The Last Lost Girl

by Maria Hoey

  “Come on, Francis!” She raps the window. “For God’s sake, wake up and stop that racket and unlock the door!”

  The horn just keeps on going.

  Jacqueline’s mother bangs on the roof of the car. “I said wake up, Francis – it’s the middle of November for God’s sake and the girls will catch their death of cold!”

  They take turns to rap and knock and rattle, they call and shout but Daddy does not move.

  Then Jacqueline leans over the bonnet of the car and taps gently on the windscreen.

  Daddy raises his head and peers through the glass at her and smiles. “There’s my little girl!”

  “Come to bed, Daddy,” says Jacqueline.

  “I’m grand where I am, pet.”

  “No, Daddy, you have to come in to bed,” calls Gayle. “You can’t sleep in the car.”

  “I could sleep on a bed of nails,” says Daddy.

  “Francis Brennan, this is the third time in two weeks you’ve done this,” says Jacqueline’s mother, “and I for one have had enough of it. You’re a drunken disgrace is what you are, and if you don’t come in to bed this minute, we’ll lock up the house and leave you out here all night to freeze!”

  “Oh no, Mam, we can’t do that!” says Gayle.

  “Don’t ‘oh no, Mam’ me,” says Jacqueline’s mother, but she stops when Daddy opens the car door.

  Between them, they help him into the house.

  “He can sleep on the sofa tonight,” says Jacqueline’s mother. “We nearly broke our backs trying to get him up the stairs the last time.”

  When Daddy is asleep on the sofa, Gayle says, “I’ll go and get him some blankets.”

  “You do that,” says Jacqueline’s mother. “I’m going back to bed. And I mean it – the next time he does this he can sleep in the car.”

  The next time it happens, Daddy’s head falls backwards instead of forwards onto the steering wheel and the horn does not go off so nobody finds him until the morning.

  “Howaya, Jacklean!”

  Regina Quinn is standing at the bottom of the steps, leaning on the handles of the Quinn’s big blue pram. The Quinn baby is sitting up and smiling and waving his arms at Jacqueline. He says something she does not understand. His face is red and he hasn’t very much hair. Only two bottom teeth show when he smiles but Jacqueline is disappointed that he is not really pop-eyed after all. Leo Quinn is in the pram too, he is sitting sideways at the baby’s feet with his legs dangling over the side, and there is something on his face, which Jacqueline thinks could be jam or might be blood. He sticks out his tongue at her.

  “Why did you bring them?” asks Jacqueline.

  “My ma said I wasn’t allowed out unless I brought them,” says Regina.

  “Well, you shouldn’t have bothered – my mother said you can’t come into our house anymore.” Jacqueline likes the way it makes her feel to say this. She thinks that she would like to close the door in Regina’s face but she waits to see if maybe Regina will start to cry.

  Regina looks down at her shoes. “My ma said I’m not allowed to play with you anymore either.”

  Jacqueline is so surprised she forgets her plan to slam the door. “Why are you not allowed to play with me?”

  Regina looks up again. “My ma says your ma told lies to the guards about my da.”

  “No, she didn’t, my mother doesn’t tell lies.”

  “I didn’t say she did,” says Regina. “My ma said it.”

  “Your ma says a lot of stupid things,” says Jacqueline.

  “Yeah, but the coppers made my da come down to the station. He had to answer a load of questions about where he was the night Lilly went missing. But my ma says the coppers better not try and blame him, because she’ll say my da was asleep in bed, and that’s the truth.”

  “Well then,” says Jacqueline.

  “Yeah but people are talking.”

  “About your da?” asks Jacqueline.

  “Yeah, they’re saying he’s a Peepin’ Tom or a weirdo or something.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s not my mother’s fault,” says Jacqueline.

  “People are sayin’ stuff about your da too, you know.”

  Jacqueline does not know. “What sort of stuff?” she asks.

  Regina looks down at her feet again. “I don’t know nuttin’.”

  Jacqueline tries to keep her patience. “If you don’t know nothing, that means you know something. So why don’t you just tell me what you know, Regina Quinn? What are people saying about Daddy?”

  “That maybe Lilly ran away because your da is too …”

  “Because he’s too what?”

  “You know,” says Regina, “the way he never let her go with anyone.”

  “He let her go with Eddie Sexton,” says Jacqueline. This is so stupid she wishes she had not said it out loud.

  Regina looks like she is thinking the same thing. “Yeah but …”

  “What else are people saying?”

  “You know, that he dragged her out of the marquee and tore her sash and everything.”

  “What about it?” says Jacqueline. A pain has started in her stomach, the sort of pain she gets when she’s eaten too many crab-apples. “That was an accident.”

  “Yeah, I know, but people are saying how mad your da was and how everyone thought he was going to hit Luca … or Lilly even.”

  “He never hit Lilly,” said Jacqueline. “Daddy never ever hit Lilly. That’s a big fat lie, Regina Quinn.”

  “That’s what I said when I heard it,” said Regina. “I said I didn’t believe your da ever hit Lilly.”

  “Well, if you hear people saying stuff like that again you better tell them … tell them …” But Jacqueline cannot think what Regina should tell them. “So why are you even here if you’re not allowed to play with me?”

  “Because I wanted to,” says Regina.

  “Skinny Malink, melodeon legs, umbrella feet!” sings Leo Quinn.

  “Shut up, Leo!” says Regina.

  “Went to the pictures and couldn’t get a seat!”

  “Shut up, Leo!” says Jacqueline.

  “When the picture started, Skinny Malink farted. Skinny Malink, melodeon legs, umbrella feet!”

  Jacqueline stares out over the top of Regina’s head. “You’d better go before my mother sees you, Regina.”

  “Okay. But I’ll still come if you want me to, Jacklean.”

  “No, don’t, you’ll get into trouble,” says Jacqueline.

  “I don’t mind, I’m always getting into trouble.”

  “How many times did you get the wooden spoon this week?” asks Jacqueline.

  “Six times, I think,” says Regina. “I’ve sort of stopped counting.”

  “Goodbye, Regina,” says Jacqueline.

  “Bye, Jacklean.”

  “Bye, Skinny Malink,” says Leo, as Jacqueline closes the door on Regina Quinn’s glittery eyes.

  Chapter 48

  Afterwards

  “Are you staying the night, Auntie Jacqueline?” Roy, oblivious to any tension in the room, had hurled himself in an armchair and pointed a remote at the big TV. The Simpsons lit up the screen in bright yellow and Homer’s voice boomed.

  Gayle turned back quickly from the window. “Are you, Jacqueline?”

  Jacqueline hesitated a fraction too long and Gayle’s face seemed to light up from within. And that seemed to settle it.

  “Brilliant,” said Roy, “and that means you can come with us to the hospital tomorrow to see Alison and the baby.”

  Gayle, who was collecting up the glasses and the wine bottle, looked up and laughed. “I’m not so sure about that, Roy – your Auntie Jacqueline is not exactly a baby person.”

  “I’ll have you know,” said Jacqueline, “that I spent an entire day yesterday taking care of a four-year-old.” As Gayle’s eyes widened she added, “Much against my will, I have to admit.”

  Gayle rolled her eyes. “I’m just going to get the room ready for you.” She hurr
ied off, seemingly happy once more.

  “The match doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes, Auntie Jacqueline,” said Roy. “Will I stick on the news for you or something?”

  “No, watch what you like, Roy, don’t mind me. I’ll just relax here.”

  “I’ll mute it until the match comes on.” Roy pointed the remote and Homer fell silent.

  As he leaned over his phone again, Jacqueline found herself smiling. After all, it was nice to discover you liked the people to whom you are deemed to belong. She leaned her head back against the headrest of her chair and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, The Simpsons had given way to a local news bulletin and an image on the silent screen caught her attention.

  “Could you turn that up a minute please, Roy?”

  Roy looked up from his phone. “Huh? Sure.”

  “… body is that of a white man believed to be in his late fifties or early sixties. Officers investigating the murder are appealing for witnesses or any information from the public …”

  The door opened and Gayle came in. “I’m putting you in the box room, Jacqueline – don’t worry, it isn’t really a box, it’s quite roomy actually. I’d give you Roy’s room only it smells and I can’t put Alison out of her room, not when –” She broke off as Jacqueline pushed past her. “Where are you off to, Jacqueline?”

  “Sorry. I need to make a phone call.”

  In the hallway, she dialled the stored number and paced as it rang.

  Behind her, Gayle closed the door to the lounge and she could hear the murmur of her and Roy’s voices.

  “Come on, Dot, answer!” but the phone kept on ringing.

  The door to the lounge opened. “Is anything wrong, Jacqueline?” Gayle asked.

  “Maybe, I don’t know.” Jacqueline ended the call: “I’m going to have to go, Gayle.”

  “Go?” Gayle followed Jacqueline back into the living room and watched her picking up her bag. “But you said you were going to stay. I’ve made up the room for you. Is this about Eddie?”

  “No, this is nothing to do with Eddie or any of that. I just need to go, Gayle.” She saw the look on Gayle’s face and went to her. She put her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “I mean it. This is not about you or Eddie or any of that, I swear. It’s just that something has happened and I really do have to go.”

  Gayle and Roy followed her to the front door and watched as she zipped herself into her still damp jacket and pulled up the hood.

  When she opened the door and saw the rain, heavier than ever, Gayle gave a small dismayed gasp. “You can’t go out in that rain, Jacqueline – would you not wait until it eases off?”

  “I don’t think it’s planning to ease off anytime soon,” said Jacqueline. “I may as well go now.”

  “Well, here, at least take this.” Gayle came forward and pulled an umbrella from a stand next to the door.

  Jacqueline took it. “Thanks,” she said.

  For a moment they just looked at one another and then Gayle leaned in and took Jacqueline’s face between her hands.

  “You know you have people, don’t you, Jacqueline, even if you don’t want them?”

  When Jacqueline said nothing, Gayle let go and Jacqueline turned away and hurried off into the slanting rain.

  At the top of the road, she turned and looked back. Gayle and Roy were still there in the doorway, their arms around one another, looking after her.

  Jacqueline raised her arm and waved to them. “I promise I’ll come back!” she yelled. She wasn’t sure if they could hear her but suddenly the figures in the doorway raised an arm each in a frenzy of waving.

  She waved back and then turned away into wind and rain.

  She had tried the number twice from the train and once from the taxi so that when she walked into the kitchen of Sea Holly Villa she was surprised to find Dot there making tea.

  “Didn’t you hear the phone?” said Jacqueline. “I was ringing and ringing. Was it Magpie?”

  “I was out, I’ve only just come in,” said Dot. “I got soaked to the skin and by the look of it so did you. Was what Magpie?”

  “It was on the news, a man in his late fifties was murdered. His body was found in a bandstand. I didn’t hear the whole news report but it was Northby, I know it was. I recognised the beach and the bandstand – it was the same one where we had our chips yesterday, me and Magpie and Jimmy. I recognised it straightaway.”

  Dot’s hand went to her breast. “Oh my days, surely not?”

  “They haven’t identified him,” said Jacqueline, “but it was the same bandstand and he’s always in bandstands.”

  “But then it could be anybody,” said Dot. “Why would you think it was Magpie? My, you’ve given me a shock. And didn’t he come back with you last night?”

  “No, he stayed there,” said Jacqueline. “He said he had something to do but I knew he was planning on going on a bender.”

  “That still doesn’t mean it was him.”

  “I think it was,” said Jacqueline. “I just know it was. And if so, it will be my fault. He wouldn’t even have been there yesterday if he hadn’t been trying to help me.”

  “You’re jumping to conclusions,” said Dot. “Did you get a description of this poor man?”

  “Part of one – the age was right – and that bandstand …”

  “So he likes bandstands, I like bandstands, lots of people like bandstands. What about his hair? You couldn’t mistake that streak in Magpie’s hair?”

  “I didn’t see a picture – I only caught the end of the news bulletin. There was a number but I didn’t take it down – I’m so stupid!”

  “You’ve had a shock – you need to calm down. Now give me that jacket and go and change out of those wet clothes, and then come back down and I’ll get you a brandy. We’ll have it in my sitting room, it’s comfortable there. In the meantime I’ll ring 999 and see what I can find out.”

  “I can do that,” said Jacqueline.

  “No – I’ll do it. You go and get out of those clothes. Let me help you with that jacket.”

  She thinks it was Magpie too, thought Jacqueline, and she doesn’t want me overhearing. But why should it matter so much? He’s nothing to me, I hardly even know him.

  She gave in and let herself be helped out of the dripping jacket, then she hurried upstairs to her room. The hood and umbrella had kept the worst of the rain from her hair but from the waist down her clothes were sodden. Even when she had stripped, her skin felt cold and damp. She would have welcomed a hot shower but it would have to wait. She towelled her body, pulled on clean underwear, her linen trousers and a T-shirt. She pulled on socks and dug her feet into her trainers, without unlacing them and then, because she still felt chilled, drew on his grey cardigan and hurried downstairs again.

  “I’m in here,” called Dot.

  Jacqueline followed the sound of her voice to a room off the hall. Dot was sitting in a wingback armchair, a glass of brandy in one hand. On a table before her was her phone and a second glass of brandy.

  “Well?” said Jacqeuline.

  Dot leaned forward, picked up the second glass and held it out to Jacqueline. “They haven’t identified him yet,” she said. “They think it was someone who was sleeping rough. I had to give them my name and address, in case they want to question me further. And they took my number so they can call me, in case, well, in case it turns to be Magpie after all. Now will you sit down and drink that, please?” She took a gulp of her own drink.

  Jacqueline sat down in the match of Dot’s chair and took a sip of her brandy. The heat in her belly was a reminder of how chilled she still was and she took a more generous gulp.

  “They wanted his real name,” said Dot, “but, you know, I have no idea what it is. I told them about his hair, of course, but I didn’t know the colour of his eyes. Blue, I thought…”

  “Grey,” said Jacqueline. “Storm-cloud grey.”

  Dot looked at her. “I should have let you make the phone call. W
hen we see him again, we’ll ask him what his real name is.”

  Looking about her at the pleasant peaceful little room, Jacqueline thought that Dot was right – it was comfortable with its one long window and its walls lined with bookshelves.

  “Here, have another brandy.”

  “I shouldn’t,” said Jacqueline. “The first one has gone to my head.” But she held out her glass for a refill.

  “You care about him, don’t you?” said Dot.

  “Do I care?” said Jacqueline. “I don’t know. When my father died, one of the things my sister asked me to do was to let our Auntie Carol know what had happened. I didn’t do it. Gayle was very angry with me – our Auntie Carol is my father’s – was my father’s only sibling. I said I was sorry, and I was sorry, but only because it gave Gayle a stick to beat me with.”

  “So you forgot,” said Dot. “You had things on your mind.”

  “No, I didn’t forget,” said Jacqueline. “I just didn’t think about Carol, how it would affect her – other people’s lives have never seemed very real to me.”

  “Are you talking about a lack of empathy?” said Dot. “Because I think if that were the case, you wouldn’t be here.”

  “You mean because I want to know what happened to my sister – to Lilly? That’s true, but it’s for myself I want to know. Both my parents are dead now and they died without knowing. So whatever I find out now comes too late for them, and still I want to know.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself,” said Dot.

  “Am I?” Jacqueline looked up. “Tell me something, Dot – aren’t you ever afraid that people, people like Marilyn and Magpie will …” She hesitated.

  “Take me for granted?” said Dot.

  Make a fool of you, was what Jacqueline had been about to say, but she nodded agreement.

  “I’m much more afraid of being pointless than of being made a fool of,” said Dot, reading her mind.

  “Why would you be pointless?”

  “Rattling around in this place after Martin’s death, it all felt pretty pointless. I wasn’t stuck for money, Peter left Martin some money along with the house, and there was the life insurance. All I know is that the first time I took a chance on someone, and welcomed them into this house without asking if they had the money to pay for it, that was the first time my life made any sense again.”