by Heidi Perks
Meg leans in closer again as she says, ‘I don’t like it, if I’m being honest. People are starting to gossip about who might’ve done it. I hope it’s not someone who still lives here.’
I give her a small smile. ‘I guess the best thing you can do is just stay out of it.’
Meg looks up as a man enters the café. Pushing her chair away, she stands and says, ‘You should definitely visit my mum, I think she’d like to see a friendly face.’ For the first time in our short conversation I see her eyes cloud. ‘She’s more on edge than ever,’ she adds more quietly.
‘She might not even remember me,’ I say quickly.
Meg nods but carries on looking at me intently. ‘Maybe not, but could you just drop by, perhaps?’
She looks so hopeful that I find myself agreeing. Besides, I figure, it can’t do any harm.
A straight path, wider than any other on the island, backs on to the village, lined with small terraces on either side. There are sixteen in total, eight on each side in perfect symmetry, and they all look exactly the same. It is the only part of Evergreen that looks man-made.
As I knock on the door of number 2, it’s starkly obvious how close Emma still lives to where she grew up, and I try to imagine what kind of life she’s had.
A shadow flickers on the other side of the door and I step back in anticipation, but no one answers. I’m about to knock again when the curtains to my left twitch and a woman’s face appears.
I hold up my hand in a semi-wave. Emma’s face is instantly recognisable, pale and framed with a light blonde bob and a sweeping fringe that hangs slightly too low, covering her left eye. She looks thinner than I remember. Emma doesn’t wave back but eventually drops the curtain and opens the door, looking at me quizzically, her eyes flicking over my face.
‘Emma?’ I ask and hold out my hand. ‘You may not remember me. I lived here a long time ago. I’m Stella Harvey.’
Emma continues to study me then hangs her head ever so slightly to one side. ‘Stella Harvey,’ she repeats quietly. ‘You left when we were kids.’
I nod and look over her shoulder, wondering if she’s going to invite me in. ‘I just met your daughter, Meg, in the café and she suggested I visit you. I know this is a surprise but I promised her I would. Though maybe it isn’t a good time?’
Emma cautiously steps to one side. ‘I was just waiting for someone, but you can come in.’
I step in but already wish I’d said I wouldn’t bother her. It’s clear she isn’t comfortable with my turning up on her doorstep, and neither am I. Yet I follow her through to the living room where she ushers me into an armchair in the window as she perches on the sofa opposite, her fingers curling around each other in her lap. Every so often her eyes drift to the window behind me. She doesn’t ask what I’m doing here.
‘Meg’s a lovely girl.’ I search for safe ground.
‘She is.’ Emma relaxes into the sofa. ‘She’s only just sixteen but she’s got a good head on her.’
‘It’s wonderful that you’ve stayed here all these years,’ I say.
‘Is it?’ She looks at me under her long eyelashes.
‘It’s what I always hoped I’d do.’
Emma stares at me blankly, chewing the inside of her mouth. ‘It’s not too great any more,’ she says finally.
‘No.’
‘Oh, of course,’ she says suddenly, throwing a hand to her mouth. ‘It’s where you lived. The body – I mean, it was in your old garden.’ Her face has gone a shade paler; it looks as if it’s been washed white.
I don’t bother protesting it was just outside it, fearing this is the reaction I’ll get from everyone. In contrast to Emma’s, my cheeks are burning.
‘No one knows who it is,’ she blurts.
I lean forward in my chair. All of a sudden she looks very ill. ‘Emma? Are you okay?’
‘No, of course I’m not okay.’ She laughs nervously, her eyes widening as if I just asked her the most ludicrous question. ‘A body’s been found on our island.’ Her fingers continue to play in her lap, catching my attention, and I realise it looks like she’s counting on them.
‘It’s a dreadful shock,’ I say. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw it on the news.’
‘Is it why you’re back?’ she asks, eyeing me carefully. She leans closer as she says, ‘If I were you I wouldn’t have come anywhere near.’
I bow my head, inclined to agree with her the more hours that pass. ‘My sister and I were saying we can’t believe none of us know of anyone who went missing,’ I say. I ache to show her we’re on the same side, that I’m not someone to fear. I want her to realise I have a right to be back, even though it’s becoming apparent no one else agrees. Maybe I should tell her the police have asked for my help. That possibly we could work out between us what link they have found between my bracelets and the body. But for now I say, ‘I’m sure the police will find out who the body belongs to soon. Then people might feel a bit better about it …’ I drift off when I notice her gawping.
‘This isn’t a TV drama,’ she says. ‘How the hell do you think we’ll all feel better when we know who it is? There aren’t going to be less questions then, they’ll just be different ones.’
‘I’m sorry, I only thought—’
‘You don’t live here,’ she snaps. ‘So don’t pretend to understand.’ Her eyes drift over me again and out to the window.
My body is burning. I want to scream at her that of course I understand, but I bite my lip as I turn to see what’s caught her attention. There’s no one there and when I look back she focuses her gaze on me again.
I take a deep breath, shifting in the armchair. Maybe it’s time to leave, but while I’m here I might as well ask: ‘Who still lives here that I might remember?’
‘Probably most of them.’ She is so quiet I can barely hear her. ‘Not many leave.’
I shuffle uncomfortably, thinking it’s no surprise Meg’s worried about her mother; the woman is clearly a nervous wreck. ‘Annie Webb?’
Emma arches her eyebrows, her mouth twisting into a faint smirk. ‘Of course Annie’s still here.’
‘And the Smyth twins?’ I ask, trying to keep the conversation light, grappling for names while I pluck up the courage to ask after the only one I really want.
Emma shakes her head. ‘No. They were some of the few who went. Years back. Their cousin, Freya Little, is here again, though. She’s a journalist. Snooping around, asking too many questions like this is all far too exciting.’
I nod. ‘I’ve already met her.’
‘Yes, well, don’t tell her anything,’ Emma mutters. ‘You can’t trust her.’
‘I’ve got nothing to tell her,’ I say as she suddenly leaps off the sofa and brushes past me to get to the window. She raps her knuckles against it and I turn to see whose attention she’s trying to get, but whoever it is has already gone.
‘I have to go.’ Already she’s edging towards the door.
‘But—’
‘There’s someone I need to speak to.’ With Emma opening the door, I have no choice but to get up and leave.
‘I wanted to ask about Jill,’ I say, as she steps out after me. She hurries down the path to the gate and it doesn’t look like she’s heard me. ‘Is Jill still here?’ I say, more loudly.
Emma stops and looks over her shoulder. Her mouth opens as her eyes dance over me. She seems to be looking right through me and it’s such an eerie stare that I find myself shrinking back, the hairs on my arms pricking cold.
With a vague shake of her head she eventually turns and begins scurrying up the lane. ‘Emma?’ I call, though she doesn’t answer as she rushes to the man waiting for her at the end of the lane.
I watch them talking and, when Emma gestures behind her, the man looks at me. There is something familiar about him but I can’t place him. Emma continues to talk, gesturing nervously in the air, and I watch as the man’s face pales. He doesn’t take his eyes off me but at the same time he looks lik
e he’s seen a ghost.
Evergreen Island
13 July 1993
Something else changed that summer. It was the very first year Danny had shown any interest in going to the sleep-out on the beach where all the kids would take their sleeping bags and stay the night. Maria couldn’t fathom why this year he wanted to go. It broke her heart as she watched him carefully packing an overnight bag: a toothbrush; a bar of soap, both tucked into a washbag. She closed her eyes and contemplated telling him he wouldn’t need either of those things, but then, imagining his reaction, she crept away.
She knew it would be better if he didn’t go. Maria could protect her son by keeping him away, even though David would disapprove. But at the same time she’d always longed for Danny to want to join in, and that was why she was fighting her desire to stop him.
How could she know what was the right thing to do? Remove your child from what might hurt them, or let them face it and hope they’ll be stronger for it in the end?
David often told her she mollycoddled Danny. ‘He needs to learn how to toughen up,’ her husband would say, though there was always a glint of something else in his eyes. Fear that maybe he didn’t believe his own words?
The thought of Danny sleeping on the beach with the other kids tore at Maria. She could imagine exactly what it’d be like – a group of kids tightly packed around a campfire, the older boys showing off with their guitars. Meanwhile her son would be tucked into his sleeping bag on the outer edge of the circle, not knowing how to join in even if he wanted to.
Maria tried brushing the thoughts away as she retreated downstairs and into the garden. She jumped when she caught sight of a figure suddenly appearing to the right of the house. The trees were so thick there anyone could wander in from the woods. She’d often considered asking David to build a fence around that side too. There was no way of knowing what was their garden and what was the woods, but usually the only people who used it as a walkway were her friends. As it was, her visitor today wasn’t. And he knew perfectly well where he was walking.
Danny zipped up his bag and stood back to look at it. It was the first time he’d packed his own things for a night away and he was pretty sure he’d remembered everything. His mum had been asking questions and he knew she couldn’t understand why he was suddenly going this year when every other he’d outright refused, but there was no way he could tell her his reasons.
He’d heard stories from Bonnie and Stella over the years so he knew what to expect and that he might end up hating it. He’d have to make an effort talking to people if he wanted to fit in, and he also knew he’d probably find it all too much and would end up sitting on his own.
But yet his skin was tingling at the prospect and now there was no way he was backing out. He patted his bag, with the drawing pad tucked in at the back, as he gave one last glance around his room. How bad could it be?
Bonnie lingered by the back door, half listening to her mum’s conversation with Bob Taylor, half keeping an ear out for Iona. She was annoyed because she didn’t want to go to the bloody sleep-out on the beach. Nothing exciting ever happened there. And to top it off, this year her brother was going, which meant he was bound to do something embarrassing. She eyed him cautiously as he scuttled past her, calling out to their mum that he was off.
For some reason Iona thought it sounded fun and had promised they would keep an eye on Danny, which had made Bonnie’s mum practically leap up and hug them.
When Iona came out of the toilet Bonnie asked again, ‘Are you totally sure you want to go? We could do something on our own instead?’
‘You don’t have to come,’ Iona said, smiling, her eyes raised as she waited for an answer.
Bonnie fiddled with the strap of her bag, suddenly feeling even more annoyed. ‘No, I’ll come,’ she snapped and then, worrying it might have sounded bad, she rearranged her face into a smile to hopefully show she wasn’t that bothered. Iona looked at her curiously but she had no idea how much Bonnie was wrestling inside.
‘Bonnie, seriously, don’t come if you don’t want to.’ Iona’s eyes were screwed up, her head cocked to one side.
‘Why can’t we do something on our own?’ she blurted. There, she’d said it now, but she immediately wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want Iona to think she was being clingy. ‘I just find these nights so babyish,’ she added and gave a laugh that even to her sounded strained.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ Bonnie said. ‘Totally fine.’ But she wasn’t. Inside she was screaming, wanting to kick out with her foot and throw down her bag, slamming her fists on the counter.
Iona linked her arm through Bonnie’s. ‘Come on, we’re in this together,’ she said and already the bubbles that were fizzing in Bonnie’s stomach began to subside.
Maria thought Bob Taylor did it on purpose. There was no need for him to come around the back of the house. She listened patiently to him blathering on about cutting back trees, but he always managed to put her on edge. He’d done so ever since he’d arrived on the island twelve years ago with Ruth and Jill. Annie had told her about their arrival a week before they came, and the thought had even swept through Maria’s mind that they could be friends with the new family.
But then she’d met him and knew it could never be. He had held out a hand to David, barely acknowledging Maria as he talked far too loudly about how pleased they were to be coming to the island. While Ruth slunk behind him, not once did he ask them any questions, for that would have stolen his one-man show. On the surface his words were effusive, but she knew they were hiding something darker. She knew Bob and Ruth had a secret. And just like Maria and David, they had come to Evergreen to hide from it. They had been tiptoeing around this fact for so many years that by now Maria thought that, as much as she disliked Bob, she could probably trust him.
But during the summer weeks that stretched ahead, that trust would be tested to its limits. And by the end of it Maria knew that putting distance between her family and Bob Taylor had become not just a necessity – but a matter of life and death.
PRESENT
Chapter Ten
The last time I saw Annie was the day before we left when I watched her and Mum talking in the garden. I remember her clutching on to Mum’s arms, her mouth forming a perfect circle, shaking her head as if she either couldn’t believe we were going or didn’t agree with it.
When they came into the kitchen Annie’s arms had twitched at her side before she’d reached to hug me. ‘Look after yourself, Stella,’ she said. ‘Look after yourself.’ I’d expected to see tears in her eyes when I pulled back, but they were completely dry.
Like everywhere else on the island, there’s no sign of movement by the lakes, which feel deathly still. Even the water looks like a sheet of ice. Slowly I walk around them towards Annie’s home, the first one in the staggered line of houses.
Annie had always watched over me like I was one of her own. She might as well have been family – she’d become a surrogate aunt to us all – and it seems silly that I feel so apprehensive. But then nothing on the island is the same as it once was.
I approach the house, knocking loudly on the front door, my rap echoing on the other side. There’s a faint sound of footsteps that gradually get closer until the door slowly opens and I’m face-to-face with her.
I hold my breath as I take her in. Her skin droops on her cheeks, sunken into the bones, which in turn makes her eyes look wider. A curve in her back bends her over so she hunches forward. I release my breath and smile through the shock of how much she has aged. ‘Hi, Annie,’ I say.
‘Stella?’ She leans her head to one side. ‘Stella Harvey?’ Her hand shakes against the door frame. ‘Rachel told me you were coming and I wondered when you were going to visit me.’ She pauses and smiles. ‘Well, my dear, there’s no point us standing in the doorway getting cold. You’d better come in.’
I step into her large hallway, memories flooding back. The grandfather
clock still in one corner; the tapestry of a forest hanging on the wall. ‘Let me look at you,’ she says, taking hold of my arms and turning me to face her. She shakes her head, a smile cracking her lips. ‘All these years,’ she says. ‘I don’t know if I’d have recognised you if I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘It’s good to see you, Annie,’ I say as she ushers me through her living room and into the kitchen.
‘And what can I get you to drink? You always used to ask for hot chocolate.’
‘Whatever you’re having,’ I smile.
‘We’ll have tea,’ she says as she sets about looking for cups. ‘Sit yourself down,’ she commands, and I pull out a chair by the small round table that still stands in the centre of the room. I sat here so many times, allowing Annie to ply me with hot chocolate and biscuits. I used to take handfuls of Jammie Dodgers and custard creams, stashing them in my pockets to eat in the treehouse. She seemed proud when I’d leave with a stomach full of sugar.
‘So many years,’ she says wistfully.
‘Twenty-five,’ I say, and she nods.
‘I know, I remember it clearly.’ She turns to me with watery eyes and comes over and sits opposite, two mugs placed carefully on coasters. ‘I was so sorry to hear about your mum. It was very sad when she passed. Terrible accident,’ she murmurs. I don’t know how she’d have heard about it since she hadn’t come to the funeral. Possibly my dad had thought to call her. ‘She was a special woman …’ Annie goes on, her voice drifting away.
‘But it’s lovely to see you again.’ She pushes herself as straight as she can, holding out a hand across the table. ‘I missed you and your family a lot, you know.’
‘I’m sure not as much as I missed everyone, and the island.’
‘Only you choose now to come back.’ Annie shakes her head as if this is a grave mistake on my part. ‘I wish you hadn’t. This isn’t a good time for you to be here, Stella.’