by Anne Cassidy
Sherry looked round unexpectedly and Rose found herself meeting her stony gaze. The girl’s face flickered with recognition. Rose gave what she hoped was a sympathetic smile but Sherry stood up and began to walk along her row towards Rose. The girl with her followed.
‘You!’ she said, loud enough for people down the front to hear. ‘You should have been there to stop my sister getting hurt. Where were you? How come you were late?’
‘I got held up,’ Rose said, looking round, embarrassed.
‘Something held you up,’ she said derisively. ‘My sister came and asked for your help and you couldn’t make it! Why was that? Was my sister too common to be seen with?’
‘No!’ Rose said. ‘I did go. I got delayed.’
Sherry’s face was right in front of her. Rose found herself getting annoyed. She squared her shoulders at the girl and stared at her. She spoke clearly and firmly.
‘I tried to get there. I had no idea anything bad was going to happen!’
In any case, she wanted to say, your sister went into the cemetery ten minutes before she planned to meet me!
‘Bitch,’ Sherry said. ‘I told Emma you were just a stuck-up bitch but she had a soft heart. She felt sorry for you. And look what’s happened to her.’
‘Leave her alone,’ Maggie said.
Rose felt herself shaking. She couldn’t trust herself to speak. She felt Maggie’s hand on her arm and looked round to see Sara standing straight behind her. She pulled herself away and walked down the stairs towards the exit. Some of the kids who were dawdling looked at her and whispered between themselves. They all knew her. She was the girl who had been at not one murder but two.
She ignored them but felt the weight of their scrutiny as she left the studio and headed off towards her next class.
FIFTEEN
The Dark Brew was a cafe in Kentish Town that Rose went to a lot. It was in a parade of six shops amid some imposing-looking houses. A bell tinkled as she entered and she saw Joshua already there, sitting at a table with his laptop open. Even though it was just after five and still light, the inside of the cafe was darkish. There were six tables, each with a low light hanging above it. The front windows were small and dimpled, making the place seem like someone’s living room.
‘Hi,’ Rose said, feeling like she should speak in a whisper.
The cafe felt church-like. There was no radio playing and people usually seemed to be reading a book or gazing at a laptop or speaking in whispers. The sombre atmosphere suited Rose’s mood.
‘You want something?’ she said, pointing to the counter.
Joshua shook his head. She bought a hot chocolate and sat down across from him, the light making a small tent around them. Joshua was tapping at the keys and when he looked at her there was a glint of excitement in his eye.
‘I got another email from Valeriya Malashenko.’
Rose had thought it would be about the Russian waitress.
‘She’s remembered the name of the B and B in Twickenham. It’s the Northern Star. Here, I’ve got its web page.’
He turned his laptop round so that she could see the screen. There was a photograph of the outside of a building, something like a large house, and then address details and smaller photos of the rooms. She tried to look interested but really she didn’t know what to say about it.
‘I’m going to go, tomorrow. Skeggsie’s coming with me. I’d love it if you came as well.’
‘Why is Skeggsie going?’ she said.
‘He’s interested and he’s got a car.’
‘A car?’
‘A Mini. He says he’ll drive me there. Come with us. Let’s see what we can find out.’
She tried to keep a positive expression on her face but it was difficult.
‘I don’t think I’ve got time …’
Joshua closed the laptop. He looked disappointed.
‘Rosie, this is a breakthrough. The first thing in five years. We should follow it up.’
She went to speak but stopped. She was tired. The day had not got any better after the memorial and Sherry Baxter’s words had been ringing in her ears all afternoon.
‘This is no time to be half-hearted,’ he said and pulled his laptop back towards himself, mumbling something and tapping on the keys.
She drank her chocolate even though it was too hot. It was six days since Emma Burke had been stabbed. She’d been thinking about nothing else all afternoon. She’d tried to recreate the evening in her head, her discovery of poor Emma’s body, but she hadn’t been able to. She realised that she had no memory of what the rose garden looked like. On top of everything else this had upset her. It was as if she’d carelessly wiped it out of her mind, as if she’d deleted the whole sorry mess from her thoughts and didn’t care what had happened there. She wished now that she’d revisited the rose garden in the days since.
She remembered what Sherry Baxter had said about her stepsister. She had a soft heart. She felt sorry for you. The words had hit their mark because Rose knew they were true. Emma had felt sorry for her. And she had asked her for help.
Now she couldn’t even picture the rose garden. The station, the walkway where Ricky died was clearly in her mind, she’d been across it half a dozen times since then. But the cemetery was fading, the rose garden a vague image in her head, never the same twice, just the flapping blossoms and in the background the jarring colour of Emma’s purple top.
‘You’re miles away,’ Joshua said.
‘Sorry.’
‘I know you’re sceptical about the email but won’t you at least give it a chance?’
‘You go,’ Rose said. ‘You can tell me what you find out.’
‘Thanks! Thanks very much for your support,’ he said, annoyed.
Rose felt grazed by his words. He was so excited about the Russian waitress that he had forgotten about her feelings.
‘Support! Do you remember what I’ve been through the last ten days?’
A couple of people looked over at them. She lowered her voice.
‘I’m worn out. Don’t accuse me of being half-hearted.’
‘This is our family.’
‘Our family is gone!’
‘It might not be. And even if it is I want to find out what happened.’
‘Josh, if they were alive we would know.’
‘If they were dead there would be some evidence. A trail left by someone.’
‘This is grasping at straws. This woman, this Russian person, her memories might be mixed up. She was in a strange country doing a hard job. She didn’t speak very good English. She might have an entirely different couple in her head. Not Mum and Brendan at all. Mr and Mrs Frank Bloggs, white, thirty-five to forty, brown hair, bald head; two ordinary-looking people who also used the Tuscan Moon.’
Did she believe this? What about the thoughts she’d had about the glasses case? Hadn’t she almost convinced herself that it had been her mum’s glasses?
‘In any case what can we find out from this B and B? Is it likely that they will have any information? That the same people will work there? It was five years ago. What do you hope to achieve?’
He didn’t answer her. His eyes flicked to the side and for a second she thought she saw the glint of a tear.
‘I just want to go there. If Dad and Kathy were there, then I want to walk in the front door. I want to go up to reception. I want to be where they were.’
He was upset. She remembered Skeggsie’s words a few days before: When I first met him in school he was suffering badly. His dad gone, you gone … It gave her a great gush of emotion in her chest.
‘Just don’t get your hopes up,’ she said, reaching across the table, touching his hand.
‘Will you come? It’s important.’
‘All right, all right, I’ll come.’
‘Thanks, Rosie.’ Josh grinned at her.
‘As long as you come and do something with me. Now, tonight.’
‘What?’
‘I want to go and
pay my respects to someone.’
Joshua looked puzzled. Rose stood up and gathered her things together.
‘First I have to get hold of some flowers.’
SIXTEEN
Rose stood in front of St Michael’s Cemetery holding a bunch of deep pink carnations. The gates were locked. A sign on them said Closing Time 18.00.
‘Last week it was 6.30,’ Rose said. ‘I’m sure it was. I read it. And I didn’t get here until gone six!’
‘It’s the autumn,’ Joshua said. ‘A lot of places graduate their closing times. It’s getting darker earlier. Parks do it. Hey, we can come back over the weekend.’
But Rose didn’t want to do that. She had the flowers. She wanted to lay them on the exact spot where she’d found Emma. Tomorrow she might feel differently.
‘I want to do it now.’
‘Short of climbing over the gate …’ Joshua said, his hands out in a gesture of hopelessness.
‘There are other ways in. My policeman friend told me. Round the back. Off the lane that runs between the railway and the cemetery. Come on.’
‘You can’t …’
Rose walked off. She headed back towards the station. She quickened her pace until she saw the sign for Cuttings Lane. Above it was another sign, smaller, less obvious: Public Footpath to Chalk Farm Estate.
Joshua caught up with her.
‘There’s a way into the cemetery along this lane …’
‘You can’t just break in!’
She didn’t listen. She walked on. The lane was narrow at first but widened out in parts and the lighting was on so it was bright. On one side was high hedging and sections of brick wall which skirted the cemetery. On the other was a tall wire fence which ran along the side of the railway. From behind she heard a rushing sound and looked round to see two boys on bikes heading towards them. They both stood back and let the bikes pass.
A few metres later the hedge looked brown and sparse. Going close up to it she could see something through the foliage. Something white behind the privet.
‘Look,’ she said.
There was a small gap. It was narrow where the hedge had thinned out. Looking hard she could see something beyond. A white marble headstone. Rose took her rucksack off, placed the flowers inside her jacket and stepped into the gap in the hedge.
‘What you doing?’ Joshua said.
‘I’m going in to lay my flowers.’
It was a tight fit but she was able to push herself through without damaging the blooms and then she pulled her bag behind her. On the other side she found herself standing in a grassy area of graves. The cemetery stretched away from her, rows and rows of headstones. Up the middle was a winding lane where the hearses drove. Over to the left was the walled garden.
‘Rosie!’ Joshua’s loud whisper came through the hedge.
‘Come in. We can walk around the edge and get to the rose garden without passing the CCTV camera.’
There was no answer. Just a grumbling sound.
She looked around at the nearby graves. Most of them were old but one was recent. There was no headstone, just a small simple cross with the name Gerald Rossiter 1970–2012. The earth in front of it was newly turned and there were wreaths and bunches of flowers in various stages of decay. He must have been buried there in the last few weeks.
‘Josh,’ she called.
There was a rustling noise and moments later Joshua appeared through the hedge, brushing his clothes and looking disgruntled.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We’ll be ten minutes, no more. I promise.’
The cemetery was darker than Cuttings Lane. There were round lights on the main pathway and they glowed like tiny moons. The rest of the graveyard was grey or dark blue with only the white of the headstones or statues standing out.
Rose sidestepped the grave in front of her and then headed for the path that went round the periphery of the cemetery. She looked round to see that Joshua was still standing in the same place.
‘Are you coming?’
‘I’m not that comfortable here … Being in the middle of a load of dead people isn’t my idea of a good time.’
‘Are you religious?’ she said.
Did Joshua believe in God?
‘No. I just think there are unexplained things and I’m not that comfortable walking past places where people’s spirits are.’
‘You mean ghosts?’ she said, incredulous.
‘No, not ghosts either. But I think there may be some force that we don’t understand …’
‘Come on. Enough talk,’ said Rose impatiently.
Joshua nodded but his expression was one of distaste.
She got to the path and glanced back to see him walking gingerly along. She waited for him and together they made their way around the edge towards the rose garden. They walked quietly, Rose holding the flowers in front of her like some forlorn bride, Joshua a step behind, his shoulders rounded. The footpath took them away from the main entrance to the rose garden and towards the corner arch where Rose had found Emma. They passed older parts of the graveyard where the headstones were at angles and their inscriptions had long since been eroded. It seemed like a forgotten corner. Just ahead they were coming to the side arch of the rose garden. It didn’t look as though it had been used much either. A large bush was blocking the way in.
She pulled back the branches and stepped into the rose garden. It seemed to be in complete darkness. She could make out the shapes of the bushes and the pathway and the other walls but that was all. A couple of metres in front of her was the place where she had found Emma. She gasped when she saw the flowers. They were laid across the path and stretched halfway along the side of the walled garden. It was like a carpet that had been put down. The colours were leached by the darkness so that it looked as though the floral tribute was in black and white. Her own flowers looked a deep purple. She lay them down on the edge.
The garden was quiet as though the walls soundproofed it. Last week she thought she had heard sounds; someone breathing, moving stealthily about. She’d been in shock and hadn’t been able to look round properly. Had it been Bee Bee? Hiding somewhere, waiting for the chance to dash out of the arch and escape through the cemetery and across the bridge?
Joshua appeared, looking distinctly uneasy.
‘This is where she was killed,’ Rose said, her voice sounding strangely loud.
‘Can we go now?’ he said.
‘We’ve only just got here.’
‘Rosie, you’ve done what you wanted. Let’s go.’
Rose didn’t like the tone of his voice.
‘You don’t think this is important?’
He didn’t answer.
‘You’re so full up with this stuff about the website and the Russian waitress that you’ve got no feelings left for this!’
‘I just think that’s more important to us. I thought you would see that.’
‘I was involved.’
‘As a witness.’
‘No, more than that. I stumbled into something and now it’s not just about Emma or Ricky Harris, it’s about me too. I’m part of it.’
‘Just an unlucky coincidence.’
‘You mean like Valeriya Marashenko?’
He frowned.
‘What if she had made more of an effort five years ago?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘If she had contacted the police. If she had told them the things she told you. What if she had got more involved? Then we might know something about what happened to Mum and Brendan. But she didn’t want to. She had her own life to think about so she kept Mum’s glasses and she spent the money and she pushed it to the back of her mind.’
‘All right …’
‘I was here,’ Rose said. ‘I saw her dead there on the ground.’
She took Joshua’s arm and pulled him to the exact spot.
‘I am involved. I knew her. Her death touched me.’
‘OK.’
‘If only Valeriya …’
<
br /> ‘Stop! You’re right and I’m wrong,’ Joshua said, looking sheepish.
She was about to answer him but stopped abruptly because a haze of light was coming from the archway.
‘What’s that?’
The light was dim, faint.
‘It’s torchlight,’ Joshua said.
It was weak and distant but it meant that someone was coming.
‘Quick.’
She grabbed hold of Joshua’s arm and took a left turn and went down the other path away from the flowers. Glancing back she saw the light getting stronger. She peered into the darkness for somewhere to hide. The brick wall was not straight, she realised, and there was a recess behind a bench. She pulled Joshua towards it and they both stood huddled against the wall as a strong beam of light punctured the darkness. Rose peeked out.
Sherry Baxter was standing holding the torch, staring at the flowers that lay on the path. The circle of light from the torch lit up the far wall. She was very still, statue-like.
‘Who is it?’ Joshua whispered.
‘Emma’s stepsister,’ she said into Joshua’s ear.
There was a sound. Rose held her breath trying to hear what it was. She looked out and saw that Sherry was crying with low, tiny hiccupping sobs that gradually got louder.
Rose was tense, sandwiched up against Joshua. She looked up at him, his face only inches away. She put her finger on her lips. She absolutely did not want to see Sherry. Not after the memorial service that morning. Especially not when she was so upset and grieving for her sister. Not here, when she clearly wanted privacy, wanted to be away from prying eyes.
After a few moments the sound stopped and Sherry bent over to a bag that she’d brought. She pulled something out. Rose couldn’t see what it was but Sherry disappeared for a moment behind the rose bushes, further along towards the bulk of the flowers.
‘We should go now!’ Joshua said. ‘Slip out the exit while she’s there.
‘She’ll see us. I just don’t want to face her. Let’s wait.’
The torch went off. The rose garden was dark again. Rose looked out. Was Sherry leaving? There was no movement and she was surprised to see tiny flickering lights through the rose bushes. Her eyes darted here and there and saw a number of them, ten, maybe; tiny lights sparking against the darkness.