>
  “Like I said, he never actually told me the details, but I believe that’s why he came. The poor man … oh, hello, Marilyn.”

  Jacqueline turned. A girl was standing on the terrace behind her. She had very dark, very long, straight black hair and was wearing a short navy-blue dress and very high, black, strappy shoes. She looked very different with her face heavily made-up, her lips dark red and glossy as cherries, but Jacqueline recognised the girl from the rocking chair. Right this minute, Jacqueline wished her back there.

  “I don’t think you two have met officially,” said Dot. “Jacqueline, meet Marilyn. Marilyn, this is Jacqueline Brennan.”

  “Hi, Marilyn,” said Jacqueline.

  The girl barely acknowledged her greeting. “He’s asleep,” she said, looking at Dot.

  “Fine, you get off then,” said Dot.

  “Thanks, I won’t be late.” Marilyn walked away, her body canted unnaturally in the ludicrous heels.

  “She will be late,” said Dot, “but who can blame her?”

  “You watch the child for her?” said Jacqueline.

  Dot nodded. “She needs to get out sometimes and have a bit of fun.”

  “She seems very young to have a child,” said Jacqueline.

  “She looks about fifteen, doesn’t she? But she’s just gone twenty-two.”

  “The little boy,” said Jacqueline. “He told me his daddy has no head.”

  Dot winced. “Did he say that? I’d hoped he was starting to forget. You see, Marilyn’s boyfriend, Jimmy’s father, was decapitated.”

  “Jesus!” Jacqueline put her hands to her own neck.

  “Poor little Jimmy overheard Marilyn one evening, when she was drunk and hysterical and not exactly watching her words. Unfortunately, the salient facts seem to have lodged in his brain. It’s a pity, because Jimmy doesn’t have any actual memory of his father.”

  “How did it happen?” asked Jacqueline.

  “An accident on a building site,” said Dot, “and to make matters worse he was working here illegally – he was Bulgarian – no insurance, nothing. Marilyn lost the run of herself for a while and they got evicted from their flat. She was in danger of losing Jimmy – she came very close to having him taken away by social services.”