How would you feel if you knew the boy met Matt, the other day? It happened as Matt drove away from here, his face shut down, closed. You were devastated, weren’t you? I saw your tearstained face, your shaky hands. They talked for a while—did you know that? Matt would have been good for Abe, wouldn’t he? But as you always do, you managed to cock that up too.
The other morning, remember when your dog stopped for a moment, staring across the garden toward the trees? It was me he was looking at—he’d seen me move slightly in the shadows. But he won’t bark at me, Hannah. I’ve made sure of that. He wags his tail when he sees me. Gibson and I are old friends.
You haven’t noticed my footprints in your flowerbeds, have you? My fingerprints on your windowsills, my eyes the other side of the glass. When it’s dark, you can’t see me on the outside looking in. Your cottage windows are the perfect height so that I can glimpse you through the cracks of light where the curtains don’t quite meet, as you wander from room to room. Restless, aren’t you, Hannah? Why is that? Is your conscience stirring into life? Are the ghosts of your past right behind you?
You should think about what the boy does at night, getting his telescope out, watching the stars; remind yourself how small the human race is, with its petty, overblown rules and politics; the fighting for control in a world where no one has any, not really, when you think of weather systems and tides and orbiting planets and solar flares. The boy gets it—how on the timeline of the universe, a human life is undetectable. You’re insignificant, Hannah. But then we all are.
Do you know about the window that doesn’t latch properly? You should be more careful. Someone might break in. Someone you really don’t want in your house, who knows your secrets—like me.
Watch out, Hannah . . . Time is running out. I’m getting closer.
10
The existence of the second laptop preoccupied me, obsessed me even. After Abe had left for school the following morning, I was about to search his room again when a text flashed up on the screen of my mobile.
Walk? 10? Usual place? Ex
Erin lived a few miles away and shared my aversion to local gossip, which meant we’d struck up a friendship of sorts. Her job meant she was often away, but when she wasn’t, we’d occasionally walk our dogs together. I hesitated, but I knew I’d have time later to search Abe’s room.
Sure. X
I glanced at the clock. I had enough time to shower and drive to the car park she was referring to. The laptop would have to wait.
* * *
I was late leaving the house, driving too fast along the narrow road that wove between the trees, glimpsing flashes of sky through their branches, the sun obscured by high clouds that lowered, darkening, toward the horizon. It wouldn’t be for a while, but I was guessing rain was on its way.
I turned up the stony road, heading toward the car park where Erin and I always met, on the edge of an ancient stretch of woodland. Her car was already there, but if she’d been waiting long, she didn’t say.
While our dogs bounded around, we set off through the woods, along a straight path beneath towering beech trees.
“Sorry I haven’t been in touch, Hannah. I’ve been in Madrid for the last fortnight. Wonderful for tapas and Spanish wine, but meetings every day. I’m bloody glad to be back, I can tell you. You need to fill me in. How’s the lovely Matt?”
Erin had some high-powered marketing job that took her away from time to time. The wind caught my hair as I shook my head. “He’s gone.”
“What?” Erin stopped walking and pulled me around to face her. “You’re kidding me. What do you mean, gone?”
“He left. About two weeks ago.” I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. “He said he was sorry, it wasn’t working. . . His words.”
“Jeez. Did he give you an explanation?” She looked shocked.
“No.” I was silent for a moment. “I guess I messed up.”
“Really?” Her eyes stared into mine. “What do you mean?”
I started walking again, not wanting to tell her how Matt had discovered something I’d kept hidden from him. “I meant he must have had a reason,” I said evasively.
She was silent for a moment. “I thought you were really happy together.”
“So did I.”
I was aware of an edge between us. Erin knew me well enough to know that I was keeping something from her. We kept walking, neither of us speaking, until we reached the other side of the woods, where the trees thinned out and the sparse landscape stretched for miles in front of us. Away from the shelter of the trees, I pulled my collar up, suddenly cold.
Erin broke the silence. “Oh Hannah . . . I’m so sorry. I thought you two were really good. Have you talked—since?”
I shook my head. “I tried to, but he wouldn’t. He came back to get the rest of his stuff. He seemed angry with me—but he didn’t say why.” I thought about explaining why I hadn’t told Matt about Nina, but something stopped me.
She enveloped me in a hug. “I would never have believed it. You should have called me.”
Suddenly awkward, I pulled away and we continued walking. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. And other things have been going on.”
“Such as?”
“My sister died suddenly.”
“Jeez. Hannah, I’m so sorry. You’ve really been going through it. How did you find out? Does she have kids?”
“The police called me. I’m next of kin. Her youngest son is living with me.” I didn’t mention Jude.
Erin was silent for a moment. “Hang on, you said the police? Was it suspicious? How long’s he staying for?” Questions were tumbling out of her.
“At first, they thought it was an accident; now they’re not so sure.” I was deliberately cagey. I didn’t want her jumping to conclusions about Nina. “He’s staying indefinitely. There isn’t anywhere else for him to go.”
I turned to meet Erin’s shocked gaze. “How old is he?”
“Abe’s fifteen.”
“Cute name.” She was silent. “God. This is too much to take in. I mean, no disrespect, but nothing like this ever happens to you.”
As we walked in silence, suddenly I needed to confide in her. “I’m finding him really difficult. He can be quite aggressive.”
“He’s a teenage boy, probably raging with angst and testosterone.” She was matter of fact. “And don’t forget, his life has just been turned upside down. Being a teenager can be hideous at the best of times. My sister has two. Does he talk to you?” We stopped to watch a buzzard, circling high above us. “I can never believe the size of those birds. Look at its wingspan.”
I stared at the bird. She was right. With its wings outstretched, it appeared to effortlessly soar on the wind. It was a breathtaking sight, but my mind was on other things. “Abe? Since staying with me, he’s hardly said a word.”
“Is he usually like that?” Erin continued to stare at the bird.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t seen him for ten years.”
“What?” She sounded shocked. “That long? Whatever happened between you?”
It was my turn to stare at the bird. “I don’t know. I suppose Nina and I had a bit of a falling out. She moved away and didn’t tell me where she’d gone. Then before you know it, all this time had passed.”
She was silent for a moment. “I had no idea you had a sister.”
I stiffened. It was like Matt all over again. What was this obsession with needing to know about other people’s private lives? I stopped looking at the bird and stared at her. “What was I supposed to say to you? Hey, Erin. I have this sister, but we haven’t spoken for ten years, because guess what—she didn’t want me in her life.” I didn’t mean to sound bitter, but my relationship with Nina really wasn’t anything to do with her.
“OK, Hannah . . .” There was a puzzled look on her face. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just surprised you never mentioned her before. That’s all.”
Just then, I felt the first drop o
f rain, sooner than I’d expected. I glanced up at the sky. “We should go back.”
* * *
As we walked back to our cars, conversation between us was strained, in spite of both of us trying to restore it to its usual, more superficial level. Erin hugged me again before getting into her car and driving away, but there was still the sense of a distance between us.
By the time I got home, the rain had turned to a steady drizzle. Still put out by my exchange with Erin, I tried to busy myself tidying the house, then going through some of my teaching notes. A couple of my pupils had exams coming up, and I had one particularly gifted pupil who I knew would go far if I could maintain his interest. It got more difficult as they got older. Even the most talented pupils reached a point where they’d rather have a social life than do their practicing.
I was interrupted by the arrival of a delivery for Abe, which I signed for. But my concentration had been broken, and I was restless. Outside, the rain had almost stopped. Pulling on my jacket, I called to Gibson. I needed to get out of the house.
As I set off briskly across the fields toward the village, I glanced at the clouds. It looked as though this was only a brief respite from the rain. The wind had swung around to the north since earlier, and I could feel its bite, walking faster as I tried to keep warm, taking the path that avoided the lowest-lying areas that were still waterlogged, listening to the shrill call of a blackbird perched high in a nearby tree.
As we came to the village, I clipped on Gibson’s leash and climbed over the stile onto the lane. Turning left along the pavement, I walked past the few houses set back from the road, then a terrace of smaller cottages as I headed for the village shop. A couple of heavily pregnant ponies loitered on the other side of the road. Apart from their distended bellies, they were skinny after a long winter without enough grazing, and hungry, drawn into the village in search of food.
I used the shop infrequently. Often enough that Joe, the owner, knew who I was, but then Joe made it his business to know who everyone was. The shop sold a small amount of local produce and a few overpriced basics, serving more as a hub for the locals and a hotbed for gossip. Tying Gibson to the rail outside, I went in.
“Hello, young Hannah. Haven’t seen you in a while.” It had been months, but Joe’s memory for names never failed him.
“Hi, Joe . . . I’ve been busy.” It was deliberately evasive, even if it happened to be true. “Could I have some stamps, please?”
“First do? They’re all I’ve got.”
“First is good. Thanks.” I glanced around at the shelves while he rummaged behind the counter.
“Had a friend of yours in earlier.” He didn’t look up.
“Sorry?” I frowned, thinking of Erin. “When was that?”
“About an hour ago. She said you go way back. She was hoping to catch you while she was here. Nice lass. I’d say she was about your age. With long, dark hair.”
I frowned. “Are you sure it was me she was looking for?” I was trawling through my mind for someone who met his description. Erin’s hair was mousy and shoulder length. I’d no idea whom he was talking about.
“Oh, it was you all right. She knew all about you and that chap of yours—sorry, by the way. I heard you weren’t together anymore.” He looked slightly sheepish as he held out the stamps.
I handed over the money. “No,” I said shortly, hating how he knew about my personal life.
“She knew too.” He looked at me expectantly.
“What?” I stared at him, horrified. “You mean the woman?”
“Your friend, that’s right. At least, I think that’s what she said . . .” He looked less sure.
Thoughts raced through my head. Who was she? “I can’t think of anyone. What was her name?”
He shook his head. “She didn’t say.”
Suddenly I was uncomfortable. How did she know about Matt and me? Unless it was Matt she knew. Maybe she had something to do with why he’d left so suddenly. Then a worse thought struck me. Maybe they’d been having an affair. Matt’s meeting someone else would explain everything.
Unless she was Matt’s ex-wife . . . Olivia had long, dark hair, but just as quickly, I dismissed the thought. Now that we’d split up, Matt’s ex would have no interest in me. In a hurry to get out of there, I swung around to leave. “Hey, don’t forget your change,” Joe called after me, but I was already through the door, letting it close behind me.
Untying Gibson’s leash, I hurried away along the pavement, thinking about the woman, wanting to know why she was looking for me. Why would she have told Joe she was a friend of mine? It was obviously a lie. Unless she was fishing for information about me for some reason. Then another thought occurred to me. Maybe she was a reporter who’d got wind of Nina’s death and thought she had a story. She might even have found out I used to be in a band. Maybe she was talking to other people in the village. That would account for how she knew about Matt.
There was no way of knowing. Or maybe Joe had volunteered more information than he’d told me, and being a journalist, she’d latched on to his every word. Joe wasn’t discreet. From what he’d said to me, it was impossible to know.
It was odd, but I wasn’t going to obsess about it. Head down, I walked into the wind, feeling it gust around me. If she was a journalist, I was wondering if she’d turn up at my house. What would I say to her? Reporters were persistent, weren’t they? If she refused to leave, how would I get rid of her?
Halfway across the field, I felt a few drops of rain. I walked faster, my shoulders hunched and head down into the wind, looking up only when I noticed a figure in the distance, walking toward me. I squinted, wondering if it was the woman Joe had talked to, but the person was too far away for me to see who it was. I carried on walking, aware of the rain steadily increasing, then as the distance between us closed, I saw it was a man.
He was tall with short, dark hair, wearing faded jeans and a nondescript brown jacket, but as he approached, I noticed his shoes were too polished, out of place walking across a marshy field. Briefly I met his gaze before glancing away.
As he drew closer, I became aware of his eyes, staring intently at me, as Gibson growled. It was out of character for him to do that. Without knowing why, I felt my skin prickle, my uneasiness mounting as I met the man’s eyes for a second time. Stepping to one side to let him pass, I felt myself flinch as his arm brushed against mine, then at the sheer impact of his presence as he swept past, as though a wall of air hit me.
“Hello, Hannah . . .”
I gasped, but he was already walking away. How did he know my name? I knew it wasn’t logical, but suddenly fear was running through my veins. Under the darkening sky, I marched faster, not daring to turn around. Had I imagined him speaking to me? But as the wind started to howl, I knew I hadn’t. I broke into a run, slowing only when another dog walker came into view. When eventually I dared to look back, there was no sign of him.
By the time I got home, my hands were shaking. Closing the back door behind me, I pulled the bolt across, then went to the front door and checked that it was locked too. If he knew who I was, there was every chance he knew where I lived. Hadn’t he been walking from this direction? Maybe he’d come to the house while I was out. Feeling myself start to panic, I went from room to room, checking that the windows were closed, struggling with one halfway up the stairs that refused to shut properly. There was no way anyone could reach it from outside, I knew that. But even then, as I stood in my kitchen, I didn’t feel safe.
Summer
When did it change, Mother? When did you stop wanting to live?
Or did the lies get to be too much for you?
I know the story, about the grandparents you didn’t really get along with. But they loved us, you always said. And we had Hannah. Weren’t we lucky? Your aunt’s in a famous rock band!
Hannah, with her white-blond hair and wild eyes rimmed with black, sweeping into our lives, a perfect storm leaving a chaos of turned heads an
d broken hearts in her wake. Hannah, who had her own dream, who danced for longer, partied harder than anyone, whose demons were louder than yours, Mother.
You didn’t know I heard you both that night. Hannah had come to the cottage unexpectedly, quieter than I’d ever seen her, her skin paler. Late that night, woken by her shouting, I crept outside, then sat underneath the open window. Listened to Hannah’s voice, distraught, as it floated out into the night; heard yours, lower, saying calming words I couldn’t make out, that failed to comfort her, stop her wailing. Felt Hannah’s turmoil drift out through the window, a dark shadow that settled over me.
The first of your secrets I discovered. Your gift to me. A burden I couldn’t share, that didn’t belong to a child. One that was there forever, to be followed by others.
Hannah wasn’t well, you lied, when I asked you why she was upset.
She’d let you down, Mother, couldn’t you see that? Why lie to me? Can’t you tell by looking at me that I know?
She needed your help, you told us, hiding the truth behind your blank smile. Even though she didn’t deserve it. But you didn’t hear me say that. I swallowed the words before they exploded out of me. You could never say no. Not to Hannah.
Your children had everything they needed, after all. A roof over their heads, space to run free in. No one was ever cruel to them. So, sometimes they were hungry. Their mother was fucked up, and they didn’t have a father, but what an idyllic life they were blessed with. What else could they possibly want?
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of your lies breeding exponentially. Everything was fine, you told us. Another lie. Life was wonderful. Yet another.
How could it possibly not be?
11
I couldn’t stop thinking about the two strangers—the man who’d known my name, the woman in the village who was asking about me. At one time, my life had been full of strangers, although when I met them in Nina’s cottage, they seemed anything but. When I closed my eyes, images drifted past, of figures that now seemed shadowy, drugged, drunk. In my mind, Nina’s cottage was no longer the idyllic hideaway, set among drifts of wildflowers and trees strung with lanterns; instead it had become dark, dingy, unloved. And her children . . . I heard my sharp intake of breath, as Summer’s face danced before me, her skin dirty and hair tangled as she shouted at her mother, and not because she was being difficult. Nina had been out of it, high on drugs, while all three of her children went hungry.
Her Sister's Lie Page 10