by Chris Curran
On your own. A sick lurch inside. Stella’s jaw clenched so tight it hurt, but Jill’s voice chirped on.
‘She thinks that’s a good idea too. So you can have a proper rest and get on with some painting. Apparently this new house has a studio in the garden.’ She turned, the knife in her hand dripping liquid onto the floor. ‘Sounds like heaven to me.’
Stella waited until she had gone back to her chopping and stirring. Then she kissed Eve, who was sleeping, laid her in the Moses basket. And went upstairs.
She needed to get away. To be able to think properly. To decide what was best. Being with Maggie would help. Maggie, who had rescued her when she was feeling so lonely in London surrounded by people who smiled at her accent and made her feel she was dressed all wrong. People who made her think her scholarship must have been a mistake or awarded to her out of pity. But Maggie was different. She looked like them, talked like them, but she despised most of them. And what was most wonderful of all she laughed at them.
Stella could talk to her as she had never been able to talk to anyone. Being away from Eve would be agony, but maybe that was what she needed if she was to work out what to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Eve
Although she kept scanning the garden every night, listening for unusual noises, as well as constantly checking Instagram, Eve waited several days again before she told Alex about her fears that she was being watched. Somehow the fact that he didn’t know made it all seem less real. And deep down she couldn’t help worrying that he wouldn’t take her seriously.
But when she finally came out with it as they were eating breakfast at the kitchen table he looked at her with horror. ‘Oh my god, why didn’t you tell me right away?’
A spurt of anger. ‘I did, on the night I fell down the stairs with Ivy.’
He shook his head. ‘Did you? All I remember is you saying you caught your foot in the carpet.’
‘But before that I heard someone in the garden. And it happened again when you went into work the other day.’
‘So always when you’ve been alone?’
She could feel her jaw tightening. ‘What does that mean?’
He took her hand. ‘Only that it’s more worrying if someone is targeting you when you’re on your own. You and Ivy.’ When she didn’t speak he said, ‘I think I should extend my leave until you feel safer and we should get a burglar alarm fitted.’
Why did she feel as if he was humouring her?
‘There’s something else,’ she said, taking out her phone and calling up her Instagram page.
But when she looked for the comments from intheshadows they were gone – deleted.
Alex was trying to look at the screen, but she turned away from him. ‘I had some more weird comments on Instagram, including a little rhyme under a picture of Ivy that really scared me.’
Before she could recite the rhyme he said, ‘You haven’t been broadcasting pictures of Ivy to the whole world, have you?’
‘It was just one photo. Just on Instagram.’ She felt sick. Looked at him and could see what he was thinking. That she might have put Ivy in danger.
‘What about this rhyme?’
It was so curt she felt a swell of tears in her throat. She recited it to him, her voice weak.
‘And this was under a photo of Ivy?’ he said.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think.’ She was talking more to herself than to him.
He came behind her chair and put his arms round her, squeezing her and resting his head on her shoulder, his voice very gentle. ‘I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. I was just frightened.’
She stood and he held her for a long time. Then they sat again and he said, ‘I suppose we could tell the police, but without any evidence I doubt they’d do anything. So we’ll just have to make sure the house is secure, and until you feel completely safe I’ll be here all the time.’
Eve nodded and he went on, ‘It’s Stella Carr, isn’t it? Your search for her has obviously disturbed somebody.’
She thought about James Stone saying that Stella seemed afraid of something and then her mum’s words came back to her. Stella had blamed Ben’s injury on some kind of criminal gang. But Alex went on, ‘I always worried that this collector might think you were trying to claim the paintings for yourself. So this could be an attempt to intimidate you.’
It made more sense than what she’d been thinking. ‘Yes I can see that.’
‘I suppose the best thing to do is to contact the Baltic and tell them you’ve had no luck with tracing the owner yourself and if there’s been no response from the solicitors then you’re giving up.’
‘Yes, and I’ll take the painting of Stella off Instagram and the photo of Ivy. That should send a message too.’ It felt good to have a positive plan.
Alex arranged to have a burglar alarm fitted, but of course it couldn’t be done until after New Year. He made Eve promise to wake him if she heard anything suspicious at night and to show him any worrying Instagram comments right away.
But nothing happened and by New Year’s Eve they were both feeling a bit more relaxed. Alex wanted to make a special dinner just for the two of them. So he said he’d walk into town with Ivy in her pram to get the food. It would do them both good.
She checked her Instagram page, but there were no further comments. It looked as if it might all be over. Alex had been right.
But then she saw the email.
It was in her spam folder and was from mermaid65@gmail and headed Baltic.
A deep breath and she opened it.
Dear Eve,
I gather you have been trying to get in touch with me about the Stella Carr exhibition. I live abroad, but will be in the UK in early January. So if you would like to meet me it should be possible.
However I would be grateful if you would not mention that I’ve been in contact to anyone (even your own family). I am a very private person and am only prepared to correspond directly with you. If we do meet it must be alone.
I hope you’ll agree because I have a lot to tell you about your mother, most of which I’m sure you won’t have heard before. It might help to set your mind at rest.
M. de Santis
Maggie. It was Maggie, of course. She wasn’t surprised about that. Stella had no family and Maggie seemed to have been her only friend. They had been living together when she was killed, so it was likely Maggie would have inherited the pictures whether legally or not.
It was exactly what she had hoped for all those weeks ago. But now it felt too late.
Going back into the turmoil of her mother’s life and death didn’t feel safe, especially as Maggie insisted on meeting alone and didn’t want Eve to tell anyone. She couldn’t agree to that.
But when she reread the email it was almost as if Maggie knew of her fears and could reassure her. And then there was: ‘I have a lot to tell you about your mother, most of which I’m sure you won’t have heard before’. How could she turn that down?
But she had to tell Alex.
She made herself get on with filling the dishwasher, making the bed and sorting some washing. All the time running through what to say to him. She was almost sure he would want her to refuse. Or at least to insist on coming with her. But that could ruin everything.
She needed to think.
She left a note for him, bundled herself in warm clothes, and walked to the town using the steep steps down the hill. Alex would be on his way back and wouldn’t be able to come up that way with the pram. She didn’t want to see him until her mind was clearer.
After the muggy Christmas the weather had turned cold again and it was a sharp frosty day with the palest blue sky. It felt good to be able to stride out, light and strong, after all those months weighed down by pregnancy.
When she came to the shops she realized she had intended all along to speak to her dad. Not to tell him, but just to chat in the hopes that a decision would somehow come to her. The gallery was all lit up and as
she’d hoped he was alone.
He hugged her and touched his fingers to her cheek. ‘You’re freezing,’ he said. ‘Come and sit near the heater.’
They moved to the little desk at the back of the shop. Eve loosened the buttons on her coat and unwrapped her scarf. Her dad was smiling, but as always lately she could see anxiety in his eyes.
‘It’s lovely to see you, darling girl,’ he said. ‘But Mum’s having a sleep, so we’d better stay down here. She didn’t get much rest last night.’
They talked about Jill for a bit. He was obviously worried and, although he tried to reassure Eve that it was her brush with mortality that was the root of her unhappiness, she knew it was partly her fault.
‘Mum’s always been such a happy person. The only time she was ever depressed was when we couldn’t have children of our own. She was on tablets for a while, but they made her feel worse.’ That was something Eve hadn’t known before. ‘She hates taking anything now, but of course there’s a whole array of pills for her heart. So long as she keeps up with them the doctors say she’ll be fine, but …’ He rubbed his hand over his face.
Eve touched his arm. ‘Give it time, Dad. It’s been a big shock for her.’ She began to do up her coat again and stood to go; she should never have come. But her dad’s grey eyes under their pale brows looked deep into hers.
‘I can see there’s something bothering you. What is it, Eve?’
What could she say? To give herself time she took off her scarf, rolling it into a rough ball and putting it in her pocket.
He was waiting, eyes still on hers. ‘Is it about your birth mother?’
Collapsing back into the chair she blurted it out. ‘I’ve had an email from Maggie de Santis offering to meet me.’ Even as she said it she wanted to take it back.
He steepled his fingers and pressed them hard against his lips. ‘And do you want to?’
‘I don’t know.’
David was gazing away now, his eyes moving from picture to picture on the gallery walls, and Eve almost asked him what happened to the painting by Stella Carr that used to hang in their house, but he went on, ‘Maggie would have seen a different Stella to the one we knew. And she was there at the end.’
‘So you think I should agree?’
Her dad stood and walked a few paces away, looking out into the street where the coloured lights in the shops opposite were beginning to win out against the weakening sun as the street fell into shadow. ‘Of course, Stella and Maggie weren’t always friendly. I mean Maggie actually threw her out of the London house. I never knew her well, but I gather she could be a difficult person. And I don’t think she had a reputation for being particularly trustworthy.’
‘She might lie to me, you mean? Yes, I’d thought of that.’
He walked to the door and flipped the sign to Closed. ‘And even the fact that she claimed Stella made a will just before her death with Maggie as the beneficiary always struck me as odd.’
‘But didn’t she send money for me?’
‘Yes, but evidently she kept hold of these paintings. Paintings that seem likely to prove very valuable indeed.’
It was all true, but …
Her dad came to her and took both her hands in his. ‘My advice would be to leave it alone. But if you do decide to see her, please remember what I’ve said. Maggie was very unpredictable. Have Alex with you, of course. And best keep it from your mum.’
The door to the flat opened and Jill stood there, fully dressed, but her hair rumpled from sleep. Her voice wavered. Her eyes stretched wide like a child waking from a nightmare. ‘You’re going to meet Maggie de Santis?’
Damn. ‘No, Mum, not necessarily.’ Why did she feel breathless?
David said, ‘Go back up, Jill. I’ll close the shop and we’ll all have a chat.’
Jill didn’t move or look at him. Her eyes stayed fixed on Eve. ‘What do you mean? Not necessarily?’
There was no point in lying. ‘I’ve had a message from her offering to meet me. I came down to ask if Dad thought it was a good idea.’ She stopped as she realized how that sounded. ‘To ask what you and Dad thought.’
As if too tired to stand, her mother sat on the chair David had been using. Her words coming out on a gasp. ‘No, Eve. It’s a very bad idea. She isn’t to be trusted.’
David came over to her, his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it gently. ‘I already told Eve that, but we have to let her make up her own mind.’
Jill pushed his hand away as she stood and lurched towards the door to the stairs. ‘I can’t bear this.’
Eve found herself pressing her chest where her heart was beating so loud and fast she could almost hear it. ‘Mum, don’t get upset. I won’t go if you’re so against it.’
At the open door her mother leaned on the wall as if all the air had been pumped out of her. ‘Good. Let’s leave it at that then. Now come and have a drink and forget about it.’ Then she turned and headed up the stairs.
David and Eve stood looking at each other. After a minute that seemed like many more, her dad rubbed his forehead and seemed to come out of shock. ‘Shall we go up?’
It was almost a croak. ‘No, I should get back. Ivy will need feeding. Tell Mum it’s all right.’
He nodded as she put on her scarf and gloves, her fingers trembling. ‘She’s not herself, you know,’ he said. ‘I’ll talk to her. Ask her to stop worrying about nothing.’
She opened the shop door to the cheerful jingle of the bell and a breath of cold air. ‘I know. Just tell her I’m OK. Everything’s fine.’
Another nod and a twist of smile from her dad. Although they both knew nothing at all was fine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Stella
Everything was different when she got to Italy. At the airport, smiling and waving, dressed in a bright blue dress and wearing an oversized white hat, there was Maggie. Straight from another life.
They took a taxi to Sestri Levante where Maggie was living. It was a small seaside town that, as they drove along beside the water, seemed to Stella like a mini version of places like Cannes and St Tropez that she’d seen in magazines. Apparently this was also part of the Riviera, but the Italian Riviera. ‘A lot cheaper, but just as gorgeous,’ according to Maggie, who didn’t stop talking for the whole drive.
Her house was up a sloping lane some distance from the seafront. A small white bungalow with a shallow veranda fronted by a garden area that was mainly dry earth. A metal table and chairs sat under a tree that Maggie said would grow lemons later in the year.
The front door opened straight into a small room with bare walls and an open fireplace full of grey ash. The only furniture was a leather sofa with metal legs – too modern-looking for the room – and a green canvas director’s chair. Leaning against the wall was a paintingshaped parcel. Stella recognized her own writing on the wrappings. It was the Nana picture she’d sent over.
She followed Maggie through the door at the back into a short dark corridor.
‘Bathroom just here.’ Maggie indicated it with a swing of her hip. ‘And here’s you.’ She put down the bag she was carrying. ‘I’m sorry it’s a bit basic, but I haven’t had the time or money to do much.’ There was room only for a single bed with a flimsy mattress.
Stella dropped her big bag. ‘It’s great.’
Maggie grabbed her, holding tight and whispering, ‘I’m so glad you’re here. So glad you’ve forgiven me for being such a bitch.’
Stella returned the hug. After a moment she moved away wanting nothing more than to lie on the bed and sleep. But she knew Maggie. ‘I expect you want to hit the town for a few drinks.’
A short laugh. ‘No, don’t worry, I’ll let you rest.’
She walked to the door and when she turned there was something in her face Stella had never seen before. She’d seen excitement, anger, even love – all the big emotions. But this looked like sadness. A tiny sound that could almost have been a sob.
‘I’ve changed, Stella. I’v
e been here ten days and apart from a trip to stock up on supplies I haven’t been out. Now you unpack and I’ll get us some food.’ Then she was gone. One thing that hadn’t changed about Maggie was how quickly she could move.
The room was a gloomy and smelled damp, but it was warmer than it had been in England, so she opened the window threw her bag onto the floor and lay down expecting to sleep. Instead a deep sense of peace crept over her. It was as if she had gone back in time. Become the girl she used to be when she and Maggie had lived together. The past year, her pregnancy, the time with David and Jill, and even the fact that she was a mother, seemed remote and unreal.
It had been torture leaving Eve behind, but somehow it took an effort to feel that pain now. Jill had driven her to the airport and waited with her until her flight was called. Stella sat holding Eve, feeling as if they were still joined together and that when she walked away something would tear and cause terrible damage inside her. When it was time to go she kissed her baby, longing to run away with her. But Jill’s hands were outstretched and there were people all around them. She couldn’t back out.
On the plane she struggled to breathe, biting her lip as they sped along the runway. After that she sat frozen, forcing herself not to cry, because if she did she knew she wouldn’t stop. But then she slept and when she woke felt different. More like herself. More like her old self. Before pregnancy. Before Eve. And it was a relief.
She shook her head and climbed off the bed. She’d slept too much lately. And she was a mother. This wasn’t a holiday, but a chance to prove she was sane and stable. Capable of bringing up her child alone. And if she could get some painting done, she knew she would feel better.
Maggie shouted, ‘Come on out here and stop moping,’ and Stella found her sitting at the metal table, her bare feet propped on another chair. Without her hat, her hair was a messy tumble but, lightened by the sun, the messiness suited her. When she spotted Stella looking, she ran a finger through. ‘Decided to go natural again. Don’t trust the hairdressers over here and I need to save money.’