A Little Bird Told Me

by Marianne Holmes

  ‘Alright, alright, tell me what this stuff is he wants you to take?’

  I walk out to the hall and open the door to the cupboard under the stairs wondering what to show him. It needs to be credible. Neil follows me. I have to force myself to pull out the pile of newspapers that I still haven’t read. Neil flicks through them casually while I try to focus on the box. He holds up the picture of Danny being held by his father.

  ‘You won’t remember, but during the trial, all the stuff about Jemima lying about Mace came out. Ray’s lawyers used it to make her look pretty unreliable.’ I sit back on my heels in the dark, glad he can’t see me.

  The box has become wedged under the second step, and, to release it, I stretch my hands into the darkness around the back of the box and tug. I can feel the sweat on my upper lip. This better be enough for Neil. Dust clings to my sleeves, and I almost get wedged between the box and the door.

  ‘Danny’s mother was back at home by then, but, even so, the Maces got a lot of press attention. Dad said it put them under a lot of pressure.’

  I wonder where Mrs Mace is now. I wonder how Danny copes knowing that she’s out there somewhere without him. I can’t bear the way Neil is telling me all these things like it’s just information to me, but I swipe the tears from my cheek and pull the box out.

  I snatch the newspaper from him and the pages scatter over the floor. We both drop to gather them up, our heads banging together, and I brush Neil’s hand away when he tries to check me for bumps.

  I’ve made a messy pile when Neil stops to read another article, so I quickly pick up the box and take it into the kitchen before he can start on another story.

  ‘If you look at it from his point of view,’ Neil follows me and watches as I brush the clumps of dust off my top, ‘you lot caused him a bunch of grief. Either way, Bill Mace is bad news.’

  ‘I’m not afraid of Bill Mace.’ I pull the box closer and wonder how it can feel so light when the memories it holds are so heavy. If Neil would just stop talking for once, I could think properly about whether to fetch the bracelet, whether I could trust him not to tell Kit about it. But I know he’d want an explanation, and that secret would lead to the other one.

  I take the wooden babies out of the box first and set them down on the table. Neil picks them up.

  ‘What are these?’

  ‘He made one for each of us. He said they were magic, for good luck.’

  ‘More like bad luck.’ Neil puts them down so quickly that they rock and wobble, and I find myself smiling.

  ‘You’re superstitious!’ I reach for them and put them into the pocket of my shorts in a familiar movement. ‘Relax, we all know they don’t work.’ It feels good to smile for a moment.

  Neil pulls a face but doesn’t have an answer to that.

  I undo the clasp of the handbag and tip the contents on to the table, a bunch of keys and a wallet that has a photo and a driving licence inside. Neil opens out the photo of the two girls. They are younger than us and smiling at the camera.

  ‘Is this her?’ He holds it up, comparing us.

  I nod.

  ‘Odd to leave without her purse,’ he says, putting the photo back into the wallet.

  She described it all in the letter. Putting Kit’s wellies on, tucking me under her coat and running up the long track with us in the dark until she reached the road and only then realising that she’d left her bag behind and only had small change in her pocket. I picture her standing by the road in the dark, the rain soaking us all, trying to decide whether she could return for it. Then running and running through the puddles until she could flag down the car that drove us into town.

  She must have been so frightened.

  Neil looks up.

  ‘Are you alright? You look funny.’

  I can’t answer.

  I run upstairs, still blinking, and bring her letter back down. It takes Neil a little while to read it, so I pull out the rest of the paper from the box and see the St. Christopher. It’s green with tarnish and I automatically stand up to look for polish. I stop myself — do I clean it or throw it away?

  Neil folds up the letter carefully, and it seems that he has nothing to say now. When he sees me standing there, still, the chain dripping from my fingers, he moves around the table and gives me an awkward hug that’s both too formal and too familiar.

  I break loose and drop the necklace on the table. ‘I can’t see what harm it can do to show him any of this stuff.’

  ‘It’s a game. For God’s sake, Little Bird, he’s still trying to play you!’

  ‘You can’t call me that!’ I sweep everything back into the box.

  ‘Sorry.’ Neil flushes. ‘Look, it makes no sense. He doesn’t need this for a parole application. And if he does know where she is, he can only incriminate himself by telling you.’ He pulls out the wallet and the driving licence. ‘It makes no sense, we’re missing something.’

  Neil takes out his notebook and tears out a page to write on. He makes a note of the things on the table. It’s not my fault he’s wasting his time, he pushed his way into this.

  But it’s wasting my time too.

  ‘Please, don’t go and see him.’

  It’s like talking to Kit. I sigh. ‘I know, I know. You’re going to help me so I won’t need to go.’ I don’t know how many times I can keep saying this. ‘But if we haven’t got anywhere by the date on that visiting order …’

  ‘At least promise you’ll let me go with you,’ he says. ‘Or take Kit.’

  ‘Take me where?’ says Kit from the doorway. Neil looks like he’s seen a ghost, but I’m getting used to Kit appearing from nowhere. It’s like he passes over the surfaces in the house trying not to disturb the memories. Kit looks pleased to see us together, and I feel a pang of guilt at our deceit. I can see that Neil is struggling to think of the right answer too, his loyalty torn.

  I take out Ray’s letter and the visiting order and put them on the table so that Kit will at least sit down to read. Neil holds his breath and pulls out a chair for him while I flip the switch on the kettle. The relief is a surprise.

  Kit reads the letter in silence and looks through the bag that Neil passes to him. I say nothing about that — I’m not ready to share everything.

  ‘I don’t want you to go.’ He folds his arms. ‘He won’t help us.’

  I don’t answer but put three mugs of tea down on the table and go back for the milk. I wish they’d both stop telling me what mustn’t do. If he’ll talk to anyone, it will be me.

  ‘What does he want anyway?’

  ‘Nothing that makes any sense,’ Neil jumps in, and I’m glad that he didn’t let me answer. The bracelet makes no sense to me either, I can only assume it’s not really important. Just one of his power games. Kit finds the photo in the wallet and smooths it out gently.

  ‘He’s up to something,’ says Neil, ‘but I just can’t imagine what.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this?’ Kit asks Neil. I want to pull Kit close again so that it’s just us, and I can send Neil away. I hate that he’s outside everything, it’s like he’s walked away from me.

  ‘I asked him not to.’

  Kit turns to me. ‘Promise me that you won’t go.’ He shuts Neil out as effortlessly as he closes his eyes to sleep.

  I want to tell him I won’t go, but I can’t. The fine veins at his temples show through his skin and his eyes are dull. I long to shake him out of this paralysis — it’s like even thinking about what happened drains him. I wish Matthew were here to bind our rough edges back together. But this isn’t Matthew’s story anymore; his part is done.

  ‘I don’t understand why he wants this now. It’s not as if he won’t be out soon, he could just come and get it from you then …’ Neil stops talking when he sees Kit’s face.

  ‘Neil’s going to help me work it out. If he can, I won’t need to go.’ I shoot a look at Neil and hope he’s going to back me up. ‘But I need to find her, and I need you to
trust me.’ After all the wrong things, I need to do this one right. Even if Kit still thinks I’m wrong. ‘And if I find the proof Mum wanted, it might keep him in jail. That’s what we want, isn’t it?’

  Kit sits back in his chair. He stretches his arms out straight in front of him and takes a deep breath like a man steeling himself for the worst. It’s odd to see him and Neil together as adults. Neil waits for Kit to react and then they exchange a look. I could be watching them synchronise their leap into the pool so the tidal wave spills over on to the tiled edge or preparing to charge out from the bins with popguns to make the postman fall off his bike.

  I wish we could travel back through time and do everything right so Kit and Neil stayed friends and we didn’t have to lose anybody.

  Kit takes a sip of the tea that’s still too hot and flinches.

  ‘You’ll tell me what’s going on?’ he says. The question puts space between them again, and I have a memory of Sergeant C and Matthew getting caught in a place halfway between friendship and business.

  I know with absolute certainty that, whatever Neil and I find, there’s nothing that will stop me from talking to Ray face to face. Nothing. I’m going to make him answer for what he’s done. We should be so much more than these memories and this awkward mess of feelings.

  A group of children run past us, squealing and shouting in their rush. We move to one side to let their parents catch up, their breath laboured and foggy in the air as they increase their pace. A small ghost trips over her costume and is scooped up and raised on to her father’s shoulders. She’s transformed into a floating phantom and far more effective at her new height.

  Neil and Kit have recovered some more of their old camaraderie and their pockets bulge with small sweets that they hand out whenever we’re challenged.

  ‘Trick or treat!’

  Two skeletons and a gremlin appear in front of us. The gremlin is poking his fingers up through his hair and making ‘yum, yum’ noises.

  Kit looks at Neil, and they both grin.

  ‘Trick!’ they cry, and the gremlin and skeletons pull out water pistols and take aim. I step out of reach and find myself laughing as I watch Neil and Kit dance about like puppets. Neil is solicitous with Kit, his humour gentle. It was his idea that we all come out together and relax.

  Finally, they put their hands up, and I happily hand out some sweets from my own stash.

  Outside the newsagents, a little group has tipped out their bags on to the bench and are conducting an elaborate audit of their colourful haul. I notice one little witch is casually sliding extra sweets into her bag without the rest of the group noticing. It makes me smile — I remember Debbie doing the same when she thought I wasn’t watching.

  In the last weeks, the three of us have found a way to put the search to one side when we’re all together. If Neil tells Kit what we’re doing, he doesn’t say. Besides, Kit will never agree to return to the farm and that’s what we need to do next. I made him go with me back then, when he didn’t want to, and I can never really make that right for him. I pull my waistband away from my scar as I think about it.

  I watch another group of miniature monsters run up to Kit and Neil and find myself smiling again. There’s something about their pleasure in the moment that makes me think of the long days of that last summer, sketching by the stream while Kit and Neil built the dam. I yearn to be able to go back to how we were then, if only I could just put everything else that happened to the back of my mind, like Kit does.

  But it’s not just me that needs to let it lie. He knows where we are. He’ll be thinking about what he’s going to do to the little boy who testified against him. Whatever his plan is, he won’t give up on it any more easily than I’ll give up on mine. Maybe we’re too alike. We both know about betrayal — we’re both guilty of it too.

  I can’t stop him coming for us now, even if I wanted to.

  Kit turns to look at me as if he senses what I’m thinking and his eyes flicker to the hand at my waist. I adjust my jacket tighter as if that’s all I’d been doing. I don’t want to remind him what he did. I don’t want to tell him what I did either. At least not until I’ve had a chance to put it right.

  Neil jumps in front of me, laughing.

  ‘Turn out your pockets, girl, we need your stash too.’

  Kit is behind him, and his smile slips when Neil isn’t looking. My heart falters as I realise how hard he’s trying to please Neil.

  I pull out a bag of boiled sweets and hand it over. Kit stands with his hands in his pockets waiting for Neil to turn back to him. When the sweets are gone we walk up towards The Lamb. In a moment of thankfulness that we are all here together, I link my hands through their arms so we’re one defensive line.

  Kit goes to the bar. Neil turns to me and puts my hands between his to warm them up. His hair is still wet from the water pistols and a gleaming drop of water falls on to his eyelashes and trembles, then bursts as he blinks it away. I look at his hands and see that the silver chain of the bracelet has slipped beneath the cuff of my jacket. I pull away quickly and push the chain out of sight.

  Neil looks hurt, but then Kit is there with our beer and our talk turns to the Halloweens we all spent together. Mrs C would sew Neil proper costumes, made from patterns, but Mum would use whatever came to hand, usually her scarves, and hold it all together with safety pins. We were never entirely ghost or witch or any one type of monster but a riotous clash of colours and shapes.

  A cold blast of air reaches us as the door opens and the room hushes for a moment as Mace steps in with another man. He looks over towards us and pauses until Neil notices the expression on our faces and turns around. He raises a hand in greeting to Mace. Mace nods back and then carries on to the bar. I’ve been holding my breath and I suck in so much air I nearly choke. Neil puts his knee against mine under the table in a gesture I find oddly comforting.

  Kit shifts awkwardly in his seat, and I automatically pull away from Neil. We wait for Mace to join a large group on the other side of the bar.

  ‘Stopped me on my way home from school the other day,’ says Kit nodding at Mace. ‘Wanted to know when we’re leaving. Funnily enough, it didn’t feel so much like a threat as that he just hoped we would.’

  Neil raises his eyebrows, and I think of the warning from Danny.

  ‘What did you say?’ I ask. Across the bar, Mace is standing watching us as the group around him chat.

  ‘I said it depends on what you find out.’

  My mouth drops open, but Neil cuts in. ‘The whole town knows what you’re trying to do, Robyn. There are no secrets here.’

  I look down at my hands, so they can’t see the flush of shame I can feel creeping up my neck.

  ‘Then why don’t they help, if they’re all so desperate to get rid of us?’ My voice is small, and Neil puts his leg against mine again, this time hooking his foot around my ankle so I can’t pull away.

  ‘They don’t need to. They can just wait until he gets parole and watch as we run.’ Kit takes a large mouthful of beer.

  We spent nine years here, I think, we were part of this town, these people were our friends. Dammit, Matthew lived here all his life. It hurts that we’re just idle gossip. Kit leans across the table, his eyes bright in the subdued light.

  ‘Come on, Robyn, who cares what they think? We don’t belong here anyway.’

  I make myself smile at Kit as if his words have helped, but I let my leg stay warm against Neil. I let them both pick up the burden of the conversation while we finish our drinks because every time I risk a look across at Mace, he’s staring straight back at me.

  It’s been a long shift in the café and I’m thinking about how little time there is to get to the farm before the date on the visiting order. So, I don’t really notice Danny and Michelle until they’re right in front. As they reach me, Michelle gives Danny such a shove he nearly knocks me over.

  ‘What the hell?’ I shout, but she’s turned around and is away down the street, h
er hair jerking around her shoulders.

  ‘Did she do that on purpose?’ I’m surprised but pleased she doesn’t seem frightened of him now. He doesn’t answer and there’s nothing of his usual swagger about him today. Perhaps it’s something he turns on for an audience, and I don’t count. I take a closer look at him as he starts to walk along with me. There are dark circles under his eyes and his skin has the pallor of the autumn sky.

  Danny casts a glance back towards The Bunch of Grapes, and I turn, expecting to see the group of lads he normally hangs out with, but there’s no one in sight. He seems to recover a little.

  ‘She bet me I wouldn’t dare talk to you. You know, in case my dad finds out.’

  ‘Oh, but you dare?’

  He grins. He’s still wearing his uniform, and I can see the collar of his shirt is frayed at the fold. The ends of his tie hang out of his trouser pocket where his hand is bunched under the baggy grey V-neck. He falls back into silence as we walk, staying beside me all the way home. When I get to the path, he looks so pathetic I invite him in out of the grey cold.

  I open the front door, and he steps in behind me and follows me into the kitchen. There’s some left-over roast chicken from a rare meal that Kit and I cooked together, and I take it out of the fridge and set it on the table. Danny’s eyes light up and I wonder if his quiet mood is just teenage hunger. I put plates, bread, butter and cutlery on the table. He tears off enough chicken that, when he picks up the sandwich, he has to use all his fingers to clamp the bread together so the contents don’t fall out. I make two mugs of tea while he eats, and then stand sipping mine as he finishes. He sits back and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and then, when he sees me watching, gets up to wash his hands at the sink.

  ‘Do you remember staying here with your mum?’ I ask.

  ‘No.’ He says and then smiles as some thought pops into his head. ‘Might do, if I had a look around. Can I?’ When I agree, his eyes shift away from mine, and he seems puppy-like in his enthusiasm: opening cupboards, looking out the windows, and poking his head into everything. He pauses in the dining room in front of the picture of Matthew and Mum on the mantelpiece, his expression solemn, and then gathers speed again.