Survivor: Only the strongest will remain standing . . .

by Roberta Kray

  Stanley gave her a curious look as if he was waiting for her to say more. ‘He was kind of her boyfriend?’

  ‘No, I meant it’s kind of to do with the Amy case. In a way. Sort of.’

  ‘It sounds complicated.’

  Lolly stared out through the windscreen. The wipers went back and forth, back and forth, making a small squeaky sound every time they flipped from left to right. ‘It wasn’t me, though. I swear. I never said a word.’ She felt a sudden surge of anger at what Tony had done. ‘He did it, though. He beat up Joseph. I heard him tell FJ.’

  Stanley’s face swivelled round to look at her again. ‘And who’s Joseph?’

  ‘He lives on the Mansfield. And he’s not a bad person. He didn’t kill Amy. I know it for a fact.’

  ‘For a fact, huh?’

  Lolly knew she’d said too much and quickly glanced away. She could feel her cheeks starting to burn. ‘He wouldn’t do a thing like that,’ she mumbled.

  ‘You don’t have to worry about any of that now. You can leave it for the police to sort out.’

  Lolly’s face twisted. She didn’t have much faith in the police. And she knew how rumours spread on the Mansfield. Until Amy’s killer was found, Tony’s accusations about Joseph would stick. No smoke without fire, they’d say. Which meant that someone else might have a go at him as soon as he got out of hospital.

  ‘Are you all right’ Stanley asked. ‘It sounds like you’ve had a lot to deal with recently.’

  ‘I’m okay.’ She gave him a sideways glance. ‘But…’

  ‘There’s always a but,’ he said. ‘What’s on your mind?’

  Lolly didn’t answer straight away. She thought about it for a while before she asked, ‘How do you ever know whether you’ve done the right thing or not? I mean, what if… I don’t know, what if helping one person means hurting someone else?’

  Stanley took his left hand off the wheel and laid it on his stomach. ‘You rely on what your gut tells you.’

  But Lolly’s guts weren’t telling her anything other than the fact she hadn’t eaten since lunch. She had loyalty to Jude and guilt over Joseph. ‘What if it’s fifty-fifty?’

  ‘That certainly complicates things. I guess you have to weigh up the good against the bad and take it from there.’

  She went back to staring at the wipers, aware that her love for Jude, whether right or wrong, was absolute. He was the only real friend she’d ever had. But she felt sick at how she’d turned her back on Joseph. She could still tell the police she’d seen him, been talking to him, at the time of Amy’s murder, but she knew she wouldn’t. She had made a choice and she would stick with it.

  ‘Anything I can help with?’ Stanley asked.

  Lolly shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’ And then, before he could probe any further she said, ‘So what are they like, the Furys? I don’t know anything about them.’

  Stanley sneaked a few quick glances at Lolly as they drove through the dimness of the Blackwall Tunnel. It was hard to know what she was thinking. She was a curious kid, a child who had seen and experienced too much for her years. Although she had asked about Mal and Esther, he had not sensed any particular interest in the information he’d been providing for the past fifteen minutes. In fact, he’d rather wondered if she was listening at all. Her thoughts appeared to be somewhere else, perhaps back in Kellston with the troubles she’d had there.

  For his part, he was still anxious about removing the child and taking her to Kent. What if she was rejected again? Mal wasn’t a problem, but he knew what Esther could be like. A prize bitch when she put her mind to it – and even when she didn’t. The woman wouldn’t take kindly to having a cuckoo in the nest. It would be disastrous, he thought, if Lolly was thrown out of yet another potential home. He considered warning her about Esther – that she could be difficult – but didn’t want to colour her opinion before the two of them had even met.

  It had surprised him to discover Esther was working again. She had not made a film since Kay’s disappearance thirteen years ago. He had no idea whether this resumption of her career would be a good or bad thing for the Fury marriage. From what he’d observed, their relationship was already a volatile one. Add Lolly into the mix and there was no saying what might happen.

  Stanley was also worried about his investigation into Angela Bruce. It was starting to look as if she might not be Lolly’s mother after all. How would the kid cope with news like that? She seemed the resilient type but maybe that was all show, a way of coping with the endless grief that had been thrown in her direction. It seemed a particular act of cruelty to deprive her of the one certainty she had in her life.

  As they came out at the other end of the tunnel, he tapped his fingers against the wheel. ‘So you still don’t recall your mum ever mentioning Mal or Esther?’

  ‘No,’ Lolly replied. ‘Did she know them?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’m not sure.’ He was about to add that Angela might have read about them in the papers but decided against it. It might lead to questions about what had happened to Kay. And that, he decided, was up to Mal to explain.

  By the time they reached the narrow roads that led to West Henby, it was pitch black. The only light came from the two strong beams of the car’s headlamps. All that could be seen either side were the hedgerows and the dark silhouettes of trees.

  ‘What do people do here?’ Lolly asked.

  Stanley grinned. ‘Good question. I’m a city boy myself, but I’m sure there are ways of keeping occupied.’ Personally, he wasn’t too keen on the country, preferring the hustle and bustle of the capital. ‘You’ll be okay. You’ll soon make new friends.’

  Lolly said nothing. She bowed her head, her long hair falling across her face.

  Stanley realised in that moment that Lolly Bruce was the type of kid who probably didn’t have many friends, if any at all. She’d have always been the one who was marked out as being different, the one who had a crazy mother, the one who was never as clean as she ought to be, the one with the hungry eyes. He knew what it was to be different, to not fit in. His reasons were not the same as hers, but he understood the feeling of isolation.

  ‘If you ever want a chat, just pick up the phone,’ he said. ‘I’ll leave you my number. You can call any time.’

  Lolly gave him a quick sideways glance, but didn’t reply.

  ‘If you need anything or… well, you know what I mean.’ He thought, on reflection, that she probably had no idea what he meant. He wasn’t even sure if he knew what he meant. He just didn’t want her to feel she was entirely on her own.

  It was a few more minutes, minutes spent in silence, before they came to the tall wrought-iron gates set into a high brick wall. ‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘This is it.’ Stanley pulled up, stretched his arm out of the window and pressed the buzzer. The gates immediately swung open. He drove through and they set off along the approach to the house, a long curving driveway illuminated by tiny white lights glittering in the darkness. As they drew closer, he could see Lolly’s body tense.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Everything will be fine.’

  Stanley tried to sound confident and reassuring. He glanced up at the starless sky, hoping he wasn’t wrong, hoping this wasn’t all a dreadful mistake.

  28

  Lolly gazed at the house, awed by the size of it. She blinked in astonishment. It was lit up like a Christmas tree, bright and white and sparkling. They got out of the car and Stanley went to the boot to get her suitcase. As she stood waiting, the front door opened and a tall, fair-haired man bounded down the flight of shallow stone steps to greet them.

  ‘Stanley,’ he said. ‘Good to see you. And you must be Lolly. Welcome! Welcome! I’m so glad you could come. I’m Mal Fury. Call me Mal. How do you do?’

  Lolly took the proffered hand and shook it. His fingers were warm and smooth. ‘I’m good,’ she said. Then, remembering her manners quickly added, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Excellent. Now let’s get in f
rom the cold before we all freeze to death.’

  As Lolly walked up the steps, everything felt faintly dreamlike. And if she’d been impressed by the outside of the house, the inside was something else entirely. In the grand hallway there was a marble floor and big paintings hanging on the walls. Rooms ran off to the left and right and straight ahead was a wide staircase leading up to the next floor.

  ‘It will all feel strange at first,’ Mal said, ‘but you’ll get used to it. And to us, of course. At least, I hope so. We’re not too bad when you get to know us. I’m afraid Esther’s away until the weekend but she can’t wait to meet you.’

  Lolly might have been mistaken but she thought she saw Stanley throw Mal Fury a querying look. Her attention, however, was diverted by the appearance of a thin-faced, middle-aged woman wearing a dark brown woollen dress and a stern expression.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Gough,’ Mal said. ‘I’d like to introduce you to Lolly, the latest member of our household. Lolly, this is Mrs Gough, our splendid housekeeper. God knows what we’d do without her. She’ll show you up to your room. I’m sure you want to get unpacked and settled in. And then we’ll have some supper. You must be starving by now.’ He turned to Stanley. ‘You’ll join us, won’t you? Before you set off for home again.’

  ‘Of course. I’d be glad to.’

  Mrs Gough gave a nod, took the suitcase from Stanley and set off up the stairs. ‘We’ve put you in the Peacock Room,’ she said. ‘You should be comfortable. There’s an en suite and a view of the garden.’

  ‘Ta,’ Lolly said, even though she didn’t know what an en suite was. Although the stairs were easily wide enough for four or five people to walk abreast, she stayed behind the housekeeper, unsure of her place in this new world she’d entered.

  In the hallway, Stanley asked Mal, ‘So you’ve talked to Esther?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And what did she say?’

  There was a short hesitation before Mal replied softly, ‘Oh, give her time. She’ll get used to the idea.’

  Mrs Gough turned left at the top of the stairs and walked briskly along the landing. She stopped at the third door, pushed it open and stood aside for Lolly to enter. ‘Here we are.’

  Lolly’s eyes almost popped out of her head. It was the biggest bedroom she’d ever seen, with a four-poster bed, a rose pink carpet and heavy velvet curtains. The walls were papered with a design of peacocks, their tails fanned out to reveal pretty shades of turquoise and green. There was even a fireplace with a small pile of logs waiting to be lit.

  Mrs Gough laid the suitcase on the bed and opened it. She stared at the contents with a tight-lipped look of disapproval. ‘Is this it?’

  Lolly nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You haven’t got much.’

  Lolly smiled faintly, not sure what to say. She wasn’t sure what to do either as Mrs Gough began taking out the items and placing them in the wardrobe and drawers. She felt ill at ease, awkward in her plush surroundings. Her fingers closed around the mother-of-pearl button in her pocket, something safe and reassuring, something from the past, something to hold on to in this strange new place.

  ‘I’ll make a list. Theresa can take you to the shops tomorrow.’

  It was only when Mrs Gough lifted the volume of fairy tales from the case that Lolly stepped forward. She held out a hand for the book, relieved to see that Brenda had packed it. ‘I’ll sort that out.’

  The housekeeper glanced at the title before passing it over. ‘Bit old for fairy tales, aren’t you?’

  Lolly backed away, holding the book to her chest. ‘My mum gave it to me.’ Because she wasn’t looking where she was going, she banged into the bedside table and almost knocked over the lamp. It rocked back and forth, on the verge of falling, before she quickly reached out to save it.

  ‘Be careful!’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Mrs Gough raised her eyebrows, clearly unimpressed by Lolly’s clumsiness. ‘You’d better take off your coat if you’re planning on staying.’ She snapped shut the lid of the case and placed it in the bottom of the wardrobe. ‘Right, that’s done. I’ll leave you to get settled in. Supper will be in twenty minutes, six o’clock sharp. The dining room is at the end of the hallway, last door on your right. Don’t be late.’ She glanced around the room, sighed and looked back at Lolly. ‘And try not to break anything.’

  After she’d gone, Lolly stayed where she was for a moment, taking it all in. Then she put down the book and began to explore. The first thing she discovered was the bathroom, gleaming white as if it had never been used. She went in and ran her fingers along the cool porcelain of the basin and the shiny metal taps. There were soft white towels, three in all, neatly folded on a wicker laundry basket. A patterned rug lay in front of the bath. She had to stand on tiptoe to see her face in the mirror, and didn’t much like what she saw. She pulled her fingers through her tangled hair and rubbed away a mark at the side of her mouth.

  Lolly returned to the bedroom and stared at the peacocks. There must have been over a hundred of them, scattered across the walls. It wasn’t long, however, before her gaze was drawn back to the bed with its cream and gold bedspread, and gold drapes fastened in the middle to each of the posts. She sat down on the edge of the mattress and bounced a few times. She supposed she should be pleased, but all she felt was a growing sense of bemusement. What was she doing here? Stanley’s explanation didn’t really cut it. There had to be something more, something she didn’t yet understand.

  She stood up, crossed the room, pulled back the curtains and pressed her nose against the glass. It was too dark to see anything much. Rain splattered against the window. She opened it and leaned out. The air smelled different to how it was in London: colder, crisper, stranger. She sniffed at it like some small nocturnal animal trying to get its bearings.

  After a while she closed the window and looked around again. There was a bamboo chair with a turquoise cushion, and a dressing table with brush and comb and clothes brush. On the mantelpiece were a number of ornaments she didn’t dare touch, including a pair of china ballerinas. There was a clock too. She realised with a start that the hands read five to six. She’d better hurry if she wasn’t going to be late for supper.

  Lolly made her way down to the hallway and along the corridor to the dining room. She could hear voices as she approached the open door.

  ‘You made the calls then?’ Stanley asked. ‘You didn’t have any problems?’

  ‘Everything’s fine. We’re giving her a home, aren’t we?’

  ‘It’s not always that straightforward.’

  ‘Well, that depends on who you know.’

  There was a pause in the conversation as Lolly stepped into the room. Then Mal said, ‘Ah, here she is. Come in, come in. Supper awaits. Mrs Docherty has done us proud with one of her excellent beef stews. I hope you like stew, Lolly?’

  Lolly, who had never had the luxury of being fussy about food, nodded as she advanced towards the large dining table. ‘Yes, I like everything.’

  ‘Good. That’s what I want to hear. A woman after my own heart.’ Mal waved a hand towards the empty seat beside him. ‘Sit down and make yourself comfortable.’

  Lolly did as she was told. She was worried that it was all going to be weird and awkward – she still didn’t have a clue what she was doing here – but Mal tried to put her at ease.

  ‘I don’t like new places,’ he said. ‘So I understand if this all feels odd. But I hope you’ll be happy in our home. Your home if you want it to be. You strike me as the kind of person who’s prepared to give it a go and that’s all we ask. I know we’re not family, but that’s not always the most important thing. We’re all friends here and that’s what really matters.’