by Heidi Perks
‘It’s so kind of your mum to invite me to dinner tonight,’ Iona said. ‘It’s not easy when you don’t know anyone.’ Bonnie didn’t get the impression there was anything Iona wouldn’t find easy. Her friend leant her head closer still, dropping her voice even though there was no one near. ‘I don’t like spending too much time in the house in the village,’ she said. ‘I think the couple is a bit weird.’ She grimaced before breaking into a grin.
Bonnie laughed as warmth spread over her. She wanted Iona to share more, things she wouldn’t tell anyone but her. To think she hadn’t been going to bother making an effort. Bonnie was so grateful Iona had sought her out instead.
But then her mind drifted to the other bit Iona had just said and the warmth started to dissipate. She wished Iona wasn’t coming to dinner tonight, sitting around the table with the rest of the family. Why did her mum always have to ruin everything? She was doing it again, watching over her. Waiting for her daughter to do something that would suddenly click – a light-bulb moment when she’d know what was supposedly wrong with Bonnie.
She sank back against the lounger and mulled over ways she could convince Iona not to come. The thought of keeping her new friendship to herself was much more appealing.
Danny’s face dropped when he walked into the garden at dinner time and saw Iona sitting at the table. It was bad enough when Jill came, but he was kind of used to her. Even though they’d all known Jill for years, she still didn’t say much to any of them but Stella.
The chairs were squeezed in a little tighter and there was practically no gap between Bonnie and Iona. Danny slunk around the other side of the table, pushing his own chair closer to Stella’s.
Iona was chattering away like a bird. Her voice was all high-pitched and excited and Bonnie was giggling like a child. He supposed it was better than hearing his sister moaning, but already it struck him that if he closed his eyes he wouldn’t be able to tell their voices apart.
His mum’s arms stretched over his shoulder as she placed a bowl in the centre of the table and told Iona she hoped she liked chilli. He thought it was a funny thing to say when the poor girl could hardly say she didn’t. Sometimes people weren’t very perceptive.
When his mum pulled her arm back, she rested it on his shoulder and Danny knew she was trying to tell him she hoped he was okay.
He only hoped Iona would carry on rattling away to Bonnie and wouldn’t talk to him. He didn’t even want her to look at him. He hadn’t seen any other girl like Iona before and suddenly she was glancing up and smiling straight at him and Danny thought that the burning through his chest was going to make him puke all over the table.
From now on he was just going to have to avoid her, though he didn’t like the idea of that either.
Maria should have realised sooner how uncomfortable her son would be. The moment she’d seen him dragging his chair alongside the table she knew she’d done the wrong thing, but it was too late to change it. What was right for one child was clearly not for the other, and her eyes brimmed suddenly at the sight of her three children who could not be more different. How she wished they could all be more like Stella.
Not for the first time, she questioned whether they’d made the right choices and whether Evergreen was still the right place for them. Their haven sometimes felt like it was suffocating them instead, and every so often Maria worried that they’d trapped themselves here.
By the end of the summer she would know that they’d made a mistake in coming in the first place and that, sooner or later, the truth would find them wherever they were.
PRESENT
Chapter Eight
The journalist smiles as I gape back at her. ‘You don’t recognise me but I wouldn’t expect you to. I only knew you for one summer before you all disappeared.’
I cock my head to one side. There is something vaguely familiar about her thin face with the splattering of freckles on her nose and her sleek dark hair that’s pulled back into a ponytail.
‘Freya Little,’ she says. ‘My family arrived at the start of the summer and you were gone by the end of it.’
‘I remember,’ I say. ‘You had two brothers. Didn’t all your names begin with F?’
She grins. ‘Freddie and Frankie. Ridiculous, really. Were you going in for something to eat?’
I nod, glancing at the café.
‘Let’s go for a walk first,’ she says and starts ambling in the direction I just came from.
‘I can’t believe you recognised me after so long,’ I say, walking alongside her.
‘As soon as you told me your name I could see how little you’ve changed,’ she says. ‘Your hair’s still the same.’
I reach up to touch the ends that fall just below my shoulders. ‘It’s shorter,’ I say. ‘It was always so long when I was young.’
‘Did you know how much I used to look up to you?’ Freya asks.
‘Why would you have done that?’
‘You always seemed so sure of yourself, so certain about everything on this island. Not in a horrible way, more like you knew you were meant to be here. I, on the other hand, knew we definitely weren’t.’ Freya raises her eyebrows as she cuts off the path and heads towards the coastline to the side of the jetty.
‘How do you mean?’ I ask, following her to sit on a bench that overlooks Brownsea Island.
‘Mum wasn’t happy the day she arrived here and we all suffered because of it. I know my mum can be a bit loud for most people, but they didn’t give any of us the time of day. We were ostracised. Everyone else huddled together and made a decision we weren’t wanted. They were one big clique and we weren’t going to break into it.’
I raise my eyes as I carry on looking at the water. That wasn’t particularly the way I remembered it.
‘It’s breaking now, though,’ she says and I turn to find her watching me. ‘There are fractures,’ she goes on. ‘Though some of them are sticking closely together. But that was my story,’ she says, pausing to take a deep breath, ‘and I’m sure it’s not as interesting as yours. What made you up and leave that summer, Stella?’
I look down to where my hands are balled in my lap, wrenching them apart and pulling my coat tighter against me. I wonder if Freya really believes this is a simple question for me to answer or if her journalistic radar can tell it’s anything but. ‘My dad got another job, we needed the money.’ I regurgitate the excuse like I believe it myself.
I wait as she nods, musing over my answer. She doesn’t ask more, though I’m certain this hasn’t satisfied her but rather she’s just biding her time. ‘So, you saw your old house on the news,’ she states. ‘That must have been a shock.’
‘It was,’ I agree.
‘And that was why you came back? You thought that by being here you might get more answers?’
‘Maybe,’ I admit.
‘You won’t get any more here than you will watching the news. Nothing will be released until they’re ready.’
‘You think the police already know more?’ I ask.
She dodges the question as she says, ‘In fact, you won’t get any answers that easily on Evergreen. Sometimes you only leave with more questions. Do you want to know what I think?’ she asks and I nod because it’s easier than answering her questions. ‘I think more than one person living on this island knows exactly who the body is, only none of them are saying.’
‘Who are you talking about?’ I ask, staring back at her, wishing I could flatten down the corners of her mouth which look like they’re constantly amused by me.
‘I don’t know for certain but I’m going to make sure I find out. Too many of them are like closed books, but, with pressure, one of them will snap open.’
I shift uncomfortably on the bench and turn back to the sea. Despite the fact I know someone must have buried the body, it’s still unsettling that it could be someone I know.
‘You had an older brother and sister,’ she recalls. ‘They didn’t want to come back with you?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘Bonnie has a family to look after.’ I don’t add that I still haven’t told her I’m here. I know I should call her to explain.
‘And Danny,’ she says, as if suddenly remembering his name. ‘I felt sorry for him. He was a loner and kids can be cruel.’ She stops and I have an unexpected flashback of Freya on the beach the night of the sleep-out while all the other girls were causing a commotion. ‘How’s he doing now?’ she asks.
I don’t want to tell Freya I haven’t seen my brother in eighteen years. That I wish I could have stopped him from going or that I know how cruel those kids were and I never did enough.
‘Danny moved away a while ago,’ I say. ‘We don’t really keep in touch.’
She nods again. ‘So the police been to see you yet?’
‘Why are you asking me all these questions?’ I say. ‘Am I some news story for you?’
‘No. Not at all. Well, not yet anyway,’ she adds and then smiles. ‘Relax, Stella. I’m not grilling you for an article. It’s blatantly obvious you have no more knowledge than I do about the body. Clearly that’s why you’ve come back and it’s what I’m here for too.’
‘So why the interest in me?’
‘I think you could be helpful,’ she says, shifting so that she can get a better look at me. Since the start of our exchange, Freya’s had control, and every piece of her body language tells me she knows that. ‘I guess it depends how much you want to involve yourself with this.’ She waves a hand behind us in the direction of the police tent.
‘I don’t understand what I can do.’
‘You can talk to the people who won’t talk to me. You’d have a better chance than I do.’
‘What makes you think that?’ I ask.
She laughs. ‘Because you know most of them and your family was once liked round here. Many of the islanders are closing their doors in my face. I think they’d be more likely to speak to you. And in return,’ she goes on before I can answer, ‘I can help you with some of the things you want to know.’
‘Like what?’ I ask. ‘You told me yourself you don’t know anything.’
‘I can tell you who the police are most interested in. The ones they’ve been back to see more than once.’
I nod slowly.
‘There’s already a question, isn’t there?’
‘What do you think the police already know? You said they’ll release the details when they’re ready. Do you think they know how long the body’s been there?’
‘A pathologist could have established that very quickly,’ she says. ‘I imagine they already know who the body is.’
‘Oh,’ I gasp. ‘So why aren’t they saying? Why hasn’t it been on the news?’
Freya shrugs. ‘They must have decided it isn’t in the public interest to let it out. Maybe they’re letting this lot stew.’
I shudder, pulling my coat even tighter, reaching inside my pockets, to feel for my phone. All of a sudden I have an urge to call Bonnie and my mind is drifting back to the interest the police showed in my friendship bracelets.
There were five girls on my list including me. They were, at least, the ones I remember – Jill, Bonnie, Tess Carlton, Emma Grey. What could any of us have possibly had to do with the body?
Suddenly I feel like I should never have come back. I don’t want to get involved in Freya’s games – I can’t trust her – and yet I find myself asking, ‘You say the police have been back to see some of them more than once?’
Freya nods.
‘Who?’
‘Susan Carlton; Annie Webb; Bob Taylor. You remember the names?’ she asks.
‘Yes,’ I say with a tight breath. They were my mother’s best friend; our adopted aunt; Jill’s dad. ‘Do you know why they’re focused on them?’
‘No,’ Freya says, with a short laugh. ‘But maybe they’re the ones you could start talking to?’
‘I’m not sure I want to get involved,’ I say. ‘And I don’t see what you think I’m going to find out that’s going to help. If the detectives couldn’t get anything out of them, they’re hardly going to tell me. Besides, they could have been questioned for any old reason.’
‘Sure. But let’s face it, Stella, we’re both here with questions and I think yours are probably lying deeper than you’d care to admit.’
I glance back at her, screwing up my eyes.
‘The body was found in your garden,’ she says. ‘I’m sure that’s a big part of the reason you’re back.’
‘Outside it,’ I growl, angry at her suggestion. I stand up.
‘Only just,’ she says, looking behind us. ‘Oh, wait up,’ she adds, grabbing my arm over the back of the bench as I begin to walk away. ‘I’m sorry! That was careless and uncalled for. I’m like that. It comes with the job. Please. I’m sorry,’ she says again, releasing me. ‘I didn’t mean anything. Look, maybe we can talk some more tomorrow.’
I shrug as I pull my mobile out of my pocket. ‘I need to go,’ I mumble. ‘I have to call my sister.’
Freya shakes her head. ‘Not around here, no reception anywhere on this island.’
I look down at the phone and sure enough there are no bars. I stare at it a moment longer before tucking it back into my pocket. I had never before thought of Evergreen as isolated, but now I’ve never felt more so.
Chapter Nine
Back in the village I go into the café where a blast of warm air hits me as soon as I open the door. A young girl at the counter smiles at me. She looks no more than fifteen, with her dark blonde hair tied into a ponytail, and a bright pink apron that she wipes her hands across. ‘How can I help you?’ she asks.
‘Hot chocolate, please, and something to eat.’ I glance at the blackboard behind her, settling for a chicken mayonnaise sandwich.
‘Find yourself a seat and I’ll bring it over,’ she says, gesturing to all the empty tables. The only other customers are two young girls on bar stools by the window, their backs to the room as they giggle over something.
I pick a table at the edge of the room. ‘It’s quiet,’ I say, looking over my shoulder as the girl piles a large spoonful of filling on to a slice of bread.
She nods. ‘It is. Are you here because of the body too?’
Her directness shocks me and I glance at the girls who have stopped laughing but are still deep in conversation.
‘I’m guessing you must be either police or press because that’s all we’ve had since Saturday.’
‘I’m neither,’ I tell her.
‘Oh?’ She comes around the counter with my sandwich, setting it on the table and lingering. ‘What are you doing here, then?’
‘Actually I used to live here. A very long time ago.’
‘Oh, cool. Maybe you knew my mum?’
I cock my head to one side questioningly.
‘Emma Fisher? She’s lived here all her life. She was Emma Grey then.’
‘Yes, I knew Emma.’ She was three years older than me, the same age as Danny.
‘We live over in the terraces,’ she says. ‘Number two, you should go and see her.’
‘Oh, well …’ I stammer, trying to recall what more I can of Emma other than the fact her name was on my list.
She was quiet. Her parents kept to themselves. I never really knew what to say to her. ‘She lived in the village when we were young, too,’ I say, details coming back to me – Emma had long blonde hair sliced neatly across her back in a sharp cut.
‘My grandparents are still there. Number eight. The same house they’ve always been in.’
‘So your mum never left the island?’
‘No. She met my dad and he moved here for a few years, but they split up when I was five and he went back to the mainland. It’s just been me and Mum ever since.’ The girl smiles and goes back around the counter to finish making my hot chocolate.
‘And what about you?’ I ask, when she comes back. ‘Do you like living here?’
‘You sound like the journalists.’
‘I’m s
orry.’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me like it does many of the islanders.’ She places a mug in front of me.
‘Thank you. How do you mean?’
‘They hate the fact people are prying into their lives. I don’t know, it’s like they suddenly all feel guilty. That’s what my mum says, anyway. She says it’s enough having a policeman on your doorstep to make you feel like you’ve done something wrong.’
I nod, knowing what she means.
‘I kind of get it,’ the girl goes on, ‘but she hasn’t been hounded that much. Anyway, that’s why no one’s coming out of their houses.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘We’ve all been told to stay away from the press so I think they find it easier to hide away altogether. Did you like living here?’
‘I did,’ I smile. ‘I liked it a lot.’
‘I think I get the best of both worlds because I stay with my dad as well. He always said it was too claustrophobic. Some of my friends hate it.’
‘My sister did too,’ I tell her. ‘She couldn’t wait to leave.’
‘Is that why you did?’
I shake my head. ‘No, not really. My dad got a job in Winchester. I’m Stella, by the way.’
‘I’m Meg.’ She gives me a smile that lights up her face. ‘And I like it, in answer to your earlier question. Well, at least I think I do.
‘No one knows who it is,’ Meg goes on, sliding into a seat opposite me. ‘Straight after they found the body it was horrible, you know? Everyone was talking about it and you could tell they were all looking at each other differently. Mum told me I wasn’t to trust anyone, but I think she’s over-reacting. I mean, I’ve known these people all my life.’
I nod as I take a bite of my sandwich. Whatever warning Emma gave her daughter clearly hasn’t been heeded. The journalists would have pounced on a young girl like her, naive, ready to tell them what they wanted.