by Susan Lewis
The barrister’s hawkish eyes glinted.
“Daisy, that’s enough,” Jules said, going to take her hand.
Looking up at her, Daisy said, “She said she was, but I don’t expect she is really, do you?”
“Probably not,” Jules said with a smile, while thinking she probably was.
“Mummy! Mummy!” Daisy shouted as she came bursting into the kitchen with Stephie, Dean, Millie, Max, and three other children Jules hadn’t seen before hot on her heels. “Guess what! I think Ruby’s a mermaid and she…” She stopped suddenly, lighting up as she spotted her second cousins, Robbie and Tilde, at the table with cookies and juice. “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” she cried, going to throw her arms around them.
Everyone was always made to feel welcome in Daisy’s world.
“Auntie Aileen brought us,” five-year-old Tilde told her. “Mummy and Daddy have got some things to sort out.”
“Why weren’t you in school today?” Stephie asked Robbie. “You were supposed to be my partner in the three-legged race.”
“It was OK, I did it twice,” Dean piped up, “once with Daisy, which we won, and then with Stephie. We came in second in that race. Did you bring your football cards?”
“Yes, I got them all.” Robbie dived into his holdall. “I’ve got two Michael Owens, so I’ll swap one if you’ve still got two Thierry Henry.”
“Where’s Dad?” Jules asked Daisy.
“Downstairs talking to Granny Aileen. Are you going to stay here?” she asked Robbie and Tilde. “Mummy, can they sleep in my room?”
“If they want to,” Jules assured them.
Thrilled, Daisy turned back to them. “You can have the bunks, or the air mattress, or the hammock, I don’t mind,” she announced generously. “I can sleep anywhere.”
“Will Ruby be there?” Tilde asked worriedly. She was no doubt still remembering the playgroup outing to the Mermaid, when they’d come to learn all about Ruby the ghost and Kian had gone overboard with the sound effects. While half the group had screamed in delight, the other half had ended up having nightmares. Kian had felt so terrible about it that he’d arranged another trip to show them exactly how he’d made the noises, and as an added bonus he’d produced an enormous box of dressing-up clothes from Nora’s Costume Shop. That day had been a far greater success than the first, with impromptu little plays being staged all over the place and a rowdy picnic in the family room. And to top it all, Kian’s cousin Finn, the Brightest Spark, had turned up to show off some of his magic tricks.
Now Daisy was saying to Tilde, “Honestly, you don’t have to be scared of Ruby. She just sits around watching us.” She suddenly gasped, remembering what she had started to tell Jules earlier. “Mum! I think Ruby was a mermaid, you know like in the story, and because she couldn’t kill the prince she’s turned into a daughter of the air, you know like a ghost. Have you seen the film?” she asked Tilde.
Tilde shook her head.
“It’s brilliant,” Stephie told her. “We’ve seen it about a thousand times, haven’t we, Daze?”
“Can we watch it now, to show Tilde?” Daisy asked her mother. “We’ve got it on video,” she added grandly to Tilde.
“Do the boys want to watch it too?” Jules asked as the girls began hurrying off to the TV room.
“No way, not again!” Dean protested. “We’ll go down on the beach and play with our cards and collect crabs and sea worms and shells and stuff.”
“Are you staying for tea, Dean?” Jules called after him.
“Yes, please,” he called back. “I’ll have three of everything.”
Thinking how adorable he was, Jules went to start preparing Daisy’s mermaid emporium for its new “underwater” guests. With its walls painted to resemble waves, its sand-colored carpet with shell-like rugs, lacy fishing-net curtains, foaming ceiling, and moody lighting to create bubbles and shadows, it could have been a set straight out of the movie. Although Daisy had been given many posters from the Disney film by friends and family, she hadn’t wanted them to spoil her mermaid cave, so Kian had helped to place them in a large artist’s portfolio, which she could pull out anytime she wanted to look at them or to show her friends. The rest of her amazing mermaid collection, most of which had come as Christmas or birthday presents, was laid out carefully on the rugged-rock shelves Kian had commissioned a set designer to fashion for her. It ranged from snow globes to musical figurines, bracelets, headbands, caps, jigsaw puzzles, and a set of dolls representing the rest of the cast from the movie, including Eric, the prince, with whom Daisy was currently passionately in love. She even had a Little Mermaid swimsuit and swim bag, and the cutest imaginable mermaid jellies that Em had sent over from the States.
In the midst of this treasured hoard, holding pride of place, was Ruby’s cream leather shoe, which didn’t seem to wander about the place half as much as it used to.
“There you are,” Kian sighed, finding Jules on her knees inflating an air mattress just in case one of the children might prefer it to a bed. “So Robbie and Tilde are staying with us while their father moves out of the house to go shack up with his girlfriend?”
Knowing only too well how furious Kian was about the situation, Jules said, “It’s better than them having to watch him go.”
“You’re right about that. So who’s there for our Terry? I hope she’s not having to cope with this on her own.”
“Everyone’s rallying, you know that, and let’s be honest, Kian, she’s well shot of him. It’ll be a relief not to have to put up with his moods anymore. She’s said so herself. In fact, she’s admitted she can’t stand him, so all I can say is good luck to the other girl.”
His eyes remained dark and troubled. “Our Danny’s been told what’s happening,” he said distractedly. “I’ve been trying to call him, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, but he’s not picking up. Bob and Finn are on their way over there. I reckon I should go too, because the last thing we need is a bloody murder on our hands.” Taking out his mobile as it rang, he groaned. “It’s the bloke who’s trying to get me interested in setting up safaris on the moor. I’ll have to rearrange.” Turning back along the hall, he clicked on to take the call.
By the time Aileen had collected Terry two days later and brought her over to see the children, Danny had been arrested and charged with grievous bodily harm. Though the injuries Keevan had inflicted on his wife before leaving were far worse than those he’d received from Danny, he ended up being charged with the lesser offense of actual bodily harm, which was later reduced to common assault. Apparently this was to allow the magistrates to impose a quick, custodial sentence that would keep him away from his wife and children for the next six months.
Danny, on the other hand, stood trial at the Crown Court and to everyone’s dismay was sent down for three years.
As far as Terry’s family, friends, and the media were concerned, the judiciary had made its position clear: hurting a man was a far more serious offense than hurting a woman.
There was an outcry among women’s groups from as far afield as Edinburgh, Manchester, and Dublin, who all tried to get in touch with Terry to turn her into some sort of poster girl for their cause. Though Terry was too shy to accept so much exposure, she wasn’t so fainthearted that she’d back away from trying to help others in her situation. In fact, when the Reynolds House women’s refuge finally opened its doors just over a year later with Penny Grace, an ex–social worker and committed women’s rights campaigner, at the helm, Terry was her number two. Jules and Misty, along with the mayor’s wife and several well-connected women from the area, took charge of fundraising, while Marsha and Aileen and most of the women in Aileen’s extensive family helped out in any way they could.
“I don’t believe it,” Jules exclaimed when Kian told her that Anton Quentin had been among those who’d put money into the project. “Someone who bullies his wife the way he does…”
“You don’t know that for certain.”
>
“I know what I saw.”
“Jules, it was a long time ago. You’ve got no idea what’s going on with them these days.”
“Because he never brings her here.”
“She’s in London, it’s where they live. And ask yourself, why would he put money our way for Reynolds House if he was an abuser himself? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Of course it does. It’s the perfect cover. Surely you can see that.”
Sighing, he said, “I can also see that you have a blind spot where he’s concerned….No, no, listen, I don’t like the bloke any more than you do, but slagging him off isn’t getting us anywhere, so let’s just drop the subject, shall we?”
They did, and Jules also resisted the urge to write to Olivia Quentin to tell her about Reynolds House. Apart from not being very subtle, she didn’t know the Quentins’ London address, and Olivia apparently never came to Crofton Park now.
It was over that same period of time, as Daisy moved from infants’ school to juniors and began organizing all kinds of events with Stephie and Dean to raise money for the refuge, or the local animal shelter, or the children’s charity Barnardo’s, or basically anyone who asked, as well as devising systems for Granny Marsha to find things about the house, that the Mermaid began moving with the times to morph into a different, more modern sort of establishment. Derelict outbuildings were renovated and drawn into the main structure of the pub to provide more space for eating, while the kitchen was extended to cope with the extra catering. Two more areas were opened up on the ground floor: a cozy retreat with old leather sofas and armchairs in front of the inglenook fireplace, which soon became known as the Maxin’ Relaxin’ Room—a phrase from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, Daisy informed them. (Em later renamed it the library.) The second area was a much larger function room to host private parties, or Daisy, Dean, and Stephie’s endless comedy, drama, dance, and musical extravaganzas, or open mic nights and local bands; they even used it as a gallery featuring works by anyone who got a gold star for art at Daisy’s school.
Romance blossomed between Misty and the new Italian chef, Marco, who bought and renovated two of the old fisherman’s cottages on the far side of the weir, where the new sailing and surfing school was doing good business. Though Daisy’s delight in mermaids remained constant, her passion for Eric was soon transferred to various boy bands and other, real, movie stars. She apparently didn’t notice that her best friend, Dean, was in love with her, so Jules and Kian simply watched the poor lad’s misery in silence as Daisy continued to treat him as the next-best thing to a real brother, as he’d always been to her.
It was the summer that Daisy turned thirteen and she, Stephie, and Dean were invited to show a film they’d made about the moor at the local cinema that Jules and Kian decided to start transforming the deserted coach house, stable block, and harbormaster’s office on the near side of the footbridge into five rustic suites for paying guests and a much larger admin space for the growing number of staff. The timing of the building work was chosen to coincide with their yearly visit to Em and her family in the States, which meant leaving the ever-capable Misty and Marco to run the pub and deal with the disruption.
Excited to start their holiday, Jules and Daisy flew on ahead to Chicago, with Kian and the grannies due to follow sometime in the next few days.
—
It was disturbing, Jules was reflecting to herself as she pushed open the front door of her modest detached house on the Risings, the way memories could suddenly shy at a hurdle. Of course they knew what lay in wait on the other side—they wouldn’t have existed without it—but it was as though they simply couldn’t face going there.
Glad of it, she went through to the kitchen and put on the kettle. The answering machine was blinking wildly on the countertop, and she knew there were messages on her mobile too. She’d get round to them eventually; for the time being, she needed to recover after the hour or so she’d just spent with her mother. Not that Marsha had woken up, or even as much as stirred while Jules was there; it was just that seeing someone she loved in such an undignified and desperate state was so distressing that she always needed time to adjust after she’d left the home.
I should kill her.
It wasn’t the first time the thought had entered her head. It was probably always there, if not in the foreground, then lingering close by every time she saw her mother. However, today she wasn’t only thinking about Marsha. In fact, she might not have been thinking about Marsha at all.
Sometime soon, possibly only days from now, the Quentin girl would taste freedom again. She would breathe the cleansing air of the coast, shield her eyes against the dazzling sun, fill her mind with all she was going to do with the rest of her life.
Jules wondered if she already had plans. How easy was it going to be for her to find a job, make friends, and settle back into the society she’d never really been a part of, even before? Everyone knew what she’d done, so who’d want to befriend her? Who’d have the courage, apart from social outcasts or the deeply religious? No one from Dean’s family’s sect would go near her; surely almost everyone else would give her as wide a berth as she deserved. Maybe some would tell themselves, “She’s served her sentence, it’s time to put it behind us and move on.” Some might even say, “Poor thing, I’m sure she bitterly regrets it all now, and we should find it in our hearts to forgive her.” There would be others, such as the Bright family and their closest friends, who would declare, “Someone should make her pay, because the law sure as hell didn’t bother.”
“Just say the word,” Bridget, Danny’s mother, had urged when Jules had last spoken to her, “and it can all be made to go away.”
Jules had said nothing as she’d tried to make up her mind what she wanted. So many images and voices were crowding her mind that there seemed no room for words to form, much less to be spoken.
Bridget said softly, “You don’t have to know anything about it. There are ways we can make it happen.”
Danny-type ways? What good would that do?
“Remember, we’re all here for you,” Bridget soothed.
Still Jules had said nothing. There was no point reminding Bridget that those closest to her had all gone: Daisy, Kian, Aileen, her mother…
Starting as the telephone brought her back to the present, she checked who it was and felt relieved by the timely reminder. Em was always there, even if she was four thousand miles away. “Hi,” she said into the receiver. “I wasn’t expecting you yet. It’s still early with you.”
“Don’s out, so I have the place—and the phone—to myself for a while. How are you?”
“OK. Before you ask, no, I haven’t heard from Andee about a release date, but she left a message earlier asking how I was and reminding me to be in touch if I needed to talk.”
“That was nice of her. Maybe you should take her up on it.”
“Maybe. To be honest, I’m not sure what I want, apart from to be somebody else.”
With a gentle sigh, Em said, “I wish you’d come here, to us. We’ve got plenty of space now that the kids have gone….”
Gently changing the subject, Jules said, “How are your parents? I had a postcard from them a couple of weeks ago. It sounds as though they’re still enjoying Spain.”
“And the old-fashioned methods of communication. They still won’t email, and I have to admit in some ways I envy them the freedom of not being tied to a computer or a phone all the time.”
With a smile Jules said, “I know what you mean.” And after a beat, “I had an email from Joe. He’s still intending to come here. Do you know if he’s in Chicago at the moment?”
“I believe so, but I haven’t seen him. I ran into his father the other day.”
Jules stiffened.
After a pause, Em said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
She shouldn’t have, although it wouldn’t have been a problem if Jules’s memories hadn’t taken the direction they had earlier.
/> “It was a long time ago, Jules,” Em reminded her. “You need to forgive yourself.”
“Seven years,” Jules murmured. “Daisy was almost thirteen. Old enough to fall in love for the first time.”
“Which she did, with Joe, and who’d have dreamt back then that it would last the way it did? All those long hot summers together at the lake, him coming with us to Kesterly each Christmas…”
Jules’s heart felt as though something harsh and relentless was trying to push through it. She wanted the conversation to end. Em would understand if she said so, but the hurdle was down and there was no halting the memories as they spilled into forbidden territory, treading over it as though there was nothing painful about it all, when just about everything was.
—
It wouldn’t have happened if Em had been in Chicago when Jules and Daisy arrived that summer, or if Kian and the grannies had come on the same flight. Not that she was blaming anyone else; the guilt lay entirely with her, and she would never pretend otherwise. It was simply that if fate hadn’t separated them all at that time, then nothing unusual would have happened during those first sultry, strangely surreal days of the visit.
Since Em and Don had already gone ahead to the lake to open up the house, Jules and Daisy had stayed with Em’s father-in-law, Gray, and his new wife, Esther, along with Em’s children, Mattie and Oscar, until Kian and the grannies flew in to join them. It was during that time, when the air was so still and humid it was an effort to move, and when home felt like it belonged to another world, that Daisy had first met the great love of her life.
“Mum, this is Joe,” Daisy told her, holding on to the boy’s hand and looking so sparklingly happy that Jules could hear Kian saying, “She really is all things Bright and beautiful.”
“Hello, Joe,” Jules said, understanding immediately why Daisy was so drawn to him. He might only be thirteen, but he was already almost as tall as Jules, and was so handsome in his all-American physical way that he must surely have been making a lot of young girls’ hearts flip over. “It’s good to meet you.”