Traces of Her

by Amanda Brittany

  Dad, a roast potato suspended on his fork, animatedly tells us about their trip to Scotland, ‘You really must visit Glencoe, Fort William and Urquhart Castle.’ And his mates at the Fox and Hound. ‘They fancy doing a bit of metal detecting. How much do you think a decent metal detector costs? Apparently a man found a coin worth thousands.’

  ‘We’re thinking of getting a gardener,’ Eleanor says. ‘It’s getting too much for us now we’re sixty. I keep wondering if we should downsize.’

  ‘We’ve had such good weather, haven’t we?’ I say, when we lapse into silence.

  ‘Global warming,’ Dad says. ‘We must listen to David Attenborough.’

  ‘Hey, Rose,’ Aaron says, waving his fork. ‘There’s a Frank Sinatra tribute act at the Gordon Craig Theatre, fancy it?’

  ‘I’ll come,’ Becky says, moving her dinner around her plate, barely eating. Things are a long way from being right, but we’ll get there.

  ‘I like your hair, Mum,’ Willow says to Eleanor. It’s shorter. It suits her.

  We talk, we even laugh, but we keep off the subject of Rory Thompson and everything that’s happened. We desperately need to be a normal family again – for today, at least.

  Chapter 60

  ROSE

  Two Months Later

  Becky and I sit at the kitchen table. She bites into a piece of toast with Marmite I’ve made for her. As she chews slowly, I try not to stare as her mouth move, try not to become obsessive watching her swallow. But it isn’t easy.

  She’s improving, though, and I’m here, ready to talk if she needs to, and her dad was a great support when she visited him. He and Jack are coming back to the UK for six months once the film is wrapped up – they’ll get married here. It will be good to see them.

  The psychologist we visited six weeks ago believes Becky’s eating disorder relates to a fear of losing her dad and me. I think she’s right. Seb met Jack around the same time that Aaron came into our life – after so many years where Becky had me and her dad to herself. Her sudden obsession with being overweight, despite being so slim, began around that time. It was her way of gaining control of her life, the psychologist said – when she thought she was losing her parents. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Aaron and Jack – she just felt as though Seb and I were slipping through her fingers. Of course, Willow having been obsessed with keeping slim at sixteen hadn’t helped, and the trauma in Cornwall made things so much worse.

  ‘So what time are you heading off?’ Becky says, taking another bite of her toast. She seems more mature since Cornwall, fifteen going on thirty.

  ‘I’m picking up Willow shortly,’ I say, glancing at my phone. I was about to face a long drive to Cornwall, but I didn’t mind. Driving gave me time to reflect – time to be with Willow. ‘In fact, I’d better get a move on,’ I go on, rising.

  ‘Good luck,’ she says, and I lean over and kiss her forehead, then tuck a straying curl behind her ear. She throws me a sideways look, but she doesn’t bat me away. ‘I hope it goes well,’ she adds.

  I grab my jacket from the hall and open the front door.

  It has taken a while for Willow to find the courage to visit her birth mother. Being abducted by Rory had left her traumatised, and the brief moments she’d spent with Ava at Floral Corner had been disturbing. But now she hopes she is ready.

  I pull up at Darlington House, and Willow appears through the front door in stripy dungarees over a hooded top, and trainers, her hair in a high ponytail. She skips towards the car like a child, and I smile and lift my hand in a wave.

  ‘Rose,’ she says, as she climbs into the passenger seat, and we hug for ages. I read on Facebook that long hugs are medically beneficial, and I believe it.

  ‘Ready?’ I ask.

  ‘As I’ll ever be,’ she says, taking a deep breath. And as she clicks her seatbelt, I start the engine.

  *

  We arrive to find Ava and Isaac in the visitors’ room playing chess. Ava’s in jeans and a pale blue cashmere jumper, Isaac’s in black trousers, and a sweatshirt emblazoned with the name of a band, and the yellow baseball cap he always wears. They’re so engrossed in their game they don’t seem to notice our approach.

  I’ve been keeping in touch with the hospital to find out how they are, and I know Ava is starting to recall her life before the trauma and that Isaac is beginning to talk.

  Ava looks up and smiles. She’s coiling her hair around her finger, and I turn to see Willow doing the same thing. It’s as though this tiny habit connects them. Willow has twirled her hair around her finger from the first day I saw her. Is it something she recalls, or something genetic?

  The necklace with ‘Mummy’ on it that Willow gave her hangs around Ava’s neck. Jeannette’s been here and given it back to her.

  ‘Hello,’ Ava says looking up, her eyes moving from me to Willow.

  ‘I’m Rose,’ I say.

  ‘Yes, I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?’ She looks back at the chessboard. Moves a white bishop.

  ‘And Ava,’ I say. ‘This is Willow. Do you remember? She was at Floral Corner.’

  She looks up, her eyes watery as she stares at her daughter for some moments. ‘My darling girl,’ she says, reaching out her hand, and Willow takes it.

  We all move away from the chessboard, to a corner with armchairs, and sit down. It takes a while to relax, and we begin with pleasantries about the weather – how we all seem to like autumn, the beautiful colours as the leaves fall. Eventually Ava talks about her time with Rory – it’s as though she’s been told the more she talks about it the better she’ll feel.

  ‘He never let me out of the house,’ she says. ‘For years, I was restricted to the basement, but eventually he trusted me upstairs – but he never gave me a key. He kept the doors and windows locked. Always.’

  Willow places her hand over Ava’s, tears in her eyes.

  ‘I had no idea of time – my only gauge was watching Isaac grow.’ She smiles over at him. ‘My boy.’ Despite Isaac being Rory’s, there’s no doubt she loves him.

  ‘Isaac got hold of a key to Floral Corner a few months back. Rory didn’t know he had it. We could have left, but I couldn’t find the courage. Rory was so kind to us most of the time.’

  ‘You thought you loved him?’ I say.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I thought I loved him. He would disappear for ages.’ She pauses for a moment before adding in a tone I struggle to read, ‘It turns out he had a family in Italy.’ Another pause. ‘A normal family.’ She twirls a curl around her finger once more. ‘When he returned I was always pleased to see him. I was lonely, I suppose. We had no TV or radio for company, but we were allowed to watch videos and later DVDs. Isaac likes Harry Potter.’

  The word ‘allowed’ hits me hard. She had been totally under his control.

  ‘When Rory went away, Isaac would go out. I was worried he would find out, but he never did.’

  ‘He never caught me,’ Isaac says with a smile. It feels strange to hear his words, like hidden treasures, finally found. ‘I got you your jacket, didn’t I?’ he goes on, looking at Willow.

  ‘He was so worried you would be cold in the basement,’ Ava says, squeezing Willow’s hand, and a tear jolts its way down her cheek. ‘He used Willow’s key to Ocean View Cottage to get it for her.’

  Isaac makes his hands into fists, his thumbs up, and moves both fists up and down in front of his chest. ‘Coat,’ he says. ‘I wanted her coat.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Willow,’ Ava says. ‘I wanted the perfect life for you, always. But I messed up.’

  ‘It was never your fault,’ Willow says. ‘I’ve been lucky. I’ve had a lovely life. And now …’ She pauses for a moment, looking into Ava’s eyes. ‘And now, I’ve got you and Isaac.’

  *

  As we head through the foyer, we pass a man with gold-rimmed glasses, greying hair, and a kindly face. He’s talking to the woman on reception. There’s something familiar about him.

  I glance back over my shoulder
. ‘I’m looking for Ava Millar,’ he says. ‘My name is Gareth Jones.’

  ‘Hang on,’ I say to Willow, who seems oblivious. I stop and turn. ‘That’s Gareth Jones,’ I say. ‘The real Gareth Jones.’ As we watch him chatting with the receptionist, I’m astonished at how close Rory came to replicating his appearance.

  ‘Should we speak to him?’ I say. ‘I think he’s going to see Ava?’

  ‘You can,’ she says. ‘I don’t think I could cope with it right now.’

  I fish in my bags for my keys, and hand them to her. ‘I won’t be long,’ I say, and she heads away.

  ‘Inspector Jones?’ I say, approaching him.

  He turns. ‘No,’ he says, and then he smiles. ‘Well, not for a very long time.’

  ‘My name is Rose Lawson,’ I say. ‘I’m Willow’s stepsister.’

  ‘I know,’ he says. ‘I recognise you from the newspapers. You’ve all been to hell and back. I’m so sorry. How are you bearing up?’

  ‘Getting there,’ I say. ‘Are you here to see Ava?’

  ‘I am, yes. It all feels a little surreal. It’s a long time since I’ve been to Cornwall. I’m here to support my son mainly. But there are people I want to see, and Ava is one of them. I hope to visit her mother too. I worked with her on a case in the early Nineties. She was part of the forensic team – we became good friends.’

  ‘She’s living in Newquay,’ I say.

  He nods. ‘I know.’

  ‘So have you seen Maxen?’ I read a few weeks ago that he’s awaiting trial for giving Rory a false alibi.

  He nods again. ‘He’s doing OK. Knows I’m here for him. I just wish he’d come to me when he wanted to retract the alibi. But he was afraid, by then, of what Rory was capable of. Hopefully they will take that into account when they pass sentence.’ He dashes a hand over his mouth. ‘I should have been a better father to him.’

  ‘I’m sure you did your best.’ Thoughts of Becky and how I messed up fill my head. I should have left Cornwall long before things got so bad. ‘None of us get it a hundred per cent right.’

  ‘His mother left when he was three, and I buried myself in my work. He didn’t stand much chance. But I’m here now, and I hope to put things right if I can.’ He looks over his shoulder. ‘Well, I’d better get on,’ he says. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Rose.’

  ‘You too,’ I say, as he walks away.

  *

  ‘Do you think you’ll meet with Justin?’ I ask Willow, as we pull up outside Darlington House, exhausted after driving from Cornwall.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she says.

  He came out of his coma some time ago, and he’s written to her several times. So far she hasn’t responded.

  ‘I’m not sure I can forgive him for not looking after Ava and me at that awful time. But I haven’t ruled it out.’

  I hug her goodbye, and she climbs out of the car.

  ‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ she says, raising her hand. ‘Love you, Rose.’

  Chapter 61

  AVA

  Now

  ‘Is it true, Miss Millar, that you fought with your sister on the beach on the night of 21st December 2001?’

  ‘We argued, yes.’ Ava wasn’t in the courtroom. They had linked her by a screen. Her lawyer said she wasn’t strong enough to appear in court.

  ‘What did you argue about?’

  ‘She was angry because I accused Rory of raping me.’

  ‘As we heard earlier from Dr Sandra Foster who did the autopsy on your sister in 2001, believing it to be you, she believes the deceased had been smashed against the rocks prior to receiving the knife wounds. Did you smash your sister’s head against the rocks, Miss Millar?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you put your dress on your sister?’

  ‘No. Rory did.’ Ava’s voice broke. ‘He took off her wedding dress. Replaced it with my dress.’

  ‘But you took off your own dress so he could?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nods. ‘I had no choice. He was going to kill me if I didn’t.’ She lowers her head. ‘I didn’t know what he was going to do to Gail. I said he should call an ambulance.’

  ‘So it was a shock when he stabbed Gail?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘And what did Rory do after he stabbed your sister?’

  ‘He folded her wedding dress and got a note from his car. He left it with her dress.’

  ‘What were you doing all this time?’

  ‘Screaming. I was screaming. Until—’

  ‘Until what, Miss Millar?’

  ‘Until he covered my face, and I struggled to breathe. I can’t recall anything after that.’

  ROSE

  Now

  ‘He’s been charged on two counts of rape, and one count of murder,’ I say, unable to keep the excitement from my voice, although it feels wrong to be so delighted by something so awful. However I look at it, it’s a tragedy – a mess – an awful waste of lives.

  I’d been following the case, hoping to fill in the missing pieces, praying Rory would be sent down for a very long time.

  ‘Yes, I heard,’ Aaron says, dumping his bag in the hall, and rushing to sit down beside me on the sofa, kissing my cheek. He shoves a cushion behind his head, and I notice how relaxed he seems. He’s cut back on his hours, and is home more often. We feel like a real family now.

  ‘I can’t believe he tried to blame Ava for killing her sister.’

  ‘I know. Thank God for Maxen’s witness statement, and Ava’s memories returning. The bit I don’t get is the suicide note,’ Aaron says.

  ‘It was a note from Gail to Rory. Apparently she was always writing letters of apology for the things she’d said and done. It seems he was abusing her mentally and physically, and yet she loved him, found it impossible to walk away. He had a kind of power over her and Maxen.’

  ‘So what did the note say?’

  ‘It simply said, Dear Rory, I’m so sorry. Gail. But combined with everything else, it looked like suicide.’

  ‘So Rory owned Floral Corner?’

  I nodded. ‘His father left it to him. It was Rory’s childhood home. It’s where his father abused him, whilst giving him all the riches anyone could wish for. You could almost feel sorry for him.’

  ‘Never!’ Aaron takes my hand. ‘Tragically, lots of kids are abused, Rose,’ he says. ‘But few turn out with such deep psychological issues as Rory Thompson.’

  Later, as I cook dinner, my mind drifts to work. I’m still the head of Mandalay Primary School. I decided a few weeks after I returned from Cornwall that if I can cope with everything that happened there, being a headteacher would be a doddle. It isn’t, of course, but I’m managing for now, especially after a long talk with my dad when we got back from Cornwall.

  ‘I’m proud of your achievements, Rose,’ he said. ‘But the most important thing to me is to see you happy. If you want to go back to teaching, or work in a fish and chip shop, it’s fine by me,’ he said. ‘As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.’

  *

  After dinner my phone blasts. I answer the call.

  ‘So he’s gone down for life.’ It’s Peter on the other end of the line, his voice upbeat. He returned to Australia in August – but we’ve kept in touch.

  I rise and leave Aaron on the sofa. He aims the remote control at the TV and takes Line of Duty off pause.

  I head for the kitchen. ‘And good riddance,’ I say, pulling myself onto a stool at the breakfast bar.

  ‘Have you heard anything about Maxen?’ he asks.

  ‘I saw his father—’

  ‘Gareth Jones?’

  ‘Mmm. He’s supporting Maxen while he awaits trial. Hopefully his sentence won’t be too severe.’

  ‘Yes, me too.’ He’s clearly forgiven him. ‘Anyway, I’m looking forward to seeing everyone again soon.’ He’s returning to England in October and is hopeful Ava and Isaac will someday travel to Brisbane to meet his family. ‘I guess some positives have come out of all of this – I have a big
ger family. Even Mum and I are getting on reasonably well. It will never be perfect, but we’re getting there.’

  I realise Willow has a bigger family too – and I wonder, not for the first time, if she ever sensed when growing up that her mother and brother were out there somewhere in danger. She had always seemed unsettled, even when she was at her happiest.

  ‘And I’ve got you guys too,’ Peter adds.

  ‘Yes.’ Every cloud, I almost say, but know it will sound tactless.

  But as I say our goodbyes, a bubble of happiness floats above us, and I hope, in time, everything will get better.

  Epilogue

  Ava sits on the sand near Ocean View Cottage, dressed in yellow shorts and a yellow T-shirt. She likes yellow.

  Peter gave her the cottage. ‘A place for you and Isaac,’ he’d said. ‘A place for Willow and me to visit.’

  Now her blonde hair blows in the warm wind, and wild grasses stir. The sun shines over the Celtic Sea where seagulls cry.

  Gareth Jones is on his way. He has so much more to say to her. Things she should have been told a long time ago. If only Jeannette had told him sooner.

  He strides across the bay, coming closer, his greying hair flapping in the warm breeze. A golden retriever trots by his side, eyes on his master.

  The man looks content, after years of sadness and regret. Mourning her loss.

  When he sees her, his face lifts in a smile.

  She smiles back and rises to her feet. ‘Hello, Dad.’

  ‘Ava,’ he says, and takes her in his arms.

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