The Flood Page 9

  She was tucked in behind the corner, too casual to be doing anything other than hiding. A little farther down the road were the back gates to the yard behind the antiques shop. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that Franklyn could be watching any other building. Two cigarette butts lay crushed at her feet. She’d been there a while.

  There was a scrape across the bridge of her nose, which Daniela hadn’t noticed the day before. Had that happened during the scuffle at the shop?

  ‘I needed some fresh air,’ Daniela said. It was as good an excuse as any. ‘You?’

  ‘Pah. Fresh air’s overrated.’ Franklyn blew out smoke. ‘There’s plenty of air in the house. Mostly hot air, of course. I needed to get away.’

  She tilted her pack of cigarettes to Daniela. After a hesitation, Daniela took one, sharing a grin with Franklyn like they were a pair of naughty kids.

  ‘Is Steph awake, then?’ Daniela asked.

  Franklyn nodded, searching for her lighter. ‘And still in a foul temper. Seems to be her default setting these days, doesn’t it?’

  Daniela had to agree. She watched Franklyn fumble with the stubborn flint of her Zippo. Daniela checked her own pockets. Usually she carried a lighter.

  Her searching hands found the flick-knife in the inside pocket of her jacket. A fleeting coldness went down her spine. She’d forgotten the knife was there … or maybe she’d just put it from her mind.

  Finally, Franklyn got a spark and lit Daniela’s cigarette.

  ‘I can’t stay,’ Franklyn said. ‘I figured it’d be okay to be in Stonecrop for a day or two, but that doesn’t seem sensible now, does it?’

  ‘Because of Henry?’

  ‘Not just him. Steph’s less than pleased with me.’ Franklyn rubbed the scrape on her nose. ‘I’d hoped I could talk to Henry and that’d be the end of it. Stupid, really.’

  ‘What’s Henry’s problem anyway?’

  ‘He thinks I’m ungrateful, and arrogant, and … well, a lot of things that’re probably true.’

  ‘Ungrateful? For what?’

  Franklyn leaned against the wall, twisting so she could watch the yard gates. She looked a lot older than twenty-six. ‘You try and get away from things, and they end up following you,’ she said. ‘I went to the city because … all right, I didn’t know what I wanted, but whatever it was, it wasn’t here in Stonecrop. You understand, right?’

  Daniela nodded. She understood perfectly.

  ‘You hang on to things that’re familiar,’ Franklyn said. ‘You meet new people, but you feel like you owe something to the people you used to know. The ones who don’t question you about your name or your family or anything like that. Henry helped me when I went to Birmingham. He set me up with a place to live, gave me some work, that sort of thing. From the goodness of his heart, of course, and because he was such good friends with Dad.’ She studied the glowing end of her cigarette. ‘Stupid, naive me. You don’t expect people to be bastards. For some reason, it always catches you by surprise.’

  Daniela said nothing, because it’d been years since she’d thought of Henry as anything other than a bastard. She only had to look at the way their dad spoke about him.

  ‘Henry asked for a favour in return,’ Franklyn said. ‘That was the start of it. He asked—’ Franklyn pushed her hair out of her face. ‘I’m an idiot. I should’ve run a mile. But they trick you into these things, a little at a time, a small amount of pressure on your back, and you don’t realise you’re falling until you’re already gone.’

  ‘Is that what you and Henry were arguing about? He lent you money and wanted it back?’

  Franklyn looked surprised. ‘You’re kidding. Why would I take money off him? He came to me because he needed cash.’

  In the yard behind the antiques shop, a car racketed into life. Franklyn lifted her head and gave a tight smile.

  ‘Here we go,’ she said.

  13

  With scraping gravel and squealing hinges, the gates to the yard opened. Henry appeared, scowling at the sky as if the muted sunlight were a personal affront. He opened the gates fully, kicking them into place, then disappeared back into the yard.

  Franklyn had retreated behind the wall in a smooth, slow movement to avoid attention. Daniela was clumsier. She ducked too swiftly behind Franklyn, and her foot slipped on the kerb. Franklyn grabbed her elbow to steady her.

  Embarrassed, Daniela peered around the corner. A car nosed out of the yard with Henry behind the wheel. It stopped in the middle of the street while Henry got out to shut the gates.

  Daniela glanced at Franklyn, who was motionless, her intense gaze fixed on Henry.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Daniela asked in a hesitant whisper.

  Franklyn didn’t respond. Her silence and stillness were unnerving. Tension corkscrewed in Daniela’s stomach, even though she didn’t know why she should be concerned. As far as she could tell, they were watching Henry McKearney going for a drive.

  As Henry drove off with a crunch of gears, and the noise of the engine faded, Franklyn at last unwound. She discarded her half-finished cigarette, then strode to the gates. Daniela followed.

  ‘What’re we doing?’ Daniela asked.

  ‘I’m getting my money back,’ Franklyn said.

  She tried the gate but found it locked tight with a bolt and a padlock.

  ‘Dammit,’ Franklyn said. ‘He doesn’t usually lock the place up. Must be feeling paranoid.’

  She took a step back to examine the wall. It was seven feet high, made of chunks of local stone, topped with shards of broken glass embedded in concrete. Chinks and defects in the face of the wall provided scant footholds.

  Franklyn found a suitable place, set her foot against the wall, gripped a handhold just above her head, and pulled herself up. Daniela watched her sister struggle to find another handhold, then asked, ‘Would you like a boost?’

  ‘Um. Yeah, go on then.’

  Daniela linked her hands and boosted Franklyn ungracefully over the wall. There was a certain amount of swearing as the broken glass snagged the elbows of her leather jacket. Franklyn swung her legs over and dropped into the yard on the other side.

  ‘How d’you intend to get back?’ Daniela asked through the gate.

  ‘One thing at a time, will you? Keep watch for me.’

  Franklyn’s footsteps crunched on the gravel to the rear door of the antiques shop. Daniela stayed where she was, watching the empty street, but only for a moment. Whatever was going on, the interesting stuff was inside the shop. Daniela made a decision, then climbed the wall, following the same route as Franklyn. She was smaller, lighter, and more confident at climbing since scaling trees was one of the few things she enjoyed about Stonecrop. She reached the top and slithered over. A shard of glass poked her knee but didn’t hurt.

  As Daniela dropped into the yard, Franklyn looked up with annoyance. ‘You’re not big on doing what you’re told, are you?’

  ‘Wonder where I get that from.’

  Franklyn sprung the fire door of the shop. ‘Don’t touch anything,’ she warned. ‘We’ll be in and out quickly.’

  Daniela nodded. A knot of excitement tightened in her stomach. This was different to the petty trespassing she’d done in the past – like breaking into the abandoned shell of Kirk Cottage – and the thrill was a hundred times greater. In fact, it was so strong, Daniela felt queasy. She was doing something seriously wrong, and wasn’t sure how that made her feel. She wondered how Stephanie would react if she found out.

  The shop was dark and silent, the hulking shadows of furniture blocking the light from the front windows. Franklyn went to Henry’s rosewood desk and started opening drawers.

  ‘Henry thinks he’s cleverer than he is,’ Franklyn said. ‘He figured, since he was travelling the country, buying and selling antiques, getting stuff imported from the continent, he might as well buy and sell a little additional merchandise.’

  ‘Like what?’

  Franklyn shoved a stack of papers o
ff the desk, searching for something. The noise of paper fluttering to the ground made Daniela glance at the door. Franklyn grunted with satisfaction as she uncovered a large crate hidden beneath a nearby chair.

  She lifted the lid to reveal a porcelain figure nestled in polythene beads. Underneath the statuette, however, were a dozen rows of neatly packed cigarettes.

  ‘I told him, it’s a lot of risk for a slimline profit,’ Franklyn said, ‘but Henry’s done the maths and reckons he’s onto a winner. He gets all kinds of counterfeit crap sent to him from Europe. Cigarettes, designer bags, clothes, car parts, all sorts. He acts as a middleman, sells it to people who actually know what they’re doing, and takes a tiny profit.’ Franklyn shook her head as she put the porcelain figure back and resealed the box. ‘The man’s crazy. It’s bound to backfire.’

  The conversation felt surreal. It made Daniela look at Franklyn in a different light. Franklyn had been in trouble throughout her life, but this was new, a world away from petty thievery and pointless vandalism. Despite herself, Daniela thrilled at this glimpse of another world, which Franklyn had chosen to share.

  ‘So, how’d you get mixed up in it?’ she asked.

  Franklyn grimaced. ‘Henry needed money. I had money. I was stupid enough to feel indebted because he’d helped me. He said it was for a completely legit business idea. By the time I figured out what he was up to, I was involved enough that he thought he could blackmail me.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m such an idiot.’

  ‘Blackmail? What did you do?’

  Franklyn ignored that question. She returned to the desk drawers. The lowermost was locked, and resisted all efforts to open it.

  ‘What’re you looking for?’ Daniela asked.

  ‘My way out.’ Franklyn flashed a grin. ‘He’s not keeping my money, and he’s not playing me anymore. I’m getting the hell away from Henry McKearney and his suspect business practices. It’s time I did something constructive with my life.’

  ‘That’ll be a change.’

  Franklyn gave her an irritated look, and Daniela flinched. She hadn’t meant to be sarcastic. ‘You’re as bad as Steph,’ Franklyn said. ‘If I wanted another lecture, I would’ve woken her. Or Dad.’

  ‘Sorry.’ The tips of Daniela’s ears burned. Franklyn had been treating her like an adult, and she’d responded like a child. ‘I just mean, you’ve changed since you’ve been away.’

  Franklyn frowned, either in thought or annoyance. She picked up a metal ruler from the desk and tried to jemmy the drawer.

  ‘I had to,’ she said. ‘I mean, I don’t want to wake up one morning twenty years from now and still be stuck in the same mess. I’ve always known I needed to change. I can’t keep going like this. It’ll kill me.’

  From anyone else that would’ve sounded like hyperbole, but Daniela worried Franklyn was speaking literally.

  ‘There has to be more than this.’ Franklyn swept her hand to encompass the entirety of Stonecrop. ‘Something more important.’

  ‘Yeah, but studying theology? Is that just to piss off Dad?’ Since the day their mother walked out, their father had added religion to such topics as politics and sports that were banned from the house.

  ‘A little, yeah,’ Franklyn said with a slight smile. ‘It’s an added bonus, isn’t it? Anyway, it’s not like any of this is set in stone. It’s just a thought. And I know you guys don’t approve—’

  ‘I never said that. I mean, I don’t completely understand, but I’m not about to tell you how to run your life.’

  Franklyn chuckled. ‘You’re the only one, that’s for sure.’

  A car went past outside. Both Franklyn and Daniela tensed, listening as it came closer, then relaxing as it continued through town.

  Franklyn said, ‘Something happened last week. It wasn’t as dramatic as a bolt of lightning or realising what a godawful person I’ve been, just …’ She made an imprecise gesture. ‘You know when something’s staring you in the face for so long, and you feel so stupid because you never even knew it was there?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘That’s what it was like. I met this person …’ Franklyn noticed the smile on Daniela’s face. ‘Not like that, c’mon. I was volunteering some hours at a homeless shelter and there was this woman there. She can’t have been much older than me. Like, early thirties, tops. But she looked eighty. She’d been a user since she was in her teens, and she’d picked up hepatitis somewhere along the line. It was horrendous. Like she was rotting from the inside. And she’d had such a fucking awful life. She knew she was circling the drain. Been circling it for years. But she had this—’ again Franklyn made an imprecise, impatient gesture, as if irritated by her lack of words ‘—inner peace. That sounds so stupid, doesn’t it? There must be a better term.’

  Daniela said nothing, because she remembered thinking the same thing about Franklyn. Something internal, calm, but she wouldn’t call it peace.

  ‘But, yeah,’ Franklyn sighed. ‘She knew exactly where she was in the world, and what was coming next, and she was so fucking Zen about it.’ It wasn’t clear whether she was annoyed at herself or at the woman. ‘Anyway. That was it. She had no illusions that anything could save her, not after the life she’d had, but she had comfort. Certainty. And, God help me, I was jealous.’

  Franklyn struggled with the drawer but the ruler wasn’t enough to open it. All she was doing was scratching the expensive wood. Franklyn stood up, hands on hips in exasperation, then leaned back and drove the heel of her boot into the drawer front. The wooden panel cracked like a gunshot. Daniela instinctively flinched away. Franklyn kicked it twice more.

  ‘Better,’ Franklyn said, a little out of breath.

  She pulled away the shattered pieces of wood. From the drawer behind, she fished a thick bundle of banknotes and tossed it onto the desk.

  ‘Much better.’ Franklyn removed the elastic band from the bundle. There was an assortment of notes, Daniela saw – mostly fifties with a few tens and twenties.

  Daniela couldn’t stop herself asking, ‘So how does this fit with your new improved lifestyle?’

  Franklyn paused in the act of counting off notes. ‘It doesn’t,’ she admitted. ‘Not at all. That’s why I’m doing it.’ She removed approximately a third of the bundle, then wrapped the elastic band around the rest and chucked it back into the shattered drawer. ‘This’ll wipe the slate clean. Once it’s done, that’s it, the cycle’s broken. I can get out.’

  The notes she’d counted – thousands of pounds, Daniela estimated – went into her pocket.

  ‘If I could afford to walk away and let that bastard keep the money, I would. But …’ Franklyn hesitated, her hand covering the pocket, her eyes wandering to the broken drawer. Then she shook her head and forced a smile. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  They closed the fire door behind them and scrambled over the wall. Once they were on the street again, Daniela expected they’d return to the family home, but instead Franklyn headed round the block, towards the front of the Corner Shoppe.

  ‘Where’re you going?’ Daniela asked. She had to hurry to keep up with Franklyn’s long stride.

  ‘Something else I need to do. I’ve got half an hour before the next bus to Hackett.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’

  ‘I should’ve left last night. Actually, I should’ve never come back. It wasn’t my best plan.’

  ‘You’re going back to Birmingham?’

  ‘I doubt it. I need to get properly away and let everything blow over. Too many people know where to find me in Birmingham. Staying there is a bad idea; staying here isn’t much smarter. The only thing I’ll do is cause more fights.’ She rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘It’s better if everyone forgets me for a while.’

  ‘So, you’re gonna sneak off without saying goodbye?’

  Franklyn pocketed her hands and shrugged. ‘Seems like the sort of thing I’d do, doesn’t it? Anyway, you can say bye for me. Tell them …’ She paused as if struggling for a genuin
e emotion. ‘Aw, crap. Tell them anything they want to hear. You’re the only one who’ll care.’

  ‘You think so?’

  Something clouded Franklyn’s eyes, there and gone in an instant. ‘I’ll catch you later, all right?’ she said. She flashed that familiar, reassuring smile. ‘Keep out of trouble.’

  ‘Says you.’

  ‘Yep, says me. I make these mistakes so you don’t have to, remember?’

  Daniela slowed her pace and let Franklyn stride away towards the Corner Shoppe. With her shoulders hunched and her head down, Franklyn looked like a stranger, a thin woman with a sullen, angry face; the sort of person you’d avoid on the street. With mixed emotions, Daniela watched her disappear into the shop. It was always sad to see her go, because out of the whole family, Daniela liked Franklyn best, and now more than ever she had felt a connection.

  But on the other hand, Daniela didn’t understand Franklyn’s world. Whatever she’d done in Birmingham … it left a sour taste in Daniela’s mouth. Blackmail, she’d said. What’d Franklyn ever done that anyone could blackmail her for?

  Daniela hated herself for thinking it, but maybe it was better if Franklyn left, to let everything settle. She brought nothing but trouble when she came home.

  14

  February 2017

  Daniela slept poorly, as expected. Any hope she’d had of sneaking out of the building in the early hours had been dashed as soon as she saw the hallway that led to the rooms. Stephanie’s rented room was directly opposite her own, and all the doors seemed incapable of opening without announcing their intentions to the world. And Stephanie had always been a light sleeper at the best of times.

  The room that Daniela found herself in was modern and comfortable, with magnolia walls and hospital corners on the bed. The few touches of life – a jar of budding daffodils, an indifferent watercolour print – couldn’t stop it looking like any hotel in the world. Daniela had expected something more homely.

  But it had a warm bed, an adequate bathroom, and a window that, with a little encouragement, opened wide enough to prevent the room feeling claustrophobic, albeit not quite wide enough for her to squeeze out through. She hated being shut in.