‘I waited till eleven. Were you up late?’
Another night of alcohol-induced oblivion and falling asleep with my clothes on. I stink of yesterday’s cigarettes and lemon vodka.
‘Couldn’t sleep.’
I make a gap in the curtains and peek out, the light hurts my eyes and I let them fall back.
‘Are you at work?’
‘Yeah. By the way, Nadine says to take as much time off as you need.’ I feel a little guilty about my general contempt for Nadine when she’s being so kind. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be there. Mum’s in hospital again; I’m sure it’s the shock that made her Crohn’s disease flare up. She wanted to come up but the doctors are keeping her in. I can’t leave her right now. But I’ve got a meeting with a client in Birmingham tomorrow, that’s not far, is it? We could have lunch. I’d like to see you and Uncle Vince.’
‘Dad hardly leaves the lounge. We went to the cemetery yesterday but he’s not going to come to lunch,’ I say. ‘I need to see you though, Cass. I’m losing my mind here. I know I’ve got Dad and Ray and Becca, but I feel completely alone.’
‘God, Tess, I can’t even imagine. You need to keep busy.’
‘I’m trying to catch up with some of Edie’s old friends.’
‘That’s a good idea, talk about Edie with people who knew her. It’ll help the grieving process.’
Cassie’s degree was in psychology.
‘You don’t get it,’ I say. ‘They’re total bitches, the last people I’d go to for help. You should see what they’ve been posting online. They were hateful at school and they’re hateful now.’
‘Stay off the Internet, Tess. That way lies madness.’
‘I’m halfway there.’
‘So why do you want to speak to these girls, if that’s what they’re like?’
‘I think Edie had a boyfriend I didn’t know about and I wanted to ask if they knew who he was. And I found this newspaper article that might be linked to Edie’s disappearance; she could have discussed it with one of those girls. Her best friend Michaela’s not online anywhere, but I found out where her parents live. I’m going there later.’
‘Shouldn’t the police be dealing with that?’
‘They’re not getting anywhere. They’re doing a reconstruction and an appeal, which looks like a last resort to me.’
I think how gleeful Natalie will be at the information, confirming her belief in the family’s guilt.
‘Actually, Cass, could I ask you about it?’
‘Me, sure, but what could I know? I was eight when Edie went missing.’ There’s talking in the background. ‘Look, gotta go. Nadine’s on the warpath about the Fairbrother account. We’ll talk tomorrow. Text me the venue.’
*
Michaela’s parents are easy to find online. I crawl out of bed in the early afternoon and make my way to their enormous nineteen-thirties house, with electric gates at the front and a gravel drive with two Range Rovers and a sports car on it. I knew her parents were wealthy, both doctors in private practice, and I have some recollection of inherited money as well. How overawed we were, when we moved from Limewoods to our modern, square detached house, and yet it was probably smaller than their garage. I now realise why Michaela never bragged about money, she didn’t need to.
I pause before I press the intercom button. What if Michaela’s there? A lingering fear of her scorn hovers over me twenty years since she last saw me as a scrawny fourteen-year-old with bad clothes and wayward hair. I imagine her leaning against the door in a cashmere lounge suit. ‘Well you haven’t changed,’ she’ll drawl.
I had a couple of pre-mixed gin and tonics on the way to calm my nerves. I decide she can’t still be living at home and press the buzzer.
‘Mrs Gossington, I’m a friend of Michaela’s,’ I say when a woman answers.
As I walk up the drive, Michaela’s mother comes to the door. She’s short, plain and rotund. Hovering in the background is her father. He’s similarly round and has a bald head. I wonder what quirk of genetics produced a slender beauty like Michaela. Whilst they may have welcomed her beauty, I’m sure leaving school at sixteen with no qualifications had not been part of their plan.
‘Michaela’s friend?’ Mrs Gossington asks. The door only opens a few inches. Her husband hangs back, looking over her shoulder. ‘She doesn’t live here, you know.’
‘I thought she probably wouldn’t. I just wanted to get in touch.’
‘Why?’
Perhaps my denim cut-off shorts, grey T-shirt and Converse aren’t smart enough.
‘We were at school together.’
She lets the door open a fraction more and folds her arms.
‘Which one?’
‘Joseph Amberley,’ I say.
‘I don’t remember you.’
‘I’m Tess. Tess Piper.’
She uncrosses her arms and covers her mouth with her hand.
‘You’re that girl … I mean your twin sister, Edie … I saw it on the news. And I’ll never forget when she went missing.’
Mr Gossington clearly has no idea what she’s talking about. He ambles over to the door.
‘Sorry, who’s your sister?’
‘You remember, Simon. The girl found in the reservoir.’ She glances at me. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know how else to put it.’
Mr Gossington looks uncomfortable.
‘Of course. Terribly sad,’ he says.
‘I can see the resemblance now,’ Mrs Gossington says. ‘Come in.’
She leads me to the lounge. It’s spotless and boringly tasteful.
‘I suppose you must have been good friends with Michaela if Edie was.’
I nod.
‘But you never came here much.’
I never went there at all.
‘No. We lost touch after I left school. And I couldn’t find her on the Internet.’
‘No.’
She says it slowly, extending the vowel.
‘Is she OK?’
Mrs Gossington looks embarrassed.
‘Michaela’s living out near the airport, the Glades.’
She says it so brightly you could forget the Glades makes Limewoods look like Kensington. It’s mostly tower blocks with vandalised lifts, burnt-out cars and nervous police. That’s what Charlotte meant by ‘look at where she is now’.
‘She’s had a bad few years,’ Mrs Gossington says.
‘I’m sorry. What happened?’
The Gossingtons look at each other. It’s my turn to feel uncomfortable. I’m saved by the sound of the front door opening and heavy footsteps running in our direction.
‘Hi, Gran. I’m back.’
Mrs Gossington moves towards the door. Mr Gossington decides to straighten the cushions. A girl of about seventeen stomps into the room. Despite the heat, she’s wearing a hoodie and Doctor Martin boots. Earbuds hang from her neck.
‘Shoes, Arabella,’ Mr Gossington calls.
She ignores him and dusty footprints cross the carpet.
‘Can you give me forty quid for Saturday, Grandad?’
‘What for?’ he asks.
‘Does it have to be for something?’ she asks.
‘Yes it does.’ Mr Gossington sees me watching them. ‘We’ll discuss it later.’
‘But, Grandad—’
‘Later,’ he says.
Arabella turns from her grandfather and eyes me up for the first time.
‘Who are you?’ she says.
I want to ask her the same question.
‘Don’t be rude, Arabella,’ Mr Gossington says.
‘I’m only asking.’
‘This is Tess,’ Mrs Gossington says quickly. ‘She’s a friend of Auntie Ros.’
‘Oh,’ Arabella says.
The information is obviously boring and she dives into her bag, pulls out an iPad mini and stomps out of the room.
Mr and Mrs Gossington look at me. What’s Michaela done that she can’t even be mentioned?
‘I can see you’re bus
y. Perhaps I can leave you my number. Or if she’s on Facebook, I’m on as Laura Andrews. Sorry, silly name, but the press are trying all sorts to contact us.’
‘Of course.’ Mr Gossington fetches a pen and pad.
I write down my details, though I suspect they’ll never reach Michaela.
‘Bye then. Thanks for your time.’
I try not to sound sarcastic.
The Gossingtons are looking at each other, not sure what to do. I move towards the hall. Before I get to the door a man steps into the lounge. He’s late thirties, tall, scruffy, not bad-looking.
‘Alright, Simon, Lucinda. I’ll drop her back the same time tomorrow.’
Unlike the Gossingtons, he has a warm local accent.
‘That’s great, Jem.’ Mr Gossington says.
Jem is standing in my way. He doesn’t seem to register my presence at first, even though I’m right in front of him. Then he does a double take and looks puzzled.
‘It’s Tess, Tess Piper, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
I don’t recognise him.
‘You know each other?’ Mr Gossington asks.
‘Sort of,’ Jem says.
‘Of course, Tess was one of Michaela’s friends,’ Mrs Gossington says.
‘Yeah.’
He sounds amused.
‘I have to go,’ I say.
Jem doesn’t move out of my way and I have to slide past him. He follows me with his eyes. I close the front door and I’m halfway to the gate, when I hear footsteps behind me.
‘So, Tess, what brings you here?’ Jem asks when he catches up.
‘How do you know who I am?’
‘I asked first.’
‘I’m looking for Michaela.’
‘Your friend?’
‘Yes.’
‘Come on, you and Michaela were never friends.’
I keep walking.
‘You haven’t answered my question,’ I say.
‘I knew your sister. I heard what happened. I’m really sorry.’
‘How did you know Edie?’
‘Through Michaela, I guess.’
‘And what are you doing here?’
He stops walking and without thinking, I stop, too.
‘It’s complicated and it’s been a long day. I could do with a drink. The White Horse is just down the road. We can talk there if you like.’
I hesitate. I don’t know this man, but he might have some information about Edie and I could do with a drink.
‘Which way?’ I ask.
Chapter 22
Edie: December 1993
Two days had passed since she saw Uncle Ray and Valentina in the park and roadside slush was all that remained of the snow. Edie hadn’t told Tess about Valentina. She hadn’t told anyone. She wished she didn’t know herself. The secret infected her, left her unclean. Since Tess’s London trip, Edie had spent most of her time listening to the music Uncle Ray had brought her back from his supposed trip to Scotland. Tess was always hopping from foot to foot trying to start a conversation. Edie refused to look up. Tess, thinking Edie was still in a mood about not going to London, had given up and was out in the garden with Dad, tidying up after the snow.
Uncle Ray had not just betrayed Auntie Becca, he had betrayed all of them, Edie especially. She was his favourite, after all. He tried with Tess, but everyone knew. Uncle Ray, who went out of his way to find songs she’d like, who’d brought her a Discman when no one else at school had one. Uncle Ray, who she secretly wished was her dad not her uncle. He was a liar. Was that true? He’d never lied to her, but keeping secrets was the same thing.
And Valentina, Edie had wanted to be her, that snake. Valentina’s kindness to them had only been to impress Uncle Ray. Now she’d got him, she and Tess were forgotten.
Edie was desperate to ask someone what she should do. Usually, she spoke to Uncle Ray if she had a problem. Who could she turn to now? Tess wouldn’t understand. They were the same age but Tess was still such a baby. Raquel would understand, then go and blab it to anyone who’d listen. And Mum had told her not to interfere. She could say she came across Valentina by accident, which was almost true.
*
The smell of fruit, cinnamon and rum drifted up the stairs to her bedroom. Mum was making Christmas cake. She followed the scents down to the kitchen. Mum was standing over the worktop and waving a spoon over a ceramic bowl.
‘Come and give it a stir, Edie, and make a wish.’
Mum’s voice was calm but her eyes were rimmed with red. Edie took the spoon from her and began to turn it through the gloopy golden mixture.
‘Are you alright, Mum?’ she asked.
‘Yes, why wouldn’t I be?’
‘No reason,’ Edie said.
‘My eyes are only red from cutting onions earlier.’
Edie stirred the cake some more.
‘I saw someone the other day,’ she said.
‘Who’s that?’
‘Don’t be angry. I wasn’t looking for her. I was just in the park, Stevenson Park, you know, when Tess was in London.’
‘Who did you see, Edie?’
Mum’s voice was quiet.
‘Valentina.’
Mum didn’t speak.
‘She was with someone.’
Edie looked across. Still Mum said nothing.
‘A man,’ Edie said.
‘I see.’
Mum was still turned away from her. Should she say it was Uncle Ray?
‘How did she seem?’ Mum asked.
‘Happy, I suppose. Laughing. But she’s got fat.’
‘Fat? How fat?’
‘Her belly’s huge.’
Edie demonstrated by making a circle in front of her with her arms. Mum walked towards the window at the back of the kitchen.
‘I’m not in trouble, am I?’ Edie asked.
‘No, Edie, you’re not.’
‘I thought you’d want to know that Valentina’s alright.’
‘Thank you.’ Mum remained facing the window. ‘Have you told anyone else, Tess? Your dad?’
‘No.’
‘It’s best if you don’t say anything.’
‘Why?’
Mum didn’t answer at once. Tess and Dad were clattering about just outside the back door.
‘I think Valentina wants to be left alone,’ Mum said. ‘It’s better that way sometimes, Edie. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ Edie said, even though she didn’t. ‘I think the cake’s done now.’
She let go of the spoon.
‘Leave it there, I still haven’t lined the tin.’
She was about to return to her room, when Mum called her back.
‘Edie.’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t know what you and Tess argued about, but make it up. It’s silly not talking. You’re sisters. You’re lucky to have each other.’
‘OK.’
‘And Edie, did you see the man, get a look at his face?’
Something in Mum’s voice disturbed her.
‘No,’ Edie said. ‘He had his hat pulled down.’
‘I see.’
‘He was wearing a blue peacoat.’
She looked at Mum for signs that she knew, but she’d turned away.
‘Do you know who he could be?’
Mum didn’t turn around.
‘No,’ Edie said. ‘I’ve no idea who he is.’
Chapter 23
Tess: June 2018
I watch Jem move across the beer garden, weaving through the other drinkers, a glass in each hand. He’s relaxed and smiles at people in his way, who nod or say something and make space for him. Max is always wound up tight, worried about what people think, imagining unspoken slights. It’s hard to picture Jem ever being stressed about anything.
He puts a large glass of white wine on the table we’re standing at.
‘I’ve not been here before,’ I say. ‘It’s alright, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, I normally go to The Crown
. I should come here but it’s a bit far from where I live,’ he says. ‘It’s good in the summer.’
The pub’s garden is larger than you’d expect from the front. Wooden tables and chairs stand under large gas heaters, not yet switched on. A sign saying: Barbecues at the Weekends – Families Welcome. Today it’s full of the after-work crowd, white shirts and blouses, drinking too fast and talking too loudly, glad the day is over and it’s a hot summer’s evening. Jem swigs his lager.
‘Why were you at the Gossingtons’?’ I ask.
‘You don’t know?’
‘I wouldn’t be asking if I did.’
He shrugs.
‘Arabella’s my daughter with Michaela.’
‘You’re too young,’ I say.
‘I was twenty-two back then. I thought you’d know.’
I shake my head.
‘Most people round here do,’ he says.
‘I live in London.’
‘Right.’
‘And Arabella lives with her grandparents?’
‘It’s your turn to answer a question.’
‘OK.’
‘Why do you want to see Michaela?’
I take a sip of the wine. It’s cold, acidic and tastes good.
‘It’s complicated. Are you two still together?’
Jem splutters.
‘No. We are not.’
‘Well, do you know where she is? Her mum said she’s living on the Glades. What’s she doing out there? I thought her parents would rather she died than end up somewhere like that.’
‘They’d be less embarrassed if she had died,’ he says. For the first time the smile fades from his face. ‘Don’t go and see her, Tess. Cala’s not in a good way.’
‘What do you mean?’
He swirls his pint.
‘It’s funny. Her parents did everything they could to break us up. Cala should be with one of those nice university chaps, who ends up being a doctor or something, not a failed electrician like me.’ He laughs and shakes his head. ‘I bet they’d give anything for her to be with someone like me now.’
‘What’s happened to her?’
‘Drugs.’
‘Michaela? You’re kidding.’
‘Seriously. I don’t even know what she’s on. She lives with some guy out there. I don’t know what they do for money. I don’t want to know. I do know that Arabella’s never going near the place.’
He swirls his pint again before taking another gulp.
Someone You Know Page 12