by Jenni Regan
Granny continued. ‘Only the person he was doing it with was his best mate. He’s just admitted it to her and in front of all those people too! It’s the kids I feel sorry for. It’s not natural, is it?’
I didn’t really think there was anything wrong with being gay but knew only too well her views on the subject, so I simply nodded in agreement. Her view was so entrenched that she had even kicked Uncle Tom out. I remember when she found out, seeing her go through denial (it’s only a phase!), grief (my only son!), and then eventually anger that led to her cutting him off. I knew that Granny would be furious if she knew that I was still in touch with him.
I shoved another bourbon in my mouth and poured the tea. The pimply skinhead was angry now and was screaming at a woman dressed in a tracksuit who had long greasy hair with her roots showing.
‘Do you think he is going to try and hit someone, Gran?’ I asked, knowing that Granny loved it when I got involved.
‘If he tries, then I’m sure the lovely Jeremy will calm him right down.’
The crowd by now was baying for blood as pimply skinhead’s best mate was telling him he loved him more than the greasy-haired girlfriend. Looking at the clock on my phone, I knew it would all be wrapped up in the next four minutes. Someone would be offered counselling with Graham, there would be tears and Jeremy would congratulate someone, likely to be the best friend in this case for being so honest. That’s what her gran liked about the programme; no matter how complicated things seemed, everything could be sorted out in an allotted twenty-minute slot.
I finished my tea and a couple more biscuits just in time for the end credits. Granny quickly snatched up the remote and switched channels.
‘I always like to snatch the end of this auction show. You never know what treasures might come up, and you know I will empty my loft one day and make my fortune. I may even get that lovely suntanned chap to come round and have a look for me or the nice news lady from the antiques show.’
‘Got buried treasure hidden up there, have you, Gran? Maybe we should go up there and sort it one day.’
‘Yes, we should. Have to wait for a day when we are not busy though; maybe next week?’
I knew this was strictly hypothetical as Granny had been talking about clearing out the loft for as long as I could remember. I had never been up there but liked to imagine boxes dripping with jewels.
I cleared away the tea things and left Granny trying to guess how much a battered old suitcase would make for the thin, mousy-looking woman on screen. I updated my status. I had left my audience with a cliffhanger last night when I had told them that Andy was about to call me to have the 'make or break' chat. This was a pilot I had been sleeping with—in my online world—for many months. I hadn't realised how many of my online friends were happily married, and when I had faced a backlash earlier in the story, I had to backtrack and say his wife had left him, rather than me being painted as the homewrecker.
I decided that Andy had run his course and told everyone that we had broken up because of our clashing schedules. My feed was flooded with hearts, inspiration and gifs. They loved me when I was dating but loved me even more when I was breaking hearts. It was like being at the centre of my own soap opera, one where I was totally in control.
I suddenly remembered that I had mentioned I was away for work. Realising I had already posted breakfast and therefore couldn’t claim to be anywhere that required a noticeable time difference, I settled on France, quickly Googling beach view photos of Nice. Finding a suitably amateur one with a glimpse of a curtain for added authenticity, I posted it and told everyone it was the view from my hotel that morning. Minutes ticked by and no one said a word. The online silence was so deafening, I couldn’t even concentrate on what other people were up to. Finally, I could stand it no more and changed my update again.
‘I woke up with another fine view this morning, not quite sure of his name though and he only seems to speak French… whoops #toomanybellinis!’
Almost instantly, I was rewarded for my sluttiness with a barrage of likes and comments. I felt a surge of happiness that everyone was so interested in what I got up to.
I heard Gran come into the kitchen, and I quickly minimised my browser. It wasn’t that Granny ever took any interest in what I did on my laptop, but I didn’t want her finding out that her Alice was not the innocent girl she thought she was.
Granny was doing her coat up. ‘I’m going into town to go to the post office and the bank. Shall I get you a little treat while I am out? Some of your favourite sweeties maybe?’
‘You know you don’t have to spoil me. You have already given me my pocket money this week!’
‘Yes, but you have been such a good girl this week that I think you deserve a little something.’ Granny laughed, tickling me under my chin as though I was eleven, not ten years older.
I didn’t like to admit it to anyone, but I was always a little scared being left in the house by myself. I found the silence without the TV blaring very uncomfortable and put some music on to try and ease the discomfort.
My world had always had sound and distractions. Even when my mother had left me at home alone when I was barely walking, I remember having TVs, radios and even pets for company. Stints in foster homes had always been really noisy with scores of children vying for attention by seeing who could scream the loudest, and then my gran’s house had its comforting TV and domestic sounds, the gentle whirr of the dishwasher or growl of the hoover. This is what home sounded like.
Part 3
DAY 1 Again
Rachel
8 November 2018, 6.30 p.m.
It had felt like hours, but finally Rachel could see the family liaison officer talking to the men in white and then heading over to relay the information to them. The noise and the crowd had increased, and the police had set up a white tent outside the home. She realised this must be something to do with the body, or whatever it was they had found.
Rachel held her breath in terror as the officer approached them, a serious look on his face. She knew he would be giving them bad news, the news that every parent dreads, even if they have had no contact with their child for many years. It was strange how, for many years, being apart from Alice had been a faint pain, like a hangnail—always there but not bad enough to do anything about it. Alice could well have been dead for years, and Rachel would have been none the wiser. But being here in this situation and facing the horrific thought of her daughter's body rotting away in that horrible house was unbearable.
The officer was now in front of her and Tom.
‘They can’t see anyone alive or dead in there, and they have checked most of the house. However, they say there are signs of life. There is a small gas stove set up in the kitchen and some dirty plates on the counter, but it’s impossible to say how long they have been there. They have also said there are towers of books all over the place. Were either of them big readers?’
Rachel almost choked. ‘I don’t remember Mum reading anything unless it was a trashy TV magazine. I don't know about Alice. Tom, do you know if she was a big reader?’ Rachel felt so bad that she didn't even know this basic fact about her daughter.
'I don't think she read, unless it was through her iPad. She was pretty addicted to social media, like most young people these days I guess,' Tom answered.
Rachel noticed that they both were already talking about her in the past tense.
The officer continued. ‘OK, I guess that could show that someone else was living in the house. You thought maybe there were squatters or something?’
‘Yes, but you said yourself that it was impossible to get in,’ Rachel responded.
‘Now, yes, but for all we know the windows could have been left open or this person or persons may have been invited in. It might have been them who locked it all up so securely.’
Rachel immediately thought of that horrible man in custody who they now knew had been in the house. Again, he didn't seem the type to curl up with a good book o
r play at boy scouts.
There was another crackle of the radio and the officer stepped away for a moment before returning to impart his latest information.
‘We can confirm that we have found Alice’s phone, iPad and laptop. They are all completely out of charge, but we will take them out as evidence and see what we can find on them.’
This was serious. Nobody these days goes anywhere without their lifelines, and the phone is probably more important than a wallet or passport. From what Tom had said and from what she knew of kids she looked after, it was unlikely that Alice would have gone anywhere, willingly, without at least one of her devices.
The whole of the front lawn was more like a railway station now, with people running around in organised chaos. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something strange at the front door. This person wasn’t dressed in any kind of uniform and didn’t look busy at all; in fact, she looked perplexed by it all, standing there in her strange ‘80’s jeans and sweatshirt. For there, standing at the front door, trying to leave her house for the first time in half a decade, was Alice Carmichael.
Alice
I knew it was her immediately, but I was still surprised to see her standing there and even more shocked when she came running towards me. It was one thing knowing someone on social media but quite another seeing them in real life. More than most, I knew if I had bumped into any of my so-called friends in real life, we probably wouldn't stop and have a conversation. In fact, they probably wouldn't recognise me. I don't know if it was because she was my mum and not just some random contact, but as soon as I saw her, I was flooded with emotion.
For a while I stood frozen at the front door, looking around at the chaos outside and trying to work out what was happening. I presumed that I was being rescued from the war I had seen online before I lost all power, and I was pleased to see there were others left. I had no way of knowing if anyone else had survived. When I had first heard the sirens and the rising noise outside my house, I thought it must have been the enemy coming to get me. I had panicked when I heard them break the door down, and I had run up to my favourite hiding place in the loft. However, when I had heard voices interspersed with the heavy footsteps below me, they were talking as though they were there to rescue me, and so, after gathering myself, I let myself be known.
Even with all this going on around me, it was still a struggle actually leaving my sanctuary, but I guess it wasn't such a retreat anymore. My entire body was in fight-or-flight mode, and I wanted to stay put, but I knew I couldn’t live like this anymore. I wasn’t really living; I was barely surviving. I thought if I could control my breathing and make those first few steps out, then maybe I could escape. I had thought that what was out there, life and all its problems, was something I never wanted to step into again, but my wish for survival had finally kicked in. I wanted to live.
Cautiously, I tried to ignore the noise and the lights and took a step outside.
Rachel ran to me immediately and enveloped me in a huge hug, tears running down her face. I didn't quite know what to do.
'What are you doing here?' I asked her in a stupor. Then I noticed Uncle Tom was following behind her. I knew the situation with the war must have been bad over here and I must have been in a lot of danger for him to fly over.
'Oh, let me look at you, my darling. Are you OK? Has anyone hurt you?' She was staring at me intently, just as Tom got to us.
'Oh, thank god. We thought when they mentioned a body that something really terrible had happened to you!'
'What do you mean they found a body?' I asked, now worried what else had been going on.
'They found human remains somewhere in the house, and we were not sure who they belonged to.'
The penny suddenly dropped. Poor old Granny in the freezer. It's funny, but I hadn't really thought of her as a body or as remains, but I guessed by now with the electricity gone that she probably wasn't in a great state.
'Oh, that was Granny. Don't worry, nothing bad happened. As far as I can work out, she died of natural causes.'
They both looked at me, evidently shocked at my unemotional response. I was about to explain, but I was suddenly whisked away by a paramedic. The man seemed very nice. He reminded me of the nurse from Casualty, the one who had been in it since before I was born.
I could see Rachel and Tom hanging around outside the ambulance as the man laid me down, and they were joined by two police officers.
'Can you tell me your name, love?' the paramedic asked gently.
'Of course, it's Alice Carmichael.'
'And do you know what day or year it is?'
'I'm afraid I have totally lost track of the days, but I am pretty sure it is still 2018. I am so reliant on my phone that as soon as the war started and we lost power, I had no idea what the date was.'
He looked at me strangely as I said this. 'Can you tell me if you are hurt in any way?'
'Not as far as I know.'
'I'm just going to look at all your vitals,' he said as he put an armband around me and shone a torch in my eyes. He seemed satisfied, and I was pleased that I had passed his tests. Then he seemed to nod at one of the policewomen who swapped places with him and sat on a little chair opposite me.
'Hi, Alice, my name is Detective Chief Inspector Kingsley. I want to find out a bit more about what has happened here. I know you may not be in a great state to tell us much at the moment, but do you mind answering a few questions?'
I was trying to focus on her words, but I was transfixed by her hair. I instantly renamed her the Scarlet Detective.
'Of course not, but I really know little; after all, I have been stuck in the house all this time.'
'Can you tell me why you have been stuck in the house? Was someone holding you there? Did anyone hurt you?'
'The problem obviously wasn't inside the house; I was just staying there to stay safe,' I told her, not explaining about the issues I had been experiencing before the war started as it hardly seemed important now.
'What were you staying safe from, Alice?'
'The war, of course.'
The woman looked perplexed and spoke slowly as though I was a child. ‘What do you mean by war, Alice?’
‘The world war I read about. I couldn’t find out more because the house lost power.’
She gave her colleague a strange look. ‘Do you want to tell us more about this war?’
‘That’s just it. It was breaking news, and I was so scared because it looked like the whole country was under attack after what happened in Bournemouth, but then I guess the power was cut for some reason. I thought the best thing for me to do was to stay put and wait for help.’
The officers exchanged another look which I couldn’t read.
She spoke gently. 'Alice, we also found some remains in the house. Do you know who they belong to?'
This was the moment I had been dreading. What I had done at the time had seemed like the right thing to do, but now with all these police cars and ambulances, I had no idea how to explain this.
‘I know who it is. It’s my granny.’
No one looked surprised at this news.
The Scarlet Detective was a bit more forceful this time. 'OK, can you tell me what happened to her? Did someone hurt her? Did anyone hurt you?’
I blushed thinking back on what had happened with Stan. He had hurt me, but I didn’t think that’s what they were talking about. I really wanted to give them the right answers. I wanted to do well.
'I don't think so, not unless someone hurt her when she was out shopping. She actually died in the house, and it was just me there.'
I paused, realising how this sounded.
‘I mean, I didn’t actually see her die. I found her that way.’
As soon as I said this, I knew I must have sounded uncaring and that I would possibly get into trouble for not telling anyone what had happened. I could see sympathy soon turn to something else—possibly disgust—on the faces around me.
'I
am pretty sure she died from natural causes—probably her heart or something in her brain. She went pretty quickly and didn't seem to be in any pain.' I hoped that made them feel better. I also hoped Rachel and Tom weren't listening in. After all, it had taken me a while to grieve and become used to the fact that Gran was dead.
The woman spoke again. She was kind but more forceful this time. 'Can you tell me why we found your grandmother's remains in the basement freezer? Why isn't she buried in the churchyard as I'm sure she would have wanted to be?'
This, I couldn't really answer. It had felt like the best option at the time, but now it seemed silly that I hadn't wanted to let anyone know.
'I don't know, I was terrified of being taken away, I guess.'
The Scarlet Detective looked annoyed or perplexed and stepped outside the ambulance. I could see her speaking to her colleague as Tom stepped in.
‘Can we leave any further questions until she is feeling better? She has clearly had a terrible time with whatever has happened. We need to allow her some time and then hopefully we can make sense of what has happened here.’
The two officers ignored him and walked away, chatting before they appeared back in the door of the ambulance. The Scarlet Detective looked different this time, harder somehow.
'Alice Carmichael, we are arresting you for the suspected manslaughter of Josie Carmichael. We would like you to come to the station and answer a few questions so we can establish what exactly has happened.'
This didn’t feel real. I had never been in trouble, not even at school. The male officer helped me down and held my arm as he steered me across to the waiting police car. I suddenly noticed that we had an audience and flashbulbs were going crazy. I even noticed a couple of big news vans. I guess they say everyone has their fifteen minutes of fame, and this was to be mine.
Tom was trying to talk to the officer.
'You can't take her away like this. God knows what has gone on in that house. Me and my sister can testify to what terrible people our parents were, so even if she has killed her, it would have likely been in defence.'