The Other Daughter (ARC)

by Shalini Boland

  I follow the directions I scribbled down earlier, and within only a few minutes find myself driving along Goldfinch Lane. Set a few streets back from the main road, it has the feel of a wide country avenue – aside from the parking-restriction signs everywhere. I’m not sure what I’ll do about those. I guess I’ll have to chance it and hope no traffic wardens come along while I’m parked here.

  The lane is lined with trees, their branches bare for now, but come the spring I bet it feels like a leafy little haven. I drive slowly, trying to spot house numbers to give me a clue as to whether I’m heading in the right direction, but the houses all seem to have name-plaques on their walls instead of street numbers – The Maltings, Courtenay House, Meadow View (not sure that one’s strictly accurate, unless they have a really large garden), Orchard Villa, The Willows. And then I reach it – The Ridings.

  I cruise past slowly, taking in the wide expanse of driveway and the smart brick facade. I can just picture the Morrises living there. The Ridings suits them much more than their current flat, but I guess Shaun’s stint in prison must be responsible for them losing all their money. I have a clear vision of Bella growing up here in privileged luxury. Spending time in her beautifully decorated bedroom. Cosying up with rest of the family at Christmas around a traditional open fire. Running around on the lawn in summer wearing a succession of expensive, pretty summer dresses. I only hope that amidst all that privilege and wealth, she’s been loved and cared for. That’s the only thing I care about.

  I pull up just beyond the property, in front of their neighbour’s hedge so my car is screened from view. I take a swig of water and then check my face in the rear-view mirror. My eyes are bruised with dark circles, my skin mottled and blotchy. At least I washed my hair last night, so it looks nice and shiny. I also dressed relatively smartly today in my black jeans, blue polo neck and wool coat. It doesn’t guarantee I won’t get the door slammed in my face, but hopefully at least one of the neighbours will speak to me.

  There’s no point sitting here trying to work up the nerve. I don’t have the luxury of time anyway. Not if I’m going to get home before anyone notices I’m missing. I may as well just get this over with. I take my umbrella out of the pocket in the car door, grab my handbag and step out onto the pavement. I’ll try knocking on the door of the house I’ve parked outside. Walking around to the wrought-iron entrance gate, I see that this property is attached to The Ridings, so I’m hoping whoever lives here will know Kate and her family quite well.

  I crunch my way across the gravel driveway, ring the doorbell and wait. No one comes immediately, so I ring again and use the door knocker for good measure. Finally, I’m rewarded by the sound of footsteps from inside growing louder. Through the opaque glass beside the wooden door, I see an inner door opening. There’s a rattling sound, and then the front door opens. A woman roughly my age, wearing sweatpants with her hair pulled up in a messy bun, peers through a gap in the door – she has the chain pulled across.

  ‘Hello?’ she says sharply, with no pretence at friendliness.

  ‘Hi, I’m so sorry to disturb you,’ I say in what my mum would have described as a ‘telephone voice’. ‘I wonder if you can help?’

  She doesn’t reply. Just stares at me impatiently.

  I’m not sure I’m going to get anything useful out of her, but I plough on anyway. ‘It’s a bit awkward, but I’ve got these new neighbours – Shaun and Kate Morris – and I understand they used to live next door to you.’ I nod in the direction of The Ridings.

  The woman’s expression grows darker and I’m nervous that she’s about to slam the door in my face. ‘The thing is,’ I continue, ‘I heard that Shaun Morris just got out of prison and I wondered if you were able to tell me if I should be at all worried about him. It’s just, I have young children and—’

  ‘Sorry, I can’t help you,’ she says tersely, and closes the door.

  I stand there for a moment as the rain patters against my umbrella, wondering if she can’t help me because she’s friendly with them, or because she’s scared of them. Or maybe it’s because she kept to herself and didn’t know them at all. Reluctantly, I walk away and decide to try the neighbours on the other side of The Ridings. As I reach the pavement and start walking, I notice an older lady opposite pulling her wheelie bin back inside her driveway. I catch her eye and give a little smile, which she returns.

  ‘You’ll get clamped if you park there,’ she says in a not-too-unfriendly tone.

  ‘Thanks for the warning. I won’t be here long.’

  ‘The wardens are quick off the mark around here.’

  ‘Oh no, really?’ I glance up and down the road, but I can’t spot anyone. I absolutely can’t risk getting clamped. ‘I don’t suppose… do you mind if I have a quick word?’

  ‘A word? Sounds ominous.’ She peers at me from under the hood of her navy raincoat.

  ‘Not really.’ I cross over the road. Since I’ve been here, not one vehicle has driven down the street. ‘It’s peaceful down here, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is. We’ve lived here for thirty-four years,’ she replies with a satisfied smile. ‘Wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. My son keeps telling us to sell up and get somewhere smaller and more manageable, but I love this road. And it’s so handy for the shops.’

  ‘I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to move either if I lived on this street.’

  ‘Are you local?’ Her eyes narrow and she looks me up and down.

  ‘Used to be. I’m in Dorset now.’

  ‘Now that’s a lovely county – used to go there as a child on holiday. What brings you back to London? Visiting friends?’

  ‘Well, it’s a bit awkward.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ Her eyes widen in anticipation of what I’m about to say. I notice her coral lipstick has bled into the little corrugated-cardboard lines around her mouth.

  Taking advantage of her eagerness, I ask, ‘It’s about the family who used to live opposite – the Morrises. Did you know them?’

  ‘Kate and Shaun? Yes. Terrible business, all that.’

  It sounds like I might have hit the jackpot with this older lady. Her eyes are bright and alert now, like she’s itching to indulge in a bit of gossip.

  ‘Well…’ I lower my voice for dramatic effect. ‘They’ve moved to Dorset and now they live next door to me.’

  ‘Do they now? I wondered where they’d gone. Didn’t leave a forwarding address. I suppose they didn’t want any disgruntled contractors and clients following them. One day they were here, the next they were gone. Did you know their house was repossessed? The new owners got a bit of a bargain, I hear.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’

  She nods sagely, crossing her arms as though settling in for a good, long chat, the insistent drizzle not putting her off one bit. ‘Yes. I always thought Kate was a bit stuck-up. Seemed all right to begin with – the two of them came and introduced themselves when they moved in, must be seven or eight years ago now – but they never really took the time to stop and be friendly. I mean, good manners cost nothing. We’re a little community round here, but she never wanted to be part of it. We were lucky if we got so much as a nod from her. Shaun was a bit more approachable, but then we all know where he ended up. Melanie in number fifty, she’s another snooty one. You were just round there a minute ago, weren’t you?’

  ‘Uh, yes.’ I need to steer her back to the Morrises. ‘But I was actually hoping to find out about Shaun.’

  ‘Oh?’ She folds her arms across her chest and purses her lips. ‘Find out what exactly? I don’t really like to talk about other people’s business, you know.’

  ‘Of course not, it’s just…’ I pause.

  ‘Just what?’

  ‘Oh, never mind. It’s probably not fair to ask you. I’d better go and move the car before I get clamped.’

  ‘You’ll be fine. The warden walked down here about two minutes before you arrived. It’ll be at least another hour before she comes back. Probably mo
re like two.’

  I stifle an eye-roll. A minute ago she was telling me I’d get clamped, when she knew the whole time that I’d be safe for ages. ‘That’s great. But still, I should go. You don’t need me here, keeping you out in the rain.’

  ‘I don’t mind. So, what was it you wanted to ask me?’ She leans forward. ‘I can’t promise I’ll be able to help you, but I’ll try my best.’

  ‘That’s so kind of you, but…’ I pause as if weighing up what to do for the best. ‘Well, if you’re sure…’

  ‘I am. Ask away.’

  ‘Like I said, the Morris family have moved in next door to us. The thing is, I heard recently about his stint in prison.’

  ‘Terrible business,’ she says again.

  ‘Well, we have two young children and so naturally we were a little worried—’

  ‘Of course you were. Who wouldn’t be?’

  ‘So I wondered if you knew what it was that he was convicted of, and whether you could tell me if you think he’s dangerous, or violent.’

  She shakes her head and repeats her favourite line: ‘Terrible, terrible business. But I can put your mind at rest on that score; you’ve no need to worry about Shaun.’

  ‘I haven’t?’

  ‘No, dear. He’s not violent as far as I’m aware. He went to prison for tax evasion.’

  ‘Really?’ That news has really surprised me. I was convinced she was going to tell me he was guilty of GBH or assault, or some kind of domestic violence. But tax evasion… I mean, it’s bad, of course it is, but it’s not exactly dangerous. ‘Are you absolutely sure that’s what he was in for? It’s not just a rumour? Because I know how these things can spread.’

  ‘One hundred per cent sure.’ She gives me a self-satisfied smile. ‘Bit of a scandal, actually. He was working on a few local building projects and he had to abandon them halfway through – he’d already been paid deposits for the work which, I might add, his clients lost. Thousands of pounds apparently. He didn’t pay his tradesmen either. My nephew owns a roofing firm and told me all about it. There was quite an outcry at the time. I think one of his clients went to the papers, but I believe only the local one picked it up.’

  That’s why I couldn’t find anything online – I didn’t dig deep enough. I make suitable tutting noises. ‘So there’s nothing I need to be wary of from the Morrises?’

  ‘Not really. Other than not employing them for any building work, obviously.’ She gives a little laugh.

  ‘Of course.’ I wonder if there are any other little nuggets of information I can winkle out of her. I need to be subtle, though. I drop my shoulders and look sad. ‘It must have been awful for their children.’

  ‘I know, poor mites. I hardly ever saw them when they lived here – probably in their rooms on their devices all day. Not like when we were young – climbing trees and playing out in the fresh air. I can’t understand the fascination with those screens. It’s like some kind of brainwashing.’

  ‘Mmm.’ I don’t want to get drawn into a whinge about how things were better in her day, and I don’t think she has any further information. ‘Well, it’s been very nice chatting with you. Thanks for letting me know about Shaun, and sorry again for keeping you out in the rain.’

  ‘Not at all. Always happy to help. Glad I could put your mind at rest.’

  I cross back over the road and get back into the car. She gives me a little wave, and it’s clear she’s not going back inside until she’s seen me drive off. I wanted to sit here for a moment more and digest what she’s just told me, but it looks like I’m going to have to move on, because I don’t fancy sitting here while the woman waits for me to leave. I need to get some more petrol anyway, and I’d better pick up a sandwich and some more water for my journey home.

  I start up the car and drive slowly away. I can still see the neighbour standing on the pavement in the rain, watching my car, until I indicate left and turn out of Goldfinch Lane.

  I feel strangely deflated now. And so tired. Now the adrenalin has worn off, my lack of sleep last night is finally catching up with me. Of course I’m glad that Shaun doesn’t appear to be dangerous. That it was white-collar crime, nothing to do with anger, or violence. But surely the fact that Shaun was in prison at all shows that he doesn’t play by the rules. That he’s capable of breaking the law to get what he wants. So there’s every likelihood that he’s broken the rules before and taken something else that didn’t belong to him – like a child.

  31

  Then

  All the furniture belongs to the landlord, so there’s a surprisingly small amount of stuff to pack up. Just clothes, toiletries and some crockery, cutlery and ornaments. While Catriona gets on with wrapping plates and mugs in sheets of old newspaper, Grace is in the hall playing with a couple of large cardboard boxes. Catriona has propped the door open so she can keep an eye on her while she works. She smiles as she listens to her sweet conversation. At the moment, Grace is pretending to be a cat. One of the boxes is her house, and the other box is her cat-sister’s house.

  Hearing Grace talk about a sister – albeit a ‘cat’ sister – induces a mild panic in Catriona. The image of a woman with a pram flashes into her mind – the woman from the shopping centre. The child in the pram was obviously a sibling. Catriona needs to make herself think about something else. To block out all these unhelpful memories. But it’s hard when Grace keeps triggering them with her make-believe chatter. Catriona tells herself that’s all it is – make-believe. It’s nothing more sinister than that. If by some chance it is a real memory, well, she’s young enough for it to fade.

  Catriona tries to think back to when she was a child and she’s pretty sure the earliest memory she has is of an incident at nursery, when one of the helpers told her off for getting paint on the floor. She must have been about four at the time. Grace isn’t even three. A sharp pain flashes across Catriona’s index finger. She glances down and twists her hand to see a thin red line along the side of her forefinger – a paper cut. She sucks the skin and goes over to the cupboard where she keeps the first-aid kit. She rinses her finger under the tap, pats it dry, then sticks a plaster on it. How can such a small cut be so painful? She sighs and returns to her task.

  She finally left Darren’s family last week, after they made her promise to come back and spend Christmas with them. Catriona could tell they would rather have kept her and Grace in Middlesbrough. They really didn’t want to let them go. But Catriona said she had too much to organise. That she would see them in a few weeks’ time. She hates lying to Geoff and Pat, as they’re such lovely, warm people. She knows she’s lucky to have their support, but Grace comes first. She can no more keep Darren’s family in her life than she can go to the police station and confess everything. No. She and Grace must start afresh. A single mum and her daughter moving to a new place.

  To make a cleaner break, Catriona will tell Darren’s parents that she and Grace are moving abroad to be with relatives. Maybe Australia or somewhere like that. She hasn’t worked out the details yet. She’ll say that reminders of Darren are too painful. At least that part will be the truth.

  Catriona has never been the bravest person – Darren did all the organising for both of them, paying the bills and sorting out their finances, and she preferred it that way. That will have to change now. She’ll have to put herself out there. Get a job. Look into what benefits she might be entitled to in the meantime. All this feels so overwhelming. For the past four years, she’s been a stay-at-home mother. Darren didn’t mind the fact she wanted to give up work to be with Grace. She only earnt minimum wage anyway, as a cashier in the local supermarket. He was supportive of her wanting to be a full-time mum. Catriona stops what she’s doing for a second, angrily wiping away a stray tear. She couldn’t even do that properly. But there’s no room for self-pity. She has to learn to toughen up.

  She’s already put a deposit down on a tiny one-bed flat. She hasn’t even seen the place in real life, but it looked okay online. One thi
ng has come to light – she didn’t realise that Darren had a small life-insurance premium. She’s now due a small lump sum that will help her get started. No amount of money could ever replace Darren, but at least it will go some way to getting them settled in a new area.

  ‘Hey, Gracie. Shall we have a snack?’

  ‘Yes pwease.’ Her daughter’s voice is muffled inside the box.

  ‘Chocolate rice cakes?’ Catriona asks.

  ‘Yay! Chocowate!’

  Catriona tapes up the box she’s been filling with cleaning products and Tupperware and wipes her hands down the sides of her jeans. ‘Come on then, let’s wash our hands.’ She opens Grace’s box, swings her up into her arms and kisses her soft cheeks, making her daughter giggle and squirm. She’s all hot and crumpled from being inside the box, but this only makes her ten times more adorable. Catriona is determined to become the best mother in the world. She will take perfect care of her daughter – cherishing her, nurturing her, making sure she has everything she needs. Grace will be her number-one priority, not just in thoughts, but in actions. Always.

  ‘Mummy, I have juice?’

  ‘Let’s have a nice glass of water instead.’

  Grace wrinkles her pretty nose.

  ‘Better to have water, sweetie. You don’t want all your teeth to fall out.’

  Grace’s eyes widen, and she puts her fingers up to her mouth, touching her baby teeth. Catriona smiles reassuringly at her and then sets her down on the kitchen floor. She feels so protective it almost hurts. She realises she needs to make a good life for the two of them. She needs a good job, new friends, maybe she even needs to meet someone new – find a father for Grace. It’s disloyal to even be thinking this, but she’s only twenty-eight. She can’t let the past destroy her life. She has to think about their future.

  Through the window, Catriona’s eyes are drawn upwards to the church steeple, dark against the ice-white sky. The thought flickers into her head that she should maybe have planted a tree or a shrub in the church grounds. Marked the spot with something beautiful. But that would have drawn too much attention. And perhaps there should be no reminder as, after all, she does still have her Gracie. She wonders if the spot will ever be discovered. But she can’t think like that. And in any case, she can’t do anything about it now.