by Fiona Harper
‘My driving that bad?’ There was an edge of humour in his voice.
She shook her head and looked up and out of the windscreen. ‘It’s not that. It’s just...’ She let out a sigh so huge that her torso deflated, leaving her feeling floppy and empty. ‘Juliet has a lot of reasons to hate me at the moment, and I really don’t want to add losing one of her kids to the list.’
‘Right.’
The warmth that had been in his tone, just for a moment, vanished. But he didn’t just sound serious and focused now. He sounded...angry.
‘What did I say?’
He shook his head. ‘There was I...thinking you were actually worried about your fifteen-year-old niece, but all you’re really concerned about is yourself, whether everyone hates you or not.’
She twisted round to look at him. ‘That’s not what I said at all!’
In the dull glow from the dashboard, she saw his jaw clench.
Gemma folded her arms. ‘Of course I’m worried about Violet! Do you think I’d be racing across Tunbridge Wells at this time of night—with you of all people—if I wasn’t? And don’t you dare accuse me of not caring about my family. It’s exactly because I do care that I said what I said.’
She took a moment to steady her breathing.
‘Juliet and I haven’t had the smoothest of relationships in recent years, and I’d finally thought we’d made some progress. I know you don’t believe it, that you’ve got some weird, twisted picture of who I am in that tiny little head of yours, but I love Juliet, and I’ve never wanted things to be the way they are between us!’
The fact Will didn’t reply straight away and shifted uncomfortably in his seat gave her a small sense of triumph.
‘Okay,’ he said slowly. ‘Maybe I have built up some preconceptions about you... But if what you say is true, why have you let things continue the way they have been for so long?’
Gemma stared out of the windscreen at the blanched tree branches, lit up for a second by the headlights, then gone again. ‘I suppose, when it all boiled down to it, I didn’t think she really needed me. Everything’s so ordered, so under control. Even if I try to find a space in Juliet’s life, she never has room for me. It makes no difference to her whether I’m there at all.’ She exhaled. ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but my sister is not the easiest person to get close to.’
Will let out a humph that told her he knew exactly what she was talking about.
‘I want to make things better between us,’ she continued, her brows bunching together. ‘I realise I’ve been taking her for granted. That’s why I suggested she have my holiday. I want to change things, but I don’t know if she’ll let me—especially if one of her kids has gone AWOL on my watch.’
‘I see.’ His words were non-committal, but she could sense a change in his demeanour. The atmosphere in the car thawed a little.
‘And Violet is a good kid,’ she added. ‘She often helps out with the little ones and I thought that maybe she deserved a chance to be fifteen and have some fun.’
Will nodded. ‘Let’s hope that’s all it is.’ He turned into a cul-de-sac and Gemma recognised the name on the road sign from the address Vi had given her. Before the car had even stopped she unclipped her seatbelt and had her fingers on the door lever.
It wasn’t hard to tell which house was Abby’s. Every single light was on and the front door was open. The steady thump of a bass beat spilled from it, along with a motley collection of teenage girls and boys, who were shouting their excited conversations at each other, even though they were only inches apart.
Will caught up with Gemma as she got to the front door. ‘Anyone seen Violet Taylor?’ she asked, looking from face to face.
A couple of people shrugged. One girl shook her head.
‘Last time I saw her she was with Callum Brady,’ said a girl with a thick blonde fringe covering half her face, and the chorus of surreptitious giggles that followed made Gemma and Will look at each other. Without interrogating the girl further, Gemma pushed past the couple of kids standing in the open doorway and into the house.
She didn’t know what Vi had told Juliet about this party, but the whole thing screamed: Parents not in. And from the amount of squashed crisps, spilled drinks and the coat rack half-hanging off the wall, she didn’t reckon they’d be happy when they did get back in. So what had the story that Vi had strung her about it being a supervised bash all been about?
She squeezed past some lanky teenage boys in the hall and carried on down a corridor to the kitchen, aware of a tall male presence behind her. Pleasantly aware, she realised. Much to her surprise, when she got to the kitchen, she found two women in their thirties sitting around a small table, smoking and drinking sparkling rosé out of tumblers.
‘Are you Abby’s mum?’ she asked.
One of the women flicked the ash off her cigarette slowly then looked up at Gemma. ‘Yep.’
‘And you’re...you’re letting a bunch of fifteen-year-olds run riot round your house, drinking and smoking and...’ from the glimpse she’d got of the lounge as she’d walked past ‘...groping?’
The woman just stared at her. ‘They’re teenagers. That’s what they do.’
‘Not Violet,’ Gemma said. ‘She’s not that kind of girl.’
The two women traded a conspiratorial look.
‘Where is she?’ Gemma asked.
The woman that wasn’t Abby’s mother looked briefly at the ceiling and smirked. That was all Gemma needed. She was pushing back past the bodies lining the hall and heading for the staircase. Unfortunately, she knew just what teenagers got up to in dimly lit bedrooms at parties. From the way Will was keeping close behind her, almost propelling her forward, she guessed he was having similar thoughts. Which was odd, because she couldn’t imagine him as a gawky teenage youth, feeling up a girl under the pile of coats in somebody’s parents’ bedroom. He just didn’t seem the sort.
She put her foot on the bottom step and turned to face Will. ‘Maybe you’d better stay down here?’
‘No. I’m coming with you.’
‘Think about it,’ she said, lowering her voice a little. ‘We don’t know what she’s getting up to with this Callum Brady. Barging in might be a little embarrassing for all involved.’
He opened his mouth and she held up a hand.
‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for barging in. It’s just that Violet might find it a little less mortifying if it’s another woman catching her in a compromising position.’
Will’s expression didn’t change, but he nodded. ‘Point taken. But if you’re not back down here in five minutes, I’m coming up to find you.’
Gemma gave him a weak smile. ‘If I’m not back down here in five minutes, I might be grateful for that.’
She hauled in a breath and started walking up the stairs, searching for Violet’s long, dark-blonde hair amongst the tangle of teenagers. There was a whole gang, lined up on the landing drinking cans of cheap supermarket lager, and she had to step through their legs like the logs on one of those army assault courses.
‘Ow!’ one of them said as she passed.
‘Sorry!’ she said cheerily, fairly confident that the kid was numb enough not to feel the pain for longer than a few more seconds. She poked her head in one door. There were two couples, and a lot of slurpy kissing sounds going on—what was it at that age? Did the hormone levels mean you produced more saliva or what?—but no sign of Violet. She carried on down to the next room. The door was closed and she gripped the handle and shoved it open.
It was dark inside, only the glow from the streetlamp across the road illuminating the room. She could hear movement, though. Gemma squinted, trying to make out what the dark shape was on top of the bed. She grimaced, reached out with one hand and gingerly patted the mattress. Her hand met fabric of different
types: silky with padding, scratchy wool, a chunky knit... She sighed with relief. She’d found the coat mountain. That was all.
There was rustle from the far side of the bed. Gemma went still.
‘Hello?’ she said softly.
There was a pathetic little groan.
‘Violet? Is that you?’
Without waiting for an answer, she shuffled round to where the noise was coming from. Her eyes were adjusting to the light now, and she could make out a figure on all fours, breathing heavily.
Thankfully, the girl was alone.
‘Vi?’
The girl turned her head and looked blearily at Gemma. ‘I can’t find my coat,’ she slurred. ‘Fink I need to find my coat.’ And she patted the floor ineffectually. ‘Hey! Who moved the bed?’
Everything inside Gemma that had been fearing the worst unclenched a little. Violet was here: safe, alone and, most importantly, clothed. She gently hooked her forearms under Violet’s armpits and pulled her to her feet.
‘Hey!’
‘I’m here to take you home, sweetie.’
Violet twisted the top of her body so she could squint at her. ‘Hi, Auntie Gemma. I don’t feel brilliant.’
Gemma resisted the urge to laugh, mostly out of relief, but partly because Violet was kind of sweet when she was tipsy. She shifted position so her shoulder was under Vi’s left armpit and gripped her round the waist. They managed to shuffle towards the door like that, before Violet began to wriggle. ‘I need to find my coat! Mum’ll kill me if I lose another one...’
Gemma was about to say that Juliet probably wouldn’t care about a coat, given the circumstances, but then maybe it’d be better not to go into details about the party with her sister. No need to worry her unnecessarily. In which case, finding Vi’s coat might be a really good idea—otherwise they were going to have to explain how she lost it.
She let Violet slump on the end of the bed and reached for the lamp on a nearby desk. Violet squealed and shrank away from the bright light, flipping over and burying her face in the edge of the pile of coats.
‘What colour is it?’ Gemma asked her niece.
‘Red,’ Violet mumbled against a silver ski jacket.
Gemma frowned. She was sure Violet hadn’t been wearing a red coat when she’d left that evening, but black or navy. ‘No, it isn’t. Vi, what does your coat look like?’
‘I wanted red but Mum wouldn’t let me...’ Violet said dreamily.
Gemma shook her head. She started rummaging through the pile, trying to see if there was anything in there she recognised. She found a dark duffel coat that looked familiar. She tapped Violet on the shoulder. ‘Is this yours?’
Violet lifted her head, but her eyes were closed. ‘No.’
Gemma was just about to shake her awake, when she saw a scarf poking out of the left pocket. Now that she recognised—she’d bought it for Vi when they’d been in town the other day. A rummage in the other pocket produced a bus pass with Violet’s name and photo on it and her mobile phone.
She was just in the process of trying to manhandle a rather drunk and drowsy teenager into the coat when there was a soft rap at the door. She froze. ‘Who is it?’
‘The cavalry. Your five minutes are up.’
She smiled. She’d bet it was five minutes on the dot, as well.
He sounded a little nervous when he spoke again. ‘Is it, um, safe...to come in?’
‘It’s fine,’ she said.
The door nudged open and Will’s head appeared.
‘She’s just a little unsteady on her feet,’ Gemma explained. ‘Not used to the hard stuff, I reckon. And by “hard stuff” I mean the watered-down syrup they’re calling cider in the supermarkets these days.’
He pushed the door open and walked in while Gemma went back to shoving Violet’s arms in her coat. It kind of helped that she’d collapsed onto her front, because she really only had to drape it over the semi-conscious teenager then try to work her arms into the holes without breaking any bones—not that she was sure Violet would feel it if she did. Once her mission was accomplished she stood up. Will moved to stand beside her and they both regarded the softly snoring form on the bed.
‘I don’t envy the way she’s going to feel in the morning,’ Gemma said, chuckling softly. And then she sneaked a look at Will, just in case he was all stern-faced and disapproving. Much to her surprise, he was smiling too.
‘It’s a rite of passage, isn’t it? She’ll learn.’
Gemma nudged his arm with her elbow. ‘Don’t tell me you were comatose on a pile on coats in your teenage years.’
He turned to look at her. ‘Everyone always says people end up in the kitchen at parties, but I always ended up right there.’ And he pointed at the rapidly disintegrating pile. At least a third of the coats were in various stages of making their way to the floor now.
There was a little glint in his eye that made Gemma wonder if he’d been as familiar with the delights of under the coat pile as she’d been, and she found herself wondering how many girls he’s kissed under there.
And then she was wondering why on earth she was wondering those sorts of things about Will Truman. She felt her cheeks heat a little and broke eye contact, turning back to look at her niece.
‘Are you going to help me get her out of here, or are you just going to laugh while I try to get her down the stairs?’ she said, a bit more snappily than she’d meant to.
Will gave her a what the hell kind of look and scooped the teenager up in his arms. Violet lolled against him, but tried to push a strand of wayward hair from her face, and missed. Three times. Gemma motioned for Will to pause and stepped in and tucked the tickly bit out of the way behind Violet’s ear. But that brought her closer to him, and she got a whiff of that familiar aftershave, all woodsy and male.
She stood back and shook her head.
Seriously, the teenage pheromones must be saturating the air or something. It was time to get out of here. She led the way, beaming at the line of half-drunk teenagers on the landing and breezing her way through in a jolly way that made them both confused but compliant. Then it was down the stairs, out the door and off to Will’s car.
Violet lifted her head as the cold air hit her and looked back towards the house. ‘Callum...’ she whispered.
Gemma, who was walking next to Will, level with Violet’s head, asked, ‘Which one’s Callum?’
She might have to break out her interrogation techniques after all, just to make sure he’d behaved himself.
Violet let out a low moan and pointed to a couple busy devouring each other leaning up against a tree looped with gaudy Christmas lights.
Ah. So that explained Violet’s condition. The flirt had got there first.
No—hang on! That was Vi’s friend Abby! Gemma recognised her from the photos on her niece’s Facebook page.
Poor Violet.
It probably wouldn’t help if Gemma told her she was better off without him, and this wouldn’t be the first time a male of the species would drive her to doing something stupid—usually involving alcohol—although she might find herself graduating from cider to tequila at some point.
Now wasn’t the time. And some lessons you just had to learn on your own. Gemma sighed and helped Will bundle her niece into the back of his car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
GEMMA WALKED BACK DOWN Juliet’s stairs to find Will still in the hallway. He’d helped her get Violet up there, but had gallantly withdrawn as soon as they’d got to Vi’s bedroom door.
‘I didn’t do much but take off her shoes and coat and cover her up with the duvet,’ she confessed. ‘And put a glass of water on the bedside table and a bowl on the floor. Sleeping in your clothes after a night out—that’s another rite of passage, isn’t it?’ Vi certainly was clocking th
em up tonight. ‘I would have said it was quite unlike her. Do you have any idea why she did it?’
He shook his head. ‘Love, especially young love... Is there any rhyme or reason to it?’
That was a very wistful thing for such a practical man to say. Gemma glanced upstairs. ‘I think it’s more than that. Do you think...?’ She trailed off, and frowned harder.
‘Do I think what?’
She pulled a face, not quite comfortable with what she was about to say next. ‘I just got the impression that recently... Well, maybe that Juliet has been a bit hard on her, expected too much of her.’
Will bristled a little. An instinctive reaction, she could tell. She was criticising Juliet and he didn’t like that, but then she could see him churning her question over in her head.
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘It’s been a tough couple of years for Juliet and I think she’s been relying on Violet to help. I didn’t think she’d overdone it, but maybe that’s not how Violet feels.’
‘If Violet has felt a little overburdened, it would explain why she did something stupid and rebellious the first time she got the chance.’ She let out a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Believe me, I know all about that.’
She shook her head and looked directly into his eyes. ‘I seem to keep having to say thank-you to you today.’
His expression didn’t warm up an ounce. ‘No problem. Anything to help your sister.’
Of course. For a moment she’d thought they’d been a team, worked together to get Violet back, but now she remembered she was just here by proxy. She was standing in for Juliet. But that didn’t mean he didn’t deserve her thanks. And maybe, as painful as it might be, an apology. She cleared her throat. ‘And I’m sorry...about what I said...’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘On which occasion?’