Forget Me Never

by Gina Blaxill

Reece appeared in T-shirt and jeans, rubbing his hair with a towel.

  ‘Right, let’s go up,’ he said, grabbing a bottle of Lucozade from the fridge and dumping the towel on the counter. ‘See you later, Mum.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Effie said. ‘I’m off in an hour. Are you going to stay in for Neve?’

  Reece sighed and huffed, which Effie seemed to take as acceptance. ‘If you and Sophie want dinner later, I’ll leave some cash out. There are takeaway menus in the drawer.’

  I followed Reece up to his room. Like the rest of the house, it was neat and tidy, though this was probably down to the cleaner. Books, mainly textbooks and sports autobiographies, were neatly lined up on the shelves. The top one was reserved for the collection of old Beano and Dandy annuals that had belonged to Reece’s dad.

  Reece flipped on the flash new computer that sat on the desk. It had been his birthday a few weeks ago – I guessed the computer had been a present. He pulled up a stool next to his swivel chair.

  ‘Let’s have a look at this USB then. Better do it pronto, before Mum offs and leaves me babysitting the poddling.’

  ‘Look, Reece . . . you don’t have to be so businesslike about all this. I know you’re pissed off with me, but this passive-aggressive stuff is a pain.’ As soon as the words came out I regretted them.

  Reece scowled. ‘Why shouldn’t I be passive-aggressive and businesslike? You’re the one who ditched me for no reason.’

  ‘Not for no reason. You let me down.’

  ‘How? I made time for you when I moved schools. I was there!’

  ‘Not the night of Paloma’s party, you weren’t. You were out with your new friends, having a whale of a time, judging by the Facebook photos.’

  ‘What’s the big deal? Did something happen at the party? You told me at the play that you weren’t even going.’

  ‘Look, I didn’t come to talk about that! Stop going on.’

  Reece muttered something, then to my surprise shut up. I handed him the USB. A little gruffly I said, ‘Look in the party folder, ninth photo.’

  He opened it up. I watched him frown at the screen. He paused, then flicked through a few more pictures. Impatient, I said, ‘Come on, you must know. Is it him, d’you reckon?’

  ‘Oh, he’s the dude from town all right. But . . .’ Reece hesitated. ‘I’m pretty certain – ninety per cent sure – that this is the same bloke that came by the flat too. The one who rang the bell for Danielle when we were getting ready to leave.’

  ‘What? How can you tell?’

  ‘Got a look at him out of the window, didn’t I? OK, so we were four floors up and it was a few months ago, but I’d swear to it. Didn’t connect them at the time. So what’s the deal with this, Soph? D’you think he had something to do with – you know . . . ?’

  I hesitated. It was a good question – and I was almost afraid of answering it.

  Slowly I said, ‘Maybe . . . I mean, think about it. There was the scene in town, when she was upset to see him. Then the next day she went off with him when he called at the flat. A couple of hours later she jumps off that balcony. That’s no coincidence, right? And it’s not the only thing that bugs me. Remember what the eyewitness said in the inquest report? That old lady? She saw Dani fall – back first. Why backwards?’ I paused. ‘And . . . aside from that, I’ve been thinking. I’m not convinced that Dani was depressed enough to take her own life. I accepted it to begin with, but don’t you remember what she was like that weekend? She was talking about the things she wanted to buy when she got paid, about the future. Would someone suicidal do that? I’m not saying anything sinister went on – but I’m just not convinced it’s so simple. Dani seemed fine.’

  ‘Might have seemed fine. Doesn’t mean she was. Anyway, aren’t you implying that this guy gave her a reason to do it?’

  ‘Maybe – I don’t know.’ Suddenly embarrassed, I looked away. Ridiculous – coming here with crazy theories when I hadn’t spoken to Reece in months. I needed to find someone else to dump on – I probably sounded a bit hysterical.

  ‘I’ll go,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘Thanks for helping.’

  I was almost at the door when Reece said, ‘Sure you’ve been OK?’

  His voice almost sounded soft. I looked over my shoulder.

  ‘I’m fine. What d’you mean?’

  ‘You know. Just generally.’

  Was he saying that he’d been worried about me when we weren’t speaking?

  ‘I really am fine,’ I said firmly. ‘And I really am going.’

  ‘You know what I think,’ Reece said. ‘There’s no way your cousin seeing that guy was prearranged. She was definitely shocked to see him in town. Whatever he needed to say to her at the flat, it must have been significant.’

  He was juggling an eraser from hand to hand, and now he added a key ring and the memory stick.

  ‘Don’t throw that about,’ I said, marching over and snatching it, annoyed that I’d almost forgotten it. ‘It’s valuable.’

  Reece threw the eraser against the wall. It made a pinging sound and bounced underneath the bed.

  ‘How long had Dani been living in Bournemouth?’

  ‘Dunno. A couple of weeks.’

  ‘Where was she before?’

  ‘Somewhere in Archway. What are you thinking?’

  ‘Well, let’s assume the bloke doesn’t live in Bournemouth. That they met in London and he made a special trip to see her. You don’t usually do that when people aren’t expecting you, especially as Bournemouth’s hardly just down the road.’

  Despite myself I was impressed with his reasoning. ‘Must have been something he couldn’t email or call her about.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean it was anything suspicious though. We know he was gone by the time Dani fell. The eyewitness said there was no one else on the balcony.’

  ‘I’m not saying he pushed her,’ I said, aware that I was starting to sound silly again. ‘I’m just saying that we now know this guy is Dani’s ex, and him visiting might be significant in some way.’

  Reece turned to the computer and opened Firefox. He went on to Facebook and opened the In Memoriam page that one of Danielle’s friends had created. Lots of people, including me and Reece, had left messages. It had seemed the right thing to do. Julie said it trivialized her death, but in my opinion it was the best way for all the people who knew her to come together. The page showed a posed profile picture of Dani at a friend’s wedding, confetti in her hair and toasting the camera with a wine glass.

  Reece was scrolling down the comments. Beginning to realize what he was doing, I sat back on the stool.

  ‘Stop,’ I said. ‘That’s him, there. Aiden Anderson.’

  Aiden Anderson hadn’t written much in his message – just RIP babe, you’ll be missed x. Reece clicked and his profile page popped up, a big photo of him on the left.

  ‘How’s that for awesome detective work?’ Reece said, looking smug. ‘Sherlock would be proud.’

  There wasn’t much on Aiden’s page – he seemed to be an advocate of the ‘I’m so cool I keep my profile practically empty’ school of social networking.

  ‘What now?’ Reece said. ‘Do we sit on this information, or do something with it?’

  ‘You mean, go to the police? What do you think?’

  He shrugged. ‘Your cousin. You decide.’

  I picked at the threads on the bottom of my shorts. It felt very surreal to be sitting here on a nice summer evening, talking about Dani’s death. I’d thought about it constantly, but until now I’d never questioned the verdict. Part of me wished I hadn’t started this. I wondered if Reece was taking it seriously. He was being so matter-of-fact that I suspected he wasn’t. Maybe he thought that I couldn’t deal with Dani killing herself and just wanted someone to blame. And maybe I did. I didn’t know what I thought any more – just that I needed to do something.

  ‘If I go to the police, will you come with me?’ I asked.

  Reece got up. ‘I suddenly hear chow
mein calling. Want to order takeaway?’

  ‘Answer my question. I’m serious.’

  ‘I’m considering it,’ Reece said. ‘But my brain needs MSG first.’

  Rolling my eyes, I followed him downstairs. Effie was by the door, about to head out. After laying down a few house rules, which Reece no doubt already knew and were probably said for my benefit, she disappeared, leaving us with Neve.

  Reece picked up the phone and ordered some chow mein, seaweed, sweet and sour pork, black bean beef and prawn crackers.

  ‘Yum,’ he said. ‘They give massive portions, this place. We’ll be stuffed.’

  ‘Like turkeys,’ said Neve happily.

  ‘Hooray,’ I said.

  Catching me looking at him, Reece said, ‘Look, I’ll come with you – purely because it’ll be more interesting than what I was planning on doing. Happy?’

  I supposed it was too much to hope that he’d agree with me. It was funny – since we’d started talking, the posh note in his voice had gone. He sounded more like the old Reece. Well, better him on my side than no one. I was normally good at doing difficult things by myself, but this was something I’d rather not face alone.

  REECE

  Sophie left straight after we’d eaten. As soon as I was sure she was well gone I grabbed a cushion and gave it a good pummelling. When I’d let off enough steam I threw it on the carpet and switched the telly on to an angry rock radio station. Neve shrank back, looking worried. Quickly I turned the volume down.

  ‘I’m not mad at you, sweetie,’ I said. ‘It’s just teenager stuff. You wouldn’t understand.’

  Sophie was messing me about and I didn’t like it. She’d waltzed back into my life, assuming my help was hers for the taking. The stubborn part of me had wanted to say no – smack rejection in her face and see how she liked it. But I couldn’t help hoping the Danielle stuff was just an excuse for getting in contact.

  I was half annoyed I hadn’t given her a rougher time. I’d just been nice and helpful, two things I’m usually very definitely not. Perhaps it was unfair, but it felt like I’d been taken advantage of. I got how horrible it was for Sophie to lose Danielle, and what a struggle dealing with grief was – I’d gone through it with my dad. I also got how rubbish it was to be left questioning whether the death was as clear cut as everyone said. It just would have made all the difference to hear an apology for the months she’d ignored me.

  Naff all was going to happen with the police tomorrow. Shooting theories was one thing, and Soph was right in saying there were things that didn’t add up, but it was way too fanciful to seriously believe Aiden Anderson turning up had anything to do with Danielle jumping off that balcony. That would make it murder – a huge accusation. While I’d never say so to Sophie, I’d always thought Danielle was a bit of a fruitcake – shoving ice cream and sweets in our faces like we were Neve’s age. Acting like she adored Sophie one minute, then vanishing for months on end the next. But despite everything I had liked her, though I couldn’t say I really got her, not like Sophie did.

  I was far more curious about what would happen when we were done with the police. Would Sophie walk away from me again? Or would she want to make up? And where might that lead?

  SOPHIE

  I spent most of the next morning in Save the Animals sorting through bags of donations, picking out the items we could sell. Doing something brainless is the best therapy sometimes.

  At two o’clock I met Reece outside Hendon Central station. He was holding a white paper bag and a bottle of lemon Lucozade.

  ‘Went to one of the Jewish bakeries,’ he said, mouth full. It was hard to make out what he was saying over the roar of the traffic. ‘Want a spinach boreka?’

  ‘Spinach? Gross! Why d’you always choose the disgusting flavours? The sweet ones are much nicer.’

  ‘Cos I don’t want you scoffing my lunch, that’s why. Hendon hasn’t changed much, has it? Same old dump.’ He swallowed. ‘OK, my stomach’s happy now. Let’s do this.’

  It was cool inside the police station, a welcome change from the baking heat. The foyer needed renovating; the plastic chairs in the waiting room looked like they belonged in a school, and the walls were a mucky cream colour I guessed had once been white. No wonder they were plastered with posters.

  The officer at the front desk gave us a sceptical look – probably already thinking we were time-wasters. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, wetting my lips. ‘Four months ago there was a suicide your Bournemouth colleagues investigated. I’ve got new information.’

  ‘So’ve I,’ Reece said, not to be outdone.

  ‘One at a time,’ the woman said. ‘I’ll get someone to speak to you.’

  Another officer appeared. She took us to a side room and asked us to explain. ‘I’ll need to take your details,’ she said. ‘Do you have the case reference number – or precise dates?’

  ‘You know they only want your details so they can use them later,’ Reece whispered. ‘Wake up tomorrow and I guarantee your inbox will be full of spam warnings about drugs and unlicensed minicabs. It’s direct marketing. They did a feature about it on Watchdog. Once you’re on a list there’s no escape.’

  ‘The police are the ones protecting us from that kind of thing, idiot.’ I elbowed him in the ribs and gave the officer the information she’d asked for. She took everything down, then told us someone would be in touch to ask us to come for an interview in the company of an appropriate adult. We found ourselves politely but firmly escorted to the door, a wave of heat and sunlight hitting us as we stepped out.

  ‘Waste of time,’ Reece said. ‘Suppose we should have anticipated that.’

  I nodded, trying not to show my apprehension. Somehow I couldn’t see Julie being thrilled about this. Why was nothing ever simple?

  The police rang later that day and asked me to come in the next morning. Julie, who’d taken the call, shook her head as she put the receiver back into its cradle.

  ‘All right, Sophie. What’s this really about?’

  ‘There isn’t any “really”.’ I felt irked by the hint of accusation in her voice. ‘I didn’t realize you’d need to get involved.’

  Julie didn’t look convinced, but the following morning we went to the police station. There was a different officer on reception this time and we were told to wait for a Detective Inspector Perry. Ten minutes later a man walked in. He was probably around fifty, with a thick beard and moustache that were going grey. He looked a bit like Father Christmas.

  ‘Sophie Hayward? And you must be Sophie’s foster-mother. I’m DI Perry.’

  ‘Julie Coombes.’ Julie shook his hand.

  Perry took us into a small, brightly lit room with a rectangular table and more plastic chairs. Another man, whom Perry introduced as Detective Constable Grace, was setting up a tape recorder. He was quite young and a bit spotty. I wondered if this was one of his first cases.

  ‘So . . .’ Perry said, leaning back in his chair. I decided I liked his manner; it was relaxed, leisurely even. ‘I’ve looked at the notes the sergeant took yesterday and had a word with my colleagues in Bournemouth. I understand you came across some photographs of your cousin.’

  I was distracted from replying by a noise from down the corridor; it sounded like someone yelling. I wondered if Reece was being interviewed today too.

  I told them about the USB. Out of the corner of my eye I caught Julie giving me a hard look and realized how sketchily I’d explained this to her. I’d be in for it later. I handed the USB to Perry when he asked for it and was given a receipt. I’d copied the photos on to Edith before coming out.

  ‘This might not seem like a big deal, but I really don’t think she jumped because she was depressed,’ I said. I described all the plans Danielle had been making. ‘She had . . . issues, but she was doing OK. Reece will back me up.’

  ‘We’ve seen Danielle’s medical records,’ said Perry. ‘She had a history of depression. The conclusion my Bournemouth col
leagues came to was that this was almost certainly a contributory factor for her death – especially as the post-mortem showed she hadn’t been taking her medication. How did she seem to you that weekend?’

  I was going to answer, ‘Normal,’ but changed my mind – Dani didn’t really have a ‘normal’ mode in the way most people did. ‘OK, I guess.’

  ‘How close were you to your cousin?’ Perry asked. ‘Talk me through your relationship.’

  I hesitated. Perry seemed kind, but he was still a stranger and this was personal.

  ‘I didn’t know her well when I was little,’ I said. ‘She was eleven years older than me, and I went into care when I was seven. We got close after . . . well, our mums died together.’

  It had been a car accident five years ago. It wasn’t clear where they’d been heading, but it was clear that both of them were well over the limit. They’d swerved off the road at a junction – thankfully no other cars were involved. Even though I’d not lived with Mum for several years and rarely saw her, it still made a huge impact. The best way to describe how I felt was numb. At least Dani had been going through the same thing. That shared experience gave us a bond nothing could break. Her being around made me feel better. Not only about Mum, but about a lot of things. We just ‘got’ each other.

  Perry nodded, looking sympathetic. Slightly reassured, I said, ‘Dani had got her life together. She’d finished a course in computing and got a decent job. She was proud of that – sometimes she was scatty, but never at work. Computers made more sense to her than people did, I think.’

  ‘Did you see much of her once she started work?’ Perry asked.

  ‘Sometimes when she was down I didn’t see her for a while,’ I admitted. ‘We only met when she was happy – which is why her killing herself that weekend just doesn’t make sense.’

  Perry asked about the photos and how I’d made the link to Aiden Anderson. Now that I was explaining, in this bright, serious little room, it sounded a bit daft, like something a teenager might do because she was bored and wanted attention. I could tell Julie wasn’t buying it; she wasn’t saying anything, but she’s not difficult to read.