by KERRY BARNES
Calling through the slightly ajar bedroom door, Poppy balanced the plates and cups of hot chocolate. ‘Can I talk to you?’
‘No, you can’t. Go away,’ came the voice inside the bedroom.
‘Brooke, please. I have one sister now, and as much as you are hurting, I am too. Please, let me in.’
The door slowly opened wider, and there in her pyjamas, and with her hair almost a matted mess, stood her sister.
Poppy walked in and placed the plates and cups on the chest of drawers. Then she looked around Brooke’s room and saw the chaos. Clothes were strewn across the floor, her make-up and curling tongs had been knocked off the dresser, and there was a conspicuously large soiled patch on the carpet, which looked like a red wine stain. Was Brooke into serious drinking? The whole room was filthy and stank to high heaven. Her sister needed to get a grip on her life. As Brooke clambered back into bed, Poppy opened the sash windows.
‘Right, sit up,’ ordered Poppy firmly. ‘We need to talk . . . ’ There was no response.
Poppy could see that it was going to be a lot harder than she thought to bring Brooke back into the land of the living.
‘Brooke, I really need you now. The family is one fucked-up mess, and I’m wandering around like a tit in a trance. Just like you, I can’t get Kendall off my mind. But it’s you I’m seriously worried about now. Me and you need to find out who did this, and I can’t do it alone, Brooke. I really do need your help.’ There was a prolonged silence, and Poppy looked at her sister and wondered how it was possible for families to grow apart so easily, with each member living their own agenda in life.
The quilt suddenly peeled back, and Brooke blinked furiously. ‘I can’t, Poppy. I can’t bear to even leave this room. I’m so terrified. All I keep seeing is those men. It was awful, Poppy, and I bet it was the same ones who did it to Kendall. But she didn’t escape, she’s dead . . . But what I want to know is why? Why is this happening? I feel like they’re out there preying on us. You mustn’t go out alone, or you’ll be next!’
Poppy stared at an almost virtual mirror image of herself. They weren’t identical, but anyone could see they were twins. They didn’t look like either Alastair or Rebecca, though.
‘No, I won’t. But listen. It was purely coincidental.’
She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince, yet she couldn’t be like Brooke, shutting herself away from the world.
‘We can beat them!’
Those words should have been well intended and a comfort to her sister, but whatever it was that Poppy was selling, Brooke wasn’t at all interested. Instead, Brooke just slouched her shoulders and scowled at her sister. ‘We can’t, Poppy. They were . . . Oh my God, I just can’t bear to think about it.’
Poppy decided to change tack. ‘Brooke, I know what happened to you was bad, really bad, but you’re alive. Kendall’s not. I need you to remember that, okay? All the time you stay in your room, those bastards are still out there. The police are doing nothing. Don’t you find that fucking strange?’
Brooke didn’t find anything strange about it at all. She was still so brutally traumatized and gave her sister short shrift. ‘I don’t know anything anymore, Poppy. I really don’t know what to think. And worse, I don’t even know who I am.’
Like a grown woman, Poppy rose from the edge of the bed. ‘Well, I do, Brooke. I know who you are. You’re a brave person who’s been seriously let down by our fucking parents. Now, drink this hot chocolate and eat some food. We’re going to make a pact . . . just you and me.’
Brooke felt her eyes filling up again. ‘Did you remember to put sprinkles on the top?’
Poppy chuckled. ‘Yeah, kiddo, just how you like it.’
Before Poppy picked up the drinks, she put her arms around her sister and hugged her tight. That was the first time ever that they’d embraced. They’d never been a tactile family. It was just how they were, and it stemmed from having a mother and father who were cold in outlook. Poppy couldn’t remember a single hug from her mother, for God’s sake. It wasn’t normal, was it? Both of her parents were cold and stiff; there were no kisses on the cheeks, even.
Brooke broke down in Poppy’s arms. Holding on tight, she didn’t want to let go, which completely shocked Poppy.
‘Hey, come on. I’m here for you. Let’s give being sisters a go, shall we?’
Brooke sniffed and then laughed as she wiped her wet face. ‘Well, that will be a first.’
‘Brooke, have you never wondered why the police haven’t been to the house to follow up your dreadful attack or why Mother hasn’t organized some professional help for you?’
Brooke frowned. Her white, thin, and sunken face looked so fragile. ‘No.’
Poppy shook her head and sighed. ‘I’ve been doing some research on the internet. By rights, you should’ve had some counselling at the very least.’
‘I don’t think it will help me, Poppy. I just keep seeing those men. I’m so afraid all the time, I can’t even bear to take my clothes off. It’s like they’ll suddenly appear from nowhere.’
Poppy could feel a lump in her throat. She just couldn’t imagine being that scared of anything. ‘Hey, listen. Why don’t I run you a bath and sit beside you? You’ll feel safer then, I promise.’
Brooke lowered her head and looked up through her eyelashes. ‘Maybe.’
‘You stink!’
Brooke laughed. ‘I know. Okay, but, please, stay with me?’
Grabbing Brooke’s hands, Poppy, nodded. ‘Always, Sis. And always remember we are together in this. Fuck Mother and fuck sodding Father. It’s you and me now, yeah?’
Brooke nodded, and her cheeks showed just a little more colour, and those blue eyes gradually revealed a spark of life, as she gave Poppy a gentle smile. ‘Yeah, all right, then. Go for it.’
***
By the time Rebecca had returned home, Brooke was downstairs. Her hair was no longer a dishevelled mess. Now, having been thoroughly washed and blow-dried, it glistened as it hung well below her shoulders, almost down to her waist. She was very thin, but the food that Poppy had made her had restored some colour in her cheeks.
Rebecca was stunned to see her two daughters on the sofa side by side, looking through a magazine. However, what she didn’t expect to see was the cold, dirty look she received from both of them. In her usual matter-of-fact manner, she said, ‘Well, it’s good to see you finally up, Brooke. How are you feeling today?’
The high-pitched sugary tone caused both girls to return an ugly grimace.
Brooke’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why didn’t you arrange counselling for me, Mother?’
What? Rebecca wasn’t the least bit prepared for that question and appeared visibly awkward, her eyes darting around the room. Stunned by that searching question, she bit her lip and retreated speedily to the kitchen.
In just three hours, the strength Poppy had given Brooke was immeasurable. It was a pivotal moment in her life. Brooke leaped to her feet and was immediately followed by Poppy. They marched into the kitchen and stood there blocking the doorway, so that their mother couldn’t run off again and bury her head in the sand.
‘I said, why didn’t you get me the help I needed?’
Rebecca turned her back on her daughters to fill the kettle.
‘Mother!’ bellowed Brooke.
In a fit of rage, Rebecca spun around. ‘For goodness’ sake, do you not think I have enough to deal with? Kendall’s dead, in case you two have forgotten. Can’t I even grieve in peace?’
It was Poppy’s opportunity to take the initiative and her debating skills, which had won her awards at school, gave her the confidence to answer her mother back with logical and rational argument. ‘Yes, we know Kendall is dead. We’re all well aware of that, Mother. But where is your duty of care to us as a parent?’
Rebecca’s face was a picture as she just stared goggle-eyed at her daughter’s use of words.
But Poppy wasn’t finished, not by a long chalk. She continued. ‘And in case
you’re ignorant of the fact, you should know we’re also grieving, but, if I remember rightly . . . ’ her voice now the height of sarcasm, ‘Brooke was attacked weeks ago. So, your excuse for her not receiving help is . . . ?’
Rebecca’s eyes looked cold, dark, and spiteful. ‘Because, you stupid, stupid girl, we are in the public eye, and if anyone had an inkling, the press would have Brooke’s face plastered all over every bloody newspaper in the country. So, it would only make matters worse.’
Poppy was about to launch into another argument when Brooke put her hand up to stop her. ‘But at what point, Mother, did you feel you should be making decisions like that on my behalf? Did it not ever occur to you that it may be an idea to discuss this with me? I mean, if having my face on the front of the newspapers would in some way help to find those animals and prevent it happening again, then why would I mind?’
‘It’s your future, Brooke, I’m trying to protect. It would destroy you, having reporters hounding you in the streets for photos. Your life would be horrific. I just wanted the best for you, that’s all.’
Brooke really laughed at that last remark. ‘The best for me, yeah? Stuck in my stinking bed, away from the world, with no studies, no friends, all alone, with just the smell of BO and the visions of those awful men. And you actually think that’s better?’
Now Rebecca felt trapped. Her two daughters – who’d hardly ever spoken two words to each other in God knows how many years – were now behaving like a pack of wolves, daring her to leave the kitchen. In her annoyance, she bit back. ‘Well, you look just fine to me!’
That crass comment, and the tone in which it was made, was enough to send Poppy into an almost apoplectic rage. ‘You evil bitch!’ she screamed, as she tried to push past Brooke to reach her mother.
But Brooke, even though she was weak, managed to pull Poppy back. ‘No, Poppy. I think our mother has just confirmed to me just how cold she really is. Well, I’m not a child, so I will go to the press and give an interview, and, hopefully, it may help to find those animals and bring them to justice, and you, Mother, will have nothing to do with it.’
Rebecca’s eyes were on stalks. ‘What? No, you certainly can’t do that!’
‘And who’s going to stop me? You?’
‘Yes, Brooke, I will. You have no idea what you’re doing, and I won’t stand by and—’
‘Let your career go down the drain?’ replied Poppy, finishing her mother’s sentence for her.
‘No, it’s not like that at all. Right, you listen to me and listen well. I had a call from your Uncle Conrad. That was where I was this morning. They have found the men who they believe attacked you.’
‘Mother, can’t you actually say the word. They raped me, Mother. They fucking raped me!’
Rebecca held her hands up. ‘Yes, I know they did. I am sorry. But listen, they have found the men.’
Poppy was stunned into silence, but Brooke clearly wasn’t. ‘I haven’t even given the police a proper statement, just a few details that I could remember at the time. Christ, Mother, they didn’t even examine me, let alone take a DNA sample, and I guess once again that was your doing. So, how the fuck do they know they’ve the right men?’
Rebecca looked down at the Italian marble floor tiles and visibly sighed. ‘Because one of the men was found with your bank card and another had your watch.’
‘So, what now? Do I go and identify them in a line-up or what?’
‘No, you can’t. They are dead.’
‘What!’ screeched Brooke.
Poppy laughed out loud. ‘Oh, come on. Is this another ploy to shut her up so you can put an end to this?’
‘No, Poppy, it’s not. They were found dead early this morning. That is where I was . . . with your uncle.’
Brooke’s forehead crinkled in bewilderment as she glared at her mother, looking for any sign that she was telling the truth. ‘Can I go and see them and identify if it was them or not?’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘You won’t be able to because not even their next of kin would. Each of them had their head covered in a hessian sack and they were beaten to a pulp.’
‘So why should I believe it’s them just because they had my belongings? What you’ve told me doesn’t amount to much really. Those men could have obtained them from anywhere. And here’s another thought for you and your friends in the police. Have any of you considered that the evidence might have been planted?’
Poppy was now fuming. It was her opening to turn detective. ‘You see, Mother, if the police had taken a swab from Brooke instead of just giving her the fucking morning-after pill, they could’ve done a DNA match, and we would’ve known for fucking sure.’
Rebecca knew her daughter was right, but she decided to brazen it out. ‘It is them, Brooke. Your uncle is absolutely convinced it’s them.’
‘And was he fucking there then when I was gang-raped? How the hell can he be so sure, eh? Do fucking enlighten me.’
Rebecca threw her an irritated look. ‘I am not going to discuss this anymore. They have found the men who raped you, so that’s an end to it. Stop looking for an argument, both of you. You should just trust me. I am your mother.’ With that, she stomped past the two girls and headed upstairs.
But if Rebecca thought she’d got away with her final rejoinder, she was wrong.
Poppy wasn’t done. She stood at the bottom of the stairs and screamed up, ‘Trust you, Mother? You obviously don’t know the meaning of the word “trust”. Fuck you, Mother. The only word you know the meaning of is “fuck”, don’t you?’
She took a few deep breaths and returned to the kitchen to find Brooke making coffee, now immersed in thought. The jigsaw puzzle was complete.
‘Poppy, maybe we went over the top just now. The chances are they do have the right men, especially if they had my stuff.’
Poppy tutted and sat on the breakfast bar stool. ‘You and me, in fact, all of this family, aren’t at all close, are we? Kendall hated it here. In fact, she hated every day of it because she wanted to be with her dad. He was here the other day. He’s a really nice man. I’ll tell you this, though. He had grief stamped on his forehead, unlike Mother and Father. It’s all a facade really, but things will change. From now on, it’s you and me against the world.’
Brooke took the two cups of coffee over to the breakfast bar. ‘Sounds good, Poppy, that does. I’ve always felt alone, you know. Mad as it sounds, growing up in this dysfunctional family with two sisters and two parents, I felt like I was on my own.’
Poppy nodded. ‘Yes, me too. It’s Mother’s fault entirely. She’s always fussed over everything other than what’s really important. As for our father, he’s a right slippery bastard. I’m not sure I even know him. And our mother is in her own little world. I think she regrets having us. All she wants is Dad. It’s so embarrassing to see her running after him all the time.’ She sipped her coffee and looked at her sister’s delicate face. ‘I think we’re not close because Mother wanted it that way. I know there are different views on how to bring up twins while still ensuring they have separate identities. But I think she probably read too many books on the subject and went too far. I can’t remember playing a single board game with you. She even sent us to different after-school activities and demanded we were in separate classes.’
Brooke screwed up her face. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Because I heard her once on the phone to the school. Kendall always called me “Secret Squirrel”. I’m going to miss her smart remarks and rebellious ways.’
Brooke stared off into oblivion. ‘Why did she always call you that?’
‘Because, Brooke, that’s what I am. I want to be a detective one day. I listen to everything, even their phone calls, because the truth is, I’ve never trusted either of them. It’s as if there’s something very secret going on, especially when Mother can put on this stupid act of being fucking Miss Perfect . . . ’ She paused. ‘There’s also something else you should know.’
Brook
e looked at her sister and inclined her head. ‘Go on.’
‘You know Mother said those men had hessian sacks over their heads? Well, when Kendall was murdered, she wasn’t alone. She was with someone called Ricky Regan. He was beaten in the same way, with a sack over his head.’
Brooke gasped. ‘What? Tell me you’re joking?’
Poppy shook her head. ‘No, straight up. You know me, Brooke. When have you ever seen this face crack a smile?’
With her furrowed frown, Brooke glared at her sister. ‘This makes no sense. So now we have to assume that whoever attacked those men, they were also responsible for killing Kendall then?’
Poppy nodded. ‘Yeah, I know. It makes no sense at all.’
‘But how do you know all this?’ asked Brooke.
‘I overheard Mother talking to Conrad in the kitchen when she arrived home in the early hours.’
‘Christ, how the hell can Kendall and I end up in the middle of two warring gangs? Nothing adds up.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Absolutely fuming, Mike returned home from the hospital. It was now three times that Zara had misunderstood a situation, and two of them he could have explained, given time, but not the third.
He slammed the door shut and growled to himself. What Zara had witnessed didn’t look good at all; yet, he wasn’t interested in the nurse in that way. Of course, he found her pretty, but it was only because she reminded him of Zara. Retrieving his phone, he looked up Constance’s number and decided to text her. The initial attraction was nothing more than that. He couldn’t lead the sweet nurse on. He was worlds apart – the villain and the nurse, it sounded like a porn movie. Besides, he loved Zara, whether she loved him now or not. He had values.
Hi Constance. I need to be fair and honest. We are two very different people. I am very sorry. I think it is for the best that we remain as friends. I hope you understand. Mike Regan.
He hesitated whether to leave a kiss but thought better of it.
The noise upstairs brought him back to the darker side of reality. He’d left Jackie locked in one of the spare bedrooms all day. He realized that there was no point in keeping her here for ever: if she wanted to be a junkie, then so be it. Ricky was on the mend, and, really, he didn’t want to see his mother, so all she was good for now was signing the divorce papers.
