Poison Heart

by S. B. Hayes

  ‘Did you know Genevieve’s mother well?’

  ‘I knew of her,’ Mum stressed, and I could tell it wasn’t in a nice way. Her brow wrinkled as she struggled to remember. ‘People were aware she was taking drugs, but everyone looked the other way … We all walked by and didn’t want to get involved, it was easier that way.’

  ‘So … what changed?’

  Mum’s eyelids slowly closed and her voice faded. I had to lean my ear towards her just to catch her words. ‘She became a mother … and now it wasn’t just herself she was destroying.’

  I knew the answer already but I still had to ask. ‘Was I there … at the same time as Genevieve?’

  Mum didn’t deny it. She let her head fall to her chest and cleared her throat with difficulty.

  ‘The night you came home from hospital you slept like an angel, perfect and beautifully still and in the morning … you were so peaceful.’ She stopped and one large tear rolled down her face and splashed on to her leg. ‘And I heard the crying again … frantic … inconsolable … so I went down to look.’

  I jumped as Gemma strolled into the room as if she owned the place. She curled up at my feet and I brushed her fur, glad of the distraction. ‘What did you see?’

  She stared straight ahead and spoke without emotion. ‘There was a heatwave, and even at nine in the morning it was a scorching day. There was a pram parked next to bags of rubbish … I could see a face … she was dirty and had soiled her nappy … waving her arms frantically in the air and a wasp was crawling over her. She’d been crying for so long that she was all blotchy and her crying was hoarse …’

  I felt prickles again and wished I could spare Mum this pain. Gran’s words suddenly came back to me – she’d talked about a death from a drug overdose which had affected Mum deeply.

  ‘Was her mum … OK?’ I asked cautiously.

  Mum shook her head and quickly wiped her face. ‘There was nothing I could do, nothing anyone could do … I was frozen with shock …’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ I said immediately, but Mum ignored me and continued talking in the same monotone.

  ‘But that’s when I knew … I was in that exact place at that time … I was a mother too, and it was my duty. I felt it so deeply that nothing could have stopped me.’

  This sounded a bit strange. ‘You phoned the police?’

  Mum didn’t answer.

  ‘You phoned the police?’ I persisted.

  ‘They did come,’ she replied. ‘I remember them coming.’

  ‘And what happened to Genevieve?’

  Mum’s mouth twisted in anguish. ‘I’m not sure. I was far away, back home with Gran and Grandad. It was so remote there and cut off from everything, but that was what I needed.’

  Warm relief engulfed me. These were the answers I’d been seeking. Mum was only guilty of acting like a caring person. If she hadn’t decided to investigate that morning, it could have been much worse. Genevieve could have died too. I felt like a balloon that had slowly deflated and I could breathe easily again. I’d been so stupid, coming up with bizarre scenarios when the explanation was so simple – sad but simple.

  ‘You never told anyone?’

  ‘Not until today.’

  I stood with my back to the fire, warming my legs. Now I could view Genevieve as a person with psychological problems and stop obsessing about her having some kind of supernatural hold over me.

  ‘I’m almost an adult now, and it’s obvious to me you couldn’t have saved Genevieve’s mum. Anyone could see you did nothing wrong.’

  ‘Anyone but Genevieve,’ she corrected.

  This was entirely likely, but it was important to offer Mum reassurance. ‘She will understand.’

  Mum suddenly sat bolt upright in her chair. ‘That girl, Genevieve … I don’t think she’s very stable.’

  This didn’t seem like the time to describe how disturbed Genevieve really was. I still didn’t know how she’d managed to track us down, but she must have distorted everything in her head so that Mum was somehow culpable. And it was easy to see why she hated me – I still had a mother and she didn’t, which was probably why she made those threats about taking over my life.

  We sat in silence, listening to the storm. It felt nice to be cocooned together like this, all the distance between us removed. I tried to drink my coffee but it had gone cold and there was a skin of milk floating on the top. Mum was still chewing something over, and I waited for her to continue.

  Eventually she spoke. ‘And … Genevieve’s childhood? Was it very unhappy?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘By all accounts … but … she was a problem child. No matter how many people tried to help, she always ended up alone.’

  The effect of these words was startling. Mum looked devastated and her fist jammed in her mouth. She began to sob – huge noisy sobs that shook the whole of her body. ‘I should have intervened, Katy. We were both young mothers, but I had Gran and Grandad to support me; she had no one. A few minutes sooner and I might have been in time …’

  ‘You had your own problems,’ I soothed.

  ‘I’ve ruined two lives …’

  I knelt on the floor next to Mum’s chair. ‘Genevieve’s mum died because she didn’t give up drugs, not even for her baby. She didn’t take responsibility and she paid the price.’

  Mum’s lips formed themselves into a small O of despair. She looked like a frightened child. ‘I’ve no right to judge; I’ve been a terrible mother …’

  ‘You haven’t,’ I argued. ‘I’ve never been unhappy or neglected.’

  Mum was still distressed and I kicked myself for not handling this better.

  ‘This has always haunted me,’ she cried. ‘You can never escape from the past, no matter how hard you try.’

  ‘I’m going to talk to Genevieve,’ I announced. ‘Make her see that you did nothing wrong.’

  Mum shook her head stubbornly and her bottom lip stuck out. ‘Stay away from that girl. She’s determined to make me pay … she’s getting to me through you.’

  ‘Not any more,’ I insisted. ‘She can’t hurt me now because I know the truth.’

  Mum suddenly slumped in her chair. ‘The truth is not always what it seems,’ she answered with difficulty.

  There was no point saying anything else. Mum seemed to have gone somewhere in her mind, to that place that I could never follow. I helped her back to bed and she responded mechanically and was asleep in less than five minutes. I studied her face for a moment. I had hoped the confession would be a weight off her mind, but it didn’t seem so. Even asleep, her forehead was deeply scored and her mouth twitching as if she was plagued by bad memories. But she’d opened the floodgates and maybe now she could heal.

  I sent Luke a long message telling him everything that had happened and how the mystery was finally solved, and also to thank him for all his help. In a strange way, I was sad, because we’d made such a great team. He was right after all – the mystery wasn’t weirdly spooky or inexplicable, just a sad tale of a woman who couldn’t cope and the consequences. Mum was a bystander who got caught up in it, and the repercussions were being felt even now. No one knew how Genevieve had discovered the truth, but it wasn’t really important. The only thing left was to convince her that my mother was acting in her interests and beg her to leave us alone. Closure – that was what we needed.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-FIVE

  The dress was so sheer that it kept slipping through my hands like grains of sand. It was going to take all my patience and endurance to put it back together again, and the colour was impossible to match because it varied depending on the light. The moment I had a piece of thread ready, it seemed to change again. I worked from the inside, making a kind of cat’s cradle to support the layers of thread and gently joining the frayed edges together. If the fabric had been paler, I wouldn’t have got away with it, but in the end the tear was virtually undetectable.

  We’d made arrangements to meet at Hannah’s at about
seven. Mum wanted to see what I’d bought so I floated downstairs, doing a twirl as I reached the bottom.

  ‘Wow … what a transformation. You look fabulous.’

  ‘We’re having a kind of dress rehearsal for the ball.’

  Mum’s face was still drawn, but she made an effort to look pleased for me. ‘That’ll be fun … I’m sure I have a pair of long gloves somewhere.’

  I clapped my hands in excitement. ‘Can you dig them out? And please can you show me how to do my hair in a French pleat that screams elegant and sophisticated rather than frizzy and flyaway?’

  Mum found the gloves easily and a pair of black satin slingback shoes with a kitten heel, plus a great string of fake pearls and some dangly earrings to match. I changed back into my jeans and put the dress into a bag, ready to take with me. Mum went upstairs again and returned with a bag full of clips, slides, combs and hairspray and spent ages teasing my thick wavy hair into something vaguely resembling Audrey Hepburn’s in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, one of her favourite movies.

  ‘You know … since this girl, Genevieve, came along,’ she began tentatively, ‘things have changed, haven’t they?’

  ‘Suppose,’ I grunted, wincing as my head was yanked to the left.

  ‘You seem more confident … less the …’

  ‘Doormat?’

  ‘No, that’s not the word I’m looking for,’ Mum scolded. ‘More your own person.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I agreed.

  ‘Things have changed with me too.’

  ‘Have they?’

  Mum’s nimble fingers brushed my neck. ‘I’ve realized you’re almost an adult and soon you’ll be making your own way. Going away to uni maybe.’

  ‘I did think about it. The best degree course for me is probably in London.’

  ‘Well, Katy, I’ve had you to myself for so long it’s time I let you go.’

  She spoke without a trace of self-pity, which was unusual. A seagull squawked overhead, making me start. Through the window, I watched it spread its wings and soar into the white winter sky. It almost seemed like a sign that Mum was ready to set me free to make my own way.

  ‘You’re not a child any more and I have to make a life for myself so … Genevieve’s influence hasn’t been all bad.’

  ‘Not sure about that,’ I replied sourly. ‘If I never saw her again in my whole life it’d be too soon.’

  Mum carefully sprayed my hair, studying it this way and that like a work of art. ‘You dislike her that much?’

  My eyes blazed. ‘Too right. I know she’s had a difficult life but she’s conceited, underhand, sly, manipulative …’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Mum laughed nervously.

  I glowered. ‘I hope she takes herself off to the other side of the world.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Er … nothing.’ It was best not to say anything yet about Genevieve leaving before it was definite, just in case Mum came over all guilty again.

  Because Genevieve wouldn’t be there I dug out my favourite coat, and it felt wonderful to wear it again, like being hugged by an old friend. Mum waved me off and told me to watch my step because the ground was slippery and snow was forecast for the next few days. I was OK walking in my trainers but lots of people were unprepared and I watched one lady, in stilettos, holding tightly to a wall, and an old man stuck on an ice patch unable to go forwards or back, his arms extended like a tightrope walker’s. Children were having fun sliding along the pavement, making everything so much more dangerous. I hit a patch of frozen water from an old leaky drainpipe and my foot skidded but I managed to stay upright.

  At Hannah’s house the lights were on and the curtains open. Hannah and Nat rushed to the door and pulled me inside. Both were already dressed – Hannah in a slim-fitting ivory satin gown which had been her gran’s wedding dress, and Nat in a taffeta frock, shocking pink to match her hair, worn with her Converse pumps. A surge of excitement ran through me because this felt as good as dressing up as a child, trying on your mum’s clothes and make-up. I didn’t want to admit that I’d never had anyone to do this with.

  ‘Love your hair,’ they chanted in unison, steering me into the living room instead of the kitchen-diner where we normally hung out. ‘Now get into the dress, Katy.’

  ‘What’s the hurry?’ I asked, pulling the curtains across and self-consciously wriggling out of my jeans. ‘We’ve got all night.’

  ‘We can’t wait to do your make-up,’ Hannah replied, and I could sense her impatience.

  I was about to strut up and down when one of her hands forced me on to a dining chair and tilted my face to the light.

  ‘Foundation,’ she barked, and Hannah rummaged in her make-up bag and brought out a compact. It was impossible to talk as she pummelled my face and then instructed, ‘Blusher followed by eyeshadow.’

  ‘This is like having an operation,’ I joked, as she went to work on my eyes. I studied Nat close up, and then glanced over to Hannah. ‘Hey. How come your make-up’s already done?’

  ‘We were bored,’ Nat answered, lunging at me with a mascara wand and making me blink madly. She stood back to survey her handiwork and seemed relieved that it was finished.

  ‘There, Katy … you look great.’

  I looked at my face in the mirror and had to admit she’d done a good job. My skin glowed; my eyes were a smoky grey, and I had razor-sharp cheekbones and exaggerated lips in a cupid’s bow. I took out my accessories to finish off the look, trying not to feel a sense of anticlimax because it was barely eight o’clock.

  ‘Well … I’m ready now. What’ll we do for the rest of the night?’

  Nat looked at her watch and then back at Hannah. I got the distinct impression there was something they weren’t telling me. The doorbell chimed and Hannah jumped up and announced in a loud stagey voice, ‘I wonder who that could be?’

  I trailed after her as she went to answer the door, and my jaw hit the ground.

  ‘Don’t stand there gawping.’ Hannah laughed. ‘Show the boys through to dinner.’

  Merlin was standing on the doorstep dressed in pinstripe trousers with full top hat and tails and a canary-yellow waistcoat. Adam was beside him in a black tux and a white ruffled shirt, while another friend, Harvey, was wearing some sort of weird quilted smoking jacket and cravat. They looked like something out of Brideshead Revisited, and I couldn’t believe they’d walked along the street dressed this way, even in the dark. I looked behind them, expecting to see Genevieve making an entrance, but she was nowhere in sight.

  Merlin moved forward, took my hand, encased in the black glove, and kissed it before stepping over the threshold. This already had an element of a play about it and I shadowed Hannah through the hallway and into the kitchen-diner. There were goblet wine glasses and proper napkins, with an elaborate silver candelabra taking centre stage. My gaze carried on through to the conservatory, which had been decorated with balloons and fairy lights. A disco ball was hanging from the glass roof and lots of sequined shapes were strung across the windows.

  ‘Are things OK between you and Merlin?’ Hannah whispered. ‘He said they were, but …’

  ‘They’re fine,’ I whispered back.

  ‘Sorry you missed the party,’ Nat grinned. ‘It’s not quite a marquee.’

  ‘It’s better,’ I told her, choked with emotion, and I really meant it. ‘It’s completely fab.’

  The table was only laid for six, and I couldn’t believe that Genevieve would let me enjoy an evening like this without trying to ruin it. Hannah tapped one of the glasses with a spoon. ‘Sit down, everyone, and make sure you check your name card. The seating plan is already arranged and you have to stick to it.’ Hannah winked at me, because it was obvious that Adam would be strategically placed next to Nat. ‘Mum’s prepared all the food, so it won’t be disgusting. We haven’t any staff to wait on us, but Nat will do her best.’

  Nat gave a loud groan but willingly went to help. I wasn’t allowed to lift a finger or to move from the tab
le and spent the time grinning inanely at all the activity and soaking up the atmosphere. The food was light and vegetarian – creamy vegetable lasagne, loads of salad, panfried potatoes, and ciabatta to mop up the sauce. We all sat down to eat with a noisy clatter and Nat proposed a toast to me and to friendship, which actually brought a tear to my eye, although I hastily blinked it away. Genevieve could keep her huge ostentatious party; this was small, intimate and far more special.

  Hannah’s dad had an old record player with a turntable that played 78s, and all through dinner we listened to a collection of 1920s music, laughing at the scratches in the vinyl and the needle which kept sticking. By the second glass of sparkling wine it seemed even funnier, and I was convinced that Hannah had laced it with something stronger. My cheeks were on fire, despite the cold, because everything looked so pretty and everyone had made such an effort for me. Merlin was seated directly opposite and I talked and joked with everyone, trying to avoid his eyes because he had that look in them that was hard to resist. If we were alone together, I feared I’d drown.

  Hannah startled everyone by suddenly leaping to her feet and screaming, ‘Omigod it’s snowing.’

  Everyone rushed to the conservatory windows and watched as the first soft powdery flakes fell. It was completely crazy, but I had an overwhelming urge to be outside in it. I flung open the patio doors and tumbled on to the grass without any coat, the snow gently settling on my shoulders, my hair and my face as I gazed in wonder at its beauty mingled with a thousand stars. I threw my head back and twirled around the garden, rubbing the flakes into my skin. I was the ballerina, the escaped balloon, the leaf in the wind, twirling and pirouetting in this blanket of whiteness. There was laughter as everyone called my name but I kept on going until I reached a row of conifers at the bottom of the garden, standing in line like soldiers on parade. It took two people to drag me back inside, as wet and slippery as a fish that’d jumped out of the river. Nat threw me a towel and I patted my arms and neck, the sharpness of the cold making me tingle.

  ‘It looks like confetti in your hair,’ Merlin whispered, and I felt his hand brush the bare skin on my back.