by Heidi Perks
‘Didn’t you ever regret it?’ I ask, feeling sick as I listen to her. How could someone be so desperate as to sell their own child? How could anyone even suggest it?
‘Should say I did, shouldn’t I? That would be the right thing. Only I didn’t. I had money and was told I could sort myself out, and me and Iona could have a better life too. Everyone was happy.’
‘Only you weren’t?’
‘Not really cut out for motherhood.’ She grins sadly, lowering her eyes. ‘Thought it was best for us both when Iona left me. She found out what I’d done and couldn’t bear to look at me, so I thought she was better off without me.
‘I thought she’d moved on with her life,’ Ange goes on. ‘I never expected her to return after what she knew.’
‘That’s why you never reported her missing?’
‘Never knew she was,’ Ange says bluntly, though tears are glistening in her eyes. ‘Just never even realised till the police came knocking on my door a few days ago.’ She reaches down and pulls out some little white pills from her pocket, wrapped in tissue, which she counts out with shaky fingers.
‘I really don’t think you should be doing that here,’ I say.
Ange laughs at me. ‘These ones are prescription. I have to take them or else something else might kill me off.’
‘What’s wrong with you?’ I ask, eyeing the tablets.
‘You wouldn’t have heard of it. Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Sounds proper posh, doesn’t it? It means …’ She starts to tell me but my mind blanks out. Suddenly I know exactly who Iona had been looking for.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘Iona got the wrong person.’
I gaze at the outline of Ange’s face, the sharp chin, the short nose, and reel back. There’s something so familiar about her. I was right that it wasn’t Iona’s eyes I saw in hers; it was Jill’s.
She twists round to look at me. ‘What you talking about?’
‘She got the wrong person,’ I repeat. ‘She thought it was my sister, but it wasn’t; it was my friend Jill.’
Ange looks at me out of the corner of one bleary eye. ‘And how do you know that?’
‘Because Jill had the same condition as you. Only I don’t think her parents knew. She died when she was nineteen. The same age Iona did,’ I say, holding my hand to my mouth as the realisation sinks in.
Ange’s deep breaths sound hollow and raspy, as if she can’t quite catch them.
‘Are you okay?’ Part of me wants to take hold of her hand which is shaking in her lap. Another part recognises she’s done this to herself.
‘Fine,’ she says. ‘I’m fine. I should be getting back anyway.’
‘Wait. I know who it is, this changes everything. We can go to the police. If we tell them what happened, that we know who bought your baby, then—’ I break off, my heart thumping.
Then what? Does it mean Bob and Ruth knew who Iona was? Does it mean he killed her?
‘Then they can find out what happened to Iona,’ I finish.
Ange shakes her head as she moves to stand.
‘You have to want that.’ I grab her arm. ‘We have to go to the police.’
‘No. We don’t,’ she says firmly.
‘Why not?’ I cry.
‘What I did was illegal.’
‘This is murder. What could be more important?’ I’m incredulous that she’s lost two children but is still refusing to talk. ‘What’s more important than putting your daughter’s killer behind bars? The right person,’ I add.
‘I owe people,’ she cries. ‘Okay? I owe too many people.’
‘So?’
‘So …’ She pauses. ‘If I confess, I have no chance of paying them off.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I just can’t talk to the police,’ she hisses.
‘Are you being blackmailed? Is it the people who took your baby? You think they can help you?’
‘This has got nothing to do with you,’ Ange snaps.
‘Of course it has! My brother could be locked up for something he didn’t do.’
Ange turns away from me.
‘Are they still paying you? You want their money more than knowing what actually happened to your daughter?’ I say, though I already know the answer to that. This is a woman who didn’t even notice Iona was missing for twenty-five years; she’s hardly going to care now.
‘You know I’ll go to the police now, though, don’t you?’ I say as she pushes herself off the bench. But she doesn’t appear to be listening any longer as she walks off across the green. ‘Wait!’ I run after her.
‘You don’t know what you’re dealing with.’ Ange pulls her arm away as I try to reach for it.
‘You’re scared,’ I say as she steps on to the road without looking. ‘I get that, but you don’t need to be.’ I check for cars, hurrying to keep up with her. At her house she slips past the open gate and on to the short path.
‘You know nothing about my life at all.’ Ange glares back at me, her eyes wide with fear, her hand reaching for the low brick wall that separates one terraced house from the next.
‘I’m sorry, but I do have to talk to the police, Ange. Helping my brother is too important, and now I know my family had nothing to do with it—’
‘You know, my Iona wasn’t a stupid girl,’ she interrupts. ‘You say she thought my Scarlet was your sister?’
‘Yes, but I know she wasn’t—’
‘But why did Iona think she was?’ Ange asks.
‘I’ve got no idea, she was obviously wrong.’
Her hand grips more tightly on to the wall, flakes of red brick crumbling beneath the pressure. ‘She was mistaken, but not for no good reason. You see, my baby wasn’t the only one taken to that island.’
I step back, my right foot tipping off the edge of the kerb.
‘There was another before mine. That’s how I knew it was safe.’
I shake my head, refusing to take in what she’s saying. My heart is like lead as it bangs heavily inside me.
‘Maybe your family isn’t innocent after all,’ she says, turning towards her front door. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t go running to the police either.’
‘Do you know?’ My voice breaks as the words catch in the air. ‘Do you know that for a fact?’
Ange pauses, one hand pressing a key into the lock.
My head is ringing, but finally Ange gives a small shake of her head and I have a momentary flutter of relief. She pushes the door open.
‘Ange, please,’ I cry, following her as she steps inside the house. ‘Who was your social worker?’
Her face is blank as she turns to close the door.
‘Was her name Joy? Please,’ I sob desperately, as she shuts it.
I sink back against the wall, burying my face in my hands, eyes focused through my fingertips on a man rummaging in a bin, pulling something out, tossing it back in again. Ange’s words make my thoughts scuttle around my head as aimlessly as his actions.
Iona got the wrong person.
Yes, my gran was a social worker, but she might not have been the same one.
They’re coincidences. Nothing more.
I close my eyes, breathing deeply, slowly, pulling my hands away as I tip my head to the sun which is shooting like an arrow through a slit in the clouds.
I will call Harwood. Tell him what I know.
Only what if I’m wrong? I close my eyes again, trying to shake away the thought.
If I talk to the detective I’ll be setting a whole new wheel in motion, and who knows what their investigations might turn up.
There is less than twenty-four hours until they could charge Danny with murder and maybe, just maybe, the only thing I can do to help my brother is to go back and dredge up the truth.
Evergreen Island
5 September 1993
Maria needed to seek Iona out. She wouldn’t let it fester any longer. The previous day Bonnie had come to her and uttered the words: ‘Is Iona my sister?’
She hadn’t confirmed where it had come from, but to Maria it seemed obvious Iona had put the thought in her head. And as Maria had seen her daughter in front of her, trembling, she knew it was time to confront the girl and find out once and for all what she thought she was doing.
Iona was driving herself slowly through the family like a knife, but Maria approached her with the certainty she could stop her going deeper.
She’d found her in the village, carefully holding a cake in her hands, picking the cherry off the top and popping it into her mouth. There was something so innocent about the way she looked, so fragile, and for a moment Maria paused. At nineteen she was barely an adult.
She began to walk over as Iona spotted her, looking amused at what she must know was going to be an awkward conversation. It didn’t take much for Maria to be on guard again, all thoughts of feeling sorry for the girl immediately disappearing. ‘Iona. I think we need to talk.’
‘Oh?’
Maria hated confrontation at the best of times, and right now this was one of the worst. ‘Let’s walk,’ she said, gesturing to the path. Iona fell into step beside her and for a moment they were silent. ‘Bonnie’s getting some strange ideas,’ she said at last.
‘How do you mean?’ Iona inclined her head to one side and looked at Maria.
‘Yesterday she asked me if you were sisters.’
‘Sisters?’ Iona laughed. ‘Where did that come from?’
‘You,’ Maria said, but she was already doubting herself. She’d been so certain Iona had put the idea in Bonnie’s head, she hadn’t stopped to ask if it could have been concocted by Bonnie.
‘Why would I tell her that?’ Iona screwed her eyes up as if the idea was completely ludicrous.
Maria fumbled in her pockets, searching for something to hold on to. ‘I don’t know why you would,’ she said. ‘That’s why I’m asking you.’
Iona smiled in such a way that already Maria was feeling like a fool. ‘Is this why you came to see me? Are you worried about Bonnie?’
‘No, of course I’m not, why would I be?’
‘I don’t know, Maria, you seem concerned about a few things recently.’ Iona brushed a hand casually against the bushes on the side of the path as they walked and Maria wondered how she’d never seen this side of the girl. Had every one of them missed it?
All of a sudden she felt a rush of panic for all her family, but especially Bonnie, who’d been dragged into the girl’s web. ‘I’m not worried about my daughter,’ she said as she continued striding ahead with what seemed like less purpose than she’d set out with.
‘And did she tell you I’d told her we were sisters?’ Iona asked, with that smile again that looked more like a smirk.
‘Well, no, not exactly.’
‘Then it’s in her head,’ Iona said bluntly.
Maria faltered. She realised she’d been naively expecting Iona to admit what she’d said and to tell her why.
‘You must notice the way Bonnie follows me around,’ Iona went on, her tongue flicking out as it licked the icing on her cake, her expression suddenly serious. ‘She’s clinging to me. I’m the only friend she has. I think she’d like it if we were sisters, don’t you?’
‘Iona, stop.’ Maria turned abruptly and halted her in her tracks. ‘Why are you here?’
‘You asked me to walk with you.’
‘Just tell me the truth,’ Maria snapped. ‘What are you doing on our island?’
‘Your island?’
‘Please be honest. Why did you come to Evergreen?’
‘The funny thing about honesty,’ Iona started, ‘is that often the people who ask for it aren’t being so themselves. Do you really want the truth, Maria?’ she asked. ‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’
Maria’s heart thumped furiously. Of course she did. Of course. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly.
‘Then why don’t you go first. Tell me what you’re doing here. What made you come to this island in the first place? And be honest, Maria.’
Maria stared at the girl. She looked so much older than nineteen now, so much wiser and more knowing. But what could Maria say to her? Because she knew that maybe Iona already knew the truth.
‘Stay away from my family,’ Maria said, her words shaking. She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets and turned from Iona, picking up her steps again, walking as fast as she could. She wanted to get away. The girl frightened her but she also knew there was nowhere she could go. Not on this island. This place was supposed to make her feel safe, but there was nowhere she could hide.
‘Wrong answer,’ Iona called out shrilly from behind her.
It would only be another four days before hiding wasn’t an option anyway. Before running became the only solution. What Maria hadn’t known in that moment, as she’d stumbled into her kitchen, hands catching the sink, was that she was about to make everything worse for them.
Her pulse raced as she grabbed an upturned glass from the drainer and filled it with cold water, her eyes only then darting to the corner of the room where Stella was watching her.
‘Hey, darling.’ Maria put the glass down and spun round. She was breathless but Stella didn’t seem to notice, absent-mindedly chewing on a chunk of her hair. Maria reached out and prised it away.
‘I need to talk to you, Mum.’ Stella was wavering on the edge of tears.
‘What is it?’ Maria gasped. God, what was it? She really didn’t think she could take any more.
‘It’s about Jill.’
Maria’s heart did a merry dance, but she kept her composure as she nodded and asked Stella what was bothering her.
‘She made me promise.’ A single tear escaped, rolling down Stella’s cheek. Maria could see how much this was troubling her.
‘Tell me,’ Maria urged soothingly. ‘You know that’s what I’m here for. To take any worries away from you.’
Stella nodded. ‘He’s done it again,’ she said quietly, and Maria feared she knew what was coming.
‘Who’s done what?’ she asked.
‘Her dad – he’s hurt her.’ Stella sobbed as she crashed against her mum’s chest and Maria wrapped her arms around her daughter, nestling her head against Stella’s.
‘You’ve done the right thing,’ she said.
‘You have to promise you won’t say anything,’ Stella pleaded and Maria said she promised because oh, how much easier it would be to keep quiet than to face Bob. But a child’s safety was involved. And despite everything, that was paramount.
When Maria looked back at that afternoon many years later, she could still vividly recall Bob’s face when he opened the door to her as he wiped his grubby hands on a tea towel, tucking it into the waistband of his trousers. How his face had dropped when she’d started speaking. She’d told him she was worried about Jill, that she was only looking out for her, and had expected him to shout, at least say something, but the quieter he remained the more she dug herself into a hole.
Eventually Maria stopped talking. The look on his face was pure fury. Fire burnt from his eyes, his hands clenched into tight fists by his sides. She had overstepped the mark. She stood there, frozen with fear, preparing herself for whatever punch he would, quite literally, throw at her.
Instead he leant forward, his face contorted in anger. ‘Don’t you dare think I owe you anything after this,’ he said, his voice measured and unnaturally calm. All the years of mutual trust and silence had fizzled away in one short moment. ‘I don’t ever want your daughter near mine again. Now get the hell off my property.’
She had run and not looked back. The next time she had seen Bob they hadn’t discussed the encounter, because by then there were other, more pressing matters.
But when Stella would beg her to go back to the island, pleading with her that now David and Bonnie had left the family home, and it could be just the three of them, the idea would run down Maria’s spine like a shard of ice.
Four days after that encounter at his door, she would be teth
ered to Bob again in ways she could never have imagined.
And because of that, her family would never be able to return to Evergreen ever again.
PRESENT
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It is four p.m. and I’m running along the harbour to the last of the bright yellow boats. On weekends there are two ferries a day, and the final one is about to leave.
By the time we reach Evergreen the sky is thick with black clouds. Lights begin to flicker on along the jetty, but there should be enough daylight to find my way to Rachel’s.
I haven’t called ahead to check she is happy for me to stay another night. I haven’t particularly planned what I am going to do. I’d driven straight from Birmingham to Poole, ignoring the voices in my head, because if I’d listened to them I feared I would stop the car. There were already too many good reasons for me to do just that, including my promise to Bonnie, but I knew if I did I might not get to the truth. And for as long as Danny is sitting in a cell, believing he killed Iona, I will not give up looking for it.
The air is cold but fresh as it slaps against my face, rainwater dripping into my open mouth as I stand on the end of the jetty. Behind me the ferry chugs away and I’m suddenly alone on an island where night is crawling towards me fast and I can be certain the islanders don’t want me. It is hard to believe I once belonged. Holding my hood against my head, I finally hurry forward while I can still see the way.
It takes Rachel a while to come to the door and when she opens it her face falls.
‘I’m just here for the night,’ I tell her. ‘I’m going again in the morning.’
She shakes her head, eyes narrowing. ‘You aren’t staying here.’
‘But …’ I look past her to the empty hallway. ‘You must still have the room available. And like I said, it’s just for one night.’
‘I don’t care if it is, you aren’t staying here,’ she says firmly, leaning towards me as she adds, ‘I know why you suddenly ran off. I know what your brother has done. Evil.’ Rachel screws her face up in disgust. ‘And people aren’t surprised. He used to frighten all the girls.’