‘Who was she?’
‘She?’
‘The mistress?’
‘Didn’t I say? Alex Devlin, that’s who.’
The sides of her thumbs began to bleed.
35
For the first time in what seemed like months the sky was clear and the sun was shining as Alex walked up the path to Sasha’s house. It was time to find out the truth; there was no more hiding. She knew there was nothing to stop Ed from writing his story, putting all his speculation out there. Perhaps it would reopen the case into the twins’ murder, and maybe then they would find out where Millie was buried, but somehow she doubted it. Life didn’t work like that, not in her experience.
She knocked on the door.
Jez opened it. He was pale and looked as though he needed to sleep for a week. ‘Alex.’
‘Is Sasha okay?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘Well, you’re not normally here and I thought for a moment—’
‘That she’d been cutting herself again? No more than usual. What do you want?’
Alex was taken aback. ‘I want to see Sash, if that’s okay with you.’
‘Sure.’ He opened the door wider and she tried to push past him to go through to the sitting room.
He grasped her arm and she resisted the urge to shake it off – she was becoming sick of people trying to stop her doing things – and contented herself with a glare. ‘I want to see my sister.’
‘There’s something you should know.’
‘The diary. I do know. Ed Killingback thoroughly enjoyed telling me he had it.’
‘He had it?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘Because it was stolen from Grainger’s house a few days ago, just before he was killed.’
She laughed. ‘I can’t believe Ed Killingback stole it.’
‘No. Bea Jessop did.’
‘Bea?’
‘Apparently so. I think Angela and Bea are both involved in Grainger’s death. That’s what I heard down the station anyway.’
Alex leaned against the wall. ‘Oh, God. It really is all unravelling, isn’t it?’
‘Hey, Lexie, what are you doing here?’
If Jez looked as though he needed to sleep for a week, Sasha looked as though she needed a month’s worth. Her hair hung lankly across her shoulders; her face, a light shade of grey, was all sharp angles. She held a stained dressing gown closed with one hand, the other was scratching her head, her neck, her arms. Gone was the woman who had seemed to be trying to get it together when she came round to tell her about Jackie Wood. God, how could she tell her about Martin and the diary and all the publicity that was about to blow their lives apart again?
‘You were just going, weren’t you?’ said Jez, still holding on to her arm.
How easy it would be to say yes, to turn away and go out into the sunshine again and carry on with her life, maybe leave town until the papers were in cat litter trays.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I want to talk to Sasha. It’s important.’ She looked at Jez. She could have imagined it, but she thought she saw him flinch. ‘Something else happened the day the twins disappeared.’
‘C’mon through, Lexie, c’mon through,’ said Sasha, in the sing-song voice Alex knew of old; the voice Sasha used when she was on the edge. She giggled. ‘That sounded a bit like that game show, didn’t it? You know the one…c’mon down. What was it called Jez?’
Jez ran his hands over his head. ‘I have no idea, Sasha.’
‘Oh don’t you? That is disappointing. Anyway, Alex, I want to talk to you too. I want so, so much to talk to you.’
The sitting room was airless and stuffy, as usual. Alex sat down on the sofa and patted the seat next to her. Jez stayed in the doorway, almost as if he were blocking her exit. ‘Come here, Sash,’ she said. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘If it’s about Martin Jessop then don’t bother. I know all about you and him. Always have done.’ She waved her hands about aimlessly. The dressing gown fell open to reveal a stained nightie.
Alex tried to breathe. She had always tried to protect Sasha. Jez had always tried to protect Sasha. But she had always known.
Sasha sat down and patted Alex’s knee. ‘Always known. I came to see you one day, at your house. Let myself in. I saw him with you. I saw you with him.’ Her face twisted. ‘I saw your lover. You brought Jessop into this family. And do you know what? When I went to see him—’
‘You went to see Martin? Oh my God, when? He never said.’
‘Darling, I can’t remember when, I just did. But, do you know what? He didn’t want to know me. Not at all.’
‘What do you mean?’
She started to cry then. ‘He said he found me cheap. Ugly.’ She looked at Jez. ‘Just like you do; you find me cheap and ugly.’
‘I’ve told you over and over, I love you Sasha, I always have.’
She looked at him, horror on her face. ‘Have you?’
‘You know all this, Sasha. You know all this.’ He put his head in his hands.
Alex felt ill. She took hold of Sasha’s hands. ‘Sash?’
‘Mmm?’
‘What really happened the day the babies were taken?’
36
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO
Sasha had managed to escape to the bathroom for a wee on her own, without curious toddlers wanting to know what she was doing, why she was doing it, why, why, why. Now she wanted to have a shower, again on her own, while Jez was looking after Harry and Millie. She’d hated asking him, knowing the look of impatience tinged with disgust at her sour-smelling body that would appear for nanoseconds on his face. But it would be there.
She looked at herself in the mirror. White, washed-out face, stringy hair, breasts that drooped. That was why she woke up every morning with a heaviness, a blackness in her mood. Lately, she’d thought about running away, escaping her responsibilities.
Maybe, just maybe, today might do the trick, because she was escaping. Getting on the train to Norwich and just wandering around. She’d probably sit in Waterstone’s and have a coffee, read a new book that she might buy. Have lunch somewhere…Frank’s Bar, maybe. That would cheer her up.
Her shoulders slumped. Cheer her up. Some hope when it sometimes took a gargantuan effort even to turn on the shower.
It seemed to take an age to take off her clothes. She stepped into the shower and looked at the taps for one minute. Two. Three minutes. Try to think about the sunshine outside. The fact that she was going to have a day all to herself while Alex looked after her children, and Gus would be there as a playmate. Maybe her sister would take them down to the sea, or to the park, or the library. Yes, that would be good, the library. They loved the books and the stories there. She frowned. But that Jackie Wood was odd. She was sure the librarian kept some of the paintings the children did at story time. And one day she’d followed them home. Oh, she thought Sasha hadn’t seen her, but she had. On second thoughts, perhaps she should tell Alex to give the library a wide berth.
She felt her mood beginning to lift and she straightened her shoulders and turned on the water. Wash it all away. Wash all the rubbish that was in her head away. Rubbish float away on the water.
Half an hour later she was clean, hair dried, and dressed in what she thought of as her going-out clothes. She had quite a few of those, barely worn as her normal uniform was tracksuit bottoms and some sort of sweatshirt, or, on a bad day, her nightie and dressing gown. Today she’d even made the effort and put on a bit of make-up.
‘You look fantastic,’ said Jez, smiling at her, a child hanging off each arm. ‘Bloody gorgeous.’
‘Sssh,’ she laughed. ‘Not in front of the children.’
He laughed with her, and Sasha felt on top of the world. She was going to have a great time; she’d even do a bit of shopping.
‘Here love,’ said Jez, holding out three twenty pound notes, ‘get yourself something nice. A handbag, new dress, whatever it is that yo
u women want. Shoes maybe.’
‘Red shoes with an impossibly high heel?’
Jez nodded. ‘Red shoes with an impossibly high heel.’
She nodded, her head feeling clearer than it had for months. At times like these she really believed Jez loved her, that she wasn’t second best to Alex. Yes, Jez said that she was the one he wanted, that when he saw her, Alex faded into the background. But could she really trust him on that? She felt that familiar tug of worry. Alex had been his first love; she knew that for a fact. She could still see them entwined on the sofa in their small sitting room, her sister looking up and smiling a Cheshire Cat smile. She had resolved to wipe that smile off her face, to make her sister suffer. So she went out of her way to flirt and pout her way into Jez’s psyche until she was sure she had him hooked. Line and sinker.
After that, it hadn’t taken long to lure him away from Alex. At first it had been like a game, brushing passed him in the hallway; asking him to help zip up her dress; wanting his opinion on her clothes, what film to watch, what book to read. All so very obvious but tried and tested and it worked.
The consequence of her plan was that, somehow, she could never quite believe, in spite of his continual reassurance, that Jez really wanted her, really wanted to be with her. ‘Do you really love me?’ she would plead, until he was driven to distraction and would walk away, leaving her feeling even more insecure.
She felt she had to work extra hard to keep him.
Then she fell pregnant, and for a short while dared to feel happy and contented, secure even. It helped when they found she was expecting twins. Even Alex hadn’t been able to compete with that. But somehow that sense of well-being didn’t last and she slowly descended into the not-quite-good-enough area of her mind. It was as though there was a mist slowly swirling around in her head rendering her unable to think or act clearly. She fumbled her way through life.
But today was going to be okay. A day out. A day to buy red shoes with an impossibly high heel.
The doorbell went.
‘That’ll be Alex,’ she said. ‘When are you off to work, Jez?’
He smiled at her and she wanted to believe he loved her. ‘I’ve got time for a quick coffee with your sister, then it’s off to the fun factory.’
Alex gave her a brief kiss on the cheek as she let her in. ‘You go now,’ she said, balancing a gurgly Gus on her hip. ‘The twins will be perfectly safe with me. Don’t worry about a thing.’
‘Thanks, Alex. I’ll be back about five?’
‘That’s fine. Go on. I’ll see you at my house then, okay?’ Alex gently pushed her out of the door. ‘Take advantage of my generosity.’
The sun was warm on her head as she walked down the path and opened the gate. A perfect summer’s day. She glanced back. A tableau – Jez and Alex laughing; Alex leaning forward tickling Harry; Gus pulling at her hair; Millie clapping her hands, reaching out to her father – a family together. Sasha turned away.
She’d had a good day, with the dark thoughts only beginning on the way home as she stared out of the train window. Had Jez actually gone to work, or did he stay with Alex? She knew he’d said he was going, but people didn’t always do what they said, did they? Did Millie and Harry love Alex more than they loved her? However many times she told herself to stop being stupid, she couldn’t get the bad thoughts out of her head.
Her feet started to drag as she reached Alex’s road, the energy draining out of her body. The carrier bags looped over each hand were becoming heavier, their handles tighter. She was late. The thought of two kids wanting to crawl all over her because she’d been away for the day and then having to walk them home and get them ready for bed was too much. They were bound to be hyper after being with their Aunty. She’d have fed them sweets and ice creams and fuck knows what. And she’d bet any money that Alex would have let them have a good long sleep this afternoon. They didn’t usually need a nap these days, but they were bound to have had one today. And Alex wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences. Whereas she would have to pick up two grizzling kids and take them home. Then Jez would be wanting food and she’d start worrying all over again about what he’d been doing and who he’d really been with.
Her head ached.
She stopped in front of the gate.
Her children were playing in the little front garden on their own. Anything could happen to them. They could be snatched. They could open the gate. Run off. Get hit by a car. She clenched her fists. How could Alex do this? Leave them outside on their own?
There was a car on the pavement. Probably that Martin Jessop’s car. No wonder. No doubt they were inside going at it like rabbits while she was out here watching her children playing without any supervision.
Oh, she knew all about Martin Jessop. Alex didn’t realize that she knew, but she did. She’d seen them together one day and confronted him in the street later, wanting to know who he was, what he was like, why he wanted to be with Alex, of all people. Her sister, who couldn’t remember shagging the father of her son. Alex who had been with Jez first. Before her. But he’d looked at her like she was something he’d found on the bottom of his shoe. Arrogant tosser. He thought he was oh-so-arty, so clever. He’d even come on to her. Well, she soon put a stop to that. Then he’d said how he knew she got depressed and sometimes neglected the children and poor thing could he help in any way? She’d been angry then, shouting at him in the street. He’d called her a fishwife, she told him he was a wanker.
At least that’s what she thought happened. Maybe she didn’t speak to him at all. Perhaps he looked at her, or through her, or passed her as if she was nothing. She shook her head to try and clear it. Whatever. He shouldn’t be there when her sister was supposed to be in charge of three children. Of Harry and Millie.
At that moment they turned round and saw her.
‘Mummee, Mumeeee!’ shouted Millie. Harry came running over on his chubby little legs, Millie following. Sasha dropped the carrier bags and held out her arms. Harry flew into them. His body was solid against her own, but she knew the bones were fragile. Like a little bird. Easily broken.
She buried her face in his hair. My beautiful babies, she thought.
Suddenly she didn’t want to talk to Alex, go home with the twins, put the supper on. The evening was still bright and warm. The beach, the sea. That’s where she would go. She always felt better there; the waves and the sea spray. She would forget about Alex and Martin and Jez and just enjoy being with her children.
‘Come on,’ she said excitedly to Millie and Harry, ‘let’s go and get an ice cream.’
The twins wriggled out of her arms. ‘Yes please, Mummy. Ice cream,’ said Millie.
‘Yesss,’ said Harry.
That’s it, ice cream; then she wouldn’t have to go through the exhausting ritual of cooking them any tea. Ice cream would fill them up. And they would love it.
She took them over the sand dunes and down onto the beach towards Jim’s café. There were still a few people around. A couple on those funny half-deckchairs reading the newspaper. A man on the shoreline casting a line into the sea. Another couple throwing sticks for two bouncy, dripping Labradors. Even a family having a barbecue. A soft breeze blew off the sea, the salt catching on her tongue.
They were too late, the café was shut.
She sat down at one of the tables and wanted to cry.
‘Ice cream, Mummy?’
She stroked the top of Millie’s head. ‘Not today, darling.’
‘But you promised.’ This from a whiny Harry.
‘Promises are always broken,’ she snapped. ‘Never rely on promises.’
Neither of the twins spoke, they just watched her.
She stood. ‘Come on, let’s go to the beach hut.’ She set off at a run, the twins trying to keep up.
Sailor’s Rest. The hut that had been in the family forever. Sasha had memories of family picnics on the beach – egg and cress sandwiches, sausage rolls, Madeira cake, lemonade – all coming with
a coating of sand. Had they played games with their parents, beach cricket, making sandcastles, digging deep holes and watching the water flood into them – or was that something she only thought she remembered?
She threw open the doors of the hut to let in the evening sunlight. ‘Come on,’ she said excitedly. ‘Let’s get the deck chairs out. Mummy’ll make us all a drink and we can watch the sun go down and maybe build some sandcastles. What do you think?’
‘We haven’t got our spades,’ said Millie.
Stupid child, always putting obstacles in the way. ‘They’ll be here.’ Sasha opened up the cupboard in the corner of the hut and started pulling out old cushions, newspapers, discoloured plastic plates and cups from ancient picnic sets, a battered kettle, a couple of dog-eared paperbacks. Finally she admitted defeat and sat back on her heels.
‘Where are our spades, Mummy?’ asked Millie.
‘And bucket?’ said Harry, putting his thumb into his mouth.
Sasha jumped up. ‘Look, never mind about that. We don’t need buckets or spades; we’ll have a drink instead. Squash. There’ll be some orange squash in the cupboard on the wall.’ She reached up. Yes, there it was. Half a bottle of squash. No water. She’d have to go to the standpipe and fetch some. She grabbed three beakers, poured some of the squash into them, and set them down on the little trestle table.
‘Stay there,’ she said. ‘I’m just going to get some water.’
She grabbed the water carrier and ran across the sand to the standpipe.
‘Here we are,’ she said when she got back, ‘nice juice for us. I’ll have one too.’ She smiled, feeling her face stretch in an unfamiliar way. The twins hadn’t moved. ‘Come on, have a drink.’ She pushed the beakers towards them. They looked at her. ‘Drink,’ she said, rubbing her hands together. ‘Just drink it, will you.’
The Bad Things Page 28