Secrets in the Shadows

by Hannah Emery

  Grace had woken up suddenly on her sixteenth birthday. She’d had a frightening dream that she was drowning, pulling for something to grab onto, her mouth and eyes and nose filling with stinging seawater. She had clawed at her duvet, gasping, and shot up in bed, disorientated and dizzy with breathlessness. She’d looked over at Elsie, who lay still as a corpse, breathing deeply and steadily. Although the curtains were shut, Grace could tell it was still early.

  But not early enough.

  She sat up, feeling a suffocating pain in her chest, tasting salt and fear and loss. When she went downstairs to find her mother, she found sixteen fairy cakes with silver balls on top, two glasses of cloudy lemonade, a blood red bottle of wine from a neighbour, presents wrapped in pink foil paper, cards stacked up in the hall. A lone balloon.

  But no mother. Grace remembered her dream: remembered being pulled into the slicing waves, water filling her lungs until there was nothing but blackness.

  ‘She’s fine,’ Grace said to herself, her voice too loud in the empty hall. She tried to make herself calm down a little, but her breaths had become short and sharp, and her heart was light and trembling.

  She called her mother, but there was no answer. She looked all around the kitchen for a note, a sign that her mother might be back any moment, but all she found was a half-finished glass of brandy in the kitchen. She thudded upstairs, into all the empty rooms, into the one where Elsie still lay sleeping. Elsie couldn’t know that their mother had tried to leave them. She would never forgive it. Grace had to find her. She fled back downstairs to the kitchen, knocking the brandy from the worktop as she passed so that it crashed onto the stained stone floor. She rushed out of the back door into the whipping, salty air.

  ‘Mum,’ she tried to call. Her limbs dragged along as though they were being pulled back, and her shout for her mother was sucked back into her mouth. She could not speak. She could not yell. Come and find me, she pleaded silently.

  Grace searched and searched and searched; she waited until her voice returned and bellowed for her mother over and over again; she wandered up and down the beach until her feet were numb and prickled with sand. Eventually she gave up and walked from the beach, back home to Elsie.

  Now, Grace looks at her watch. Nearly half past two. She picks up her phone from the counter and pauses slightly before tapping into her caller list. Eliot finished work for the half term break the other day. He went on to a teacher training course after his degree and now he teaches Theatre Studies in a sixth form college. He is probably still in bed. Grace pictures his bare chest rising and falling with sleep, his mouth slightly open, his face immersed in a dream he won’t remember when he wakes.

  Her hand hovers over his number, until she remembers the hug from Elsie, the feeling of their hair and earrings and scents being entangled. She locks her keypad and places her phone back on the counter. As she does, she glances up at the door, which has opened.

  ‘Eliot! I was just thinking you’d still be in bed, enjoying your break.’

  ‘Thought I’d come and check in here. How’s it going? Good day?’

  ‘Yeah. Pretty quiet, after a surge yesterday.’

  Eliot nods then looks round. ‘Isn’t Elsie here?’

  ‘She’s taken the tax stuff home to work on,’ Grace says, not wanting to go into the reason why Elsie has left Grace to it. ‘She’ll be back in a bit. She won’t be able to stay away, although it seems to be going quieter this afternoon.’

  ‘I suppose with this kind of shop it will always be a little up and down. Have you had many students in? I was thinking if you did some kind of student discount then it might work in your favour.’

  ‘Yes, we’ve had a few, thanks to your promotional email. Student discount is a great idea.’

  ‘If you decide on the discount then I can email my students again, in case they’re thinking of buying anything.’

  Grace laughs. ‘Did you used to spend your college holidays buying books?’

  ‘I certainly did! You know I did!’

  Grace bites her lip. ‘I remember. You were always reading.’

  ‘Reading or drinking,’ Eliot shrugs. ‘But drinking’s a student’s prerogative.’

  ‘And what’s your excuse now?’

  ‘It’s a teacher’s prerogative too! Some of the banal things I have to teach and the misery that some of the students put me through are both enough to make me reach for a drink.’

  ‘I can’t imagine your lessons being banal.’

  ‘My lessons aren’t banal!’ Eliot retorts. ‘It’s the bloody curriculum that’s the problem. Bores the students to death. If I followed the lesson plans that I was meant to, as well as sticking to the set plays, then everybody would have slipped into a tedium-induced coma by the end of the lesson – me included.’

  ‘Have you got much marking to do over half term?’ Grace asks, remembering that Eliot normally spends most of his time off lamenting what he should be doing to keep in the head of department’s good books.

  ‘Nah. A bit of planning. Nothing that I can’t do on the day before I go back. So I’ll probably help out here a bit. I like the idea of reading all day.’

  ‘We don’t just read all day! We’re actually very busy,’ Grace says in mock outrage. ‘In fact, I have a load of new stock to put out. Mags found some of Noel’s old books we could sell at her house the other day, so I need to catalogue them and decide where to place them. I’m considering changing the window display at some point so I need to think of some ideas for that. And I have to cash up, too.’

  Eliot rolls his sleeves up. ‘Well then. We’d best get started.’

  Chapter Six

  Grace, 2008

  When the phone rings in the shop, Grace knows who it’ll be. They have had a landline installed but it hasn’t rung, apart from now. Grace can’t even remember hearing the ring before, and the noise shocks her at first, a shrill shriek straight through her body. She takes a moment to register what the sound is, then picks up the receiver.

  ‘Grace? How’s it going there?’

  ‘It’s going well,’ Grace says perkily, ‘how’s your afternoon?’

  ‘Oh, you know. It’s fine.’

  ‘So what’s up?’

  ‘Nothing. I just wanted to check you’re okay. I could have come back to help if it was busy.’

  ‘Elsie, please. I’m fine here. In fact, I have some brilliant news. You know the teacher who bought all those books on our first day?’ Grace doesn’t wait for Elsie’s response before continuing. ‘Well, he came back in about an hour ago and bought a load of novels! So I’ve taken over £50.’

  ‘That really is brilliant!’ Elsie’s voice lifts.

  ‘So I was thinking we could go out tonight to celebrate. Dinner? On me?’

  ‘I’d love to!’

  Grace smiles. ‘Great. Let’s go to that new tapas bar, you know the one—’

  ‘It’s called Sombra,’ Eliot interrupts cheerfully, as he places books on an empty shelf.

  There’s a silence. ‘Is Eliot with you?’ Elsie asks Grace, her voice tensing.

  ‘Oh, um, yeah. He was looking for you, actually.’

  Elsie relaxes a little. ‘I’ve been trying to call him.’

  ‘I think he left his phone at home. I’ll put him on.’

  Grace hands the phone over to Eliot and tries not to watch him, tries not to take notice of whether his face lights up, or tenses, or changes at all.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says, ‘I didn’t realise I’d left my phone at home until I got to the shop. I was just going to ring you. I could come to yours now? We could watch a film or something?’

  He smiles as he speaks again. ‘Yes, Grace seems to be doing rather well, actually. If you’d have seen her make that sale on those novels before, you would have been really impressed.’

  There is a pause, and then Eliot swallows uncomfortably. It is a sickly sound. ‘Yeah. I’d just arrived when the guy came in. Yes, I’ve been here an hour.’

  Silen
ce. Then:

  ‘Elsie, you’re overreacting to this. I came here to see you! Elsie, I—’

  But she’s gone, and Eliot is left holding the buzzing receiver.

  Grace holds her head in her hands and groans. ‘I don’t know if I can take much more of this. I thought this morning that we had made some kind of progress. It actually felt like we were sisters again.’

  ‘I know, I know. And now you’re back to square one. Because of me.’

  ‘It’s not because of you. Not really. If Elsie trusted me properly, then she wouldn’t be so quick to jump to conclusions.’

  ‘I think we should try to spend less time together,’ Eliot says quietly. ‘I don’t want to lose Elsie.’

  ‘And I don’t want to lose you!’ Grace explodes. ‘She’s got you! You’re hers! And it’s still never enough.’ She opens the till and snatches out some notes before banging it shut again. ‘I’ve had enough of being good, of going against what I should actually have, just for her, and it still not being good enough, her still not trusting me.’

  Eliot watches Grace as she rants her way through the shop, to her jacket at the back, and to the front again, where she stuffs the notes from the till into her pocket.

  ‘Well, I’m still going out for dinner,’ she finishes. ‘And I think that you should come with me. What do you say?’

  Eliot scratches his head, probably to stall time, to give himself a bit longer to think of an answer.

  He glances at Grace, almost guiltily. Then he glances at the phone, as though Elsie is still in it, trapped in the shiny coiled wires.

  There are stinging tears in Grace’s eyes now.

  ‘I don’t want to lose you,’ she repeats. ‘You’re my friend, Eliot. Just because Elsie’s going out with you, it shouldn’t mean that I can’t ever see you.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll come out for dinner. Elsie probably needs some time to cool off anyway. I’ll compensate for all this with her tomorrow. But it’ll have to be just dinner, Grace. I don’t want to cause any further problems, and I don’t want to hurt Elsie.’

  ‘Fine. Just dinner,’ Grace replies hotly. ‘God, I need a drink. Come on. This shop is now officially closed for the day. Pick me up at eight. I’m going home for a hot bath and a vodka.’

  She hears Elsie’s voice in her head: Vodka? The things you drink are disgusting, Grace.

  She sees their mother clinging to an empty bottle, hears her demented wailing.

  ‘I’ll pick a bottle up from the shop on the way home,’ she says to herself, shaking her head slightly to shuffle the images to the back.

  As soon as Grace reaches her flat, she runs a scorching bath and lowers herself in carefully. She plunges her head under the water, hearing the blurred clunking of pipes. Even underwater, the feeling of tightness in her stomach does not disappear. She considers calling Elsie to apologise, to explain that nothing has ever happened.

  She opens her eyes, water stinging them, her black hair floating above her like smoke. Elsie wouldn’t believe her. So what’s the point?

  The day of the car crash was the day that Elsie started to change. The twins had been invited to Rachel Gregory’s twelfth birthday party. Elsie had wanted to wear a dress that Grace had never liked. It was red: a dirty, blood red. Elsie always wanted to stand out as the most grown up. Grace didn’t mind that Elsie was growing up before her. She was, after all, five and a half minutes older.

  ‘Mum, where’s my red dress?’ Elsie hollered as the twins stood in a rubble of discarded clothes. ‘I can’t find it anywhere!’ She lowered her voice and frowned as she rooted through the pile of tangled items that she had tossed from her wardrobe. ‘Everyone else will be wearing something new. I just want to look nice.’

  ‘I don’t have a new outfit,’ Grace pointed out. She didn’t want Elsie to feel as though she didn’t look nice. She decided that she would try to get Elsie to wear the same as her. She loved dressing the same as her twin.

  ‘That’s not the point. I have absolutely nothing to wear.’

  ‘Just wear your jeans,’ Grace suggested. She was wearing her favourite white jeans that Mags had bought her for Christmas. Elsie had been given a bright pink pair.

  Elsie looked at Grace and pretended she was horrified, even though Grace knew she was just trying to be dramatic. Rachel Gregory was turning twelve before anybody else in their year. She looked older than all the other girls, and always had new clothes and hairstyles. Elsie always tried to copy Rachel, and tried to make herself look older as well. Grace could tell that Elsie wished they were twelve now too: that another six months of being eleven was too long for Elsie to bear.

  ‘Jeans are fine for you. But I want to appear as though I have made an effort for this party.’

  Grace shrugged and looked at her watch. ‘Well, if we’re any later, then it won’t look like you’ve made an effort. The party started ten minutes ago.’

  Elsie shook her head as though she didn’t know what to do any more. She wiped a tear that was sitting on her cheek and beckoned for Grace to join her in their bedroom.

  ‘The consequences of this are going to be catastrophic,’ she said, shutting the door behind them.

  Once the door was closed, Grace laughed. ‘You’re so funny, Elsie.’

  Elsie tried to look adult, but Grace could tell she was struggling to stay serious. A little smile was trying to break through her sister’s lips. It won in the end, and Elsie let out a giggle.

  Elsie found her dress eventually. It had been crumpled up in the guest lounge, which, Grace supposed, seemed strange, but she didn’t think much of it at the time. She just wanted to get to Rachel’s party. She saw her mother frown as they pulled away from the kerb, as though something had gone wrong. A few minutes later, their mother jolted the car to a stop and turned round, staring at them in a way that made Grace wish they were already at the party, safe, and where they were meant to be. Her mother’s eyes were wide and scared, and Grace felt a shiver curse down the whole of her body, even though she wasn’t cold.

  ‘Grace. Come and sit in the front, please,’ her mother said. Even her voice sounded strange, as though she was being strangled.

  Elsie obviously hadn’t noticed her mother’s bizarre stare, because she sighed and said, ‘Mum, we’ve already established that we’re late. We haven’t got time to start playing silly games.’

  But their mother ignored Elsie. ‘Grace. Now. Otherwise we’re turning around and going home.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Grace clambered out of the back and sat in the front seat, sneaking a glance at her mother and seeing that she already looked much calmer. It was minutes later, when they had reached Rachel Gregory’s wide, pretty street, when a gold car whizzed beside them, and suddenly came closer and closer until there were the horrible sounds of metal on metal and glass on glass, and Elsie screaming.

  After the crash, after they had ruined Rachel Gregory’s birthday by making it all about them, and after Elsie had been checked over and given a lollipop that she had pretended to be too old for but crunched on anyway, the twins went home.

  Elsie slept when they got back to Rose House, and everybody said that it was for the best, to leave her. But Grace couldn’t rest without thinking about the crash and how they had ruined Rachel Gregory’s party. She was worried about Elsie’s arm, which she had seen soggy with burgundy blood. She tried to watch the comedy programme that her mother had put on for her, but she couldn’t concentrate. So she wandered into the hall, where the telephone was, and dialled Mags’s number.

  When Noel answered, he couldn’t tell if it was Elsie or Grace.

  ‘It’s Grace. I’m glad you answered. I wanted to talk to you.’

  She told Noel about the car accident.

  ‘I know,’ he said when she’d finished. ‘Mum told me. She’ll be coming to see your mum soon.’

  Grace told Noel that her mother had made her move seats in the car.

  ‘That’s strange,’ he said.

  Grace nodded, then remember
ed that he couldn’t see her. ‘Yep,’ she replied.

  ‘But you’re both okay?’

  ‘Yeah. Elsie’s worse than me. I’m worried about her arm. It was bleeding a lot. The people at the hospital said it would be fine.’

  ‘Well, then it will be.’

  ‘What if it scars? We won’t be the same as each other anymore.’

  ‘Yes, you will. A scar doesn’t change anything. Not really.’

  They chatted some more. Noel told Grace that he had a scar on his right knee from when he fell off his bike when he was six. There had been a lot of blood that day, but the scar was only small now. That made Grace feel better. Perhaps she’d ring Noel again soon.

  As she was hanging up, Grace saw Elsie edging down the stairs, wincing with every step. Her face was even paler than normal, and her hair, which was normally plaited or twisted into clips or bands, was hanging down like a pair of dusty black curtains. Grace leaped up the stairs and helped Elsie down to the lounge. They switched over from the comedy and watched cartoons together instead, mocking them and pretending to hate them. The light dipped in the room until the television was the only brightness. The twins heard Mags arrive and bustle into the kitchen. There was always a lot of noise when Mags was around.

  ‘I’m going to see Mags,’ Elsie said, and disentangled her legs from Grace’s before limping out into the hall.

  It was after that day, after the few moments that followed, that Elsie changed: hid in her own shadow and refused to come out into the light.