Her old house was next door; she remembered it nearer to the top of the road. The door had been painted red and the number was missing. The pots and plants Dad put there were long gone, replaced by weeds, a couple of children’s bikes and some empty beer cans. By now, she was sure the back garden would be overgrown or concreted over. Had the green man Mum had attached to the fence survived, protected by layers of ivy?
The day she brought it home from a junk shop Edie hadn’t liked it. It was ugly and strange. Later, its strangeness created an odd attraction and she grew to love it as much as Mum, even if she did tell Tess it came alive at night and ended up scaring herself. They had left it behind in the scramble to leave. It seemed to Edie they’d been told of the move only moments before the removal men came and half their possessions were lost. That same day she’d been replanted in a place as alien to her then as this street was to her now.
They’d been happy here. She hadn’t known they were poor, or that she should be ashamed of her accent and address. And Mum, who must have known all these things, had also been happy. Happier than Auntie Becca in her executive new builds with en suite bathrooms, instead of a single-glazed one, tacked onto the back of the kitchen, where you could see your breath in the winter.
Edie stood staring at the door, as if opening it would lead her back to early childhood and Mum. The daydream was broken by a ratty-haired woman opening the door and two young children bounding their way out and grabbing the bikes.
‘What are you staring at?’
The woman stood with her hands on her hips. Instead of answering, Edie turned and walked towards Raquel’s.
‘Oi, I asked you a question.’
The woman came to the gate. Edie thought she was going to follow her. She swung quickly into Raquel’s and knocked on the door.
The woman was still standing at the gate, glaring at Edie, when she heard the slap of slippers on carpet, signalling Mrs McCann’s approach. Raquel’s mum looked exactly as Edie remembered, with thick tan tights and her hair curled up into an improbable cloud, perched on her head, and Edie had never seen her indoors without her floral housecoat and sheepskin slippers. If Mrs McCann hadn’t changed, Edie must have, because she stared at her without recognition.
‘Can I help you?’
Out of the corner of her eye, Edie saw the woman from her old house still watching her.
‘It’s Edie. Gina’s daughter. I used to live next door.’
Mrs McCann continued to stare.
‘We used to…’ Edie began before Raquel pushed past her mother, threw her arms round Edie and pulled her inside the house.
Always a chubby child, she was now lathe thin and the pudding-bowl haircut had been changed to long layers. But she was still unmistakably Raquel, with a small mouth and deep-set eyes.
‘Don’t mind Mum,’ she said. ‘All that daytime TV’s turned her brain to mush. She wouldn’t recognise me if she didn’t see me every day.’
‘Raquel, that’s just not true,’ Mrs McCann said. ‘I’m sorry, Edie, it’s been a long time. I was confused for a moment, you’re nearly a woman.’
‘It’s been a while, Mrs McCann.’
The McCanns’ house had an identical layout to Edie’s old one, with the front door opening directly into the living room, which was separated from the kitchen by a steep flight of stairs. Narrower than Edie remembered, the lounge was made even smaller by the brown-and-orange wallpaper and matching carpet, which must have looked dated by the time Edie left the street.
‘Make us a tea, will you, Mum?’ Raquel asked.
‘How do you take it, Edie?’
‘Milk, one sugar, please,’ Edie said.
Mrs McCann shuffled off to the kitchen whilst Raquel sat on the sofa. It faced a TV, where a bouffant-haired quiz show host had been put on mute. Edie took the armchair by the gas fire. She had time to study Raquel. She looked older than Edie, despite being a little shorter. It was those deep-set eyes and the faint imprint of lines across her forehead.
‘It’s been forever,’ Raquel said.
‘Feels like it.’
‘It was never the same after you left. We’ve had about ten families in and out of your place and most of them are vile. That one at the moment is a total cow. Her two little ’uns rode their bikes into Mum, knocked her over, she didn’t tell them off or even say sorry. I would have strangled her if those kids hadn’t been there. I gave her a piece of my mind, I can tell you.’
Edie smiled. Raquel always spoke in a slightly old-fashioned way, maybe because her mum was so much older. It wasn’t what you expected from a girl like Raquel, who dressed in tracksuits, hung out at Roswell Park and lived on the Limewoods Estate.
‘I was looking at our house as I came by,’ Edie said. ‘She came out and started shouting at me.’
‘That sounds like her.’
‘Do you take sugar, Edie?’ Mrs McCann called from the kitchen.
‘One, thanks, Mrs McCann.’
Raquel rolled her eyes.
‘She’s getting batty,’ Raquel said. ‘Forgetful. Is that why you never came to see me? Did you forget? You said you would, that nothing would change just cos you moved. Don’t you remember, that’s the last thing you said, right before you left?’
‘Leaving was a bit of a blur,’ Edie said.
She was aware of Raquel watching her face.
‘My mum had just died.’
‘At least you had a time with both your parents.’
‘You’ve still got both of yours. I mean, I know your dad’s not around much …’
Raquel snorted.
‘You could say that.’
‘Do you ever see him?’ Edie asked.
‘No. He’s got two other kids now. A boy and a girl. I’m not allowed to visit. It might upset them.’ She pulled a face.
‘You’re better off here with your mum.’
‘That’s not the point. And it’s not the point that your mum died. You should’ve come to see me. I was really lonely. You and Tess were my only friends around here.’
‘What about that lot from Roswell Park?’
Raquel shook her head.
‘That didn’t last long. They were all taking drugs and getting into trouble.’
‘Like what?’
‘You don’t wanna know.’
‘I’m sorry. I think I wanted to forget what happened.’
‘I thought you wanted to forget that you’re from Limewoods and used to speak like me. Bet no one at your fancy school knows where you’re really from.’
Once, Edie had spotted Raquel in the town centre when she was with Aveline and Char. She had ducked into a shop doorway to avoid her. Her JAG friends would want to know who Raquel was and how she knew her. She could imagine their whispering and giggles as they relayed the details to the rest of the school. Edie fudged where they’d lived before, just as she gave only a half-truth about what Dad did for a living. She was ashamed. And she was ashamed of being ashamed. Raquel was right to be angry.
‘It’s not like you think, Raquel.’
‘No?’
Mrs McCann came in carrying a tray with mugs of tea and a packet of biscuits.
‘It’s lovely to see you, Edie,’ she said and looked her in the face and smiled. ‘It’s such a pity you moved; we still miss you. But I understand that you wouldn’t want to stay, after what happened to Gina. Best to make a new start, eh?’
‘Yes,’ Edie said.
Mrs McCann handed her a mug.
‘Poor Gina,’ she said. ‘Who knew she was so unhappy?’
Raquel glanced at Edie.
‘She wasn’t unhappy,’ Edie said.
Raquel was staring hard at her mother.
‘She must have been.’
‘Mum,’ Raquel said.
Mrs McCann looked up.
‘No, of course not,’ she said. ‘Why would she be unhappy? Have a biscuit, Edie. Only Rich Tea, I’m afraid.’
Edie reached for a biscuit because she couldn’t thin
k of anything to say.
‘And how’s Tess?’ Raquel asked.
‘Same as ever,’ Edie said.
‘Why didn’t she come today?’ Mrs McCann asked.
‘I was just passing. It was unplanned or I’d have brought her.’
‘Tell her to come next time,’ Mrs McCann said. ‘I remember you two, joined at the hip, always up to mischief with our Raquel. But not like this new lot. You were always polite and listened to grown-ups. And look how well you’ve turned out. Just like Gina, so tall and you speak lovely. I suppose they teach you that at Joseph Amberley. I’d loved to have sent Raquel there. They had scholarships, but Raquel didn’t want to take the test.’
Raquel pursed her lips. By the time she was diagnosed with dyslexia, she’d fallen behind, and playing truant hadn’t helped. She’d never have won a scholarship. None of the girls from St Luke’s had, much to Edie’s relief.
‘So what brought you over this way?’ Raquel asked.
‘I was coming along the canal and took a detour. Decided to see the old place.’
Mrs McCann didn’t appear to be listening.
‘You know, Gina was a wonderful neighbour,’ she said. ‘Always helping out. When I had to go to work and leave Raquel, she’d step in. Helped everyone when she could and I know it wasn’t easy, what with Vincent not working. She even had time for Martin Vickers, which was more than the rest of us. My god that man! So above everything and everyone, but not above gambling.
‘If I’d been born with that sort of privilege, I’d have made something of it, not throw it all away on horses or whatever it was. But he looked down his nose at us like you would not believe. You know, he should have gone to prison. He had a job at a top accountancy firm before he stole their money to gamble. They wanted to keep it all hush-hush, doesn’t look good for their clients. So they just sacked him. He was doing the books for some haulage firm when he lived here, the only people who’d have him.
‘His wife wasn’t like that. Valentina, beautiful name, posher than him, not a snooty bone in her body. I can’t blame her that she upped and left. This isn’t what she was used to.’ Mrs McCann waved an arm at the window. ‘That and being married to that miserable man.’ Mrs McCann shook her head.
‘Well, Mum—’
‘I remember when I went into hospital, you know, with my woman’s problems. My sister, Agnes, was going to have Raquel, but she couldn’t find the space. Then her dad said he’d have her, but his new wife wasn’t having it. That didn’t last. Not saying Harry was a saint, still he didn’t deserve that.’
Edie didn’t know what that was and from Raquel’s darkening look, she thought she’d better not ask.
‘And Gina turned up at the hospital with flowers from the garden. Bluey-purpley ones, I’ve forgotten the name. Anyway, she took Raquel to stay with you until I was out.’
‘Yes. We made a tent in our room out of sheets and pretended we were camping,’ Edie said. ‘Do you remember, Raq?’
Raquel smiled.
‘Yes, I remember.’
‘Well, it was such a relief,’ Mrs McCann said. ‘Because I was more worried about Raquel than the operation. Thought she’d have to go into care. And when I came home Gina would come over and cook a few meals for us and leave them in the fridge. I always paid for the food, mind. I always pay my way. Wouldn’t want you to think I was a scrounger, Gina.’
‘Edie,’ Raquel said.
‘Yes. Edie, of course. I wouldn’t want you to think I was a scrounger.’
‘No one thinks that,’ Edie said.
‘My point is, she did so much for other people and now I feel no one did anything for her. We didn’t know she was unhappy. I suppose that’s how the driver managed to get off so lightly.’
‘Mum,’ Raquel said.
‘What, dear?’
‘Come out the back, Edie,’ Raquel said. ‘I want to show you the garden. I’ve been planting.’
‘Edie hasn’t finished her tea,’ Mrs McCann said.
In fact, she hadn’t started it. She reached unconsciously for the mug.
‘Bring it with you,’ Raquel said.
‘Oh Edie, I hope—’ Mrs McCann began.
‘It’s fine,’ Edie said, not sure what Mrs McCann was about to apologise for.
‘Come on, Edie,’ Raquel said.
Edie followed Raquel, leaving Mrs McCann on the sofa.
‘Don’t mind Mum. I told you, she gets confused.’
Mrs McCann started singing ‘It’s Too Darn Hot’ as they left for the back door.
‘What she said about Mum, is any of it …?’
‘Ignore her. She makes half of it up. All that stuff about Mr Vickers’ gambling. She doesn’t know why they ended up here. Maybe it was gambling. Who knows? Anyway, look at the garden.’
Edie stood in the garden Dad had created for Mum. It was like stepping back four years. An overgrown, reckless blur of greens, blues and purples. Mum never allowed Dad to plant anything yellow or red. Terracotta pots spewed indigo blooms and a green man hung on the fence.
‘How did you…?’ Edie began.
‘I know you thought I only came to yours to get fed. But I always loved the garden. The family who came after you weren’t like this lot. They were friendly, let me go over and take cuttings.’
‘Did you do all this yourself?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is that our green man?’
‘No. I got that at a charity shop. I get everything from them. No one wants most of this stuff. None of the pots cost more than fifty pence.’
‘It’s unbelievable, Raq. I should bring Tess.’
‘It would be great to see her again,’ Raquel said. ‘I’m not just recreating your garden; I’ve got my own ideas. I want to go to horticultural college, that’s why I actually go to school these days.’
‘I thought it would take a gun to your head.’
‘I still don’t like it. But I need five GCSEs. I know you must think I’m thick.’
‘I’ve never thought that.’
‘Well, I’m not smart. But I should get five. I suppose you’ll go to university or something?’
‘Dunno.’
‘You were always top at everything.’
‘I’m not now.’
‘What happened?’
‘It’s not primary school any more. You have to work.’
‘I know, it’s a bugger, isn’t it?’
Raquel started laughing then stopped.
‘So why did you really come back here?’
‘Really? Because I wanted to see the place.’
Edie looked across the garden.
‘What your mum said …’
‘Forget that, she rambles on.’
‘But what she said about Mum being unhappy.’
Raquel shook her head.
‘Mum gets mixed up. Your mum was always fun.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘And about that man getting off lightly.’
‘At least he went to jail.’
Raquel looked puzzled.
‘I thought…’
‘What? He went to jail right, two years?’
‘If you say so.’
Raquel seemed embarrassed.
Nathan Bexley. His name was one of the memories she’d not managed to crush. That and Auntie Becca telling her that ‘he’ll be in prison for a long time’.
‘You’re saying he didn’t go to jail, Raquel?’
‘Maybe I got it wrong.’
She handed her mug of tea to Raquel.
‘I’ve got to go, Raq.’
‘Off already?’ Mrs McCann said as they came back through the lounge.
‘Have to go, Mrs McCann. Dad’s expecting me.’
‘Of course.’ She paused to look Edie up and down. ‘You know, Gina would have been so proud of you. You’re quite the young lady and you speak in that lovely way, not too posh, just nice.’
Mrs McCann was still talking as Edie pushed through the front door. Raquel f
ollowed her outside.
‘I’m so sorry, Edie. You shouldn’t have found out like this.’
‘I’ll see you, Raq.’
Edie was glad to be back out on the street. The two children from earlier were pelting along the pavement on their bikes. She couldn’t see the woman from her old house but the front door was open. The front room had the same wallpaper as when they had left, but now it was peeling off. Free newspapers and takeaway leaflets littered the carpet. How could she have thought of it as their house? Their house didn’t exist any more.
Chapter 39
Tess: July 2018
Mr Vickers is unrecognisable, close to bald with a body that has thinned from lean to gaunt. I guess when we knew him he was in his early thirties, which seemed ancient back then. However, now he really does look old, bordering on elderly, worse than Dad. I think he must be ill. An impression added to by his limp handshake, though he’s lively enough and makes no reference to his health.
He’s moved to Kidderminster, into a low-rise council block, brick with PVC windows. It’s obvious he’s just tidied for my visit. The hall cupboard has a coat arm trapped in the door and after I sit down in the lounge, I find a jumper stuffed under one of the cushions. It’s a large room with one enormous sofa, a wooden chair and a TV. Its emptiness gives the feeling of cold despite the day being warm. Mr Vickers pulls the chair up next to me on the sofa.
‘Thanks for talking to me, Mr Vickers,’ I say.
‘Call me Martin. When I heard they’d found Edie, well, I knew I needed to talk to you. So sorry, by the way.’
‘I’m surprised you remembered us.’
‘Of course I remember all about you,’ he says. ‘You and your sister, little imps. Tell me, who was it used to lead who astray? I could never work it out. Valentina always said Edie, she was the cheekiest, but then, it’s always the quiet ones, you know.’
He says it with warmth as if reliving cherished moments. Though, the only memory I have of being discussed by Mr and Mrs Vickers is when, through the thin walls, we heard him ranting about us always being at his house when he wanted his wife to himself, accusations that misplaced items had been snaffled by ‘those two strays from next door’ and a conviction that most of his salary went on feeding us. He didn’t realise those were our best days. I had the excuse of being a child. Maybe Mr Vickers had managed to reach his thirties with no experience to lessen his belief that having two noisy and nosey kids next door was the worst life could throw at you.
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