The journalists shuffle in their chairs. Itching to question us when they’re only getting Vilas, we’re ushered away. Dad’s lit his cigarette before we’ve fully exited the building. The police constable who is accompanying us doesn’t pull him up on it. At the back of the building, away from stray photographers, he inhales deeply and lets out a stream of smoke.
‘Bastards,’ he says. Dad rarely swears. ‘Utter bastards. Like they care about Edie. They just want another chance to print that photo of her in a short skirt. I wish Ray had never given that to the police.’
‘They could help. What I said in there is true, someone must know something. No one could do that on their own and keep it a secret for twenty years, not telling anybody, leaving no trace.’
‘Perhaps you’re right. But it felt like a circus in there. They were loving every minute of it. You know, I got a note shoved through the letterbox offering me ten grand to give my side of the story. What side of the story? There’s only one side to this story.’
I’ve had six offers; the lowest was twenty thousand. I don’t tell Dad.
‘There’ll be another big news story soon and they’ll leave us alone,’ I say.
‘No. Every time there’s a slow week for news, the press will drag it up, with the same photo.’
‘When this is over, maybe you could move away, start somewhere fresh. You’ll never move on in that house; it’s too big for you anyway.’
‘It’s never going to be over and, anyway, where would I go?’
He’s got a point.
Chapter 30
Edie: October 1997
A large window spanned the three floors from the top to the bottom of Aveline’s house. Her father had designed it. He was a well-known architect who’d worked on many prominent buildings in the area. Her mother was a furniture designer, and her sofas and tables filled most of the rooms. To Edie, they looked like posher versions of the old-fashioned furniture they’d had in their terrace on Gladstone Road. The style was retro, Aveline explained.
When she had moved from Limewoods, Edie thought their new house was grand, but it was small and ugly compared to Aveline’s. She couldn’t believe she’d ever wanted to live like Valentina Vickers. A house like this is what she’d have, one that wasn’t rectangular and had paintings on the wall that you had to understand, not just like.
Edie was wearing black jeans with a silver-coloured top and a little mascara on her lashes. It was Aveline’s fifteenth birthday party. She’d invited Tess, too. She wore an old top of Edie’s; it hung from her shoulders like a cloak and came down to her knees. The cherry-coloured lipstick she’d chosen didn’t suit her and her thick curls were twisted into uneven plaits that came to her shoulders. She looked like a child who’d raided the dressing-up box.
Edie had been at Joseph Amberley Girls’ School for three years now. Her accent, clothes and hair had changed, but she worried that something of Limewoods still lingered about her. And that something was Tess.
‘I can never believe that girl’s your sister,’ Char said.
Edie was standing with Char and Aveline in the large entrance hall to the house. Tess was at the other end staring at one of the pictures, the cherry lipstick everywhere on her face except her mouth and her plaits making her look more like ten than fourteen. Edie wanted to say no, she’s nothing to do with me, but despite being shorter, less clever and having a stupid hairstyle, they were too alike to deny the link. Besides, by then, Tess was dragging herself towards them.
‘No one would ever guess you were twins.’
Edie hated the word and hated even more that it meant everyone assumed they had to do everything together. Mums cooed over how sweet they were as a pair. Friends always asked Tess along to any party or sleepover Edie was invited to. That was the only reason Tess was here tonight at Aveline’s birthday, as her twin. No one would bother speaking to her otherwise. After three years, Tess still couldn’t find her own friends. Wearing Edie’s clothes wasn’t going to change that.
Tess reached their little group.
‘I was saying,’ Char said. ‘I still can’t believe you’re Edie’s twin.’
‘Why?’ Tess didn’t look up.
‘You’re so different,’ Char said with a fake smile.
‘Not that different,’ Tess said.
‘How’s it going in stream three?’
Tess didn’t answer. Edie wanted to slap Char. However much Tess embarrassed her, she was still her sister and she knew Tess would be crying over this later.
‘I’m sure it’s the same in three as one,’ Edie said.
‘Then why do they split us? My dad says it’s a waste of money going to JAGS if you’re not academic.’
Edie dug her fingers into her hands.
‘Tess is a brilliant painter,’ she said. ‘She’s going to art college.’
Char couldn’t make a sarcastic comment about that because Aveline’s nineteen-year-old sister, Vonnie, was an art student. Before she could think of an equally snide remark, Michaela Gossington walked past them into the second reception room, the one they’d been forbidden to enter for the duration of Aveline’s party.
‘What’s she doing here?’ Char asked.
Michaela was in the year above them. Her parents were rich, she was beautiful, she listened to music no one had heard of, she smoked Russian cigarettes and small amounts of marijuana.
Every home time Edie and the other girls watched as she brushed her hair in the corridor and then swanned out of school, her bag slung over her shoulder. Her boyfriend, Bob, they all knew his name, would be waiting, with his long hair and tight fitting T-shirt. And she’d slide into the car next to him and they’d drive off. She was the girl they all wanted to be.
‘She’s friends with Vonnie,’ Aveline said.
‘Michaela’s not coming to your party then?’
It was obvious Aveline wanted to pretend she was, but realised she wouldn’t get away with it.
‘No, but she comes around here loads.’
Edie had never seen Michaela say so much as ‘hi’ to Aveline at school and doubted the Now 37 album playing in the kitchen would be tempting her to stay. Edie longed to play her own music and dance, but when she’d made Aveline and Char listen to it, they’d turned up their noses.
‘It’s not exactly the Backstreet Boys, is it?’ Aveline had said.
Thirty seconds later, Michaela came back into the hall with Vonnie, both in their jackets. Michaela walked straight past them.
Vonnie said, ‘Happy birthday, sis,’ and handed Aveline a bottle of rosé.
‘Thanks,’ Aveline said.
Vonnie was already out of the door.
‘They’re going to The Hub,’ Aveline said.
‘What’s that?’ Tess asked.
‘Oh my god,’ Char said and laughed. ‘It’s a club.’
She spoke slowly as if Tess were backward.
‘How am I supposed to know that?’ Tess said.
Char rolled her eyes at Aveline.
‘Everyone knows that.’
Edie was too angry with Tess to defend her because Tess did know what The Hub was. She had said it to make Edie’s friends dislike her, to get Edie back to herself.
Tess still wanted them to burst out laughing at the same thing at the same time, to read books out loud so they could enjoy them together, to plan trips to far-flung countries they would visit when they were older. She wanted it to be Tess and Edie against the world. Edie wanted to be part of the world, they were fourteen now, fifteen next year.
‘I’ve brought some Smirnoff Ice,’ Edie said.
‘Let’s get some glasses,’ Aveline said. ‘Drink the rosé before the boys get here.’
‘What boys? And where did you get those Smirnoff Ice?’ Tess asked.
Aveline and Char either didn’t hear her or had decided to ignore her. They went into the kitchen.
Edie hung behind in the hall.
‘Will you shut up, Tess,’ she hissed.
�
�Why are we here?’ Tess said. ‘It’s boring and since when do you drink alcohol?’
‘You don’t have to stay.’
‘Will you come with me?’
‘No.’
‘You’re different when you’re with them. You become like them. Just stupid and horrible. Drinking and waiting about for boys. It’s pathetic.’
‘Well go if you don’t like it.’
‘I want you to come with me.’
‘And do what? Go home, watch old movies? Do what we’ve done every weekend since we were four.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because we’re not four years old any more, Tess. If you want to go home, go home. We don’t have to do everything together.’
Tess opened her mouth to speak but Edie had already turned and taken the bottles to the kitchen.
*
The boys could be heard long before they arrived. By the time they reached the drive, their shouts and laughter drowned out the music from the tiny stereo. Aveline left the kitchen; Char and Edie followed her. Behind the front door the boys were chanting.
‘Seb, Seb, Seb.’
Edie remembered Aveline and Char both mentioning the name.
‘Seb, Seb, Seb.’
Then someone said, ‘Nah, it’s not his turn.’
Sniggers.
‘Go on then.’
Mumbling, more laughter and the doorbell rang.
The lads standing on Aveline’s doorstep didn’t resemble their voices. They had sounded older. Edie was struck how short most of them were.
‘Hi,’ said the tallest. ‘We brought booze.’
Edie was impressed with Aveline’s pretence at indifference.
‘Yeah, come in,’ she said.
Char should have learnt from her friend.
‘Hi, Sebastian,’ she said, smiled at him and looked a little shy.
Sebastian smirked at the other lads.
‘Hi,’ he said.
Edie didn’t speak. She wasn’t used to boys. She and Tess didn’t bother with them in primary school and all their cousins were girls. She glanced at Tess, she was in the corner, behind the door, trying to make herself invisible.
When her friends started hanging about after school to talk to boys, Edie would hang back or slip off home. She’d overheard Aveline tell Char that the boys thought Edie was stuck up. It wasn’t that. They made her feel awkward. She had no idea what to say to them or what she was supposed to do with them. Not sex, she understood that. They’d had sex education at school and Auntie Becca had given Tess and her a very long and boring explanation, punctuated with lots of ‘when you’re old enough’, and ‘when you find the right man’. All of which was pointless, because several years earlier Raquel had enjoyed shocking Edie and Tess with a far more graphic and useful guide to the whole process. It wasn’t the physical side that was a mystery.
Aveline led the boys to the kitchen. From what Edie could see, she benefited from having an older sister. However much she simpered when the boys weren’t there, Aveline was cool and dismissive in their presence. Sebastian made far more of an effort with her than Char, who was hanging off his shoulder and laughing at his jokes. In turn, Sebastian’s friend, Edie didn’t know his name, was trying too hard for Char’s attention and she kept batting him away like an unwanted fly.
Edie leant back against the kitchen counter, a little apart from the group. None of them wanted to talk to her. She wondered if it was because she was taller than all of them, or because they’d decided, as Aveline had said, she was stuck up. No one was talking to Tess, either. She felt a sudden urge to do as Tess said, and go home and forget the party.
She was about to sneak away, when Sebastian turned to her. He looked her up and down as if noticing her for the first time. He whispered something to his friend and they both laughed.
‘Aren’t you going to talk to him?’ he asked.
‘Who?’ Edie said.
They both laughed again. Then she noticed a small boy next to her; he appeared much younger than the rest.
‘Hi,’ he said.
Sebastian and his friend seemed to find this the funniest thing ever. She wondered if it was the difference in height. He barely reached her shoulder.
‘Hi,’ she said.
Sebastian nodded at him and turned his attention back to Aveline.
‘Do you like this music?’ the boy asked.
‘No,’ said Edie.
She hadn’t really been listening to it. But she was sure she didn’t like it. All Aveline’s stuff was rubbish. Besides, she was annoyed at the way this boy had been placed next to her. She was sure it had been decided beforehand, who was going to talk to whom. Had Char and Aveline been involved? Was this boy picked because they thought it would be funny?
‘It’s not really my sort of thing either,’ the boy said. ‘I like—’
‘Excuse me.’
Edie pushed herself away from the counter. She looked at Tess, wanting to signal that they were going, but Tess was staring at the small boy and didn’t notice her. She’d go to the lounge, Hannah and Natalie were there and they’d let her play what she wanted on the stereo. She was about to push open the lounge door, when she heard loud laughter from the kitchen and Sebastian’s voice.
‘What’s wrong, mate? Don’t worry. They’re not all like your mum.’
‘That one’s not gonna run off with Mr Kent.’
Amongst the laughter she heard Char and Aveline. So they’d been in on this. They wanted to make her look stupid. She went into the lounge. She was angry. Angry with the boys, angry with her friends and angry with Tess for being right about how rubbish the party was.
Hannah and Natalie were dancing with some other girls Edie didn’t recognise. Her bag lay on the sofa and she reached and fumbled around in it looking for her CDs.
When she looked up, the short boy was next to her.
‘Are you following me?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s boring in the kitchen. I wanted to listen to some proper music.’
Edie didn’t believe him.
‘Just go back to the kitchen.’
‘But …’
He stood there for a moment and Edie felt sorry for him. Not sorry enough to be laughed at, though.
‘I’ve seen you outside school. I wanted to talk to you.’
‘I’m not interested. Go back to your friends,’ Edie said.
She felt guilty being so horrible to him, until she heard more laughter from the kitchen. She wasn’t going to be the butt of their jokes. Not Aveline and Char’s. Not anyone’s.
‘OK,’ he said and started to walk off. He turned at the door. ‘By the way, I’m Max.’
Chapter 31
Tess: June 2018
Ray and Becca have moved three or four times since I left home. Each house is a large, characterless new build, within five miles of where they first started. Sometimes they dislike the neighbours, sometimes the layout proves inconvenient or the local shops inadequate. A ‘For Sale’ sign stands outside the current one. The garden is overlooked.
I park Dad’s car on the drive behind Becca’s silver hatchback.
Becca comes to the door carrying her bag.
‘Are you going out?’ I ask.
‘Only to the GP’s. Routine check-up. I’m a bit early. Come in, I’ll make some tea.’
I go into the lounge, which is frilly and flouncy, totally at odds with Becca’s no-nonsense character. After a few minutes Becca arrives with a tray, carrying a teapot and cups; she always makes tea properly, never in mugs.
‘I saw the appeal,’ she says as she pours. ‘They wouldn’t need to put you through that if they were doing their job properly. I can’t believe Vince agreed to it, after the way they treated him last time. How is he?’
‘The same,’ I say.
‘Have they found anything else or was it just a load of crank calls?’
‘They haven’t got back to us yet. Actually, Auntie Becca, I’ve a few questions of my own.�
�
‘What about?’ Becca asks.
I tracked Mr Vickers down through directory enquiries. ‘Absolutely not,’ was his response to my request to come and talk to him about Mum. I can’t find Valentina. Ray and Dad aren’t going to tell me anything. Becca’s one of the few people I can talk to. I’m hoping she’ll be more open when Ray’s not around.
‘It’s to do with Mum.’
‘Your mother? Oh, Tess, you’re not going to worry about that nonsense you were telling Ray in the cemetery?’
‘You can’t expect me to forget it.’
‘I think you should do, Tess.’
‘Was she unhappy?’
‘No, she was always smiling, always singing, lots of fun.’
Fun. If you’re fun you can’t be unhappy. People at work tell me I’m fun.
Becca puts her teacup down and rubs the bridge of her nose. She’s thinner than the last time I saw her, it makes her look older.
‘I just want to understand, why did Edie write that? Is it possible Mum was unhappy, even if she did smile and sing?’
‘It’s going to sound strange, but I didn’t know Gina that well. We spent a lot of time together because of Ray and Vincent, but we had our own friends.’ I can’t recall Becca ever having friends. ‘And when we were together, it was always with them or you two. It’s not like we had heart-to-hearts.’ She picks up the cup. It hovers beneath her chin before she puts it down again. ‘She had lots of friends on the Limewoods Estate. I can’t remember their names.’
‘Eileen. Eileen McCann.’
‘Old lady, lived with her granddaughter?’
‘Raquel was her daughter, actually. She had her late.’
Becca nods without listening.
‘And Valentina Vickers?’ I say.
‘Hmm. I’m not sure,’ she says.
‘Lived next door, baked cakes. She was very beautiful, or so I thought.’
‘Ah yes. I think I know who you mean. I went to school with her sister, but you used to come to us mostly, so I never got to mix with the people there.’
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