‘You had a mind of your own, did you? No one could tell, you always followed her around, the shadow no one notices.’
She laughs, her baby bump bounces up and down. I want to slap her.
‘If I’d always followed her I’d know exactly what happened. Look, Michaela…’ I take a deep breath. ‘I just thought, as her friend, you might know something.’
‘About what?’
‘When she disappeared that summer.’
‘Disappeared, yeah.’
It’s as though she’s only just remembered.
‘You were hanging out together all the time,’ I say. ‘Was she in any trouble?’
‘There was that boy who followed her round. He was no one, wouldn’t hurt a fly, too small, can’t remember his name.’
‘Max.’
‘That’s it.’
‘We know about him.’ I try not to sound angry. ‘Anything else? Someone must have wanted to hurt her.’
‘I might have wanted to hurt her,’ Michaela says and laughs again. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I never touched her. Didn’t find out until much later that she was screwing Bob.’
‘So she did have a boyfriend?’
‘She had my boyfriend.’
‘What? No, she wouldn’t do something like that.’
She’s still laughing.
‘Why is that funny?’
She stops and looks straight at me.
‘The dead are always such saints, aren’t they? You think she could do no wrong. You think she was a saint?’
‘No.’
‘Good. Cos she wasn’t a saint. She was a little parasite and a slut. Latched onto us, wheedled her way in. And we let her. Pretended we didn’t know she was from Limewoods, because she was pretty, smart and funny.’ Her eyes fall out of focus. ‘Then she got her claws into Bob with her doe eyes and look-at-me-I’m-so-innocent act.’
I don’t believe Michaela’s version and I should defend Edie, only she told me so little I can’t.
‘Then the silly bitch gets herself pregnant. Not so much smarter than me, after all.’
‘Pregnant? She wasn’t. That’s not true. You’re lying.’
‘That’s what Bob told me.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
She shrugs.
‘Believe what you want,’ she says.
Could it be true, was Edie pregnant? She wasn’t any fatter, but she was having terrible mood swings, but then again, what teenager doesn’t? I’d seen her throwing up. At the time I thought it was from going out drinking the night before. It’s possible, but Michaela’s enjoying my distress and I don’t know if she’s made this claim to upset me. Jem warned me she would lie. I mustn’t get angry. I take a deep breath.
‘When did you find this out?’
‘Much, much too late.’
‘Do you know where he is now, this Bob?’
‘Yeah,’ she says.
She sounds bored and lights another cigarette, then strokes the bulge in her stomach as if daring me to say anything. I reckon nicotine is the least of that child’s problems.
‘Have you seen him recently?’ I ask.
‘No.’ She drags on the cigarette and arches her back. ‘But you have.’
‘Huh?’
‘Dad said you were at the house when he dropped Arabella off.’
Chapter 54
Edie: May 1998
‘I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.’ Something Mum recited. The verse could just as easily be changed to Dad’s cigarettes, or Tess’s questions, or Auntie Becca’s complaints about the neighbours. Edie’s world was so small. School, home, visits to Uncle Ray’s and Auntie Becca’s. Holidays would be an escape, something new; even Spain would be an adventure. But Auntie Becca wouldn’t travel abroad, said she did enough of that when she was younger. Dad was too lazy to make plans and when Edie offered to make bookings for just the three of them, he looked panicked.
‘We don’t have to do everything with Uncle Ray and Auntie Becca,’ she said.
Only they did. Not just holidays, Sunday lunches, shopping trips, Christmas. They’d had to spend their fourteenth birthday with them at Center Parcs. For the cost of the last holiday, they could have gone somewhere abroad, France or even Thailand. But no, it had to be Center Parcs. She’d rather stay at home. Alone. Tess could go. She’d love it.
Bob was her only escape.
Otherwise it was coffee, school, Dad, Tess, Auntie Becca and Center Parcs.
If Mum were here, it would be different. She always wanted to travel. Edie remembered her sighing over pictures of Rome and Athens, but they hadn’t had the money back then. Grandpa Len travelled halfway across the globe to settle in England and that must have been enough for him, because he never travelled anywhere afterwards. Mum said they never went on holiday as children.
Learning the truth about Mum’s death made Edie more confused. She wanted to put the knowledge in a box, throw it away and forget it forever, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She’d sworn never to go to Mum’s grave, yet here she was walking to the south side of town to find the cemetery. No one knew she was going. Tess was on a geography field trip and she’d forge her own sick note for school. Tess and Uncle Ray had nagged her to visit the cemetery, it would mean a lot to Dad, but she’d always refused. Now they didn’t visit, either. Dad never mentioned Mum and had taken all her pictures down. Edie kept a small one at the bottom of her knicker drawer and one in her purse. She knew Tess had one under her pillow. Mum was probably the last thing they had in common.
It was surprising how many people were visiting the cemetery on a Thursday morning. Regulars, she guessed. They came with flowers and didn’t need to look at the plan for the graves, which were laid out in rows and numbered, like a car park. No one else was her age. You could play the ‘who have you lost’ game. But it was too easy. Older women and a few men, still wearing their wedding rings.
Some of them looked at her, perhaps wondering what she was doing here at that time and who she had lost: a mother, a father, a sister. The game was harder to play with her.
Mum’s grave was G31. Black granite with gold lettering.
Flowers lay on top of the horizontal slab, white lilies. They were wilted and brown at the edges. Someone must have come here in the last few weeks. Someone who missed Mum as much as she did. Was it Uncle Ray? She bent down and touched one of the blooms. The petals fell away leaving the yellow centre, bright against the black granite.
She couldn’t remain angry with Mum. She wouldn’t have left her and Tess without a reason. Edie wished she’d been older, so she could have understood Mum better. Had she been despairing the whole time and all the sugar and song, the hard work and the care of others just distractions, which in the end weren’t strong enough? Dad had his gardening and his sport, Auntie Becca, moving and redecorating. Uncle Ray didn’t seem to need this. Perhaps that was why everyone was drawn to him. He was uncomplicated. If you have music and a drink, what’s to complain about? Edie wished she were more like him. She couldn’t bear more years of the continual dullness at home. She would have to leave, go to London or New York, anywhere that wasn’t here.
Aunt Lola had left and despite living in a suburb, thirty minutes from Central London and the local high street having little more to offer than Edie’s, it held a faint glamour. Her cousins seemed so much more sophisticated and polished than she and Tess. She’d have to wait until she finished school. She’d feel guilty for leaving Tess. But she couldn’t take her. Tess would never change. Edie would have to leave it all behind and never come back.
She wanted to feel something, that this place, this moment at Mum’s grave, was significant but it was just a block of stone spattered with rain and petals on the south side of town. It stood for nothing but the designer’s poor taste. When Dad died, which wouldn’t be long, given how much he smoked, he would be buried here, too. Edie hoped she’d at least be old enough not to have to live with Uncle Ray and Auntie Becca.
&nbs
p; After ten minutes she left. She would have gone sooner, but she was aware of others in the cemetery and it seemed disrespectful to leave so soon. Probably no one would have noticed, all too wrapped up in their own grief. Edie swept up the dying flowers from the grave, scattering them on the surrounding grass.
She took the bus back, got off in the town centre and went to a café she used to go to with Mum for Orangina and Chelsea buns. She ordered both; neither tasted as she remembered, far too sweet.
And it seemed her little world just got smaller because she no longer enjoyed the things she’d once looked forward to. Coffee, tea, cigarettes, questions and complaints were all there was.
Bob had rung her house earlier. Their code three rings then hang up. She could call him from the phone in the café.
She was about to get up, when she saw Max. He was standing outside the café looking in. Had he followed her to the cemetery as well? She’d had enough.
She ran outside, thinking he would run away; instead, he took two steps back before standing his ground.
‘What are you doing here? Why are you following me?’
‘I’m not,’ he said.
‘Yes, you are. You should be at school.’
‘So should you.’
‘Just leave me alone,’ Edie said and took a step towards him.
He didn’t move.
‘I only want to talk to you,’ he said.
‘I don’t want to talk to you. Even if I didn’t have a boyfriend, I wouldn’t want to talk to you.’
‘He’s not your boyfriend,’ Max muttered.
‘What?’
‘He’s not your boyfriend,’ Max said, louder this time. ‘He’s Michaela’s.’
‘How do you know that?’
How long had he been following her? Where had he been following her? She thought of the flat above the launderette. Did he know about that? Had he gone there, pressed his ear to the door, tried to gain a glimpse through the upstairs window? She felt sick.
‘You’re not the only one, you know,’ Max said. ‘He sees other girls, not just Michaela.’
‘You’re a bloody liar,’ Edie screamed at him. ‘You stay away from me.’
People at the nearby bus stop turned and gawped.
‘He doesn’t care about you,’ Max said. ‘I care about you. You read Angela Carter and listen to Northern soul. You eat hummus and pitta chips. Your mum’s gone, just like mine, we’re the same.’
Edie’s rage was so strong it blurred her vision. Her throat constricted so that her words came out as a growl.
‘How dare you speak about my mum. She’s dead. I know about your mother, shacked up with that teacher. She’s just a slut. Mr Kent’s whore.’
She wanted him to cry and run away, but he stood staring, as angry as she was. They were standing inches apart. Edie towered over him, though he seemed swelled by rage, taller, frightening.
It came as a shock to Edie that she was frightened by this boy she’d only pitied before. She swivelled on her heels and went back into the café. She sat down and realised she was shaking all over. When she looked up, Max was gone.
Chapter 55
Tess: July 2018
I’ve slept with my sister’s lover. My fourteen-year-old sister. Jeremy Robertson. Bob. A stupid nickname, but not a stupid man. He’s sly, manipulative and what else? The charm he used on me, he used on her. The hands he touched me with, he touched her with, a child.
I’ve talked to him about Mum, Dad, Ray and Edie, and he listened and looked sympathetic, touched my shoulder and said the right things. Part of his charm. His intuition about Ray and Mum should have put me on my guard, it was too precise for people he’d never met and a situation he barely knew. Of course he’d had the same discussion with Edie. I must be like a rerun of an old film, the imperfect copy, a pale shadow.
How could I not have joined the dots? Edie was always smarter. Maybe that’s why she’s dead.
Michaela said Bob told her Edie was pregnant. It’s possible. Her late nights, her moods could point to anything, I knew her so little by the end. She lay in that reservoir for years, only bones when they found her, the flesh long gone. She could have been pregnant. We’ll never know.
Did Bob kill Edie? I think his love for Arabella is genuine, but he told me that came later, that he didn’t want her at first. Did he use Edie as a warning to Michaela, an example of what happens to young girls who get pregnant? An example or a threat?
It could all be lies. Michaela’s a liar and a bitch. She was a bitch at school and she’s a bitch now. A lying, junkie bitch. I want to believe this, but her story matches with what I know already. I need to speak to Bob or Jem or whatever his name is. My sister’s lover.
Chapter 56
Edie: May 1998
Edie came home at ten thirty after her evening with Bob. They’d been to his friend’s flat above the launderette again. They rarely went out any more. When she told him about Max, he went outside to make sure he wasn’t about. Afterwards, she had wanted to talk to Bob about going to Mum’s grave; he hadn’t seemed interested.
She went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water and grabbed some crackers out of the cupboard. Tess came in, wearing her pyjamas.
‘Is that boy your boyfriend?’
How could Tess know about Bob?
‘Which boy?’ she said.
‘The one outside.’
Edie walked to the dining room and peered out of the window. The small boy was standing at the end of her road looking up at the house.
‘Of course he’s not my boyfriend.’
‘Who is he then?’ Tess asked. ‘He came to the end of the road as you were coming up it.’
‘Are you spying on me?’
‘I was just looking out of the window.’
‘Your room’s at the back of the house.’
‘I’m allowed to look out of the window.’
‘What’s going on?’
Dad came in, roused by the novelty of the dining room being used.
‘What are you looking at?’ He followed their gaze. ‘Who’s that?’
‘He’s from the boys’ school,’ Tess said.
‘What’s he doing at the end of our street?’
Neither of them replied.
‘Is he bothering you?’
Tess looked at her.
‘Edie?’ Dad said.
She didn’t answer.
‘Edie?’ He waited for a response then said, ‘Right,’ and was out of the door.
‘No,’ Edie said.
She ran to the door and watched Dad charge down the street towards Max.
‘You! Oi, you,’ Dad shouted.
Max took a moment to realise what was happening then took off, with more speed than his spindly legs looked capable of. Dad’s tar-clogged lungs couldn’t keep up. At the end of the street he stopped and bent over, his arms resting on his knees, his back rising and falling as he gasped for breath.
He returned to the house still panting.
‘Give me his name. I’m calling the police.’
‘He’s Edie’s boyfriend,’ Tess said.
‘No, he’s not. I haven’t got a boyfriend,’ Edie said.
‘Tell me the truth now, Edie.’
If Max were questioned about following her, he might tell them about Bob.
‘I’ve no idea who he is. It might not be me he was watching and he’s not there any more.’
‘I’m worried for you, Edie. You think boys like that are harmless. I know what boys can be.’
‘It’s nothing, Dad.’
The energy suddenly drained from him. The mental, as much as the physical, exertion taking its toll.
‘OK, Edie, but you have to let me know if he gives you any more trouble. I’ll go around with Ray, sort this out.’
‘I’ve no idea who he is. I don’t think he was here for me.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, honestly.’
Dad looked back towards the door and hesitated b
efore saying, ‘You go to bed now, girls, it’s late.’
‘This is your fault,’ Tess said as they went upstairs.
Edie didn’t know what was her fault and was too tired to ask. She went to her room and put her Discman on, listening to ‘Run for Cover’ on repeat.
At first, Max had just been irritating. Then he served as a useful excuse for leaving the school through the back hedge and avoid running into Bob. The problem was that Max had quickly realised what she was doing and started waiting at the back of the school. And now he’d followed her to the cemetery and turned up at her house.
She dismissed what Max had said about Bob, that was jealousy, trying to turn her against him. What she couldn’t dismiss was his anger when she’d called his mum a whore. It was a terrible thing to say and she felt bad. She’d hoped it would make him stay away; instead, it had made him more determined. He must have wanted her to see him standing outside. He’d made no effort to conceal himself. Why was he following her? Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?
Chapter 57
Tess: July 2018
I ring the bell.
‘Who’s that?’ a voice calls from above.
I step back from the door and look up. Jem is leaning out of the window. He’s bare-chested and his shoulders are large compared to his thin torso and concave stomach.
‘Wait a sec,’ he says.
He disappears for a moment then comes back and throws me a set of keys.
‘The lower lock’s broken. Just use the silver key on the end.’
I should have called Vilas, but I’m too angry to be wise. The stairs are dusty and piled with unclaimed mail and takeaway menus. I think of Dad’s words, You could know them, you could be in danger. I should be scared. I’m not. I’m angry.
Jem opens the door in just his jeans.
‘Come in.’
It’s as messy as before, with clothes, beer cans and magazines strewn across the floor. Deodorant has been used as an air freshener just before I came in. The spicy scent fails to hide the smell of stale sweat and un-emptied ashtrays.
‘Didn’t expect to see you.’
He’s relaxed and smiling. He’s no idea why I’m here. Was Michaela lying?
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