‘We watched, appalled, as he flailed about in the water. He could swim, we knew that because we’d often gone swimming in the sea together. But, maybe because of the tide, or the amount of alcohol in his system, he couldn’t keep afloat and we could do nothing … he kept sinking …’ I hesitate, the memory is still so vivid. ‘We could only stare in horror as he got swallowed up by the sea.
‘We couldn’t have saved him, you see, Dan. We couldn’t. We were just as wasted – and neither of us had mobile phones in those days. I often wondered if I should have run for help, alerted one of the neighbours from the nearby houses. But we did nothing. We were frozen by fear, scared of getting into trouble. And so we watched a young man with everything to live for drown.’
There is complete silence in the car. It’s so oppressive that I feel crushed by it, as though I’ve taken a sledgehammer to the clean-cut image he’s always had of me.
Eventually he asks, ‘Did Sophie ever tell Leon?’ His voice sounds raw in the confines of the car, as though he’s not spoken for years.
I shake my head. ‘I really don’t know. I think she was tempted. She hated lying to him. But she was scared. Why? Do you think it’s him writing these notes?’
He shrugs and turns away from me to look out of the windscreen again. The windows have started to steam up so he starts the ignition, and the lull of the windscreen wipers and melodic sound of the rain soothes me. ‘Who knows, Frankie. What happened after … after he died?’
I close my eyes, remembering the shock, the horror of it all; you throwing up over the side of the pier and then screaming uncontrollably so that I had to slap you hard across the face; me grabbing your arm and dragging you away, instantly sobering up as we ran as fast as we could towards the hotel. Dad was still awake and sitting in the living room, reading a book and drinking a Scotch. Luckily all the guests were in bed. I still remember the fear that pinched his face when he saw us, bedraggled and crying, you with vomit down the front of your dress, the words, ‘What’s happened?’ sliding from his mouth as though in slow motion.
I exhale and open my eyes. ‘My dad. We ran back to the hotel and told him. He was the one who insisted that we say nothing about what had happened. He didn’t want the police involved. It was an accident, he said. A tragic accident. He never even told my mum.’
‘Your dad is good at keeping secrets,’ he says and I shoot him a look.
‘My dad saved our arses.’
‘You said yourself, it was an accident. You should’ve been honest, for fuck’s sake, Frankie! You should have been honest then and maybe none of this would have happened. Then Sophie might be alive.’ His voice gets louder with each word, saliva forming in the corners of his mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry.
Tears seep out of my eyes and I don’t bother to wipe them away. ‘I know that now. Dad just did what he thought was right. We would have been in trouble for stealing his booze, it would have got in the local newspaper, as you well know. Dad could have lost his licence.’ I scowl at him as though he was the one responsible for writing the non-existent story despite only being eighteen at the time. ‘And he would have lost his business.’
‘I can’t believe you kept this from me,’ he says, his voice quieter now, less angry. But he still doesn’t look at me.
‘We kept it from everyone.’
His next words chill me to the bone. ‘Well, not everyone. Someone knows, Frankie. And it sounds like they want revenge.’
13
Sophie
Sunday, 20 July 1997
I thought it would be fun working with Frankie but she’s hardly spoken to me since last week. I know it’s because I haven’t done what she wants – finish with Leon. I’d forgotten how stubborn she can be, how things always have to go her way. While we were apart I romanticised our friendship. There is hardly a childhood memory that she’s not in, just like Daniel. And yet there were times too where she got on my nerves. Even as a kid she was bossy, giving me the silent treatment if I didn’t do what she wanted. Once, when we were nine and I refused to go out and play with her, preferring to stay curled up with my new Malory Towers books instead, she didn’t speak to me for a week.
Yesterday late afternoon I went to the beach with Helen and found myself pouring it all out to her: Frankie’s annoyance that I was going out with Leon, her cold-shouldering, the awkwardness of us working together – although being careful to omit anything to do with Jason.
I’ve been feeling guilty that I’ve jettisoned Helen now that Frankie is back. Helen was a lifeline for me at school after Frankie left. And we’d stayed in touch while I was at university and she was at the local college, making sure to see each other when I returned to Oldcliffe for the holidays. She could be a little grumpy at times, she wasn’t bubbly like Frankie, but I admired her straight-talking, no-nonsense ways. The only downside to our friendship was how intensely she disliked Frankie. When we were in the second year of senior school they had a huge fight. Frankie had run into the classroom, blue paint in her hair and smudged across her face, and flown at Helen, accusing her of locking her in the arts supply cupboard. Everyone knew how claustrophobic Frankie was. Helen always denied it but Frankie was convinced it was her as they had been the only people in the art room before it happened. Frankie went around telling everyone about it and calling Helen a bully. They weren’t exactly friends before then, but after that they were barely civil to one another. Helen always denied it but I’m still not convinced she didn’t do it. Helen can hold a grudge!
We were splayed out on towels, in the shade of the helter-skelter. The day was stifling and airless, the sea calm, the tide out. To my right, and much further along the coast, the old pier loomed in the distance, on the edge of things, like a shy teenager at a party.
Helen shuffled on her towel. She was wearing shorts and a bikini top and her chest was already going pink even though we had only been sitting there for fifteen minutes. The beach was packed with bodies: families sunbathing, children paddling, teenagers tossing a Frisbee.
‘So you think Frankie is funny with you because you’re getting off with Leon?’ she said when I’d finished, shielding her face with her hand and squinting. The sun ballooned in the cloudless sky.
I shrugged. ‘Yes, she wants me to stop seeing him. She told me he tried it on with her a couple of months back, and he got a bit nasty when she said no.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? Do you think that’s true?’
‘Why would she lie?’
‘The trouble is, Frankie is used to getting all the attention. She doesn’t like it now you’ve blossomed. And she’s always been possessive of you.’
‘Do you think?’
She snorted. ‘Of course. Nobody could ever get near you at school.’
‘No boys fancied me at school,’ I said, remembering how I used to look with my braces and National Health specs.
‘I don’t mean the boys. You weren’t able to make other friends. She claimed you, right from when you joined at primary school. You were her best friend and that was it. She’s never had to share you before. And now she has to share you with Leon, and she doesn’t like it.’
I felt a stab of guilt at discussing Frankie in this way. Especially considering Helen didn’t know all the facts.
She carried on relentlessly, in full swing. ‘It was the best thing for you, when she left. Gave you the chance to step out from her shadow. But now she expects to be able to pick up exactly where she left off. You’ve changed. It’s been three years.’
I sat up, thrusting my hands into the hot sand and letting the fine grains run through my fingers. I knew what Helen was saying was true. Even if Leon wasn’t Jason’s cousin, I still don’t think Frankie would like me dating him, or anyone. She was used to having me to herself.
Helen sat up too, swivelling on her towel so that she was facing me. ‘You can’t let her push you around any more, Sophie.’
I felt uneasy. ‘She doesn’t push me aroun
d …’
‘You’re too nice and she takes advantage of that. Guilt-tripping you to do what she wants by making you worry that you’ve upset her. She did it when you were little and she’s still doing it.’
I continued to rake the sand with my fingers. ‘A friendship is never equal,’ I mused, ‘is it? There’s always one who is more dominant, more controlling. That’s just the way it is.’
Helen frowned. ‘Friendship should be about give and take. It should be about equality …’
‘Don’t you think that’s a bit naive?’ I interjected. ‘We’re all so different so each friendship will be different. Each friend will bring out a different side to our personality. Yes, Frankie was always the more domineering of the two of us, so when I’m with her I suppose I do revert to being the same as I was when we were kids.’
She rooted in her bag for her bottle of Hawaiian Tropic (which we loved because it made us look instantly tanned and smelled like Malibu), rubbing it into her already sunburnt chest. ‘What about with us? Where does the balance of power lie in our friendship?’
‘I don’t know … we’re pretty equal. Aren’t we?’ Although even as I said this I knew I wasn’t being totally honest. Sometimes Helen’s quick temper scared me.
‘Exactly,’ she said triumphantly. She moved on to her legs, the oil mixing with grains of sand so that her shins glistened. She had a look of concentration on her face. ‘No offence, Sophie, but you were hardly competition before. With men, I mean. Now look at you!’
I felt myself blush and stared at my hands, partially hidden by the sand. ‘Hardly, Hel.’
‘No, I mean it.’
‘Frankie’s gorgeous.’
‘And so are you.’
I felt uncomfortable with this – no matter what anyone says to the contrary, I will forever feel like that lanky kid with braces and bad skin. So I changed the subject to The Basement and what time we were going to get there that night.
We stayed on the beach for another hour, then we wandered around the town in our shorts and flip-flops, towels and sun oil stuffed in our beach bags. We stopped at the entrance to the Grand Pier to buy ice creams and then meandered on to the main walkway, the faint sounds of 1950s music overhead.
It was then that I saw Frankie pushing her way through the hordes of people, marching towards us in denim hot-pants and a black bikini top that showed off her ample boobs. My brother was trailing after her with that annoying, love-sick expression he adopts every time he sees her lately. He was wearing black, even in the heat, but had swapped his usual jumper and long coat for a T-shirt and jeans. His normally pale cheeks were red and his dark hair was wet at the front with sweat. Frankie has never really seemed interested in Daniel – although she must be able to tell how much of a crush he has on her. It’s so obvious he might as well be wearing a placard with it written right across the front.
Seeing them together was a bit of a shock – they never normally hang out on their own.
Frankie seemed flustered as she stopped in front of us, her intense gaze taking in Helen’s arm linked through mine, the ice creams in our hands. She scowled.
‘Been to the beach, have we?’ she said, addressing me and ignoring Helen.
‘Yes, if that’s OK with you,’ I said, annoyed with myself for getting defensive, knowing it was for Helen’s benefit. I wanted to prove her wrong, to show her that I don’t let Frankie push me around any more.
Frankie’s expression softened and her shoulders sagged. There was something vulnerable about her as she stood in front of me, all small and compact, with Daniel looming large behind her. ‘Look, Soph, I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch these last few days. I’ve had a lot on my mind. Are you going to The Basement tonight?’
I could feel Helen tense up beside me. She unlinked her arm from mine.
‘Yes. Helen’s coming too,’ I said. I couldn’t leave her out just because Frankie had clicked her perfectly manicured fingers and wanted to be friends again. It wasn’t fair.
‘Great,’ she said, still avoiding eye contact with Helen. She leaned forward and gave me a hug. ‘I’ll see you there.’
We all watched as she sashayed off, Daniel practically salivating.
‘So what were the two of you up to?’ I said as the three of us walked back through town. The heat was oppressive, not helped by the tourists ambling along as if they had all the time in the world.
‘She called me up, wanted to spend a few hours with me.’ Daniel shrugged nonchalantly but I could tell he was secretly elated that she’d asked for his company.
‘Did you snog her?’ said Helen. By now we were out of the thicket of tourists and had nearly reached the old pier.
‘None of your business,’ he blushed.
‘Oh my God, you did snog her!’ I cried. ‘I can tell by your lovey-dovey expression.’
‘Did you feel her up?’ Helen teased. ‘How many years have you wanted to get your hands on those tits?’
The shock on Daniel’s face made us both descend into a fit of giggles.
‘Oh, piss off, both of you.’ He stalked off, leaving us clutching each other and laughing.
Now, though, I’m worried.
Daniel’s been in love with Frankie for years, but she’s never returned his feelings. She probably just wanted a bit of attention.
And if she did snog my brother, it would have only been to get back at me.
I’m no longer sure what she’s capable of.
14
Frankie
We pull up outside Lorcan’s house and I’m suddenly overcome with a sense of fatigue so powerful that my body feels as though it’s made of stone.
I can’t actually face going into that house again. I can’t bear the thought of seeing Leon or his thuggish brother. What is the point of all this? What is Daniel hoping to achieve here? If either of them knows anything about what happened to you they’re hardly going to tell us. All I want to do is go home, return to my London life; even Mike is an appealing prospect right now. I should never have agreed to come back. But even as I think it, I know I’m not being honest with myself. How could I have resisted the chance to return here? The chance to help Daniel identify your body – your remains – so that I can finally lay you to rest.
‘Come on then, what are you waiting for?’ Daniel’s voice is sharp, insistent. It’s obvious he hasn’t forgiven me – may never forgive me – for what I’ve just told him about Jason. He’s never going to look at me in the same way. I’m no longer the person he thought I was.
You’re out of all this now though, aren’t you, Soph? You are gone and I’m left to deal with it all by myself. To carry that burden. It was always me, I was the strong one, the leader, the one who got us out of trouble, the one who sorted it the night Jason died, the one who’s left to face all this now …
I’m just about to tell Daniel that I’m not going back into that depressing house when a tall man strides up to the car and bangs on the bonnet. I jump in fright and Daniel’s face pales as Lorcan leers at us through the windscreen. He’s wearing the same paint-splattered overalls and work boots as yesterday, with a short-sleeved T-shirt underneath. Does the man not feel the biting cold? He bangs on the bonnet again and Daniel leaps out the car.
My fatigue dissipates, replaced by adrenaline, and I follow suit.
‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ Daniel shouts. ‘Stop thumping my car!’
‘Would ya rather I thumped you?’ Lorcan snarls. ‘What the fuck are you doing around ’ere? Leon told me you came over yesterday. We’ve got nuffin’ to say to you.’ His anger accentuates his strong West Country accent.
I join Daniel’s side and squeeze his arm gently, trying to pull him away, but he stands his ground.
‘I just want to know about the night my sister disappeared.’
Lorcan’s expression darkens. ‘We’ve got nothing to tell you. So piss off.’
I can feel the tension stretching between them and, in a last-ditch attempt, I step in
to diffuse it. ‘Look, Lorcan,’ I begin, ‘I know you fancied Sophie. I remember you trying it on with her at The Basement. Were you harassing her? You were married … what would your wife have said about that …?’
He takes a step towards me and shakes a fist in my face. ‘Fuck off, Miss High and Mighty. Who the fuck do you think you are? Coming around ’ere after all these years, trying to fuck with me, you stupid bitch.’
‘That’s enough,’ shouts Daniel, standing in front of me to face Lorcan’s wrath. ‘Leave her alone.’
‘She can’t go around accusing folk,’ he snarls, spittle flying from his mouth.
‘She’s not accusing anyone. We just want to talk to you … we spoke to Leon yesterday and he was helpful, but …’
Lorcan shakes his head at us, but his face softens as he assesses Daniel. ‘Look, mate,’ he says in a conciliatory voice. ‘I’m sorry about your sister, I really am. I heard that they found her body. But her death’s got nuffin’ to do with me. Now leave me and my family alone.’
And before either of us can say anything further he stalks back into his garden, the wooden gate banging in his wake.
We stare after him for a few moments. Then Daniel turns to me, his eyes sad. ‘This is a nightmare. It’s much harder than I thought. Nobody wants to talk to me.’
‘You’re a journalist now, maybe that’s why.’
‘It’s not just that …’ He sighs. ‘Look, Franks. I wonder if it might be better if you do this. Without me.’
‘What?’
‘Like you say, I’m a journalist. And I’m Sophie’s brother. But you …’
‘I’m an outsider,’ I exclaim. ‘They’ve not exactly been friendly to me since I’ve been back. You heard Lorcan. He called me a high and mighty bitch.’
He runs his hands through his hair in exasperation. ‘I don’t know what else to suggest.’
We stand there on the pavement, both deep in our own thoughts. Then Daniel’s mobile trills and he retrieves it from the pocket of his coat.
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