‘I’ll let you get on,’ I said, moving away, knowing our conversation was over.
I left the shop, and stood for a while looking at the window display – there were so many things my mother would have loved, and I gulped back a surge of sadness.
I was about to walk away, when the mannequin I’d seen earlier caught my eye. It was in a dress similar to the one in the photo of Yolanda’s mother I’d seen at Marcus McCutcheon’s house. Even the wig was short and dark. I shook my head. I was being ridiculous. It was a vintage shop and the dress was old-fashioned. And even if Yolanda had kept her mother’s dress, then it wasn’t so strange, was it?
‘Are you still here?’ It was Yolanda, coming through the door, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter in her hand.
I looked at my watch. ‘Yes, but I should be getting home,’ I said. ‘Can I just ask you a quick question before I go?’
‘Fire away,’ she said, lighting a cigarette.
‘Do you have any memory of the farmhouse near where my mother lived in Ireland?’
She nodded. ‘Aha. Never went there myself, but I heard about the place when I was a child. It was the talk of our school for a while.’
‘What was?’
‘The death of a little girl, and the suicide.’
‘There were two deaths?’
She nodded. ‘I think so, but you know how these stories get twisted the more they are told.’
‘Do you know the name of the child who died?’
She shrugged. ‘Sorry, I honestly can’t remember – although I believe she’s buried in the graveyard near the farmhouse.’ She threw down her cigarette and stubbed it out with her shoe.
I regretted that I hadn’t visited the graveyard in Ireland like I’d hoped to. ‘Well, thanks anyway,’ I said, lifting my hand in a wave and heading away.
Later, as I was about to travel down the escalator towards the underground, Zoe called.
‘Hey, Rach,’ she said, her voice upbeat. ‘How’s things?’
‘OK. I called earlier hoping to meet up for lunch. I was going to drop in on you, but couldn’t find your salon.’
‘Well, I’m here – 15 Upper Street.’
‘Damn, I went to 75 – must have muddled the seven and the one up somehow. Probably my crap writing.’
‘Aw, what a shame, but let’s be ladies who lunch soon, yeah?’
‘Sounds good to me.’
‘So what were you doing in Islington?’
‘I’ve had a DNA test, would you believe?’
‘Wow! Does this mean you’ll soon know if Jude’s your long-lost father?’
‘Yep.’
‘Amazing. Hey, listen, do you fancy going to the spa tonight? It will do you good to relax, and you can tell me all about it.’
‘I can’t,’ I said, moving out of the way of a rush of commuters. ‘I’m collecting Grace from Lawrence at six, and I’m desperate to spend time with her. It seems ages since I saw her last.’
‘OK, well if you change your mind …’
‘Thanks, Zoe,’ I said, ending the call, and stepping onto the escalator.
***
Back in Finsbury Park, I headed straight from the underground to Lawrence’s apartment. Once I’d climbed the stairs, he flung open his front door. He’d clearly jumped in the shower after work, something he always did when we were together, and since thrown on a white T-shirt – wet in places where he hadn’t towel-dried properly – and black jeans, his wet hair combed back from his face. I hated that he was good-looking and knew it. I’d definitely punched above my weight five years ago. Shame I’d got knocked out in the third round.
‘Grace isn’t here.’ He sounded complacent.
‘What? You said to pick her up at six.’ I pushed past him and into his flat, which smelt of aftershave and cigarettes, feeling sure my daughter must be there. ‘Where is she?’ I said, spinning round, as he followed me into the room.
‘Farrah’s taken her out for a “girlie day”.’ He made quotes in the air with his fingers. He never does air quotes.
‘Christ, Lawrence, you let our daughter out alone with a woman I don’t even know.’
‘But I know her, Rachel. Farrah loves Grace more than anything. It’s like she’s her own daughter. They’ll be having an amazing time.’
‘For God’s sake! Just because she can’t have kids, doesn’t mean she can take mine. Call her! Get her back. Now!’
‘You’re over-reacting, Rachel.’ His tone was patronising. ‘You always do.’
‘I do not!’
‘You’re not in a good place right now, after losing your mum.’
‘No! This has nothing to do with my mum. This is about you taking advantage. You can’t just let your girlfriend swan off with our daughter.’ I snatched up Grace’s toy rabbit from the floor, and held it to me.
‘Listen to yourself, Rachel.’
‘What? What?’
‘You’re a complete mess.’
I growled inside. ‘No. I’m. Not. I’m fine – perfectly fine.’ But I was shouting, struggling to keep control. ‘So when will the home-wrecker bring my daughter back?’
‘Our daughter.’ He shook his head, and flopped onto the sofa, not rising to my anger. ‘I’ll bring Grace back tomorrow morning. It’ll give you time to calm down.’
I sat on the edge of sofa, and pointed to his giant phone. He always had to have the latest gadgets. ‘Call her!’ I snapped.
‘I can’t. They’ll be in the cinema. They won’t be back for ages.’
‘Jesus. How could you, Lawrence? I haven’t seen Grace for ages. You knew I was picking her up at six.’ I continued to clasp the toy rabbit to my chest, and took a deep breath. In my best calm voice I said, ‘You’re a complete shit, do you know that?’
He picked up his cigarettes, and shuffled one from the pack. Once he’d lit it, he took several long deliberate drags, blowing smoke towards me. ‘I worry about you, Rachel, that’s all,’ he said eventually. ‘You’ve had a rough time.’
‘You have no idea.’
I sat in silence, watching as he puffed his way through his cigarette and finally stubbed it out in an ashtray.
He leaned forward. ‘Listen, they won’t be back until around eight.’
‘What? For God’s sake, Lawrence – why is she keeping her out so late?’ I squeezed my hands into fists. ‘She’s only four.’
‘I know how old she is, Rachel. She’s my daughter too. Just go home. Please. There’s nothing you can do.’
‘If this happens again, Lawrence, I swear I’ll …’
‘I’ll bring Grace round in the morning. I promise.’
I rubbed my eyes. They stung from the smoke, and tears that were close to the surface. ‘You’re a fucking bastard,’ I said as a parting shot, rising and heading for the door. ‘You’ll see. One of these days I’ll take Grace to live as far away from you as I possibly can.’
Chapter 45
March 2018
‘I’m so glad you changed your mind about the spa,’ Zoe said, as we sped along the winding country road. ‘I haven’t called to book any treatments, but I’m sure this late they’ll be able to fit us in.’
‘I don’t mind if they can’t,’ I said. ‘I just needed to get out of the house. I would have wound myself up into a complete frenzy if I’d stayed at home. Or drained a bottle of wine. Or both.’
Her eyes flicked towards her rear-view mirror. ‘I wish this idiot would just overtake. I’ve given them enough chances. They’ve been up my arse for ages.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Sorry,’ she said, eyes back on the road. ‘You were saying.’
‘It’s nothing. Just glad to be out, that’s all.’
‘Cool. Well we’ll have a great time.’
She indicated to turn in to the spa, as my phone rang. I pulled it from my bag, and looked at the screen. ‘It’s Emmy,’ I muttered.
‘The woman from TV?’ Zoe asked, driving into the car park and pulling on the handbrake.
‘Mmm, I ca
n’t face her right now,’ I said, cancelling the call, and slipping my phone back into my bag. ‘I’ll get back to her tomorrow.’
‘Where is everybody?’ I said, as we climbed out of the car, scanning the empty car park.
She smiled. ‘Looks as though we’ve got the place to ourselves.’
I glanced towards the spa. ‘It’s in darkness,’ I said. ‘It looks as though it’s closed.’
Zoe looked at her watch. ‘But it’s only nine. I thought it was open late on a Saturday.’
We approached and peered though the glass doors. ‘That’s a shame. Shall we go for a drink instead?’
‘I guess,’ Zoe said, and we both turned and headed towards the car.
‘Hey, wait,’ Zoe said. ‘I’ve got Connor’s keys. He gave me his spare set.’ She dragged them from her bag. ‘We could go in, relax on the loungers. I could have a swim.’
I looked back at the building, not thinking much of the idea.
‘I’m desperate for a dip in the pool. We don’t have to stay long.’
I hesitated, as she dashed towards the door. ‘I don’t know, Zoe. Are we allowed?’ I called after her. ‘Won’t Connor be mad?’
‘He can’t really say anything. We’ve been here after hours before. Oh come on, Rach, it’ll be fun.’
‘I suppose,’ I said, setting out after her just as the skies opened and it started to rain.
Once we were at the door, Zoe unlocked it, and we sneaked in like burglars about to ransack the place. It was so quiet, and an eerie hum touched my nape with invisible fingers, making it tingle – as though a thousand troubled eyes were watching me.
‘Are you going to lock the door?’ I called, but she was ahead of me, turning off the alarm, and excitedly flicking on fluorescent lights that buzzed and crackled into life. She grabbed two white rolled-up towels from the counter.
I pushed down the fear of police finding us here, and locking us in a cell overnight. ‘Surely Connor could get fired, couldn’t he?’ I said as I reached her side, and she handed me a robe.
‘I guess so.’ A shrug. ‘But he’s not that bothered. He’s thinking of chucking the job in anyway to go travelling.’
‘Will you go with him?’ I dreaded the thought of losing her from my life.
‘He’s asked me to,’ she said, as we headed down a corridor. ‘But there’s the salon to think of.’ She paused. ‘It feels weird being here, along with the ghosts and ghouls from the asylum.’ She made a daft spooky noise.
‘Stop it!’ I was jittery. The place was too quiet. ‘You’re freaking me out.’
‘Sorry,’ she said, linking arms with me. ‘I’m only messing with ya.’
‘No, it’s me. I’m a bit wobbly at the moment.’
‘Well, it will do you good to unwind a bit.’
We headed down some stairs towards the changing rooms, Zoe flicking on more lights as we went.
I disappeared into a cubicle, and changed into my faded denim shorts, and a cropped top I’d slung into my bag before I left home. I looked dreadful, my pale legs dangling from the hem of my shorts. But it didn’t matter. It was just the two of us. When I reappeared, Zoe was in the communal area pulling up the straps of her yellow one-piece. It suited her. She had the complexion for it. But then she could wear almost anything and look good.
We shuffled into our robes, and I pushed my feet into a pair of flip-flops, before we took more stairs down to the pool area.
Zoe flicked on the lights, and we headed through a brick archway towards the loungers, where she spread out her towel. The ceiling was low, and being deep underground there were no windows.
The pool glinted blue under spotlights, some distance away, and the whole area was dimly lit, which was relaxing and yet a little unnerving. Despite my reluctance to believe in the paranormal, I imagined phantoms hiding in the shadows.
‘Sit, Rach,’ Zoe said. ‘Relax. You’ve had such an awful time lately, you deserve a bit of me-time.’
I perched on the edge of a lounger, picturing what it may have been like when it was a morgue. The thought of so many dead bodies sent a shiver down my spine. I spread out my towel, moved my body fully onto the lounger, and leaned my head back. ‘I’ve received another friend request,’ I said.
‘Oh, Rachel, you must go to the police.’
‘I already have.’
Zoe’s eyes widened. ‘You did? What did they say?’
‘I didn’t stick around long enough to find out. I got it in my head they’d think I was crazy.’
‘Oh, Rachel,’ she said again. ‘Who was the friend request from this time?’
I took a deep breath. ‘My mum.’ As I said the words, tears came. I’d blocked it out – tried to ignore it – but now the thought that someone could play such an awful trick was too much.
‘Your mum? Oh my God, Rachel.’ She leaned over, and put her arm around my shoulder. ‘Why would someone do something so cruel? This is getting out of hand, hon. Let’s go to the police station together tomorrow.’
‘OK, yes,’ I said, drying my eyes on the sleeve of my robe, and sniffing. ‘Thank you – but what about work?’
‘This is much more important,’ she said, removing her arm.
We stretched out on the loungers, remaining silent for a while, before I said, ‘You know what? I actually hope Jude Henshaw is my father. I guess with losing my mum, I think he may help fill this painful void inside me.’
She smiled. ‘I hope he is too,’ she said, rising. ‘Well, I’m going for a swim,’ she went on, and before I could say another word, she raced towards the water and jumped in with a splash, droplets of water sprinkling my skin.
I pulled my Kindle from my bag, and began reading. Apart from the slightly creepy vibe, I suddenly felt more settled than I had in a while. The sheer peace, the gurgle of the nearby spa bath, and the sound of Zoe’s arms thrashing through the water, relaxed me. My eyes grew heavy, and eventually I switched off my Kindle, and dropped off to sleep.
I was woken sometime later by the sensation of cold water on my face.
‘Wake up, sleepy head.’ Zoe laughed, and rubbed water from her body with a towel, her hair slicked against her skull. She pushed her finger into her ear and wiggled it. ‘It’s lovely in the pool,’ she said, looking over her shoulder at the glistening water. ‘I wish you liked it.’ Her eyes were back on me. ‘What happened, Rach?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why are you so frightened of water?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just panic if I get too close. It’s a phobia, I suppose.’
‘Like your gnome phobia,’ she said with a laugh.
‘Much worse than that.’ I gave a shrug.
‘It’s just a bit odd that you can’t recall why. Didn’t your mother ever tell you?’
I shook my head. ‘To be honest, I don’t even know if there is a reason. I mean you don’t have to have had a bad experience with a spider to be afraid of them. But the fear is real enough.’
Zoe threw down her towel. ‘I’ll grab us a hot drink, shall I? There’s a machine in the foyer.’
I went to get up.
‘No, no, you stay here and unwind. I won’t be long. What do you fancy?’
‘A drinking chocolate, please. Thanks, Zoe.’
‘OK.’ She pulled on her robe, grabbed her bag, and headed away.
Once she was out of sight, I got up and made my way towards the pool, challenging myself. Why was I so afraid? I stepped closer, and my heartbeat picked up speed, and my body shook. I turned and raced back across the wet flagstones towards the lounger, and sat back down.
Once my heart had calmed to an even beat, I lay down once more, and was about to close my eyes again when my phone pinged in my bag. I fished it out, and my stomach tipped as I took in another friend request:
Rachel Hogan: CONFIRM/DELETE REQUEST
My body trembled when I saw the profile picture was a gravestone. It was real enough, but the inscription must have been Photoshopped
to read Rachel Hogan.
The cover photo was of Evermore Farmhouse. There was one status update:
Hush a bye baby on a treetop
When the wind blows the cradle will rock
When the bow breaks the cradle will fall
And down will come Rachel, cradle, and all.
I jumped to my feet. ‘Zoe,’ I cried, blundering towards the door, my phone pinging, informing me I had another Facebook notification.
I froze yards from the door. A figure stood on the other side of the frosted glass. I narrowed my eyes. Whoever it was looked bigger than Zoe, but it was impossible to work out their features through the glass.
‘Zoe?’ I called, my stomach flipping. But the person behind the glass stood statue-still – silent.
Chapter 46
December 1990
‘There you go, Rachel.’ Laura zipped up her daughter’s dress and spun her round to face her. ‘You look so pretty in pink.’
Rachel gave a little shrug, and Laura touched her face gently. Her daughter almost drowning a month ago had switched a button inside her, and she’d been trying so hard with Rachel since. But there was still a long way to go.
‘Are you sure you want to go?’ she asked her daughter. It was Caitlin’s fourth birthday, and Imogen was putting on a tea party for the three girls, which was out of character. But then Imogen hadn’t been the same since she miscarried, or had it been before that – since Tierney disappeared? She’d almost been manic at times. Too high one moment, too low the next. Even suggested they might all go away together, far away from Ireland, which Laura had declined – if she was going away, it wouldn’t be with Imogen. ‘You don’t have to go.’
Rachel shrugged again. Laura didn’t want to stop her going – it would be good if her daughter could mix with other children – but the girls didn’t always get on and Rachel had often been unkind to Caitlin.
‘You’re not taking all of that, are you?’ Laura said, seeing Rachel filling a canvas bag with her things. ‘You might lose Mr Snookum.’
Tell the Truth Page 23