Summer Secrets at Streamside Cottage

by Samantha Tonge

  He was right. So why did I feel so empty? Robbed of a life I never knew I’d had with a sibling, a best friend and happy-go-lucky parents.

  If I’d stayed in Leafton would I still have been the same Lizzie?

  I lay in Ben’s arms, and snuggled closer, reminding myself that I was safe, in his arms, even though everything about my life had changed.

  36

  Now

  Tattoos were popular with royalty until they became affordable to the masses

  The smell of frying bacon woke me up and I rubbed my eyes and got up, splashed cold water onto my face and changed into jeans and a t-shirt. Half-heartedly I tidied my hair. I stood by the French patio doors for a while, getting lost in the garden, imagining past scenarios. Like me, Mum and Rose sitting in the lush grass, making daisy chains… the four of us holding hands at the stream’s edge, looking for fish… playing hide and seek under the weeping willow… Throat feeling thick I turned around and stared at Ben as he opened the fridge door. My recent dreams made sense now, the boy and the centipede… The cottage had been giving me clues.

  ‘Thanks. You didn’t need to…’ My voice broke.

  He closed the fridge door and came over. Warm arms encircled me. My body shuddered for a moment and then I relaxed and leant against him. Eventually, I sniffed and pulled away.

  ‘Sorry. It’s still all sinking in. I must look a mess.’

  ‘Looking back a couple of decades, I’ve seen you much worse, covered in mud or with jelly around your mouth.’

  We smiled at each other and I sat down at the pine table.

  ‘Drink this. You’ll feel better.’ He passed me a large glass of orange juice.

  I did as I was told, irritated he was right. I smiled again and Ben raised his eyebrows.

  ‘I’ve got a feeling you used to get on my nerves sometimes. A memory’s come back about the plastic dog games we used to play that your mum talked about. Jimmy Jammy always insisted he knew which were male and female.’

  ‘I was a bit of a know-it-all.’ He grinned. ‘But you’d get your own back. I turned up one day to find you’d tried to paint my favourite man dog with your mum’s pink nail varnish.’

  We looked at each other, lost in the past for a second. New feelings brought me back to the present, like the warmth gushing through my chest as he gave a lopsided grin. I felt the urge to kiss those crooked lips. Little Lizzie and Jimmy Jammy would have gagged at such a suggestion. Reluctantly I broke eye contact and picked at the food. After a mouthful the usual morning hunger considered a return. It was half-past eight. I wanted to catch Trish before she opened The Pen Pusher. Ben went back home and I hurried into town. The lights were on in the stationery shop but the sign said closed. Usually it opened at nine. I couldn’t wait a minute longer and I put away my phone having tried to ring Aunt Fiona. I’d texted her that we needed to talk; that it was very important about my parents’ past.

  I rapped on the door firmly. No one appeared. I rapped again. Trish came out from the back and opened the door.

  ‘Can I come in? It’s important.’

  A look of resignation crossed her face. Trish locked the door behind us and took me out the back. There was a large stockroom to the left and a staircase. We went up and into her flat that was punctuated with paintings and ornaments of wildlife, with embroidered cushions and ornamental elephants with a Buddhist twist. Joss sticks had also been burned up here. I recalled my very first day in Leafton, when I’d met Trish eating – or rather not eating – a slice of cake and she’d told me about the forest. It seemed like months ago, now, not weeks.

  ‘Coffee?’ she asked, in an unsure tone. ‘It won’t harm to open half-an-hour late.’

  ‘No… no thanks.’

  Trish indicated for me to sit down on a mustard coloured sofa and she joined me. I paused and then opened my rucksack.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I met Frederick in Henchurch at a book signing.’

  She winced.

  ‘I’ve been trying to find out more about the cottage and my parents and I thought his book might give me some clues. I didn’t tell you about my visit. I didn’t want to upset you.’

  ‘You’ve seen him?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘And did it help?’

  ‘Kind of. Not really. I’m hoping you can fill in the gaps.’ I pulled out the book he’d given me for her. ‘He gave me this to pass on to you. Frederick said he mentioned you in the acknowledgements and he’s written a message. I haven’t read it. He seemed genuinely sorry, for what it’s worth. He’s stopped drinking and—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s been to AA. He looked well and kept saying how much he regretted the way he’d treated you.’

  Trish hesitated before opening the book. ‘I can’t believe he’s admitted he had a problem, let alone got sober.’ She quizzed me about my conversation with him and we discussed the haunting. ‘So how can I help?’ She fiddled with the corner of the front cover.

  ‘Trish,’ I stared straight into her eyes. ‘I know.’

  She didn’t reply.

  ‘Ben and I found an old scrapbook in the cottage yesterday. You worked it out, didn’t you, that I’m that Elizabeth Lockhart from your past. That’s why you’ve been avoiding me. I know I used to live there with my family, and that I knew Ben before.’

  She looked down and gazed vacantly at Frederick’s message. Slowly I closed the book, took it off her and placed it on the cushion behind me.

  ‘It’s okay. I just want to know what happened. Why did my parents leave? What happened to my sister Rose?’

  She gasped and looked up.

  ‘Please, please tell me.’

  ‘The more I saw you, the clearer it became who you were.’ Her voice sounded croaky. ‘You look just like your mum in certain moments, like at Jill’s party, smiling and chatting. Anne had such an infectious belly laugh. I remember her doing an impression of some politicians in The Tipsy Duck once. She had us all in stitches.’

  The mother I knew rarely let herself go.

  ‘I never mentioned Rose because I figured your parents must have had a good reason for not telling you, that it wasn’t my place, that it wasn’t my business… it’s such a massive revelation. Nevertheless, I’ve been expecting this moment, not just since you’ve turned up but for the last twenty years. It’s…’ Her voice wobbled. ‘It’s kind of a relief now that it’s arrived.’

  ‘What happened that afternoon you were babysitting, Trish? Why did my parents leave so quickly?’

  ‘I… I’ve practised saying this so many times and now…’

  I rested my hand softly over hers.

  ‘Will was ill and screaming with an ear infection. I was making dinner. You and Ben were upstairs playing in your bedroom. Your sister, Rose, she…’

  It really was true.

  I still could hardly believe it.

  I had a sister.

  ‘She never went near the edge of the stream and always called you back if you went too near. I assumed she was playing with her skipping rope as usual or next door’s cat. I should have checked. I- I finally called you all in for dinner. I didn’t think Rose had heard me, so I went outside…’ Trish closed her eyes.

  ‘Rose wasn’t to be seen. Then a flash of pink caught my eye in the water.’ Her voice wavered. ‘She’d fallen in. Mud was pressed into the soles of her feet. The police thought she must have slipped on it and lost her balance. She’d knocked her head on one of the big boulders that was in the middle at that corner part of the stream. She was lying face down. I screamed and put Will onto the grass. Your father arrived just as I was wading in.’

  ‘But there’s a wired fence along the water’s edge,’ I said, hardly able to get words out. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. ‘Did she climb over that?’ I asked, feeling detached as if another Lizzie were talking.

  ‘The stream wasn’t fenced off in those days.’

  ‘What hap
pened next?’

  ‘Your mum sat in shock until the paramedics arrived, whilst your dad and I frantically did CPR. She kept saying the same thing again and again, that the cottage was cursed, that the drowned witch had lost her son to the stream and had been biding her time to make sure it happened to a future landowner. The paramedics took over whilst Lawrence tried to calm her down but she wouldn’t stop, even when they got Rose’s heart beating again…’

  Wait… My chest started to heave in and out…

  ‘She’d started shouting and saying she’d never live at the cottage again. That it was evil and a threat to you, that the family was to move out that evening. It was obvious your dad was going to do anything to make her feel better.’

  ‘So Rose…’

  Trish’s eyes glistened. ‘It didn’t look good. I’m sorry, Lizzie, but I’d be amazed if she’d survived.’ She dropped her head into her hands and gulped. I reached out and squeezed her arm.

  Poor Rose. Poor Mum and Dad. Poor Trish. When Taz had disappeared after I’d left the patio doors open I’d been consumed by fear and guilt, an utter sense of hopelessness along with despair. If that had been a child…

  And… I swallowed. I would have loved to have a big sister.

  ‘It was all my fault and I’m so sorry,’ said Trish to the carpet.

  ‘Was Rose happy?’ My eyes tingled. ‘On her last day?’

  Trish looked up. ‘Oh yes, she really was. Rose was such a content child. You two were always dancing together. She would coordinate routines and you’d try to follow. Rose was a much-loved child as you both were and she thought the world of her little sister, that much was clear.’

  ‘There’s a chance she could still be alive, isn’t there, just a small one?’

  Trish’s eyes filled again.

  We sat and talked until lunch, her saying how Dad was a great tickler and was great with her son Will, far better than Trish’s own husband had been; how Mum loved to play hide and seek in the house and always let one of us kids win.

  ‘If they could have afforded to be full-time parents, they’d have given up their jobs in an instant, but they wanted to provide the best future possible for you both, Lizzie, and that’s why they worked so hard.’ She took out a tissue and dabbed her eyes. ‘They really were extraordinary people and so young at heart. They’d often talk about taking a year out of their careers when you and Rosy were older, to travel the world. Anne and Lawrence wanted to show you America, the Far East – they’d both gone backpacking in their twenties. They said being parents felt like a second youth. As soon as she got in Anne would kick off her high- heeled shoes and Lawrence would take off his tie. They’d studied maths at university and loved the insurance business but I think becoming parents changed that. You and Rose were clearly their priorities.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t imagine what they went through. I wasn’t related but it… it took me months to recognise any degree of normality again.’

  ‘It happened near your marriage break-up, didn’t it? I heard that depressed you for months afterwards.’

  ‘My depression had nothing to do with the divorce. That was the best thing that ever happened to me. No it was about your sister and everything I’d deprived her of. I just want you to know I’ve never stopped thinking about her. When Will had his first girlfriend I thought about how popular lovely Rose would have been. She adored books and when Will went travelling, I could imagine her studying English literature in somewhere like Paris. I wished for so long that I could meet your parents and say sorry. It tore me apart. Their solicitor wouldn’t give me their new address. I couldn’t even write to them. The silence between us with so much to say – it’s been unbearable.’

  I understood that.

  ‘Well you’ve said it to me and… it’s all right, Trish, it was an accident. From what you and Jill tell me about her, Rose would never have wanted you to have suffered so much.’ I picked her copy of Unspeakable Truths off the cushion and passed it back to her, feeling hollow inside.

  ‘When Fred mocked up the haunting… I- I think I believed it because I felt like I deserved a ghost, like that of Charlotte Strachan, to be a reminder of how I’d caused a child to drown.’

  I held her close, the book in between us. It was the best I could do. Should I have felt angry? By all accounts her neglect had caused the death of my sister. It had destroyed my family and changed my parents irrevocably.

  Or had it? Some might say my parents should have never bought a family house near a stream and that there should have been a fence there. I was beginning to realise that a range of factors caused any tragedy.

  Was making some choices for myself solely to blame for the estrangement with my parents? No. The more I found out the more I realised the past played a role in the future and life happened, stuff happened, it wasn’t all perfect, life got messy for everyone. All we could do was our best to manage it.

  I said goodbye and left. I stood in the breeze, cool air reviving me, realising I wasn’t an only child anymore. Rose had always been with me, in my memories, in my dreams. In my sketches.

  My phone buzzed and I wiped my eyes. It was a text from Aunt Fiona. She’d drive to London to meet me tomorrow.

  37

  Now

  Paw print tattoos can be a tribute to a pet or symbolise moving forwards with life

  I walked into Kismet Tattoos and past the wicker chairs. After living with the unobtrusive decor of Streamside Cottage, with its blood red walls the vibrancy of the reception area struck me. Today’s music was hip-hop and sure enough Katya stood by the appointment book. I headed over and gave her a hug.

  ‘It’s great to see you again.’ Katya pushed me away and her eyes scanned my body. ‘Looking good, girl. I’ve been so worried about you, these last months, but village life clearly suits. That’s the most tanned you’ve ever been.’

  ‘Thanks for being so understanding about me leaving. Without you… what you’ve done for me…’

  ‘Hey, this isn’t goodbye, right? We won’t be that far from each other.’

  ‘You’ll have to visit.’

  ‘Do you think the village can cope with another tattoo artist?’ Her eyes twinkled.

  ‘You’d be surprised, I’ve already inked a couple of the villagers.’

  Her eyebrows raised. ‘And how did that go?’

  ‘It was great. Really great. I felt the old passion come back, the old focus, my confidence.’

  ‘That’s such good news, I’m so glad. You’re one talented artist.’

  My cheeks felt hot. ‘So how’s the new mentee doing that you’ve taken on?’

  ‘Keen. Clean. Personable. He has all the necessary credentials.’

  A man with a Mohican haircut strode up and slipped an arm around her waist. He kissed near her ear before going to tidy up the portfolio books on the glass table.

  She looked at me and blushed. We headed up to my flat and I opened my rucksack.

  ‘For you,’ I said and handed over the cardboard box. ‘Red velvet cake. There’s an amazing teashop in Leafton.’

  ‘It sounds delicious, thanks. And remind me when you leave that I baked Banitsa for you to take back.’

  ‘Your pastry is amazing.’

  ‘Not as good as my gran’s used to be but it’s getting better.’ She gave a small sigh. ‘I’ll miss seeing you every day, like I miss my family, but… you’re happy?’

  ‘Visiting Leafton – it’s the worst thing I ever did,’ I said roughly. ‘And yet, the best.’

  ‘It’s like me living in England. My life is better and I can send money home but it’s not without its challenges. But then, life isn’t. Our clients are proof of that.’

  ‘Tattoos represent how resilient people are; that they can overcome the worst situations and find hope.’

  ‘Yes, like your birdcage tattoo. We each hold the key to our own freedom. It may be hidden and hard to find but it’s there if we look close enough. Then it’s up to us to be brave and put the key in the lock and
fly out from the constraints of the past and into a brand new future.’

  We stared at each other. I reached out and tapped the end of her nose. We both smiled.

  I thanked her for airing the flat before she went back down. She’d also got in fresh milk and insisted on coming up for a coffee after Aunt Fiona had gone to check I was all right. I looked at the kitchen clock. It was almost four. She’d be here any minute. I set out another box on the unit by the kettle, containing fruit cake and filled the kettle before perching on the edge of my sofa.

  I missed the sound of small paws and the creak of old floorboards. Compared to Streamside Cottage the flat now seemed as sterile as the treatment rooms downstairs.

  I jolted at a knock. I opened the door. Aunt Fiona stood with the same indifferent bob and rimless glasses but she’d lost weight. Loose jowls hung either side of her face and a floral blouse drowned her. I hesitated before stepping forwards but to my surprise thin arms wrapped around me first. I showed her to the sofa and busied myself with mugs and plates.

  ‘How are you?’ she asked when I sat down.

  I couldn’t sit and make small talk, not even for a minute, not after everything I’d found out.

  ‘Still trying to get my head around the fact that I had a sister.’

  Her hand flew to her throat and her jaw dropped open.

  ‘Why, Aunt Fiona? Why continue to keep Rose a secret, after the funeral?’

  ‘How did you find out?’ Her voice trembled.

  ‘I’ve been staying at Streamside Cottage.’

  ‘What!’ She gasped then shook her head. ‘The estate agency said they very much wanted to rent it for a month. I’ve wanted as little to do with that cottage as possible but Jack said from a business point of view it made sense to let it now and again, until… until I was ready to sell it.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘He gave me the same advice I’d given your parents, years ago.’