I can’t believe he’s not going to say anything about her letter, but I know better than to push him.
‘Why are you so interested in Mace, anyway?’
‘I don’t care about Mace. I care about what happened to Danny. You didn’t see him clinging to his mum like I did. I didn’t want her to have my horse riding money, maybe if she’d had more they could have got away. Maybe if we hadn’t lied —’
‘But we didn’t do this, Little Bird. Try to stop worrying at it, it’s affecting your perspective. There’s probably nothing going on with Danny and, as for this stuff —’ I take the pages from him in case he tears them up ‘— it’s over and finished.’
‘It’s not!’ I sob. ‘Not for me.’ I tell him about the park and the men, and he gives me a hug.
‘Don’t you ever feel tired of running and hiding, Kit? I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder all the time.’
‘Come on, I’ll look after you. I always do.’ He stands up to go. ‘Just stay away from the Maces — we don’t have time to get tangled up in all that.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘I just want to do the right thing by her. I mean, what if she is alive, and just left, like Danny’s mum? Don’t you want to know?’
‘I already know,’ Kit’s voice is quiet.
The door to my room clicks shut behind him.
But I didn’t know.
I listen to see if Kit is going out. On my own the house whispers to me. I hear him use the bathroom, the pipes banging through the ceiling, and then his footsteps as he returns to his room. I look for a pen and paper and write down the address, and the date, and then ‘Dear’, but I don’t know what name to use, so I put the pen down again.
Downstairs, I check in all the rooms and shut all the doors. In the kitchen, I put the mugs in the sink, and then I go out the back door, and put the rubbish in the bin. The air is chilly, and, as the bag thuds to the bottom, a damp breeze curls a bit of hair into my face. The shed is a dark cut-out at the bottom of the garden, and a draft of air lifts the drying leaves of the trees along the fence so that they crackle and scratch around it.
I turn for the back door quickly and see that Kit’s light is out. He’ll be asleep already, head turned away from me, one arm hanging off the bed that is far too small for him, and he will be impossibly still.
I rinse out the mugs slowly and then dry them and put them away, all the time finding and losing the right words. I check the back door again and decide not to write the letter.
The door to the cupboard in the hall is slightly open, and my heart misses a beat. I push it shut and then open it again. I crawl into the space under the stairs. The wooden babies are at the top of the box and I take them out and trace their features with the tip of my finger.
If I want to know what happened to her, I need to ask him myself.
I stop outside Kit’s room and listen for his breathing. When I’m sure he’s asleep, I push the door open a little more just so I can see he’s there, and I return to my own room.
The sheets of paper are still all over the floor and I start to stack them again piece by piece, the steady suck and blow of Kit’s breath just audible through our open doors. As I go through it all, I find a newspaper article from the trial and a photograph of two girls, smiling broadly at the camera. One of them has freckles and hair that falls straight into her face, the crease in the original photo shows in the image in the newspaper. I fold the paper so that only the picture is visible and set it up on my bedside table. Maybe if I don’t find her it will be enough to have the photo of her.
I collect the rest of the paper and put it back in the box and slide the whole thing under my bed. The wind picks up outside, shaking the leaves on the trees and worrying at the curtains. The shadows from the branches bending in the wind outside jerk and flick across the ceiling and I can’t sleep.
The words that have been rolling around my head since we moved back here seem to have disappeared, but I know, if I don’t get up and write the letter now, it’s only going to get harder. Anyway, perhaps he’s changed and he’s more like he was before Mum said it all went bad. Then maybe we can leave this town and its ghosts, and Kit and I will be happy.
I turn the light on and find the paper and pen. It’s not much to ask, I think. Surely, there’s no reason for him to keep this from us now. And Kit will see it was all worth it when we have the answer — Matthew has just made him overly cautious and impassive. Kit’s feelings have been carefully contained. If anyone’s going to release him, it will have to be me.
I address him by name, adult to adult, and state who I am. As if he would have forgotten that. Then I discard all my prepared speeches and entreaties and ask the one question that matters.
‘Where is she?’
Before I can change my mind, I address and stamp the envelope and walk out to the post-box at the end of the road. A few leaves blow around me in loops and rolls. When I step back into the house, the wind picks up the sleeves of the coats hanging in the hall until I shut the door and they drop back, lifeless.
Chapter Seven
1976
The blue tiles of the pool are barely visible below the thrash of limbs and heads and plastic floats. The air is thick with shrieks and the splash crash of the water bashing the side of the pool and breaking up in bubbles. Debbie and me are sitting a little bit back from the edge eating Zooms. The ice is melting faster than we can lick it, so we are having a race to see who can finish first before the lollies fall apart in rainbow shards. The loser has to pick their way through the picnic rugs and towels on the grass to put the sticks in a bin.
Mum and Matthew are sitting in the shade under the trees, but Debbie’s family are in the middle of a large group near the side of the pool. Every now and then, an especially big jump throws spray over them, and Mrs Walker gets up and shouts at the bobbing heads in the water.
The drips from the lolly are making my fingers sticky and the sun is burning hot on my back. My wet hair feels heavy and scratchy as it dries, and Debbie’s is starting to spring back up into little curls.
She is chattering away as usual, and I take advantage of this to finish my lolly first and send her off with the tacky sticks. I look around to check on Matthew and Mum. Matthew got up early to make our picnic and get everything ready. It still took nearly an hour for him to talk Mum into coming so we were too late for the best spots and had to set up our camp further away from the pool. Just before I turn back, I notice someone leaning against the fence behind them. He is wearing a cowboy hat.
I jump up and start walking towards Mum to tell her, but I have to look down to weave in and out of all the people and towels and bags. When I get there, he is gone, and there is no one in the shadows. I stand shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand and try to spot the cowboy hat in the crowd, but I can’t. I wonder if I imagined him.
‘Hey, Little Bird, what’s up? Playing hide and seek with someone?’ Mum puts her book down.
At that moment, there is a particularly large whoop from the pool as five boys bomb in together. Mrs Walker jumps up again and waves her hands at the lifeguard who blows his whistle. The five boys get out of the pool jiggling and shaking and nudging each other as they stand head down in front of Mrs Walker. She is holding a magazine that is curled over with damp. Right in the middle is Kit. He glances our way quickly and, seeing he has been caught, hangs his head.
Matthew waves to him to come over and Debbie follows too, laughing. Mum wags a finger at Kit in pretend anger as they arrive, and Matthew pulls out a pack of cards from the bag on the rug.
‘Right, it would do you all some good to stay out of the sun for a bit. Let’s have a game of whist.’ Debbie shuffles her feet around until Matthew notices and says. ‘Don’t worry, Debbie, we’ll all show our hands first round and you’ll soon pick it up.’ Kit pulls a towel round his shoulders and sits cross-legged in front of Matthew.
Kit and Matthew have gone back into the pool by the time Mrs Walker comes over to g
et Debbie. We look up and see that there is a lot more grass visible around the pool and a big queue for the changing rooms.
‘Hello, June,’ says Mum sitting up. ‘We haven’t seen you all for ages, why don’t you come round to ours for a barbecue? We can all head back together.’
Debbie and I shout, ‘Yeah!’ at the top of our voices. Mrs Walker pulls the towel around her a little tighter as Mum stands up. Mum has a scarf tied round her head and looks a bit like Wonder Woman.
‘Well, that’s kind of you, dear, but we have things we need to do.’ Her voice sounds unfriendly, and I wonder if she is still really annoyed with Kit and the other boys.
‘Aw, Mum’ says Debbie, ‘I don’t want to go yet!’
Mum laughs and says, ‘Well, we’d be happy to walk her back in half an hour or so.’
Mrs Walker frowns and shakes her head. ‘No, I don’t think you should come down to The Coppice just now. Come on, Debbie.’
‘What do you mean?’ Mum asks and follows Mrs Walker as she walks away. They start talking, so Debbie and I sneak off to the trees hoping they won’t catch us.
As we leave, I just hear Mum reply, ‘How is it my fault the child’s in care? I’m not the one who battered his mother.’
‘We all know you lied …’ starts Mrs Walker. Debbie says Mr Mace is family, so her Mum’s not very happy about him not being able to see Danny.
‘He’s Mum’s cousin once reproved,’ she said, ‘and she says none of this would’ve happened if he’d married a girl who knew her place and not some country pumpkin.’
We dodge between the trees and then Bam! straight into the WendyCarols, and I knock Carol’s ice lolly out of her hands. It’s a Funny Face, and she has only eaten one of the ears, but now it is covered in mud and bits of dry grass.
‘Sorry,’ I say.
‘It was an accident, Carol,’ says Debbie, who is putting on a dopey smile.
‘Yeah, well, you’d better get me another one.’ Carol puts her hands on her hips and looks at me. I wait for her to step towards me, but she doesn’t.
Wendy goes to her side. ‘It’s your fault, you should get her another!’
I look at both of them and remember what Mum said about not giving in. I put my shoulders back, ‘I will not!’
Carol’s eyes widen, and Debbie starts hopping from foot to foot. Carol looks at Debbie and then back at me.
‘You will, or we’ll do something to her.’ She steps towards Debbie who’s not smiling now and is holding her hands together like the Mary statue outside the church. Wendy steps to Debbie’s other side and grabs her hair. I glance back at Mum, but she and Mrs Walker are still talking. Their voices are loud and high, and a few people are watching, so I decide not to interrupt them.
‘Let her go then,’ I say and run back for Mum’s purse. I open it as I walk and poke around for the right change, but, when I get back, Wendy gives the underside of the purse a whack. It flies into the air, coins flashing and spinning in the sun. The four of us fall down to the ground to pick them up, but the WendyCarols manage to get most of them.
‘Now, that should be enough,’ says Carol laughing and they run off towards the kiosk. I close the purse, but it is much lighter than it was before.
‘They took loads.’ I shake the purse at Debbie. ‘Mum’s going to be really angry with me.’
‘You can’t tell on them!’ she says, her face is screwed up, and I hope she won’t cry because Mum will know there’s something wrong.
‘If I don’t tell her about stuff she gets angry too.’ We look over to where Mum and Mrs Walker are. They both seem pretty cross already.
Mrs Walker scans the crowds around the pool and then when she sees us she shouts out to Debbie, ‘Get over here now, my girl.’
Her face is gobstopper pink and her towel is slipping a bit where she has one hand on her hip. Mum is trying to tuck stray bits of hair back under her scarf. I just get back to our towels in time to drop the purse back into the bag before she notices and, fortunately, Matthew arrives back at the same time.
‘What was that about?’ He nods towards Mrs Walker.
‘I’ll tell you at home,’ says Mum looking towards me.
‘I want to go back in the pool,’ I say quickly. Mum has a long look around.
Matthew puts his arm around her and says, ‘Come on, Jemima, what could happen to them here?’ He looks at the groups of families all around us. ‘Besides, if he was serious, he would have come back by now.’
‘Well, okay, but make sure you come back with Kit and talk to no one — and I mean no one.’
I’m hoping that if I’m not there when she sees how empty her purse is, she won’t think to ask me about it. They pick up most of the bags and head off. I watch as Mum talks non-stop all the way to the gate, and I see Matthew putting his arm around her tight as they go.
I wish Debbie could have stayed too, but the way Mrs Walker looked at Mum makes me think she won’t be allowed to ours for a while.
I pull out my book and start reading while I wait for Kit. The shadow of the book lengthens across the grass in front of me and I barely notice.
A body drops on to the towel beside me.
‘I don’t think you should let those girls get away with that.’ He tips his hat up a little so I can see the flash of his eyes and then leans back on his hands. ‘Want me to have a word with them? Our little secret?’
I scoot away from him and look around for Kit.
‘Go away, I’m not allowed to talk to you.’
‘Oh, that is hurtful,’ he says, and his face is clown sad, ‘didn’t Jemima like the gifts?’
‘She said we weren’t to talk to you,’ I tell him and get up. Quick as a snake, he catches me by the wrist and sits me back down beside him.
‘She always was a bit dramatic.’ He watches my face for a moment and then winks. ‘Hey, just looked like you could do with someone watching your back!’ He nods towards the WendyCarols. My wrist is starting to hurt, but he doesn’t let go.
‘So, I’m just sitting here minding my own, and you’re just sitting there. Except you’ve got a head full of questions. Like, why wouldn’t she want you to talk to me?’
I wonder what he means about Mum being dramatic even though I can see her dancing with her skirts billowing out, her jewellery tinkling, and her hair flying up. But I’m not even supposed to be talking to him.
‘Mum says you’re just a Nobody.’ He looks down at my wrist and then lets go and I watch the red mark bloom around it like a bangle. ‘And she said you’re a bully.’
‘Did she now? Like them girls?’ He makes a noise that is like a laugh. ‘Oh, I’m a much bigger deal than them. Wanna guess who I am?’
I think about Kit’s red face shouting at Mum and calling me stupid, and I try and look hard at the shadowed face under the hat. My wrist starts to throb as the blood flows back and I rub at it. He looks down and frowns.
‘Okay, not now then, I didn’t come here to pick a fight. I want us to be friendly coz we got a future together.’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small leather drawstring bag and hands it to me. The tears are smarting in my eyes, so I can’t answer him, but I undo the string and tip the bag up. Two silver chains fall out. Each has a round silver pendant with the image of a man carrying a long stick in one hand and holding a small child on his shoulder with the other. They throw off sparks of light.
‘To keep you safe on journeys,’ he says.
‘I don’t think we’re going anywhere,’ I say. Then I think about Mum and Matthew arguing about moving and try to remember exactly what they said. The Cowboy watches me for a moment and nods.
‘That’s good. But one day you should come and spend some time with me on the farm. Build up some muscles. Christopher too.’ He pulls out the sketch pad from under the towel and flicks it open. ‘Oh, so you like horses, do you? Plenty of horses where I come from.’
I want to know if he has his own horses, and it’s really hard not to ask him.
&n
bsp; ‘Want some advice, kid? Work out what you’re going to do about them before the next time.’ He is looking at the WendyCarols and the heat of shame creeps into my cheeks.
I nod.
‘That way you’re ready,’ he says, smiling. He leans over and puts a hand on my knee. I look down past the rough edges of his fingers at my toenails, which I coloured bright pink with felt tip earlier with Debbie, while I think of something to say. In the end, I don’t have to because, right then, Kit comes back.
‘Hey, leave her alone, mister!’ he says, but, as he gets closer, the colour washes out of his face.
The Cowboy lifts both hands up.
‘Just a friendly chat, son.’ He gets to his feet and holds his right hand out to Kit. Kit looks down at the large hand in front of him and clasps his own hands behind his back. I can see they are shaking.
The Cowboy smiles and shrugs but when he says, ‘Hey, someone should teach you a few manners, boy,’ there is an edge to his voice like Miss Moorehouse when she sends someone out of class to stand in the corridor. I get up beside Kit and reach out my hand to hold his steady.
‘Go away!’ Kit says, ‘We don’t want to talk to you.’ He turns back to the pool and shouts, ‘Lifeguard! Help!’
The Cowboy takes a tiny step closer to Kit and whispers, ‘Well, aren’t we the big man in a crowd? Shame you weren’t so brave when those kids were pushing your sister around. Afraid of a couple of little girls?’
‘What does he mean?’ asks Kit, droplets of water flashing from his hair as he turns his head towards me. I look between their angry faces and wish we’d gone home with Mum and Matthew.
‘It was nothing,’ I say, ‘I had to give Carol some money coz I spoilt her ice cream.’
‘Because you’re both soft.’ The Cowboy’s right hand is in his pocket, and he pulls out his lighter, twirling it between his fingers. Kit’s face turns red, and he calls for the lifeguard again.
‘What do you want with her?’ Kit throws his chest out.
‘Just being friendly.’ The lifeguard has climbed down from his chair and is walking over. The Cowboy smiles at him and then stands up. ‘Don’t forget to give him my gift, kid,’ he says quickly to me and walks away.
A Little Bird Told Me Page 10