by Dawn Brookes
Now it was Steve’s turn to blush.
‘Yeah, I remember,’ Fiona answered sarcastically.
16
Meg awoke in a strange but comfortable bed. Winter sun found its way through a crack in the curtains. Grogginess threatened to send her back to sleep. Her eyelids too heavy to keep open, she felt herself drifting.
She overlooked flourishing green trees, not a care in the world. The sky appeared a deeper blue than usual. Her eyes imagined she could see through to heaven. She belted out her own rendition of I Believe, felt so alive. Happiness. Immeasurable joy filled her heart, the letter in her hand the reason for the elation. Here was the fulfilment of all her hopes and dreams.
She paused her singing for a moment and sat down on a rock on top of High Tor, overlooking Matlock Bath. How had she managed to reach the top without pausing for breath? She read the letter again.
‘Dear Miss Russell,
We have pleasure in offering you a scholarship at the Arts Educational School…’
Her heart missed a beat as she clutched the letter to her chest. She couldn’t wait to tell Harold.
Suddenly, the sky above her turned grey and a storm threatened. Her parents often reminded her how quickly the weather could change in the Peak District. It was time to descend back into town.
Meg tucked the letter into her dress pocket and, in her mind, heard her mother scolding her for climbing the tor inappropriately dressed. At least she had thought to put on sturdy shoes before leaving home. Her parents were at work when the letter came and her sister was at a birthday party. She would have run straight round to Harold’s, but they weren’t due to meet until four and he didn’t like interruptions. He was working with his dad for the summer before going to college. He would be so excited when she told him the news; he loved her singing.
As she clambered down the hill, she wondered why she hadn’t told him about her application. Was it really because she didn’t want to share the disappointment if she wasn’t accepted or was there something more?
The rain lashed down as she reached the main road into Matlock Bath. Her sky-blue cotton summer dress was drenched, as was her hair. Even the change in the weather couldn’t dampen her mood today.
This was her day.
Wednesday 4 August 1954.
Nothing could go wrong.
Harold read the letter as she waited in excited anticipation for him to congratulate her and share in her happiness. His face clouded over as he stared up from the page.
‘Is this some kind of joke?’ He spoke at last, throwing her precious letter to the floor.
Nervousness replaced the joy that had filled her heart all day. She retrieved the letter and folded it neatly in the lap of the dress she’d changed into before coming to tell Harold her news.
‘I thought you’d be pleased for me.’ She couldn’t yet look up from the letter.
‘Why would I be pleased? You dump this on me when I’ve been working hard all day, and you didn’t even ask me about this before applying.’
Harold was older than Meg at sixteen and sometimes treated her like a child. She was thirteen. Although she would be starting her new school as a second year, the teachers had been impressed with her audition.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered as tears threatened to fall. This wasn’t going how she’d expected it to, but deep down she realised it was going exactly how she’d expected, otherwise she would have told Harold before now.
‘I should think so. Look, Meg, I know you have this crazy dream about being a singer, but you have to face reality. You’re just not good enough.’
His words stung like never before. ‘What do you mean? You’ve always told me you like my singing – that I’m good – that I should be on the stage.’
‘Well the truth is, you’re not. You’re just making a fool of yourself, Meggie.’
She hated it when he called her Meggie. She had tried asking him not to, but that made him angry.
‘When you sing to me, of course I like it, because it’s for me. Don’t you see? This will ruin everything.’
He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d put a knife through her heart and twisted it. Her shoulders shook as sobs broke through. The dreams she’d held on to fell to the floor with every tear she shed.
‘There’s no use crying, Meg. Crying doesn’t help anything.’ Harold’s voice was cold as he admonished her.
She ran from his house, down the street and into the countryside once again. This time there was no joy in her heart. No hope. No ambition. Everything had been snatched away in an instant.
So this was it. She wasn’t good enough. She would never perform on stage, never become like Julie Andrews. It was all an impossible dream.
Meg stopped running, drying her eyes as she pulled the letter from her pocket. The rain had stopped, but the wind was howling through the trees as she tore the letter into tiny pieces and threw it in the air. She watched the wind carry her dreams away and felt a stranglehold gather around her heart.
She vowed she would never sing again.
Meg opened her bleary eyes and felt the damp patch on the strange pillow. The sun was stronger now, bringing shafts of light into the room.
A familiar fear gripped her heart as she heard Caroline’s voice coming from somewhere in the distance. Shattered memories like shards of glass pierced through her brain.
A room where they tried to get her to talk. Pills that gave her nightmares and the darkness that followed injections. A hospital, they had called it, but it was more like a prison. Helplessness threatened to overwhelm her. Was that where she was now heading? Harold had told her again and again she would end up in a psychiatric ward without him to look after her. His nagging voice filled her head, all the poisonous things he’d told her about herself screamed, closing in, threatening to suffocate her.
‘Stop it!’ she yelled, putting her hands to her ears.
Harold’s not here. A small voice from within sparked a glimmer of hope like the shaft of the sunbeam forcing its way through the crack in the curtains.
Sophie tapped on the door of the bedroom where Meg had been sleeping since last night. No reply. She gently opened the door and peered inside. Light coming through a gap in the curtains revealed Meg sitting up in bed, humming a song Sophie didn’t recognise.
‘Good morning, Meg.’
The older woman continued to hum.
‘Caroline’s arrived downstairs. Can I get you a cup of tea?’
Meg stopped humming and for a brief moment the confused eyes displayed panic.
‘Meg?’ Sophie tried again.
‘Where am I?’
‘You’re in our house. You stayed the night after, erm…’
Meg moved suddenly, removing the bedcovers and sitting on the edge of the bed.
‘I must get home. Harold will want his breakfast.’
‘Mother, he’s not here. Remember? He was found in the woods.’
Sophie was relieved when Caroline appeared behind her, marching into the room like a woman on a mission.
‘How are you feeling?’ Caroline asked Meg, her tone softening.
‘A bit groggy. Have I been unwell?’
‘You had a shock, Mum. The doctor sedated you last night. Are you ready to get up?’
Meg tried to stand, but slumped back into a sitting position.
‘My legs don’t seem to be working. Perhaps I’ll stay here.’ The older woman climbed back beneath the covers and lay down. As Caroline and Sophie turned to leave, they both heard humming.
‘What is that song?’ asked Sophie.
‘Sounds like This is My Life. Shirley Bassey sang it, I think.’ Caroline frowned, a concerned furrow in her brows. She was very much in control this morning, dressed in a smart woollen dress that hugged her curves. If Sophie hadn’t known, she wouldn’t have guessed what had been unearthed the previous night.
‘She can certainly hold a tune,’ she said.
‘I’ve never heard her sing before, or maybe
– a long time ago – when I was a child – I once found her singing to Matthew.’ A cloud appeared over Caroline’s face.
‘Can I get you some tea? Carlos should be back any minute. He went out for a run about an hour ago.’
‘If it wouldn’t be an imposition. I couldn’t face tea leaves again. It was something he always insisted upon. Mother never got a choice in the matter. I’m sorry for the trouble we seem to be bringing to your home. Are you okay about Mother staying here until the drugs wear off?’
‘Please don’t apologise. We’re glad to help. Your mum was friendly when we moved in. Brought us sandwiches round on the day we moved, and cake. It’s horrible what you’re both going through.’
Sophie meant what she said, although she wasn’t keen to have a rather unpredictable Meg staying upstairs. The responsibility bore down on her chest. She’d hardly slept, worrying about her neighbour. Thank Goodness Carlos was here.
‘Hopefully your mum will feel better later,’ she added.
Caroline’s look said it all. They both doubted Meg would be feeling better for some time.
Sophie led the way through to the kitchen and invited Caroline to join her. Caroline sat at the breakfast bar, mobile phone in hand, tapping into the screen, her face racked in concentration. Sophie placed a mug of tea down on the bar in front of her guest.
‘Can I get you some breakfast?’
‘No thanks. I don’t eat breakfast.’
No wonder you’re so thin, thought Sophie.
Caroline didn’t look up from the screen except to lift the mug to her mouth. The right knee was bouncing up and down from the barstool. She tutted a few times and tapped frantically again, clearly not going to engage in small talk.
‘I think I’ll take your mum a cup of tea upstairs just in case,’ Sophie said.
‘Yes, good idea,’ replied Caroline.
‘Do you think she would prefer tea leaves?’
‘Probably,’ Caroline made no effort to move, frowning at the phone in her hand as she blew out a huff.
‘I don’t have any. Would you mind?’
‘What? Oh, yes. I’ll pop next door and get some. Aiden’s parents are spoiling the kids already. I knew they would. I can’t leave them like this for long, I need to get back to Edinburgh.’
Sophie understood. It must be hard being so far away just before Christmas, and now Caroline had her mother to deal with. A sudden dread settled on her stomach. Surely Caroline wouldn’t leave her mother in Peaks Hollow, or worse, in her and Gary’s home?
Sophie boiled the kettle again and was just about to remind Caroline about the tea leaves when the other woman plonked the phone back in her handbag, finished her tea and marched out at pace, presumably to go next door. Whilst Sophie had every sympathy for the agitated woman, she could feel her own nerves fraying. Gary had hardly slept either, so she’d left him in bed this morning. Carlos had been dashing out with Lady when she arrived downstairs in her dressing gown. Now she was left babysitting her neighbour and Meg’s anorexic daughter, and all she could feel was her stomach rumbling, complaining it hadn’t been fed since dinner last night.
She heard the door open and sighed, waiting for Caroline to appear with the tea leaves, but was delighted when Lady came bounding into the kitchen and threw herself at Sophie’s legs, dancing around with pure joy.
‘Am I pleased to see you.’ Sophie stroked the dog’s head and filled her water bowl. ‘Where have you been? Caroline will be back any minute.’
Carlos’s sweaty frame enveloped her in a hug as she burst into tears.
17
Carlos took a quick shower, then insisted Sophie sit while he made breakfast. His sister had been a rock over the past couple of days, but he wasn’t surprised she was feeling the pressure. What was supposed to be a happy first Christmas in her new home was turning into something out of a horror movie. Dead bodies, strange neighbours and a neurotic, albeit bereft, stranger landing all at once.
‘Here, drink this,’ he placed a mug of strong coffee in front of her. ‘Are you up to a fry up? I’m starving.’
Sophie’s huge eyes lit up. ‘I would have had one cooking, but Caroline doesn’t eat breakfast.’
Carlos chuckled at his sister’s mimicking. She had Caroline Winslow almost to perfection.
‘I thought she’d gone to get tea leaves?’ he said.
‘She has, supposedly. Should I go and check?’
‘No, Sis. You need to eat. Meg’s probably gone back to sleep anyway. And she’s going to need it before she goes back home.’
Carlos handed Sophie the Sunday paper he’d picked up on his way home. The deaths were unlikely to make national headlines, but he wanted to be sure. He found bacon, eggs, sausages and mushrooms in the American-style larder fridge and started cooking. Fifteen minutes later, he and Sophie were tucking into a substantial breakfast.
‘You’re not going to be able to eat like this if you marry Rachel,’ teased Sophie.
He grinned. ‘I’d give up anything to marry Rachel, although she does have the odd unhealthy meal. Speaking of unhealthy, I spoke to Fiona this morning. She’s in Edinburgh.’
Sophie lifted her eyes from cutting up a sausage.
‘Why?’
‘Following up on Caroline’s alibi.’ He lowered his voice in case the other woman appeared.
Sophie’s jaw dropped. ‘They can’t think…’
‘Trust me, Terry Masters can think anything he likes. None of it will make sense to ordinary people like you and me, but he’ll go his own way, do his own thing. Besides, Caroline’s challenged his machismo, he hates that. He’d love it to be her.’
‘But she was in Edinburgh when Harold went missing and away with her mother the weekend her brother disappeared.’
Carlos finished his breakfast and cleared the table before getting up. ‘I don’t think she’s in the frame for her brother’s death – at least, I hope not. Look, I’m going next door to see where Caroline is. Do you have any plans for today?’
‘We had mooted going up to Yorkshire early to see Gary’s parents until all this happened. He’s in no fit state now, and I can’t leave Meg while she’s staying here. We can put off the Yorkshire visit, but we can’t have Meg for much longer. I don’t want to be rude, Carlos, but Caroline will need to take responsibility for her mother.’ Sophie pleaded with her eyes. ‘But judging by the fact she can’t be relied upon to fetch tea leaves, I’m not hopeful.’
‘Understood. I’ll have a word with Caroline, see if I can get her to make plans.’ He looked at his watch. ‘She’s been gone over an hour; we’ve given her long enough.’ He hesitated. ‘Are you sure you’re happy for me to stay on with my appendage?’ He looked down at Lady fast asleep on the make-do bed on the kitchen floor.
‘Yes, of course! Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like you’re intruding. Look, I could just about cope with all this, but Gary’s not made of stern stuff. He works hard and is bogged down with his secret project without coming home to murder and mayhem. He could do with taking a day off to visit his parents, but he says he doesn’t have time. That’s why we were going to try today.’
‘Perhaps he’ll feel better when he gets up. What if I can get Caroline to take Meg home? Will that help? You could still go.’
‘Enormously.’ Sophie’s eyes threatened tears again.
‘You get Gary up. I’ll see to Caroline.’
Sophie’s ebullience was under strain. Carlos could see that and he’d do anything to protect his little sister.
She smiled weakly. ‘I feel better after eating. Thanks. You’re right, I’ll see if Gary’s up to the trip today, as long as you make good on your promise.’
‘Consider it done. Stay, Lady.’
Carlos arrived next door and knocked. No reply. He walked through the side gate and went around the back of the house. The garden was as pristine as the inside. The night frost was clearing and the sun’s rays were reasonably strong, but it was much colder than it had been in Lond
on before he left.
The sturdy wooden door at the back of the house was closed. He knocked again and called out.
‘Caroline? It’s Carlos, are you in there?’ Still no reply. He didn’t like this at all and wondered whether Sophie had a key.
I’ll just check the garage before I go.
The old garage had two wooden doors. He pulled the handle and the door opened, letting light into the otherwise dark detached building. There was no car. He took a few steps inside, drawn to an old bicycle that must have belonged to one of the children. It had a boy’s crossbar.
‘Must have been Matthew’s,’ he said out loud.
A rustling sound near the garage entrance caused him to turn just in time to see a man’s figure running down the lane, away from the village. He went to give chase, but was almost run over by a car whizzing into the cobbled driveway.
Caroline leapt out of the driver’s side. ‘I almost ran you over. Are you all right?’ she yelled rather than asked.
Carlos checked his ankle; he’d twisted it jumping out of the way.
‘No great damage. I’ll be fine.’
‘What were you doing sneaking around in the garage?’ Her eyes narrowed.
‘Looking for you. Sophie was expecting you back with tea leaves.’
Caroline straightened up. ‘I should have said. Mum’s run out, so I had to go to the out-of-town supermarket. The local doesn’t open on Sundays.’
‘Is that your brother’s bike in the garage?’
‘Where?’
Carlos pointed through the door. Caroline’s face softened, although her colour remained wan.
‘Yes, it is. My grandparents bought it for his twelfth birthday. He went everywhere on that thing. I wonder why they kept it.’
‘Perhaps they didn’t get around to doing anything with it. Did you say it was nearly new?’
‘A few months old, but yes. I suppose it’s rusted through now.’ Caroline didn’t move to inspect it.