‘Everything alright? You look serious.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘It’s a bit early, but there’s half a bottle of wine going if you want it.’
The bottle’s on the floor next to a glass with lipstick on the rim. Jem realises this at the same time I do and picks it up. I wave my hand.
‘I don’t want any. I’ve not come for that.’
‘What then?’
He passes the glass to his other hand.
‘I saw Michaela this morning.’
His body stiffens.
‘What did you do that for? I told you not to see her.’
‘And now I know why.’ I can’t read his expression. ‘Was it you? The boy Edie was seeing.’
‘Michaela hates me. She’s a nutter.’
‘Because of you.’
‘I never started her on drugs, not the hard stuff, and I stuck with her longer than anyone else would. Longer than her parents.’
‘Is it true?’
He takes a deep breath.
‘I was seeing Edie for a bit, yeah.’
His casualness maddens me.
‘She was a child.’
‘Oh, come on, you’re not that naive. What do you want me to say?’
‘You should have told me.’
‘I didn’t know how to tell you.’
‘No kidding.’
He passes the glass back to the other hand.
‘Look, I didn’t know I was going to end up seeing you.’
I can see why Michaela hates him. It’s all no big deal, why are you making a fuss? Because he’s not the one who has to deal with the problems he’s created. Michaela’s the one who ended up living on the Glades and his child is being paid for and raised by someone else.
‘Of all these women,’ I gesture to the lipstick-stained wine glass, ‘wasn’t there one you could leave alone?’
‘Look, about the glass.’
I wave my hand at it. My fingers catch the rim. It flies from his hand and smashes against the edge of the kitchen cupboard.
‘I don’t care what woman you were screwing last night. I care that you were screwing my sister. My fourteen-year-old sister.’
‘I didn’t. I mean, we never actually did it.’
‘Bullshit. You told Michaela Edie was pregnant.’
‘It wasn’t mine.’
‘Immaculate conception?’
‘She was seeing other guys. Your aunt believed me.’
‘Becca? What’s she got to do with it?’
‘She came to see me.’
I don’t believe Becca went to see him. She would have told me about it and Ray would have been sent round for any confrontation. But why would Jem lie?
‘How did she know where you were?’
‘I thought Edie told her, or maybe you?’
‘Me?’
‘Edie said you used to follow her sometimes.’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ I say.
‘I don’t know then. But your aunt came to see me after we’d already split up, said Edie was pregnant. I told her it couldn’t be mine.’
‘When was that?’
He sighs and looks down at the shards of glass at his feet.
‘The afternoon she disappeared.’
‘If you thought she was pregnant, what would you have done to stop her having it? It was you that woman saw arguing with her that afternoon, wasn’t it?’
‘For Christ’s sake. Is that what you think?’
Jem’s face hardens. There’s a menace, an ugliness in him I’ve not seen before.
‘If you really think I killed her you’re taking a risk coming here, aren’t you?’
‘I’ve told Dad where I am.’
Jem’s lip curls.
‘What do you think I’m going to do to you?’
He moves closer. He’s standing between me and the door. I’m aware of how much taller and broader he is than I am.
‘You think I killed her?’
He holds my arm, his thumb and middle finger barely touching. I’d be less scared if he grabbed and shook me. This slow, deliberate anger is more frightening.
‘Do you?’ he says.
If I move, I know the grip will tighten.
‘The police were looking for her boyfriend. You never came forward.’
His face is an inch from mine.
‘So you think I’m a killer. I seduce schoolgirls then kill them.’
I hold his gaze. I wish I had told Dad where I was going. I’ve been stupid to let rage rule my actions.
He presses his fingers a little tighter into my arm.
‘Do you think I killed her?’ he says.
‘Why didn’t you speak to the police?’
His grip slackens.
‘I was young, I didn’t have a clean record and I was seeing an underage girl. No, I didn’t come forward. Neither would you.’
He lets go and steps back.
I can’t look him in the face. I clench my fist to stop my hands shaking and move around him slowly, towards the door. At any moment I expect him to push past me and slam it. He doesn’t. But just before I leave, he starts talking again. He’s turned away from me and his voice is quiet and soft.
‘That last time I saw her I wanted to call her back or walk with her. If I had, none of this would have happened. I was angry when she finished with me and when I thought she was pregnant. If I’d walked with her, she’d have been OK. Maybe things would have worked out. You’re right to blame me. But I didn’t kill her.’
I watch him. He still doesn’t turn. I click the door shut and make my way back down the stairs. Out on the street, my mouth is so dry I can barely swallow. I go to the same newsagents I went to before and buy another can of Tango to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth.
I probably asked him the wrong questions. It doesn’t matter. The one I need to ask, he can’t answer. Why did Becca never tell the police about him?
Chapter 58
Edie: June 1998
‘Who’s this man, Edie?’
Tess looked up from her homework. Auntie Becca rarely raised her voice. So this was the real reason Auntie Becca had insisted they come to hers for dinner, not because Dad had gone to the cricket with Uncle Ray. Edie had said it was stupid; they were old enough to look after themselves. But no, they had to eat yet another pasta bake in Auntie Becca’s dining room and wait for the table to be cleared before she got to the point.
‘Which man?’ Edie asked.
She glared at Tess. She must have said something about Max, who hardly counted as a man.
Auntie Becca placed both hands on the table opposite Edie and leant forwards. She was silhouetted by the bright light from the window behind and her face lay in darkness.
‘Don’t bother lying to me,’ she said.
Edie glanced at Tess, whose eyes were darting between Becca and Edie, her mouth slightly open.
‘Auntie Becca, I don’t know who’s said something.’
‘You know exactly who’s said something and what he said. Going out with this man, drinking and going to clubs.’
Edie looked at Tess. Auntie Becca lowered her voice.
‘Do you even know what you’re doing?’ she asked.
Edie tried to push the images from her mind: the floral sofa, the dust rising in swirls above her head, Bob’s hot breath against her cheek.
‘He’s a man. Far too old for you, Edie. You should be concentrating on your schoolwork and if you are interested in that sort of thing, you should find a boy your own age.’
‘He’s not that old,’ Edie said.
She’d never thought of Bob as a man. Dad and Uncle Ray were men. Bob was still a boy, wasn’t he? She’d never asked his age. But he did have a job and drive a car.
‘Eighteen,’ she said. ‘He’s eighteen.’
‘Still too old, if that is his real age.’
‘It’s nothing really, Auntie Becca. We’re not …’ She saw the leaf-patterned wallpaper and smelt his sw
eat mixed with cigarette smoke. ‘I mean, it’s really nothing. We’re just hanging out together.’
Auntie Becca shook her head.
‘You’ve got to stop this, Edie. You’re running around town, playing the slut. If your mother were here—’
‘Don’t you talk about her!’
Tess slammed her textbook on the table. Edie and Auntie Becca turned. They’d forgotten about her.
‘Don’t talk about her. You’re not Mum. You’ll never be her.’
No one spoke for a moment. Auntie Becca drew a sharp breath.
‘I know I’m not Gina,’ she said. ‘But in a situation like this, a serious situation, Tess, I have to do something.’
‘You don’t have to do anything. You like doing it, sticking your nose in other people’s business because you’ve nothing else to do all day. You’re not our mum and you can’t speak to Edie like that.’
Auntie Becca stood back from the table.
‘Tess, I don’t think you realise what sort of trouble Edie could get herself into, hanging about with this man, what’s his name?’ Edie didn’t answer. ‘It’s my business to—’
‘It’s not your business,’ Tess said. Her voice was becoming squeaky. ‘None of it’s your business.’
She swept her homework into her bag and stood up, her face wet with tears.
‘Come on, Edie, we’re leaving.’
Edie picked up her bag and was careful not to catch Auntie Becca’s eye.
‘I think you should stay, Edie,’ Auntie Becca said.
She didn’t reply and followed Tess into the hall. Auntie Becca came after them.
‘Edie, I’m serious. I don’t want to have to speak to Vince.’ Tess had opened the front door. ‘I suppose you think you’re in love. You’re not, and I can guarantee he isn’t.’
Tess was out and beyond the drive. Edie looked back to the house even though she knew Auntie Becca wouldn’t follow. A scene in front of family was distasteful to her and unthinkable in front of the neighbours. Tess had sped off with rapid strides and Edie had to run to catch up.
‘Tess,’ she gasped. ‘Thanks.’
‘Don’t thank me.’
Tess had stopped crying but her eyes were still red.
‘That was brilliant. Telling Auntie Becca where to stick it,’ Edie said.
‘I didn’t do it for you.’
‘Come on, Tess.’
‘Who is he? Why didn’t you tell me?’
She was about to cry again. Edie looked away. She didn’t want to tell her about Bob. She was sure he was the sort of boy Tess would disapprove of. She disapproved of most boys, even singers and film stars. What would she think of Bob, who drove a red hatchback to their school gates and was going out with Michaela?
‘He’s just a guy I met. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think you’d understand.’
‘What’s to understand? You just like keeping things from me, like being different, having different friends, watching different films, pretending you’re not my sister.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Yes, it is. I bet you wish we were at different schools and you could ignore me altogether.’
‘Tess, that’s not it. How can I tell you stuff when you act like this?’
‘Becca’s right about you, you are a slut.’
Edie wanted to slap her.
‘You’re just jealous. Jealous of him, jealous of my friends. I invite you to things and you just sit around and sulk. You could have a boyfriend if you tried.’
‘I don’t want a boyfriend,’ Tess shrieked.
‘What do you want?’
No answer came. Tess just stood still and stared at her. The sun was low and caught the glare in her eye. Tess continued to stare before blinking once and walking away. Edie knew not to follow her. At that moment Edie felt she didn’t know her sister.
Chapter 59
Tess: July 2018
Becca’s out the front cleaning the downstairs windows when I go over to see her. They pay a window cleaner but she always finds fault. She jumps slightly when I call to her.
‘Oh, Tess, you should have told me you were coming.’
She’s lost more weight, which doesn’t suit her; it just makes her look old. She throws the sponge into the bucket and bends to pick it up. Her breathing’s heavy.
‘I’ll do that,’ I say.
‘Thanks, Tess. Pour it in the gutter. I’ll get the kettle on.’
I walk to the end of the drive and sling the water from the bucket. I wobble for a moment and swirl with the water as it runs along the gutter and bubbles down the drain, then walk back up to the house. From the hall, I can hear the kettle starting to boil. I go into the kitchen. Becca’s leaning on the countertop next to the teapot. She seems lost in thought.
‘Are you alright?’ I ask.
‘Yes. Fine.’ She pushes herself upright. ‘Shouldn’t watch the kettle, it’ll never boil. You look peaky, Tess, are you coming down with something?’
‘I’m just feeling a little light-headed,’ I say.
‘You should see a doctor,’ she said. ‘The sort of stress you’ve been under.’
‘I’ll be fine. It’s probably the heat,’ I say, though my throat feels like sandpaper.
When the tea’s made we sit at the kitchen table. She’s less chatty than usual and there are no complaints about the neighbours. I wonder if she knows about my chat with Ray. She always knows all sorts of things without being told. Like how to find Edie’s boyfriend. I feel bad asking her anything at the moment, for once she looks vulnerable. I’ve never thought of her like that before. Maybe it’s because of what I know about Ray and what she’s had to put up with over the years that I can see a sliver of weakness she’d never willingly reveal.
‘Becca. I’ve got something to say and something to ask and it’s best if I just come out with it.’
‘What is it?’ She sounds bored, as if she knows what the question will be and she’s answered it a thousand times before.
‘I went to see one of Edie’s old friends yesterday.’
‘Oh?’
‘She told me the name of Edie’s boyfriend and where to find him.’ There’s no point in going into my history with Jem. ‘His name’s Jeremy Robertson. I spoke to him. He said you went to see him twenty years ago.’
Becca’s face doesn’t move.
‘You never told the police about him,’ I say.
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘There was no point. He had nothing to do with Edie’s death.’
This is the old Becca speaking, firm and assured in everything.
‘How can you know?’
‘I just do.’
‘You could only be sure if you do know who did it.’
She sighs.
‘Becca, if you don’t tell me what you know, I’ll go to the police. It’s new evidence.’
She gives a slow shake of the head.
‘Don’t go to the police, Tess.’
‘Was it Ray?’
She looks bemused.
‘Of course it wasn’t Ray. How can you say such a thing?’
‘Who then? You have to tell me. You can’t sit there, cold-blooded, not caring.’ I stand up. My tea spills across the tabletop. ‘Why? Why did you never tell the police if you know? It must be Ray. Who else would you protect?’
Becca doesn’t move. Not even to mop up the spilt tea, dripping onto the floor.
‘Sit down, Tess. I have something to give you,’ she says.
She leaves the room and I hear her climb the stairs with a slow tread. She returns with something in her hand. Her expression remains blank. She places a plastic wallet in front of me.
‘Speak to your father,’ she says.
‘You’re telling me it was Dad?’
‘Open it. I’m telling you, you need to speak to Vince.’
I peel open the wallet. Inside is the missing photograph, the one Edie used to keep in her purse, with the two of us and
Mum and Dad. The photograph I believed proved she must be alive.
‘Who took this from Edie’s bag? Does Dad know about this?’
She moves her head slightly as if to nod then shakes it instead.
‘Do you all know, have you always known?’ I say.
She doesn’t reply.
‘You’ve said nothing. Done nothing. I don’t understand.’ My voice is cracking. ‘How can you sit there, knowing whoever it is is still out there and you could stop them? She was my sister, your niece.’
‘Tess, I know you’re upset, angry and confused. But you have to speak to Vince.’
We both jump at a car door slamming outside. For the first time, Becca looks me in the eye.
‘That’s Ray. You’d better go.’
She puts the photograph in her pocket. I hesitate and look towards the hall.
‘Don’t ask Ray, Tess. It’s Vince you need to talk to.’
A key turns in the front lock.
Becca glances at the side door.
‘It’s open,’ she says.
Ray’s in the hall.
‘Alright, Becs,’ he calls.
‘You need to go now, Tess,’ Becca says.
I look towards the hall once more before leaving by the side door.
Ray’s in the kitchen.
‘Everything alright?’ he says.
I don’t hear Becca’s reply. I walk down the edge of the drive, so that I can’t be seen from the window.
Becca knows. Ray knows. Dad knows. I’m sure of it. That’s why he can’t look me in the eye, why he hates me coming up and asking questions. He knows. He’s always known. He looks so old because he’s carried the guilt with him all these years. Not the guilt of killing her, he could never harm anyone, even if he hated them, and he loved Edie. It’s the guilt of doing nothing, of watching me grow up alone, aching for my twin, while her murderer walks around unpunished because of his silence. And again my mind turns to Ray, who else would they both protect? Who else was Edie so close to she could do them harm? And who else would value that photograph? Ray. Only Ray matches the silhouette that flits across the unknown in Edie’s life. Ray who’s so much fun. Ray who was like a second father. Ray who loved us. Edie especially, maybe too much.
Chapter 60
Edie: June 1998
She took the coward’s way out and pushed a note under the door of the flat above the launderette they used to go to. It hadn’t been Auntie Becca’s warning, or Tess’s anger that made her do it. She simply didn’t want him any more. Why did Michaela go on about it all the time? It wasn’t that great. She’d had a boyfriend now, she knew what it was like and she didn’t feel the need to find another one. Bob had been a distraction from her everyday life, a very draining one, not worth the effort.
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