Ten Little Words

by Leah Mercer

  Carolyn paused, her shoulders lifting in a sigh. ‘All that evidence, along with the fact that she hadn’t taken any money from her bank accounts or used any cards for weeks after her disappearance . . . It was enough for all of us to know she wasn’t coming back.’

  Enough for everyone but me. My heart panged at my five-year-old self’s steadfast belief and trust in my mother, and I shook my head to clear the emotion.

  ‘We had to wait a few years before we could get her death certificate but, by then, the whole thing was really just a formality. We only got it in case—’ Carolyn cleared her throat. ‘Well, for logistical reasons, really.’

  I raked my mind for more questions to ask, but nothing came to mind. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but my mother’s death seemed so black and white. She’d been depressed and, without treatment, it had all been too much. She’d left me and walked into the sea, and that was that.

  Maybe because I’d refused to think about it for years, I’d thought there would be more – more of a reason; more of a story behind her death; maybe an explosive memory long since buried. Relief filtered through me as I realised everything was out in the open now. Despite what my subconscious may have conjured up, there wasn’t anything else there to fear.

  ‘I have some of your mother’s things packed away upstairs,’ Carolyn said. ‘I’ve been saving them for you, whenever you were ready.’

  I drew in a breath, remembering Carolyn asking me throughout the years if I wanted to take a look. I’d always shaken my head – after giving up hope that my mother would return, I hadn’t wanted anything to do with her. Why would I want to comb through her precious things? Nothing had been enough to keep her from the sea. Not even her very own daughter.

  I still didn’t want to. I’d come here to learn about my mother’s death, not her life. I didn’t need to know her as a person. She’d been a mother who’d left me, and that was all. I wasn’t scared – I simply wasn’t interested.

  ‘There’s some jewellery there I’m sure she’d like you to have,’ Carolyn said, and I jerked towards her. Jewellery? Did she mean the pieces they’d found on the beach that day, or had the heart pendant been found? Maybe it had been uncovered in the sand at some point. Carolyn wouldn’t think to tell me. She didn’t know my mother’s promise that the pendant would one day be mine.

  Before I could stop it, hope flared inside me . . . hope that maybe my mother had left something, after all. Something she’d known I would cherish; a piece of her I could hold close to me, knowing it had been precious to her, too.

  Maybe she’d kept one promise, after all.

  Stop it! I shook my head so hard that my neck hurt, swearing at myself under my breath. I was done here. I’d faced the past. Nothing had touched me, and nothing would. But before I could gather myself to say anything, Rob was already halfway up the stairs.

  ‘I’ll get the box for you,’ he said, his voice floating down. ‘And don’t worry, there’s no rush – you don’t need to go through it here. I’ll drive you home and you can take your time.’

  Relief filtered through me that I wouldn’t be forced to open the box under Carolyn’s watchful eye. I’d shove it in the back of my wardrobe, and it could stay there until I had a chance to return it to my aunt.

  Carolyn and I watched Rob head up the stairs and, this time, Carolyn did reach out to touch my hand. I tried not to shy away. ‘I’m so pleased you’re ready to talk about all of this,’ she said. ‘If you have any other questions, you know where to find us. Call any time.’

  I tore myself away from her intense gaze and looked at the fire. ‘Great. Thank you.’ I didn’t want my words to sound so forced, but I couldn’t help it.

  Rob came down the stairs with a cardboard box tucked under his arm. ‘Ready to go?’

  I said a quick goodbye to Carolyn and followed Rob out to the car.

  Rob unlocked the car door and put the box in the back. ‘Hang on a sec, Ella. I found another box of your mum’s things in the shed – I think Carolyn must have forgotten about it. Just one minute and I’ll get it for you.’

  I nodded as he scurried off, returning with a small shoebox.

  ‘Right,’ he said, sliding into the driver’s seat. ‘Let’s get you home.’ He started the engine and I clenched my jaw. In the back seat, the boxes felt like my mother’s crouching presence, watching us. I couldn’t wait to pack them away.

  ‘You know, it was really nice to see you,’ Rob said. ‘Carolyn, well . . . she worries a lot about you.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said tightly. ‘Just tell her not to worry.’

  Rob laughed. ‘Telling her that is like telling the sea to stay still,’ he said. ‘But talking to you a bit more, well, it’d do her good.’

  I swung my gaze towards him. ‘Is she okay?’ Something in his voice made me wonder.

  ‘Oh, yes, she’s all right,’ he said. ‘Just a few minor issues with her blood pressure – the doctor thinks it’s to do with her heart. They’re going to do a few more investigations.’

  ‘Right.’ I swallowed. ‘But she’ll be okay, right?’

  ‘Oh, yes, as long as she doesn’t get herself too worked up. Right, here we are.’ Rob pulled up in front of my block of flats. ‘Do you want me to help you carry the boxes up?’

  ‘No, that’s okay. I can manage.’ Rob hadn’t been in my flat since he’d helped me move in – there was hardly any room for me and Dolby, let alone entertaining other people. ‘Thanks for the lift.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ He touched my arm. ‘See you soon?’

  I nodded, although I didn’t know what he meant by ‘soon’. I reached over to the back seat and hauled out the two boxes, then set them down and closed the car door. Rob lifted a hand and the car pulled away, leaving me alone with the remains of my mother’s life.

  CHAPTER NINE

  JUDE

  August 1980

  Jude hadn’t realised time could pass so quickly – well, not in Hastings, anyway, where one hour could sometimes feel like a century. But over the next few days, the minutes flew by. Despite her declaration that she didn’t need any complications right now, she and Bertie were spending almost every second together . . . from the moment she woke up and rushed to his hotel (Frank’s place wasn’t fit for a rat, he’d said) to the late-night walk back to Carolyn’s. Sweetly, Bertie hadn’t tried to convince her to stay over – not yet, anyway, although she couldn’t wait. If their kissing was anything to go by, making love was going to be amazing.

  She smiled now as she hurried along the promenade to his hotel, recalling the moment they’d locked lips on the night they’d first met. They’d spent that whole night on the beach (she’d had a lot of explaining to do about that one with Carolyn). Bertie had walked her along the promenade in the dawn, asking if he could see her again. She’d grabbed his hand and nodded, saying how about right now, for breakfast? She’d been so happy she hadn’t even been tired, and she could see he felt the same. They’d got breakfast in the one place that was open, then sat down on a bench in the glowing sun and fallen asleep in each other’s arms. It sounded like something from a romance novel – and it had felt like it, too. When Bertie had lowered his lips to hers, light had filled her, banishing any lingering darkness.

  Bertie was so far from her usual type that she couldn’t even begin to describe what made him attractive. It wasn’t just his impeccable manners, how he always turned up on time without a million excuses, like the other blokes she’d dated, or how he really listened when she spoke. It was just . . . him. There was something about his soul, about the very essence of what made him Bertie that clicked so well with her. They were two very different pieces of a puzzle that slotted together perfectly. He made her feel anchored and safe, like she wasn’t about to float off untethered, the way she’d been feeling since her parents had died.

  Her smile grew wider as thoughts of yesterday filled her head. Like every day she and Bertie had been together, they’d had breakfast then gone down to the prome
nade, where Bertie watched her sing. He’d stood quietly at the back of the crowd as always, his gaze fixed firmly on her face as if nothing in the world was as important as her. The blue sky had clouded over and a sharp wind whipped the water, and Jude could feel cold seeping into her more and more with each gust. The punters started melting away and she’d been about to grudgingly pack it in when Bertie had appeared at her side, wrapping her in his thick coat and rubbing her arms.

  ‘Keep going,’ he’d said, urging her on. He’d understood that, for her, this wasn’t just busking – this was working towards a dream; towards starting the life she’d always wanted. She’d taken a deep breath and started to sing again, warm now from her very core.

  When she’d first told Bertie about her plan to go to London, she’d been worried that he’d think she was crazy, just like Carolyn had. Jude knew it wasn’t the most practical idea, and anyone could see the odds were stacked against her. Even if she did manage to get a job at one of pubs Frank had mentioned when she’d pumped him for information, that was only a very slim foothold on the long ladder she’d need to climb. Jude had braced herself, unsure if she could bear hearing anything negative from this man who’d made her feel that, finally, someone actually saw her.

  But Bertie had surprised her. He’d hugged her tightly, saying how brave she was to follow her dreams and how much he admired her passion for singing – that he could hear it in every word. And as he’d stood there yesterday, watching her sing, his arms bare as the freezing wind whipped in from the sea, she realised that not only did he understand, but he wouldn’t try to change her. She could be her.

  When she really couldn’t sing any longer, she and Bertie would abandon her pitch and head down to the beach for a break before her pub gigs started. Sometimes Frank would join them, sitting still for just one second before trying to drag Bertie into the frothy water, often succeeding. Jude would lounge on the sand as the laughter from the two men floated towards her, smiling as she watched the two of them cavort in the waves like overgrown puppies. Then, despite the fact that Jude would need to do her hair all over again, she’d plunge into the sea savouring the cold water on her sweaty, sunburned skin. Frank was like crashing waves to Bertie’s still water, but despite the differences between the two brothers, she’d never seen them clash – not like she and Carolyn did. Bertie could take it all in his stride, and that made her feel even more comfortable with him. Happiness bubbled up inside, filling her whole world with light.

  Even Carolyn noticed what a good mood Jude was in, commenting that she hoped it would last. She’d meant Jude’s good mood, of course, and not her fling with Bertie (Carolyn didn’t even know about Bertie), but it made Jude think. This was just a fling, a wonderful holiday romance that couldn’t last. Soon, Bertie would go back to Edinburgh. Hastings would revert from being a wonderland to a wasteland once again and, come September, she’d go to London.

  Somehow, though, the thought didn’t hold the same appeal.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ELLA

  I carried the boxes into my flat and shoved them to the back of the wardrobe, the only place in my studio where I could put things out of sight. They were just boxes, I told myself, trying to shake the unnerving feeling that my mother had invaded my sanctuary. They were only objects – inanimate things, nothing more, nothing less.

  Moving methodically and deliberately, I went through my usual bedtime routine: shower, pyjamas, then curling up under the duvet with Dolby and my book. Ten-thirty came and I switched off the light and lay in the darkness, counting my breaths in and out and waiting for sleep to come. Tonight, I’d nothing to fear. I’d faced down my memories and put my terrible nightmares to rest. I couldn’t wait for a full night’s sleep in peace.

  Each time I closed my eyes, though, the boxes in the wardrobe loomed larger and larger, questions needling my mind like poisonous darts. Was the heart pendant in there? Had my mother thought of me in her last moments? Had she left something of herself for her daughter?

  I pushed the questions away. I told myself over and over how ridiculous I was being. I twisted the duvet around my limbs, as if I was physically preventing myself from getting up to rip open the boxes. But no matter how hard I clenched the covers or pressed myself into the mattress, I couldn’t stop the urge building inside.

  Sighing in frustration, I threw aside the duvet and got out of bed, switching on the light. I was done with all of this, but if the only way I was going to sleep tonight was to open those boxes and prove to myself the necklace wasn’t there, then I’d do it. Why not? Jewellery or not, my mother was gone. She’d still left me, and I’d long since accepted it. After tonight, I knew there was nothing more to fear; no reason my subconscious would linger on painful memories.

  I opened the wardrobe doors and slid the boxes on to the sofa. Then I grabbed a knife from the kitchen cupboard and ran it down the centre of the bigger box, lifting the flaps. It was full of clothing I didn’t recognise, bright colours spilling out into the gloom of the dim light. A soft red silk shirt, a jade-green jumper, an orange pair of trousers, a purple velvet dress . . . so unlike Mum’s typical outfit of faded jeans or jogging bottoms along with whatever T-shirt she’d pulled from the laundry pile on the sofa that day. I pawed through the items, determined not to pause. I didn’t want to think about her. I was only doing this to put my mind to rest and get some sleep.

  I spotted a clear plastic bag with the glint of metal inside. Despite myself, my stomach flipped: this must be the jewellery that was found on the beach. I tore open the bag and drew out the tangle of necklaces and bracelets. The butterfly bracelet, the earrings . . . No, no heart pendant. Not in this box, anyway.

  Right, one more box, and then I could sleep. I grabbed the shoebox and slid my fingers under the yellowed Sellotape that attached the lid. It snapped easily, and I lifted the top.

  I sat back, taking in the contents. Envelope after envelope was neatly stacked inside, some thick and some thin. I sifted through them, noticing none had been opened. There were dozens of them, and they were all addressed to my mother at Carolyn’s house. There was no return address, but the handwriting looked the same on each.

  Why hadn’t my mother opened any of these? I wondered. And why had Carolyn kept them all this time, even those that had arrived after my mother’s death? Why hadn’t my aunt written to this person and told them my mother had died?

  I shut down the questions in my mind as I scanned the inside of the box, looking for a glint of gold, but it was empty. I took a deep breath, steeling myself against any hint of disappointment. My mother hadn’t thought of me, but that was hardly news. How could she have killed herself otherwise? She might have been depressed, but she could have let Carolyn help her. She could have taken medication, but she’d decided not to.

  She could have stayed, but she’d chosen to leave.

  Case closed.

  I replaced the letters in the box without giving them a second glance. I’d only opened it to see if the pendant was there. Whatever else – whoever else – my mother had left behind, well . . . I didn’t care.

  It was time to get my life on back on track.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JUDE

  August 1980

  Before Jude could even blink, Bertie’s holiday in Hastings was over and it was time for him to head back to Edinburgh. He’d wanted to pick her up at Carolyn’s and take her out to a posh restaurant: a ‘last supper’, as she’d jokingly called it. And while she’d have jumped at the suggestion with previous dates, now she’d shaken her head. She didn’t need to dress up and go out; she didn’t need fancy food and expensive wine. She just needed Bertie.

  Besides, she didn’t want anything special to mark that this was over. Sure, she’d known that Bertie was visiting for only a short time and that he had a life in Scotland (though she struggled to picture him anywhere but here, by her side). And, sure, they both knew that in a few weeks, she’d be leaving here anyway. But despite realising they’d soo
n go their separate ways, Jude had plunged headlong into their remaining days together, giving him her everything. He made it easy, and she couldn’t – she didn’t want to – hold back. Just knowing Bertie was waiting for her at their spot on the promenade brought a smile to her face.

  ‘What is up with you lately?’ her sister had asked a few days earlier, when Jude had finished washing up one night with a smile. Usually, she suffered through it as if someone was flicking her skin with the damp towel. Truly, could there be a more boring task in the world?

  Jude had jerked, catching herself dreaming of Bertie’s arms wrapped around her. ‘Nothing.’ She didn’t want to share Bertie with anyone but herself, least of all her sister. Bertie was like a pleasant dream, and the last thing she needed was Carolyn shaking her rudely awake with her dose of reality. Bertie had wanted to meet her sister, but Jude had steadfastly refused. They had little time together as it was, and she didn’t want to waste it over an excruciating dinner where poor Bertie would be subjected to Carolyn’s grilling. Although, actually, she suspected Bertie might meet with Carolyn’s approval, unlike some of the other blokes she’d been with in the past. He was polite, had a steady job, dressed neatly, and spoke nicely. He and Carolyn were almost the same age, too. Bertie was nearly a whole decade older than Jude!

  She shook her head now, a smile creeping across her face as she struggled into her favourite pair of jeans and a gingham top. Bertie might be miles away from her usual type, but she couldn’t be happier.

  For now, anyway. She swallowed against the sadness that filled her when she remembered that this time tomorrow he would be gone, and life would fade to black and white again.