Butterfly Grave (Murder Notebooks)

by Anne Cassidy

  ‘You’re all words these days, Johnson. Has London softened you?’

  ‘Give it a rest, Spenser,’ Skeggsie said, turning to him.

  Rory grinned at him.

  ‘You get some bottle from down in London, Darren?’

  ‘He’s giving me a headache,’ Skeggsie said and turned back to Joshua.

  ‘Go and smoke somewhere else, Spenser,’ Joshua said, stepping out in front of him.

  ‘It’s all right . . .’ Skeggsie said.

  ‘I don’t want you here,’ Joshua said, moving towards Rory Spenser.

  ‘What? You going to hit me? Like you did before?’

  ‘If I have to.’

  ‘Don’t, Josh . . . He’s entitled to come out . . .’ Skeggsie said, pulling Joshua away from Rory.

  ‘Do what you’re told, Joshua,’ Rory said, a smile on his face.

  Skeggsie turned and stared at Rory for a few seconds. Then he seemed to lurch towards him and push him away so that Rory stumbled backwards and fell against the wall. Skeggsie stood over him and Rose could see his fists clenched as if he was waiting for the other boy to get up and hit him. The other smokers crowded round and Rose found herself being edged here and there. Then the pub door opened and Martin came out. He looked around and saw what had happened. He pushed Skeggsie away and told the other smokers to back off. He helped Rory up to his feet.

  ‘Been training in London, Darren?’ Rory said, still smirking.

  ‘Leave it,’ Martin said. ‘Go back in the pub.’

  Rory brushed himself down.

  ‘I want a smoke!’

  ‘Go and do it somewhere else,’ Joshua said.

  Rory shrugged and stood his ground. The other smokers wandered back to the heater. A couple went off into the street beyond. Martin was looking puzzled.

  ‘You let him wind you up?’ he said to Joshua.

  ‘He’s scum. He was like it at school and he’s like it now. I don’t know what sort of crusade you think you’re on, Marty, but it’s a waste of time. He’s just like his brother.’

  ‘You should cool it, Josh,’ Martin said, putting a hand on Joshua’s shoulder, his voice low and placatory.

  Joshua shook it off.

  Rose looked at him with dismay. Joshua was so angry all the time. To her he always seemed soft and easy-going and wouldn’t hurt a fly. Up here, in Newcastle, he was like a lit firework, ready to go off. Skeggsie was standing beside him looking upset, his shoulders rounded.

  ‘You can’t keep doing this,’ he hissed. ‘You have to let me fight my own battles, mate!’

  ‘Fine. You do it! I thought I was helping.’

  ‘You have. You did. But now you have to stop. I’m a man now. You have to let me do it.’

  ‘A man, that’s a laugh,’ Rory called.

  ‘Shut up, Spenser,’ Martin shouted. ‘What did I tell you about that big mouth of yours?’

  ‘Get him out of my sight,’ Joshua said.

  Martin exhaled. Some of the other smokers took Rory back into the pub and Martin followed. Rose watched them go and felt her shoulders loosen. She registered the envelope in her hand that Joshua had given her. She tried to smooth it out but her fingers were trembling with the cold.

  ‘Why does Rory hate you so?’ she said to Skeggsie.

  ‘My dad locked his brother up years ago.’

  ‘Oh.’

  The three of them were on their own in the courtyard. It seemed bleaker now, the colours jaded. The snow was slanting down. To Rose it felt like tiny grains of ice pricking her skin. She stepped sideways towards the door. Her fingers were so cold they were hurting.

  ‘I’m going into the pub. I’m freezing,’ Rose said. ‘Are you coming?’

  ‘What about the letter? Can’t you even be bothered to read it?’ Joshua said, his face like thunder.

  ‘Why are you so furious at me? At everyone?’

  ‘Read it.’

  Frowning, she looked at the envelope. On it were the words Only to be opened by Charles Jensen.

  ‘Who’s Charles Jensen?’

  ‘Stu’s solicitor.’

  She took out a piece of paper that had been folded in half. Across it were two sentences and a signature.

  I alone am guilty of the murder of Simon Lister. I take full responsibility and I have no regrets. Stuart Robert Johnson

  She read it twice to be sure of what it was saying.

  ‘Oh no!’

  ‘What do I do with that?’ Joshua said.

  Rose passed it to Skeggsie. He read it.

  ‘You were right and I was wrong. My uncle really is a killer.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t say that exactly . . .’

  ‘Go on, say I told you so! Say it!’

  ‘Josh . . .’

  She reached out her hand to him.

  ‘It’s Christmas Eve. We can’t do anything about this now. Come into the warm. We can think about all this the day after tomorrow.’

  But Joshua was still railing.

  ‘You think I can just postpone the way I’m feeling, Rosie? Just file this away again and not think about it? What happens when I face my uncle tomorrow? What do I say to him when I know that he’s written this? After everything else that I’ve lost it seems like I’ve lost him as well. He’s not the person I thought he was . . .’

  ‘This will be sorted . . .’ Skeggsie said.

  ‘How can you know that? You don’t understand.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Skeggsie said.

  ‘I mean you haven’t been in the same situation as me and Rose.’

  ‘Because of your parents?’

  Joshua nodded.

  ‘I lost my mother when I was ten,’ Skeggsie said angrily. ‘She didn’t disappear. She just lay in a bed and faded away. I watched her every day for months and then one day she was dead.’

  Skeggsie held out the envelope to Joshua.

  ‘I didn’t mean that . . .’

  ‘Yes, you did. The last couple of months it’s all you ever talk about. Her and you. Your dad, her mum.’

  ‘But you’ve helped . . .’

  ‘ ’Course I have. But sometimes it’s like you two are the only people in the world who’ve ever felt loss. You’re not the only ones who have a right to be angry with the world.’

  Skeggsie walked away into the pub. The door closed and then it was just the two of them.

  Joshua looked at Rose. His eyes had glassed over.

  ‘I should go home.’

  ‘No, don’t,’ she said, holding her hand out to him.

  ‘I’ve messed it up. I can’t stay here.’

  He turned and strode away from the festive lights and into the darkness of the street beyond.

  Rose, her jaw trembling with cold, was left standing on her own.

  FIFTEEN

  Rose went back into the pub. She stood for a few minutes soaking up the heat. The room was packed and she made herself breathe slowly as people brushed by her holding trays of drinks. She looked back to the door and wondered whether Joshua had really gone home or whether he might burst in again and then everything would be all right. The row, the bad feeling, the letter written by Stuart – maybe these things could be set aside for one night and they could just be together in the warmth of the pub for a couple of hours on Christmas Eve. She looked round. Rory Spencer wasn’t in the room but Skeggsie was – over by the dartboard, standing by himself, watching a couple of people play.

  She walked across to him.

  ‘Sorry, Skeggs,’ she said. ‘Me and Josh have been preoccupied. We don’t always think things through.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘There’s a lot going on at the moment.’

  ‘You got any more clichés, Rose?’

  Rose blew through her teeth. Why was talking to Skeggsie so difficult?

  ‘I’ve got to be straight,’ she said. ‘You’ve never been my favourite person . . .’

  ‘Are you trying to cheer me up?’

  ‘You’re too c
old for me. You’ve got no social skills. What I’m trying to say is that, if I’m honest, I don’t always like you very much. But I am fond of you.’

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ he said, a mocking expression on his face.

  ‘It does,’ Rose continued, ignoring him. ‘Think about it. In any case what does it matter? Josh is your real friend. You’ve only ever put up with me because of him. And you know that he leans on you. God, he never stops talking about you.’

  Skeggsie sighed. ‘I know he’s always fighting my battles.’

  ‘He needs you now. He needs us now.’

  Skeggsie nodded.

  ‘On top of everything there’s his uncle’s confession.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘How does Josh live with that?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Things just get worse.’ Rose said.

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘He went home. He knows he’s upset you.’

  ‘I’ll go after him.’

  ‘You want me to come?’

  Skeggsie shook his head. ‘I need to have a talk with him. Sort this fighting stuff out once and for all. Then I’ll bring him back here.’

  ‘Will you mention the letter?’

  ‘Not tonight. It’s bad news for Josh but looking at it another way it’s a development. Joshua is too upset to see that now but it’s another step to finding out what happened to your parents.’

  Rose felt bad at the mention of parents. Skeggsie had been right. It was the main thing they all talked about. Her and Josh’s life. They hardly ever mentioned his. Maybe Joshua thought that fighting Skeggsie’s battles was all he needed to do. It would have to change.

  ‘Have you been in touch with Eddie?’ she said, raising her voice so that he could hear.

  ‘Been emailing.’

  ‘What’s he doing for Christmas?’

  ‘He’s staying with his sister. He doesn’t get on with his parents.’

  ‘Maybe when we get back to London he could come round.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Him and me, we’re into animation and other stuff. I don’t want him sucked into what Josh and me do.’

  ‘What about me? Don’t I get to meet him?’

  ‘I only introduce my friends to people who like me!’

  ‘Right,’ she said, smiling weakly at Skeggsie’s attempt at a joke.

  ‘I’d better go and sort things out with Josh. You waiting here?’

  Rose hesitated. Actually she didn’t want to stay in the pub any more but she sensed that it was better to let Skeggsie go and see Joshua alone.

  ‘Yes, text me when you’re on your way back and I’ll get some drinks in.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Skeggs?’ she said, pulling his arm just as he was walking off. ‘I’m sorry. About your mum, I mean. I know you told me before she’d died but I had no idea it was such a tough time for you. No idea at all.’

  ‘Yeah, well . . .’

  Skeggsie gave her a stiff smile and walked off, sidestepping other drinkers. Rose leant back against the wall and wondered how long it would take him to get back to Joshua’s, have a talk and bring him back to the pub. Thirty minutes? More like forty-five.

  ‘Want to play darts, pet?’ a voice said.

  She turned and saw a thin man in a leather jacket. He had a moustache that curled up at each side.

  ‘Go on then,’ she said and took three darts from him.

  After the game she walked across to the chairs where she’d originally been sitting to get her coat. The girls who were in the seats passed it across and she let it hang over her arm. Now she was too hot to wear it and she had nowhere to put it. She stood aimlessly. The back room was more crowded than before and she had to keep moving back and forth as people went past her. Even the dartboard had closed and the area was filling up with people. She walked across to the door and went through into the main bar where music was playing. It was loud, a wave of sound that washed over her. The bar had flashing lights and she could see a DJ on the tiny stage. There was a dance floor and several people were on it. She bought a beer and found a corner to stand in. Pulling her phone out, she saw that Skeggsie had been gone for over thirty minutes. They should be back soon or if Josh wasn’t going to come then Skeggsie would text her – she was sure he would.

  Martin saw her then. He was standing with a group of friends. They were talking and laughing. Looking more carefully she tried to see if Rory Spenser was there but he was not. Then she looked around the rest of the bar but there was no sign of him. Martin headed in her direction.

  ‘I thought you’d gone,’ he said. ‘Come over to us.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘You look lonely over here.’

  ‘Josh and Skeggs are coming. I’m waiting for them.’

  ‘Sure?’ he said, looking puzzled.

  She nodded.

  ‘Josh upset with me? About the Rory situation?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Joshua and me go back a long way. We’ll be all right.’

  ‘He’s just upset about his uncle and other stuff.’

  ‘ ’Course he is. We all know that. Stuart is a really good guy. Well, I’ll see you. Have a good Christmas.’

  He turned and walked away and she moved towards the pub door to wait for Joshua and Skeggsie. It was cooler there so she put her coat on. The music wasn’t so loud and she felt the tension drain out of her.

  Then the door opened and Joshua walked in.

  The shoulders of his big coat were covered in speckles of snow. She smiled, pleased to see him but puzzled that she hadn’t received a text. Had Skeggsie simply forgotten her? Joshua walked over, grabbed her arm and squeezed it.

  ‘Sorry, Rose. I’ve been a prat. I don’t know what to say. I feel as if everything’s . . .’

  ‘It’s OK. I’m sorry. Both me and Skeggsie were worried about you.’

  ‘Anyway, you were right, there’s nothing we can do about any of it now. We’ll just have to talk it over tomorrow, after we get back from Skeggsie’s Christmas dinner.’

  Rose felt herself relax. It was the old Joshua again.

  ‘I’ll get a drink,’ Joshua said. ‘You ready for another? Where’s Skeggs? Playing darts?’

  ‘No, he went to get you. I thought he was with you. He said he was going to your house. About half an hour, forty minutes or so ago. I thought that was why you came.’

  ‘No, I just cooled down,’ Joshua said, getting his phone out. ‘I’ll ring him. See what he’s up to.’

  ‘I’ll get the drinks.’

  Rose stood at the bar until a young lad served her. She bought two beers and then took them over to Joshua who was looking at his mobile.

  ‘No answer,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Maybe he was just too peed off with me.’

  ‘No, he was definitely going to get you. He was fine. I cheered him up,’ she said.

  ‘You cheered him up?’

  ‘We get along,’ she said, drinking her beer straight from the bottle.

  ‘We’ll give him ten minutes then send out a search party.’

  ‘He’ll probably turn up any minute.’

  She stood by Joshua as more people came into the pub. It was no longer possible to see to the other side of the bar. Rose looked at her mobile. She wondered if Skeggsie had changed his mind. Had he walked out of the pub, gone in Joshua’s direction, and begun to feel angry about the evening? Had he gone home instead, perhaps feeling thoroughly fed up with both of them? A feeling of guilt niggled at her. What had she said? I don’t always like you very much. But I am fond of you. Why had she put it like that? Thinking about it now it seemed a pretty insensitive thing to say. Maybe Skeggsie had had enough and they’d have to wait and see if he was still friends with them tomorrow, Christmas Day, when they were meant to be having Christmas dinner with him and his dad.

  ‘There’s no answer from his mobile. You think he just went ho
me?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Let’s go round there. It’s only ten minutes’ walk. I don’t really want to leave things as they are.’

  ‘What if he went home to get something then went to your house? He might well be on his way here now. If we walk towards his house we might miss him altogether.’

  ‘Good thinking. We’ll go to his house via mine. Then we shouldn’t miss him.’

  Rose put her bottle down and pushed open the pub doors. The cold air hit her and she pulled her coat tight. It had begun snowing again. She could see it in the streetlights. They walked along in silence, coming up to a small group of people who were talking cheerfully. A couple of girls were linking arms and singing in harmony. It was a Christmas song that Rose liked. Behind them she noticed the homeless man that she’d seen earlier walking along towards her, holding his copy of the Big Issue in front of him. No doubt he was trying to drum up some money from the pub-goers.

  They turned off the Promenade and into the side streets. They passed a fish and chip shop and there was the strong smell of frying. She was suddenly hungry and she realised that she was also feeling a little woozy. She’d had at least three beers on top of an empty stomach. It hadn’t been the sort of day when she’d thought much about food. Maybe she could make some omelettes when they got in.

  Joshua was looking at his phone again and she’d fallen behind him. They were in the darker part of the road, moving further away from the seafront. She quickened her step to catch up with him. They were walking alongside a row of shops, some of which were boarded up. A bus passed on the other side, its window lit up to show people moving along the aisle to get off at the seafront.

  When it was gone the road was very quiet.

  Joshua put his phone away.

  She heard a noise.

  ‘You all right?’ he said.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That sound.’

  She listened hard but all she could hear were shouts from a distant pub or club, cheering voices. When they quietened she walked on and then heard it again. A call from somewhere.

  ‘It’s coming from over there,’ she said, pulling at Joshua’s sleeve.

  There was an alley between two shops. She looked hard to see what was in the darkness. There was nothing moving.