Little Girls Tell Tales Page 9

  She wheeled herself forward to greet me. I caught hold of her hand. ‘I’m fine, fine,’ I said, laughing, because just being in the same room as her automatically made me feel better. ‘Now, I’ve got a surprise for you. I wanted to make sure you were sitting comfortably. Don’t fall out of your chair, okay?’

  Mum let out a hoot of laughter. ‘Wait, wait. Let me adequately prepare myself.’ She picked up her glasses from the side table, then adjusted her position in her chair and drew a dramatic breath. ‘Alright, yes, I believe I am now prepared. What surprise do you have for me?’

  I stepped aside, to reveal Dallin hovering in the doorway, hands in pockets.

  ‘Hi Mum,’ he said.

  If I’d hoped for an emotional reunion, I knew at once I wouldn’t get one. Mum blinked at her son a few times, then took off her glasses with a sigh. ‘I suppose I should’ve asked whether it was a nice surprise,’ she said.

  Dallin came into the room. Silence stretched between the three of us.

  I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting. From Dallin’s evasive answers yesterday, I’d guessed he wasn’t keen on visiting our mother, but I’d assumed it was because of some Dallin-esque issue; the same thing that made him run rather than cope. It hadn’t occurred to me maybe she didn’t want to see him either.

  For a moment I just stood there like a lump. ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ I said at last.

  The kitchen wasn’t even a separate room, just an adjacent space jutting off from the sitting area, with a lowered breakfast bar dividing the two. All the cabinets and counters were below waist height so Mum could use them. I stood with my back to the other room while I filled the kettle and put it on to boil, but it wasn’t like I could avoid hearing Dallin and Mum. Or rather, not hearing them. It was a full minute before Dallin broke the silence.

  ‘How are you, Mum?’ he asked.

  ‘Well.’ She folded her glasses in her lap, then folded her hands on top of them. ‘I suppose I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse, which makes this about average, I would think.’

  Dallin moved the spare chair so he could sit near her. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call before I arrived,’ he said. ‘I emailed Rosie but I don’t think she got my message.’

  I bit my tongue to stop myself correcting him again.

  ‘Hmm. That explains your absence for the last week or so,’ Mum said. ‘Now, what’s your excuse for the rest of the five years you’ve been gone without a word?’

  I smiled to myself. Mum was never one to dance around an issue.

  ‘I guess I don’t have an excuse,’ Dallin said. I could hear him smiling as well, that charming smile he always tried to use. ‘I’m just—’

  I missed what he said next, because the kettle was coming to the boil. I dropped a teabag into Mum’s cup, then realised I hadn’t asked Dallin whether he wanted tea or coffee. Well, he was getting tea. Decaffeinated tea, at that. As I opened the fridge to retrieve the milk, I sneaked a glance at Dallin. He looked uncomfortable and contrite in equal measures.

  ‘I kept your letters,’ Mum was saying. ‘The postcards you sent when you were off on your travels. They’re in a box somewhere.’

  ‘That’s good, I’m glad they arrived. You know what it’s like, sometimes, when you’re on the road, you never know whether the post will get where it’s supposed to go.’

  On the road. I rolled my eyes as I stirred milk into the tea. Dallin’s much-vaulted year of travelling had got him as far as Barcelona, where he worked in a tourist bar for nine months, house-sat someone’s pet turtle, and drank a lot of bad sangria. I knew this because Beth had followed his exploits on social media. We’d done plenty of eye-rolling then as well.

  ‘It was nice to be kept up to date,’ Mum said. ‘Although I notice you never put a return address on your postcards.’

  ‘I should’ve. Sorry.’

  Even if she had sent him letters, there would’ve been another excuse why he didn’t reply to them. I knew that as well, because he’d never responded to Beth’s messages on Facebook.

  I brought the tea over. Mum gave me a smile as I set hers down on the table next to her. Her face was strained. She kept her hands pressed tightly together in her lap.

  ‘So, sweetie,’ she said to Dallin, ‘I assume there’s some reason why you’ve come home. It’s not my birthday, or yours, or Rosalie’s. And I really hope you haven’t burned through all your money already. So, what other reason do you have?’

  Even I thought that was a bit harsh. But I’d been caught out by the mention of money. Had Mum been sending cash to Dallin? It reminded me of what Lenny had said last night.

  ‘I’m helping out a friend,’ he said. ‘It was, kinda, a last-minute decision for me to come with her.’

  ‘Hmm. Which friend is this?’

  ‘Her name’s Cora. You haven’t met her, but I was hoping you could say hi. She’s got a favour to ask you.’

  ‘Is that the friend who’s loitering in the hall, pretending I can’t see her?’

  I failed to stifle a laugh. ‘Cora, you’re not really in the hall, are you?’ I called.

  There was a pause, then Cora stuck her head around the doorframe. Embarrassment reddened her face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Dallin left the door open.’

  ‘Yes, I wondered about that,’ Mum said. ‘Well, come in, honey. Don’t hover in the doorway.’

  Cora came into the room. She tucked her hair behind her ears self-consciously. ‘I’m Cora. Hi. Sorry. This is a lot more awkward than I was hoping.’

  ‘We weren’t sure how you’d feel about us all coming in at once,’ Dallin said.

  ‘I can see your point,’ Mum said. ‘I would’ve liked a chance to fetch some extra chairs from the other room. Now you’ll have to stand.’

  I blew on my tea. ‘You don’t have spare chairs. I used to bring a garden chair if I wanted to sit down.’

  ‘It’s a cunning ploy to stop people outstaying their welcome.’ Mum held out a hand. ‘Lovely to meet you, Cora. I’m Opal. Excuse me for not getting up.’

  Cora smiled as best she could. I knew people tended to get flustered by my mum. Half the time they looked aghast when she joked about her wheelchair. ‘Lovely to meet you too.’

  Cora was awkward and hesitant, standing there in the middle of Mum’s sparse room, but I could see the resolution behind her eyes. She’d steeled her nerves before coming into the room. I recognised it from the first time we’d met.

  ‘Cora’s looking for her sister,’ Dallin said.

  I moved a couple of magazines so I could pull up the sewing seat for Cora. We did the awkward thing where she insisted on me sitting down instead and I had to pretend I was happier standing. Once she was seated, I went back into the kitchen. It was getting crowded in the small front room.

  ‘My sister came here about twenty years ago,’ Cora said. ‘At least, we think she did. I’m trying to find out if anyone remembers her.’

  ‘Well. I don’t know,’ Mum said. ‘Twenty years? I would’ve moved to the farmhouse about then. Where Rosalie’s living now. You two were just kids,’ she said to me and Dallin.

  ‘Simone would’ve been fifteen,’ Cora said, reaching into her pocket. ‘I’ve got a photo.’

  The photograph was tucked securely into a pouch of her wallet. I wondered why she hadn’t shown it to me. Even if there was zero chance I would’ve recognised Simone, wasn’t it instinctive to show everyone the picture?

  Mum had to put her glasses back on. She scrutinised the photo carefully before passing it back. ‘She looks a lot like you, doesn’t she?’ Mum said.

  ‘Do you think?’ Cora glanced at the photo as well, as if she’d never been aware of any family resemblance.

  I looked over her shoulder. The girl in the picture was slim and blonde, with a carefree smile. The camera had captured her sitting on a woollen blanket on the grass somewhere. I would’ve known at a glance Simone and Cora were related. Perhaps if Cora had been less burdened down with worry right now, they w
ould’ve looked even more alike.

  ‘Do you recognise her?’ Cora asked hopefully.

  ‘I’m sorry, love, I don’t.’ Mum shook her head with a sad smile. ‘Do you have a more recent photo?’

  ‘She disappeared a few months after this was taken. That’s why I’m here, to figure out what happened to her.’

  Mum raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Twenty years is a long time to look for someone. Have you considered she might not want to be found?’

  ‘Mum,’ Dallin said, his expression pained.

  ‘I don’t mean to be insensitive,’ Mum insisted. ‘But if someone’s been gone for that long and they’ve not been in contact …’

  ‘I’m not expecting to find her,’ Cora said. ‘I just want to know what happened.’

  Mum’s face crinkled. She reached out and patted Cora’s knew. ‘I’m sorry. Genuinely I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about. You never quite get over it.’

  I turned away and pretended to be looking at something out of the window.

  ‘She looks a little like – oh, who am I thinking of?’ Mum tutted to herself. ‘Can I see the photo again? My memory’s so bad these days. You’d think it’d be easier to remember the important stuff, now I don’t have so much everyday nonsense to remember. Let me see.’ She raised her head then. ‘Rosalie, did you ever meet Nicola and Patrick’s niece? She’s a bit older than you, lives in Birkenhead these days?’

  I shook my head without even trying to recall a face. I was dimly aware of other people’s families, but if there was someone important I needed to remember, Beth would remind me. And, now she was gone, there seemed less point keeping tabs on random people.

  ‘We think Simone came here in June 1999,’ Cora said. ‘I know it was a long time ago, but do you remember seeing her around? She might’ve been travelling through this part of the island, or catching a lift off someone …’

  The thin edge of desperation in her voice was painful. What were the chances of someone remembering a random teenage girl wandering along a country road twenty years ago? Chances were, I wouldn’t remember something like that from a month ago. We sometimes felt like we were a long way from the busier towns, but we weren’t really that isolated. A person could drive up from Douglas in half an hour. So we often saw strangers, walking their dogs or strolling along the footpaths. Unless Simone had spoken directly to anyone for a length of time, it was unlikely they’d remember her.

  Mum shook her head again. It was obvious she wanted to help, and equally obvious she couldn’t. ‘Have you asked around the neighbourhood?’ she asked. ‘Not here, obviously, but around the back road. There’s a good few of us who’ve lived there for more than twenty years.’ She pursed her lips. ‘However. If you’ll accept some advice, I don’t think you’re going to have much luck.’

  ‘We know that.’ It was Dallin who spoke. He held his cup of tea cradled in both hands, although it must’ve been almost too hot to hold. ‘I told her, if there was any interesting gossip, we would’ve heard it long ago. You can’t keep anything off the Manx grapevine.’

  Mum raised her eyebrows. ‘Still, it’s very noble of you to help Cora look for her sister. How long have you two been together?’

  Dallin coughed into his tea.

  ‘We’re just friends,’ Cora said smoothly. ‘We met online.’

  ‘Oh, really? A lot of people are doing that these days.’ Mum looked from Cora to me. ‘What about my Rosalie? Are you more than just friends with her?’

  ‘Mum,’ Dallin said, like a teenager. His cheeks were red.

  ‘It’s a fair question.’ Mum leaned towards Cora and added in a stage whisper, ‘Our Rosalie has been on her own for a bit long now. It’s probably time she found someone to look after her.’

  I sighed. ‘Mother—’

  ‘Beth wouldn’t have wanted you to be on your own forever.’

  I thought Mum was wrong about that. I was never the sort to need constant company and constant reassurance. Beth had been the same. She always disparaged people who couldn’t possibly go to the cinema or a museum on their own. ‘How can you go through life like that?’ she would ask. ‘Why can’t people be alone?’

  If our situations were reversed – if it’d been me who’d died – I wouldn’t have wanted Beth to be lonely, obviously, but I also couldn’t picture her diving into a new relationship just for the sake of being with someone. It wasn’t who she was. I assumed she’d felt the same about me. The question had never come up between us, not when she got sick, not when it became clear I would have to spend the rest of my life without her, not ever.

  I’d never thought about finding someone else. I didn’t miss company or closeness. The only thing I missed was Beth.

  But no one seemed to understand that. So I put on a difficult smile. ‘I’m just helping Cora,’ I said. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Mum didn’t look nearly convinced. ‘Well, even if your sister did come here, she certainly didn’t stay. We hardly ever get new people moving to this area.’

  I chewed my thumbnail. ‘Mum, do you remember the skeleton I found, when I was a kid?’

  ‘Oh my goodness, yes. Everyone remembers that.’ Mum scrunched up her face as if the thought caused her physical pain. ‘We were so scared when you went missing. I know it was only a few hours, but it felt a lot longer to us, I can tell you. How would I ever face your poor father if I’d managed to lose his only daughter?’

  ‘But you remember me telling you about the skeleton, right?’

  Mum pursed her lips. Over the past few years she’d gained some extra wrinkles, and they made her face more expressive, exaggerating everything she did. ‘I remember you telling everyone, of course. But, you have to understand, I also remember you telling plenty of other stories. Do you remember the invisible cat that would follow you to school? Or the mice who stole things from your bedside table?’

  Heat rose to my cheeks. I recalled those stories well enough.

  ‘Remember the ghost lights you saw up on the hill?’ Dallin asked. ‘You told everyone a flying saucer had landed.’

  ‘Children have the most amazing imaginations,’ Mum said gently. ‘They can tell a story so many times it becomes real in their heads.’

  I remembered arguing with Dad about the invisible cat that followed me to school. I recalled how three of my earrings went missing, and I’d been convinced they were somehow stolen by mice. I remember fretting about aliens landing on the hill behind our house.

  But those were daft stories. Even at the time, I’d known there was no truth behind them. There was never any intention for anyone to take them seriously.

  I had to turn back to the window to hide my expression, because it hurt me that Mum and Dallin would lump the discovery of the skeleton in with those obviously fake things. Had anyone fully believed me?

  ‘I’m going to get some fresh air,’ I said. ‘Back in a minute.’

  I emptied my tea into the sink and headed for the door before anyone could object.

  ***

  You were scowling. You didn’t want to be there. I told you I didn’t either, and you said, ‘So what?’

  The whole family had gathered – Ma and Da and Da’s brother with his gaggle of toddlers and his frazzled wife. We sat on mismatched blankets on the scrubby grass of the park, feigning excitement about the decadence of cheese sandwiches and scotch eggs in the open air. The toddlers chased a football. Jason dozed on the blanket next to us, his arm over his face. I turned my face to the sun in the vain hope of a tan.

  ‘Smile, will ya?’ said Ma. She held up the camera. ‘It’s not a bloody funeral.’

  You smirked for the camera. I tried to copy you, but my face was softer and rounder, so when I saw the picture later, it looked like I was actually enjoying myself.

  ‘At a funeral there’d be better catering,’ you said.

  Mum scowled at you. ‘Don’t start, Simone. Not today.’

  More family trickled into the park. Mum’s niec
e, who looked too old to be anyone’s niece, and her yappy Pomeranian. A couple more cousins we’d only see once in a blue moon. That one guy who always came along but no one was quite certain how he’s related to us. The Pomeranian and the kids were equally spooked by each other.

  A collective groan went round when a woman appeared, heading in our direction, with him in tow.

  ‘I thought she wasn’t coming,’ Ma said under her breath.

  ‘I tried to put her off,’ said Da. Then, to all of us, he added, ‘Remember, unless I say different, we treat him like family. Understand?’

  It wasn’t framed as a request. You smiled and said, too quiet for him to hear, ‘We know how to treat family, right enough.’

  ‘Florrie seems happy,’ Ma said with cautious optimism. ‘Maybe this one won’t be so bad.’

  No one except me was paying attention to you, so you tilted your head towards the sun and closed your eyes, with a smile that suggested you knew something we didn’t.

  Chapter 11

  Outside, a wind had picked up, enough to pluck at my clothes and fluff my hair over my eyes. I shoved my hands into my pockets.

  Breathe, I told myself.

  ‘Rosalie, wait up!’ Cora stepped out of Mum’s flat behind me and pulled the door shut.

  I waited, glad Dallin hadn’t followed. I hoped he’d use this time to talk through whatever problem stood between him and Mum.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Cora asked.

  ‘Just wanted some fresh air,’ I said. ‘I get a little … hemmed in, when there are so many people in a small room. It can feel a bit overwhelming. But you should stay. Talk with Mum.’