by Unknown
Her breathing came in short bursts and she closed her eyes. I ran to the sink and poured her a glass of water. ‘Take a sip of this,’ I said, my voice quivering. I watched her do as I asked, and she seemed to calm down a little.
This reaction was completely different to the one I’d imagined.
‘Mum,’ I asked quietly, when she had regained a little colour in her cheeks. ‘Who was Vincent?’
She stood up. Before she could take a step, she wavered, went to grab the table, missed, and dropped. I reached out to her, unable to stop her hitting her head against the table on her way down, but managing to catch her so she didn’t land too heavily on the tiled floor.
‘Mum?’ I said, trying not to panic. My tough mother, always so cynical and ballsy, had collapsed. I struggled to recollect any first aid. Grabbing one of the cushions from the nearest chair, I lifted her head carefully to slide it underneath. Then, making sure she was on her side in the recovery position, I ran to the back door for help.
‘Leo!’ I couldn’t find him and for a second wasn’t sure what to do next. Grabbing a clean tea towel from a drawer, I wet it under the tap, squeezing out the excess water as I returned to sit next to her. At least the tiles were cool, which in the heat could only be a good thing.
‘Mum?’ I said, stroking her clammy forehead, dabbing the broken skin near her temple where her head had connected with the table. ‘It’s okay. Everything’s fine.’
I tapped her cheek lightly. Relief poured through me when I noticed her lashes move slightly. Her eyes flickered once and then opened wide. She went to sit up, so I held the damp tea towel against the side of her head with one hand and grabbed hold of her shoulder with the other to slow her down.
‘What happened?’
‘Take it easy,’ I soothed. ‘You’ve had a bit of a fall.’
I passed her the drink, watching her take a few sips. I could see she was trying to recall what had happened. She gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand. She looked at me, her face taut with fear.
I took the glass from her, placing it out of the way on the table. ‘Let me help you up,’ I suggested, taking her arm and wanting to get her sitting more comfortably.
She reached out and took hold of the side of the table and together we managed to get her to her feet. ‘I don’t want to be in here if Katie comes in,’ she said.
‘Okay, let’s go through to the living room?’
I helped her walk down through the hallway. She sat down on one side of the large yellow sofa and I placed a cushion behind her back.
‘Thank you, darling,’ she said, her voice shaky.
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I managed to utter a word the doorbell rang. ‘I hope it’s not the police again,’ I groaned, shocked when I noticed Mum tense and move to get up. ‘No, you stay there. I’ll tell them to come back another time.’
I walked down the hallway and pulled the front door open, a scowl on my face, ready to give them a mouthful for coming back again so soon.
‘Sera,’ Henri said. He looked devastated. For a second I almost forgot what he had done. ‘I must speak with you.’
I glared at him. ‘Seriously?’ I shook my head. ‘You can’t honestly believe we’ve got anything to say to each other now.’ I sighed heavily. ‘You’ve been snooping in my mother’s past, Henri.’
‘You ’ave to listen to me.’
‘No.’ I held my hand up to stop him coming any closer. ‘I’ve told Mum what you’ve been doing.’ I could feel tears welling inside me. ‘Hell, Henri, she bloody passed out. I don’t know what you think you’ve discovered about her, but whatever it is, she’s very frightened, and I’m not having anyone do that to her. Do you understand me?’
He looked as if he hated me at that second, or maybe it was my mother his anger was directed towards, I wasn’t sure. ‘I am French, Sera, not stupid, of course I understand you. But there are things I must tell you.’
‘I said, no.’ I had no intention of him coming to this house and causing more disruption.
He moved to leave, then stopped and looking at me over his shoulder said, ‘If you wished to confide in me, I would always believe you. Why can you not trust me?’
I did trust him; that was the problem. How could I admit to him that my problem wasn’t his honesty, but my shock at discovering my only parent had a secret that traumatised her so utterly? I stepped outside, holding the door closed behind me, so that Mum couldn’t hear what I had to say.
‘When I told my mother what you’d said, her reaction was far more intense than I expected. I’ve always suspected she had something in her past, but not something as big as this.’ He looked forlorn. Every part of me wanted to forgive him and forget what I’d discovered. ‘You have your quest to find out what happened to your father. I have to ensure Mum is okay.’ I tried to sound reasonable. ‘We might not like it, but we’re linked by something horrifying from both our parents’ pasts.’
He reached out and rested the palm of his hand against my cheek. ‘I understand,’ he hesitated. ‘I will leave you to care for her.’
I watched him walk away, his shoulders stooped. I wanted to follow him. Henri disappeared around the corner at the end of the street and I went back inside to join Mum.
* * *
I crouched down in front of her. As I did so I spotted a cigarette end in the fireplace. Mum hated smoking and forbade anyone doing it in her house. I had never seen Dee or Leo smoking, so assumed it must have been someone else, but who? She squeezed my hand to get my attention. I looked at her, forcing a smile. ‘What is it?’
She stared at me without speaking for a moment, looking if she was about to cry. I moved a little closer to her. It unnerved me that something I’d said caused such a drastic change in her usual calm persona.
She exhaled sharply. ‘Sera, there’s something I must tell you.’
‘What is it?’ I said, nervous to discover what it was.
‘Years ago—’ She cleared her throat. She seemed to reconsider how to tell me. ‘There was this man.’ She took her hand from mine and covered her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t think straight.’
I smiled to reassure her. ‘It’s fine. Whatever it is, you can tell me.’
She parted her hands, placing one hand either side of her face, trying to weigh up my reaction.
‘I will always love you,’ I said. ‘I don’t care what you tell me, nothing will ever change that.’
She winced, as if in physical pain. I wondered if the cut on her head was as painful as it looked. ‘Will you, though, Seraphina? I’m not so sure.’
‘Yes. I will.’
‘You’re such a kind, trusting girl. You have no idea how devious people can be, or how cruel.’
I was intrigued. ‘So, tell me.’ I wanted to know everything I could about her. ‘Stop fretting and spit it out.’
‘This man,’ she said. ‘Your father.’
I gasped. She had never mentioned my father before. Eventually, I gave up asking. This was the first time she had been the one to start a conversation about him.
‘I should have told you about him years ago,’ she said, sighing heavily. ‘He died.’
I couldn’t help being disappointed that I’d never get to meet him. ‘That’s it?’
She shook her head, taking the cloth from her head and inspecting the blood that had seeped into the pristine cloth. ‘I was there when he died.’
I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, but was desperate for her to continue. ‘And?’
‘Hazel was, too.’
Before I could say anything further, Dee and Leo entered the room.
‘Sorry,’ Leo said frowning. ‘I didn’t realise you were in here.’
‘Would you mind leaving us for a bit?’ Mum said. ‘We’re having a chat.’
He looked concerned. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yes. Fine, thanks,’ I said, willing him to go. I didn’t want to give Mum a chance to change her mind about confiding in me.
I watched him put his arm around Dee’s shoulders and lead her out towards the garden.
‘Right, Mum,’ I said, as I as soon as they had left. ‘Tell me everything.’
She smiled at me, back to her usual reserved demeanour that I was used to. ‘No, darling, I was being silly. Really, it was nothing.’
‘Too bad,’ I said, irritated that she’d done exactly what I’d been afraid of. ‘I’m sick of people fobbing me off. Something happened in the past with you and Hazel, and I want to know about it, now.’
I repeated everything Henri had said to me, watching the colour drain from her face once again, but this time not caring that she didn’t like what she was hearing.
‘So, he’s a detective then. I always said there was something shady about him,’ she sneered. ‘And he’s seen fit to poke his nose into my affairs?’
‘Well, Hazel’s affairs, if we’re being precise.’
‘How dare he come to you with gossip about me?’ She sat up straighter, more like her old self, which I admit made me feel much better. ‘He knows where to find me and come here to discuss this with me, not you.’
I didn’t mind her getting angry, I’d probably react the same if I was in her place. I wanted to know what made her keep secrets from me for all these years. ‘What have you been hiding from me, Mum?’
She stared at me and I could see tiredness wash over her. ‘Your father.’ She stuck her perfect chin out defiantly.
‘Yes, who was he?’ I concentrated on hiding my excitement.
‘Hazel and I… Well, we killed him.’
It wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. I stared open-mouthed at her, stunned by the brutal way she’d delivered her admission. Before I’d gathered my senses enough to process this mind-numbing information, Leo ran into the room, crashing the door back against the wall.
‘Have you seen Dee? I only left her for a moment to get her a drink. She’s gone.’
I was still staring at Mum, trying to take in what she’d told me in this latest drama.
‘There have been updates on the radio about fires moving in this direction,’ he added.
I recalled Mum mentioning the fires. This would have to wait until later. I listened to him telling us about the devastation the fires were leaving in their wake. I couldn’t bear the idea of losing my home and the precious memories my belongings held for me.
‘Have you checked Dee’s room?’ Mum asked, unable to keep her irritation in check.
‘Yes,’ he replied, his right hand clenched so tightly into a fist that the bones of his knuckles seemed about to burst through his skin. ‘But that’s not all. I can’t find Ashley either.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
2003 – Oakwold, New Forest
Young Sera
When I woke the following morning the memory of Hazel insisting I leave her house the previous night still stung. I couldn’t imagine what she needed to speak to Dee, Leo and Jack about that I couldn’t hear. Hazel had never shut me out before. I felt nauseous and had a strong sense of foreboding that something was going to happen.
Before Mum was awake, I dressed and ran over to the farm, not caring that it was barely past seven in the morning and no one would probably be up yet. I’d sit on their porch and wait for one of them to stir. I couldn’t stand the thought of pacing around my bedroom willing the hands on my alarm clock to move.
As expected, no one else was up, so I made myself comfortable on the shabby wooden armchair outside their back door. It had been there for as long as I could remember. The farm was peaceful. Too peaceful. Not wishing to annoy Hazel, I stayed where I was and stared at her terracotta pots filled with the scarlet geraniums she loved to display either side of the steps to her front door.
I must have dozed off, because when I checked my watch again it was almost ten o’clock. I listened for voices, but the only noise came from the chickens.
I opened the back door, which was never locked and nervously walked in through the hall to the kitchen. Plates and cups littered the sides. A box half-filled with plates wrapped in newspaper stood by an opened cupboard door. Strange, I couldn’t understand why Hazel would pack away her plates. I returned to the hallway and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Dee?’ I called, wanting to be heard, but hoping not to disturb anyone. She was never this quiet; always up first and making some sort of racket somewhere at the farm.
When she didn’t answer, I forgot about making a noise and ran up the stairs to her bedroom. The door was wide open, and her favourite jeans lay across her bed. She’d strung her new leather belt through the denim loops. I thought that she must have changed her mind about wearing them because of the uncharacteristic heat. Unusually, her bed was unmade.
I listened for any movement. Feeling uneasy, I decided to look in Leo’s bedroom, this time knocking before I entered. I was met with another untidy room; his wardrobe doors open and the hangers empty. Unable to ignore the sense that something was terribly wrong, I hurried across to Hazel’s room. Her bedclothes were half pulled onto the floor. Her open wardrobe doors displayed mostly empty hangers. Several scarves pooled on the floor nearby.
I tried not to panic and ran down the stairs, out to the barn. I pulled opened the heavy door to check if I’d made a mistake. Maybe they had held an impromptu party the night before and were still asleep in there. Painfully aware I was kidding myself, I pushed away the image of the empty wardrobes, certain there must be an alternative explanation. Just because I didn’t know what had happened, didn’t mean I should imagine the worst. Or so I told myself time and time again as I looked for any sign of the family.
Only the usual detritus from their day-to-day living was in the house. I spotted another half-packed box. They wouldn’t have packed their things to leave them behind, surely? Bolstered by this thought, I shouted for Dee as loudly as I could. My heart pounded with the effort of waiting for the answer that I suspected by now would not be coming.
Where were they? I retraced my steps to Dee’s room. Bracing myself for the inevitable, I discovered that she, too, had taken most of her clothes. They had gone. Left me behind. By the look of their home they had no intention of ever coming back. Why would they do such a thing?
Sobbing, I dried my eyes with the hem of my T-shirt. I desperately searched for anything precious to her that she might have left behind, and spotted a small photo album. I picked it up and put it on the bed, then opened her dressing-table drawer to check inside. I scooped up two bangles, a necklace with a daisy pendant and a silver ring with an enamel bluebird I recalled her mum buying her for a birthday. I threw everything down next to the album. The jeans were her favourites and she knew how much I loved them. I swallowed back tears when I realised her leaving them on the bed had been her goodbye message to me. So, she had considered me, after all.
I rolled up the jeans and pushed them into Dee’s old school satchel lying at the bottom of her wardrobe. I lifted the leather strap over my head, so it lay across my chest and put the rest of Dee’s possessions from her bed inside it. As an afterthought, I peeled several photos of us both taken on previous summers and Christmases off the walls, slipping them deep into the outside pocket.
Sun rays cast long golden shafts across the familiar room. How many lazy days had I spent in this house daydreaming that I was part of this family while Dee persuaded me to misbehave in some way? She was strong and the instigator of all our adventures. I didn’t know how to pass a day without spending time with her.
I shivered as an eerie feeling seemed to invade the house. I needed to go, but unable to leave just yet, I took hold of several colourful silk scarves that reminded me so much of Hazel. I breathed in the familiar patchouli and sandalwood mixture and remembered how she used to joke about being my second mum. I scrunched the material in my hands and shoved them into the bag, pushing away memories of Dee holding my hands and swinging me round outside in the yard as we swore we would always be best friends. Then I grabbed Hazel’s silver-backed hairbr
ush set from her walnut dressing table and packed that, too.
Why had they disappeared so suddenly? Something must have frightened them badly, otherwise they would never have left without saying goodbye, or leave such treasures. But what?
My heart ached as I looked at a small silver frame surrounding a picture of Jack hugging Hazel from behind. She was laughing, her head thrown back as she gazed up at him. The sheer joy of that moment captured forever behind glass made me sob. It was Dee who had taken the photo, whispering for me to stand behind them and make bunny ears over their heads. I didn’t, of course, just as she had expected. I wasn’t leaving this precious memento behind for some faceless auctioneer to hand over to the highest bidder. One of these days, I promised myself, I would give these possessions back to Hazel and Dee. If I ever discovered where they were.
* * *
Unable to think what else I could do, I began walking home. I was halfway across the hot, dusty field when it dawned on me that something my mother had written in her letter could have been the catalyst that set this unexpected exodus in motion.
The note.
Hope swelling through my veins, I ran back to the farm. I was out of breath, but determined to find my mother’s note to Hazel. If she wouldn’t tell me what was in it, I’d find out for myself.
I let myself into the house. Stopping in the hall, I tried to recall the events of the evening before when I’d delivered it to Hazel. I hadn’t thought to go into the living room earlier, so went to see if I could find it in there.
I scanned the room. I couldn’t see it anywhere. Then, noticing there had been a fire in the grate, I went over and crouched. I heard a distant rumble of thunder just as I spotted a corner of my mother’s cream vellum paper. I picked it up, but there was only the first two letters of a word. The rest had been burnt. Now I’d never know what she’d written in it.
* * *
Desperate to get away from there, I ran as fast as I could across the fields, not keeping to my usual path, or caring that my legs were being stung by nettles. Finally, breathless and in the safety of my bedroom, I quietly locked the door and slumped onto my bed. My legs itched and burnt, but I barely felt the pain. I angrily brushed away tears and unbuckled the two straps holding the satchel closed, tipping the contents onto my eiderdown.