Little Girls Tell Tales Page 8

  It always shocked me how people could joke about relatives who’d died. I could barely bring myself to say Beth’s name aloud. Would there ever come a time when I could make a carefree remark about her, and laugh?

  Cora was smiling, encouraging Lenny. ‘How come the two of you went looking on your own?’ she asked. ‘Shouldn’t you have waited for the police?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Lenny gave a broad-shouldered shrug. ‘We were just being helpful. We figured it couldn’t hurt.’

  ‘You must live pretty close to the wetlands, if you were the first ones there.’

  I missed Lenny’s reply, because I happened to look across the room and saw Dallin.

  He was sitting at the table near the back door with Felice and Kendra. I blinked. Where the hell had he come from? Judging by the way he was leaning forwards, elbows comfortably on the table, he’d been there a while, chatting away with the two women. He laughed at something Kendra said.

  As if feeling my eyes on him, he looked up and met my gaze. His expression didn’t change. There was no bruise on his face where I’d hit him earlier. I didn’t know if I was glad about that or not.

  He smiled, but it was clear he was smiling at something Kendra had said. His gaze slipped away from me. It felt like a dismissal.

  Cora was asking Lenny something else. I leaned in to interrupt. ‘When did Dallin get here?’ I asked.

  Cora looked surprised. ‘He came with me. I told you we were heading to the pub.’

  ‘You said he wasn’t coming.’

  Cora’s brow creased. ‘He wasn’t planning to, but he changed his mind. I’m sure I told you that. Didn’t I?’

  I said nothing, because I couldn’t now be certain what Cora had said on the phone. But I definitely would’ve thought twice about coming to the pub if I’d known Dallin would be here.

  Lenny tilted his head to peer at Dallin. ‘Oh. That one’s back, is he?’ He didn’t sound impressed. ‘Hope he’s not planning on causing any more trouble.’

  ‘Why?’ Cora asked. ‘What trouble did he cause?’

  The question was addressed to both of us, but I could only shrug. Dallin had upset a lot of people when he took off.

  ‘It’s probably not my place to say,’ Lenny said, in a way that suggested he was quite happy to do so, ‘but if he’s back, I hope he’s brought his chequebook. There’re one or two folk who might come looking for the money he owes.’

  That was news to me. But somehow it didn’t surprise me. Dallin had never been careful with money. Once he was old enough to leave school and start working, he would always have new clothes, or the latest games console, or whatever. As soon as money went into his pocket it went straight back out again. By the end of the week, he’d be trying to sponge off his friends.

  ‘Like who?’ Cora asked. She had a way of smiling when she asked a question that stopped it feeling pushy.

  ‘He knows who he owes,’ Lenny said. His mouth pursed into a sour line as he watched Dallin. ‘I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten. To be safe, you might want to remind him. Just in case.’

  Dallin got up and took his empty glass to the bar. I stood up as well. ‘Back in a minute,’ I mumbled to Cora.

  I crossed the room to Dallin, who was leaning against the bar in a casual attempt to catch the barman’s attention. He spotted me approaching and his face took on a cautious expression.

  ‘What’re you doing here?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s a free country, isn’t it?’ he replied.

  I looked Dallin up and down. His eyes were slightly unfocused. How long had he been in the pub? Cora said he’d arrived with her, but I wasn’t sure I believed that.

  ‘I suppose you’re expecting an apology,’ he added.

  His grudging tone immediately annoyed me. ‘Dallin,’ I sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter what I expect. If you don’t care what you’ve done wrong, it’s not up to me to educate you. So, no, I don’t expect an apology. I’m just shocked you don’t think you should apologise. Don’t you realise what you did to us?’

  ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there for Beth—’

  ‘That’s not what I’m talking about. When you left, you broke Mum’s heart.’

  Dallin pulled a face. ‘I did not. I call her all the time. She’s fine.’

  ‘Is that genuinely what you think?’

  ‘Are you telling me she isn’t fine?’

  ‘Of course she’s not.’ My voice was rising. A woman at the bar looked up. ‘She’s needed all our help these last few years. She should’ve had me and you.’ And Beth, and Dad. But I couldn’t say that aloud without tears choking me. ‘You left us to cope without you.’

  ‘No, see—’ Dallin gave a loose shrug that made him look more drunk than he probably was. ‘See, I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t deal with it. I’m not strong.’

  ‘You idiot,’ I said with feeling. ‘There was no call for you to be strong. You just had to be here.’ I considered storming off at that point, but instead held back for a second, and said, ‘I’m going to see Mum tomorrow morning. You’re coming with me. Alright?’

  Dallin pulled a face, which I ignored. I turned on my heel and walked out. It didn’t occur to me to go back to Cora. My whole focus was on getting out of the building.

  I made it as far as the smoking area out front before Cora caught up with me.

  ‘Rosalie,’ she called. I stopped. ‘You okay?’

  ‘I need to go home,’ I said. ‘Sorry.’

  To her credit, she didn’t ask questions, just nodded her understanding. ‘Will you text me when you get home?’ she asked. ‘Let me know you got there?’

  ‘I don’t have your number.’

  Cora produced one of her many pens, but for once she didn’t have a piece of paper to scribble on. With a smile, she took my hand and wrote her number on my skin. I was too surprised to resist.

  She squeezed my hand then let go. ‘Text me,’ she said. ‘Okay?’

  Chapter 10

  As soon as I got home I searched for a scrap of paper to write down Cora’s number. I could still feel the warmth of her hand as she’d held mine.

  I reached for the notepad on the phone table, before remembering the pad belonged to Beth. There were only a dozen blank sheets left, and once they were used up I would have to throw it out, and that would be another bit of Beth gone forever. I dithered for a moment, then scrawled Cora’s number on the back of a phone bill instead.

  The most difficult part of texting Cora was finding my mobile and, once found, locating a charger. Offhand I couldn’t remember the last time I’d used my mobile. It was weird to recall how I’d once been plugged into it constantly, unable to leave it in the house when I went out. If I left the house without my phone, I’d go back for it. If it ran out of charge, I’d get sick with worry. Funny how things change.

  I hesitated over what to send her, and opted for, Sorry I had to leave. Hope you didn’t have a wasted evening.

  Cora texted me straight back. Also funny, how my heart did a little bounce when I saw her name at the end of her message. I cupped my hands around my phone as if there might be someone in the house who would look over my shoulder and see.

  No worries, her message said. Hope to see you tomorrow? Cora

  I liked the politeness of the question mark. It appealed to me. Cute and hopeful and not too pushy.

  I hoped I would see her tomorrow too.

  I’m visiting Mum about 10.30 tomorrow morning, I texted back. Let me know if you want to come along.

  At ten o’clock the next morning, just as I was getting ready to set out, Cora texted me.

  We’d love to meet your mum with you, if you don’t mind me tagging along?

  Again with the non-pushy question mark. It still worked on me.

  We’re on our way to pick you up, she added. Five minutes?

  I’d sort of assumed I would meet them in Ramsey, but I supposed it made sense for us to go in one car. It meant I probably couldn’t ask them to stop in town while I did my shopping, whi
ch I usually did after I visited Mum. I’d have to do a separate trip to Shoprite.

  My routine was being further disrupted. I told myself not to fret. But it was difficult. My routine held my whole life together. If I didn’t have that, what did I have?

  Less than five minutes later, I heard a polite beep-beep outside. Cora hadn’t been kidding when she said she was on the way. When people said five minutes, I assumed that meant fifteen. I wasn’t used to punctual people.

  Having said that, I wasn’t used to people at all. Maybe I was wrong and everyone arrived when they said they would.

  When I got out to the car, I saw Dallin in the passenger seat. He had an expression like he was chewing a wasp. Cora gave me a nod of greeting from the driver’s seat.

  ‘Morning, sunshine,’ Cora said as I got into the back. ‘How’re you today?’

  ‘I’m okay. What about you guys?’ I glanced at Dallin, who sat hunched next to the window, rumpled and surly. ‘Sleep alright?’

  ‘Peachy,’ Dallin muttered.

  ‘At least you got a lie-in,’ Cora said to him as she pulled back onto the road. She caught my eye in the rear-view mirror. ‘I’ve been out walking for the last two hours.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I wanted to cover a bit more ground in the wetlands. I was worried we might fall too far behind.’

  ‘Ah. How was it?’

  ‘Bracing.’ Cora brought the car to a halt at the junction. ‘Where am I going?’

  ‘Oh, sorry. Turn right.’

  Cora twisted her head so she could see me. Her bright smile made something twinge inside me. ‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘You sleep okay?’

  ‘Fine, yeah.’

  Dallin looked at me without moving his head. ‘Really? You slept fine?’

  I guess he remembered how I’d always been unable to settle when we were kids; constantly getting up to use the bathroom or get a drink of water. Except during thunderstorms, when perversely I’d always slept better than him. Dallin had a real phobia of lightning.

  ‘I’m a lot better,’ I said. And then, because I wanted to match his snippy tone, ‘The tablets I’m on now help, of course.’

  Dallin’s gaze went back to the window. I subtly tried to see whether I’d left a mark on his face when I’d hit him yesterday. I still couldn’t believe I’d done that. It’d been an awful thing to do, and I knew I should apologise. I also knew I wasn’t going to.

  ‘Honestly, I’m already missing my creature comforts,’ Cora said, either oblivious to Dallin’s mood or deliberately talking over it. ‘I always say how much I like camping, until I actually go camping, at which point I remember what a ball-ache it is. My blow-up mattress got a puncture.’

  I smiled. ‘Oh no.’

  ‘Bloody thing was brand new. Straight out of the box and it pops the first time I sit my arse on it.’

  ‘What were you doing on it?’ I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

  ‘Sleeping. Nothing else,’ Cora said. ‘Chance would be a fine thing.’

  I shot a glance at Dallin, who’d scrunched down further in his seat. Yesterday he’d looked hungover. Today he looked like someone had kept him awake all night, then stolen his breakfast.

  On the other hand, he was here, coming with us to see his mother, even if he didn’t look happy about it. I’d half expected him to change his mind.

  ‘How did you get on at the pub after I left?’ I asked.

  ‘Okay, I guess,’ Cora said. ‘I want to know more about Lenny.’

  ‘Lenny? Why?’

  ‘Because he went into the wetlands the day after you went missing. He said it was to help the police, but what if it wasn’t? What if he knew you’d found something, and he wanted to make sure it was better hidden?’

  That sounded extremely unlikely. I couldn’t imagine anyone doing such a thing. Especially Lenny.

  ‘He’s a nosy old bugger,’ Dallin put in. ‘That’s why he led the search party for Rosie. He can’t bear the thought of something happening that he’s not a part of.’

  ‘You sound like you don’t like him,’ I said.

  ‘He’s a busybody. Always poking his nose in. He was forever turning up on Mum’s doorstep like some creepy stalker. No, I don’t like him.’

  ‘I always quite liked him,’ I said, to stir the pot.

  ‘That’s his trick. He gets you on his side, and he offers to help you out with whatever, and he’s all smiles until he reckons you owe him something.’

  I remembered what Lenny said yesterday about Dallin’s debts. I wanted to ask Dallin about the money he apparently owed, but maybe not in front of Cora.

  ‘We talked to a few other people as well,’ Cora said. ‘Kendra and … who was the other?’

  ‘Felice,’ Dallin supplied. ‘Haven’t seen them in years.’

  ‘They didn’t know anything about Simone though,’ Cora added to me.

  ‘Well, they wouldn’t, would they?’ Dallin said. ‘Both too young.’

  ‘They’re the same age as you, Dallin,’ I said. ‘Who knows? They might remember something.’ Stirring the pot again. Cora caught my eye with a smile.

  Dallin glowered. ‘Sure, they remember what a pain you were. That skeleton was all you’d talk about for months. Every weekend you’d remind us. They all laughed about it.’

  I ducked my head to hide my expression. Beth had been part of that social group too. Had she laughed about me behind my back as well?

  ‘Felice asked how you were getting on,’ Dallin added. His tone was uninterested. ‘Why didn’t you keep in touch?’

  ‘She was Beth’s friend. Not mine.’

  ‘More than just her friend, the way I heard it,’ he said with a laugh.

  I wished I’d hit him a bit harder when I’d had the chance.

  Cora drove us to the outskirts of Ramsey, then through the housing estate to the flats where Mum lived. The buildings had that identikit, too-clean look. It would take a few years for the sheen to wear off.

  Once we’d parked in a visitor space, Cora shut off the engine and asked, ‘So, what’s your mum like, Rosalie? How does she react to visitors? Is she cool with people just showing up, or …?’

  I glanced at Dallin, but he seemed completely disinclined to take the lead. ‘Honestly, I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘Her friends visit all the time.’ Did Dallin flinch? ‘Those are people she’s known for years, though. I’ve never tried springing two visitors on her at once. Did you call her, Dallin?’

  Dallin shook his head. ‘She wasn’t answering the phone.’

  That was an obvious lie. Mum always answered her phone.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ Cora asked.

  I sighed. ‘Let me and Dallin go in first. We’ll see how she’s feeling today.’

  Really I should’ve sent Dallin in alone, to explain himself. It wasn’t my job to cover for him. But I understood how that might upset our mother.

  The flat where Mum lived was tucked away in one of the many side streets of Ramsey. When she’d first come out of the hospital, we’d looked at a dozen places that might suit her. The problem was, she’d never like anywhere as much as she loved her little house next to the curraghs. There’d been a lot of tears, those first few weeks. But the simple fact was Mum couldn’t go back to her old house. I wished there’d been a way to adapt the house to her new needs. But, in the end, we found this little ground floor flat, without any stairs, with a wet-room, and with a little patch of garden out front.

  Most of her plants were in tubs now, placed on top of sturdy tables to bring them to a manageable height, but it was still a riot of colour. Mum’s gardening abilities were as strong as ever.

  I glanced back at Dallin, who was following me at a distance. His expression was carefully neutral as he looked at the exterior of our mother’s home. It struck me that he hadn’t seen it before. The last time he’d been on the island, as far as I knew, was when Mum was in hospital. When it’d looked like she might not leave the hospital. He’d come home then, a
nd stayed for a full two weeks, long enough to hear the doctors start voicing cautious optimism. I’d assumed he would stay for longer, to help get Mum home, but of course I was wrong. He’d left, like always. The task of finding Mum new accommodation fell to me. Never mind that I was grieving too.

  I should’ve felt bitter. But there’d been no room to dwell on it during that long, awful summer. Mum had bought this flat with her savings. I’d spent two harsh months clearing out Dad’s house so it could go up for sale. Then I moved into Mum’s farmhouse, paying a token rent, with the understanding I would keep the place maintained. Because Mum was certain she would get better. And when she did, she wanted the option of moving back home.

  ‘This is only temporary,’ she’d said on more than one occasion.

  And there was one other change that summer. The advocate who dealt with the financial side of selling my dad’s house sounded vaguely familiar the first time I spoke to her on the phone. The penny dropped when she said she knew my mum from years ago. Really, I should’ve recognised Beth’s voice. Later, she would tease me about that.

  ‘I knew it was you straight away,’ she would say. ‘You’re distinctive, Rosalie.’

  At the front door of Mum’s flat, I paused, blinking away memories. For five years, me and Beth had made these visits together. Even now, I still felt like I could’ve turned my head and glimpsed her shadow at my side.

  I knocked on the door, then pushed it open. ‘Hello,’ I called. ‘It’s me.’

  Without waiting for an answer, I went in. Dallin followed as far as the hallway.

  Mum was in her chair by the window, which would’ve looked out over a field, except the neighbours had let their hedge get rangy and straggly over the spring, and it now all but obscured the view. Still, Mum liked to sit here, because it let her watch the birds at the feeders.

  She looked up with a smile. ‘Hello, pumpkin,’ she said. ‘How’s tricks?’

  It was sometimes hard for me to remember that she was only in her fifties. The accident had broken part of her spirit as well as a substantial part of her body, and left her looking far older than she should’ve. Her hair had faded like paper left too long in the sun. There were crinkles around her eyes that deepened whenever she was under the weather. She’d long since abandoned the loose, flowing dresses that I remembered so clearly from childhood, instead falling into the comfortable habit of jogging pants and baggy jumpers. She hadn’t entirely ditched her unique sense of style, though. The jumper she wore today was red with little black dots, like the cross-section of a watermelon. Her earrings and necklace were strings of brightly coloured wooden beads. With a jolt, I recognised the jewellery as a set me and Beth had bought for her, a few years ago.