by Heidi Swain
I gave my boss a few more details about what had happened, carefully omitting the part where I had all but accused Ryan of leaving the house unlocked, and we settled ourselves in for another quiet day of trading. I did feel guilty about not telling Harry everything, but I didn’t think I could bear to be on the receiving end of yet another accusatory stare. Those I had endured in the square had been tough enough to take.
‘I’ve had enough of this,’ Harry harrumphed as the clock finally reached three. ‘We’ll give it until half past and then we’re closing.’
I couldn’t believe the weather could have such an impact, but the heat was certainly making everything ten times harder. The few people who were out and about were all carrying umbrellas, not to take refuge from the rain, which still stubbornly refused to pour, but to protect themselves from the searing sun.
‘If this doesn’t break tonight,’ Harry grumbled as he lumbered through to the back and I spotted Jacob across the road, ‘I’ll . . . well, I don’t know what I’ll do.’
‘Jacob,’ I said, rushing to open the door and ignoring Harry’s half-finished threats against the sun, ‘is everything all right?’
‘Of course everything’s all right,’ he said, taking down his umbrella to come inside, ‘stop panicking. You’ll dehydrate ten times faster if you keep flapping about, won’t she, Harry?’
‘What’s she got to flap about?’ Harry frowned.
Jacob looked at me and I inclined my head just enough, hopefully, to imply that I hadn’t explained absolutely everything that had happened.
‘I take it you didn’t tell Harry what Ryan heard you say then?’ Jacob asked as we walked back to the square together.
I kicked at a stone on the dusty pavement and Jacob linked his arm through mine, more to keep us both in the shade than to feel close.
‘And risk being made to feel even worse,’ I croaked. ‘I’ve been beating myself up about what I said all day. I didn’t need to hand Harry the baton to carry on the assault.’
Jacob nodded, but didn’t comment. He obviously thought I should still be giving myself a hard time about what I had said too.
‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘I’ve decided what I’m going to do. When we get back, I’m going to sit Ryan down—’
‘Poppy—’
‘And I’m going to make him listen.’
‘Poppy—’
‘I know you’ll say I should just leave him, but—’
‘Pops!’
‘What?’
‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
‘There is?’
‘Yes.’ Jacob nodded, his croakiness matching mine. ‘Let’s get back to the square and I’ll explain.’
Ryan’s trainers weren’t in their usual spot and the house was quiet. The light throughout had taken on a surreal underwater feel because I had been keeping the curtains and shutters all firmly closed. Stepping inside felt marginally cooler than outside, but only for a moment.
‘So,’ I said, once I had kicked off my shoes and poured us both a glass of water from the bottle I had kept chilling in the fridge, ‘what is it that you have to tell me?’
‘Okay,’ said Jacob, digging around in his pocket for his phone.
‘Where’s Gus?’ I frowned. ‘I hope Ryan hasn’t taken him out. It’s far too hot; his little pads will sizzle.’
‘Gus is with Colin,’ Jacob told me. ‘Ryan took him to the shop earlier.’
‘But why?’
‘Because your brother has decided to go away for a couple of days.’
My head snapped up.
‘What do you mean? Why? Gone where? He’s sixteen years old, he can’t just take off.’
Jacob waited until I had finished bombarding him with questions.
‘He messaged me,’ he said, holding up his phone. ‘He wanted me to tell you that you’re not to worry and that him leaving is nothing to do with what you said earlier. My guess is, he’s with Joe,’ he carried on. ‘The message was sent from someone else’s phone. He doesn’t say why he isn’t using his.’
‘So how do you even know it’s from him?’ I demanded, a sob rising in my throat as I began to panic. ‘Anyone could have sent it.’
‘He says he’s left you a note in his room.’
I belted up the stairs and into Ryan’s room. Nothing looked different but his canvas bag was missing from the bottom of his wardrobe and there were a few empty hangers.
‘It’s here,’ I said, grabbing the piece of A4 that had been torn from a pad. ‘I’ve got it.’
There was no denying the note was written in Ryan’s hand and the words, imploring me to listen to what Jacob had to say, were definitely his. There was no mention of his phone, though.
‘So, what am I supposed to do?’ I said, flopping down on to a chair. ‘He’s sixteen, Jacob. I can’t just pretend this isn’t happening. Can’t you access the files at the youth centre and get Joe’s address? If that is where he is, we could go and get him back.’
‘It doesn’t work like that,’ said Jacob patiently. ‘We don’t have that information on file and even if we did—’
‘But—’
‘Even if we did,’ he said louder. ‘I couldn’t do that. You know I couldn’t.’
‘So, you’re saying I should do nothing? Surely I should report his disappearance to the police?’
‘I can’t make that decision for you, Poppy,’ Jacob said gently. ‘But he hasn’t technically disappeared, has he?’
I was about to argue back, but was interrupted by the house phone. I dashed into the hall to answer it.
‘Hello,’ I said, snatching it up.
‘Is that Poppy?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Who’s this?’
‘My name’s Sandra. I’m Joe’s mum.’
I seriously hoped she wasn’t phoning to check that Joe was staying with me. That would be the ultimate double twist.
‘Ryan has asked me to call,’ she went on. ‘He’s staying with us for a few days and was concerned that you would be worried about him.’
‘I see.’
‘Is that all right, him being here?’ she asked. ‘It’s no problem for us. Great company for Joe actually.’
‘Yes,’ I said, feeling somewhat relieved.
Perhaps it was something the boys had already planned, after all.
‘Yes, that’s fine,’ I said again. ‘Tell him I’ll see him soon.’
‘Will do,’ said Sandra. ‘He’s a lovely lad, isn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ I said, imagining her to be an equally lovely mum. ‘He really is.’
‘Who was that?’ asked Jacob as I walked back into the kitchen and his mobile began to ping.
‘Joe’s mum,’ I told him. ‘Happy to have Ryan staying for a few days, apparently.’
‘And this is another message from him.’
‘What does it say?’
‘He says he knows you love him, and . . .’ He faltered.
‘And what?’
‘He loves you too.’
‘He actually said that?’
‘Well,’ Jacob said, smiling, ‘he typed it, but you get the gist.’
‘So why hasn’t he messaged me?’ I whispered. ‘And why isn’t he here?’
‘I think he just needs a bit of space.’
‘Some time away from me, you mean.’
‘Didn’t you ever feel like that when you were his age?’ Jacob asked. ‘I know I did. I couldn’t wait to get to uni and then, as you know, I went much further after that.’
He was right, of course. I had left home the moment I had somewhere else to go. I hadn’t been focused on my studies at all, I could see that now; I was merely using the degree route as the most plausible way out of a shitty home life. I could hardly blame my brother for feeling the same need for freedom. Although, the fact that he had run away from the life at Nightingale Square that I had worked so hard to create did grate a little. But then, why should my version of perfection match his?
‘Does he
say anything about when he’ll come back?’
‘No,’ said Jacob, tucking his phone away again, ‘but my guess is, he’ll be home soon enough.’
I didn’t think there was much else I could do now. Reporting Ryan missing was definitely out of the equation.
‘And has everything here been okay today?’ I asked, thinking of Prosperous Place.
‘Yes,’ said Jacob. ‘Luke and Kate arrived back this afternoon. They dropped the girls off with Carole while they went to assess the damage and talk to the police.’
‘Of course. They wouldn’t want to take the little ones back with them, would they?’
‘No,’ Jacob agreed, ‘but as it turned out, it was nowhere near as bad as it could have been. The kitchen had been turned upside down but whoever was in there couldn’t get any further because Ryan had set the internal locks. To access the rest of the house they would have had to go back out and start smashing windows, and they obviously didn’t think that was worth the risk.’
‘I wonder if they trashed the kitchen out of frustration, then?’
‘Maybe.’ Jacob shrugged. ‘Who knows? But that’s not for you to worry about, Poppy, you need to relax.’
‘Ha!’ I laughed. ‘Chance would be a fine thing.’
I didn’t think there was anything in the world capable of distracting me from my head full of thoughts and worries.
‘And I happen to know just the thing to help.’
‘Well, it better not be alcohol-related,’ I told him. ‘After everything that’s happened today and this bloody heat, the last thing I feel like doing is drinking.’
*
There was a certain amount of drinking involved with Jacob’s relaxation therapy, but it wasn’t the alcoholic kind.
‘Right,’ he said, throwing open the back door and carrying one of the kitchen chairs outside. ‘This will be about the right height,’ he added, having taken a step back to appraise it.
‘For what?’ I questioned, following him out with our replenished glasses, which were now filled with tonic water, lemon and ice.
He took his glass and, after we had drunk deeply, he relieved me of mine and set the pair down together on the bistro table, then sat me in the chair.
‘Close your eyes,’ he instructed.
‘Yeah right,’ I muttered, ‘I’ve heard that one before.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he said firmly, ‘and try to relax.’
My silliness was nothing more than a defence mechanism. It was my way of settling my thrumming heart and stomping out the tingling feeling that had started after our fingers touched as I passed him his glass. Perhaps there was something that could distract me from my woes after all.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘I’m trying to help, and I’ve been told I happen to be very good at this, and don’t,’ he rushed on, ‘use that as an excuse for another smart-arse comment.’
I didn’t say another word but did as I was told and closed my eyes.
‘Right,’ he said, a distant deep rumble of thunder providing a dramatic backdrop to his words, ‘that’s better.’
‘Do you think it might rain this time?’ I asked, my voice cracking a little as I felt him move behind me.
‘Yes,’ he said softly, ‘I think it might.’
The tingling feeling was intensified tenfold as he moved my ponytail to one side, my hair caressing the back of my neck and making me shiver.
‘You aren’t cold, are you?’ he asked.
I could hear the smile in his voice.
‘I wish.’ I smiled back.
I sat quiet and still as his hands moved across the back of my neck, his fingers deftly and purposefully working their way along the series of little knots that had been responsible for making me walk around with my shoulders almost touching my ears all day.
‘How’s that?’ he asked. ‘Is it helping?’
‘Yes,’ I whispered, ‘it’s definitely helping.’
He carried on as a slow pitter-patter of gentle rain began to fall and the thunder moved a little closer. I bent my head, amazed that Jacob’s hands on my neck could be having such an arousing effect on parts of my body that couldn’t have been much further away.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, his mouth so close to my ear he was almost touching it.
‘Yes,’ I answered, lifting my head again and laying my hands over the top of his. ‘Yes.’
He didn’t resist as I gently pulled them down until they were cupping my breasts. I arched my back as his thumbs began to caress them with the same pressure he had applied to my shoulders.
‘Jesus, Poppy,’ he groaned, as it began to rain a little harder. ‘We can’t . . .’
The words died in his throat as I arched further, and his mouth met my collarbone and then my throat as he moved round the chair to kneel in front of me.
‘Your turn,’ I said, standing up and moving him onto the chair before hitching up the skirt of my dress and slowly lowering myself down until I was sitting astride him.
I looked into his eyes and then we began. His hands were in my hair, my fingers were tearing at the buttons on his shirt, my dress was over my head and we were kissing, searing kisses as the rain began to pour, the sting of it sharp and deliciously cold on our bare skin.
As one we moved into the house, him carrying me with my legs wrapped round him, and the thunder raged on. We somehow made it up the stairs and into the bedroom, falling heavily on to the bed, where we stayed, slaking our thirst for one another as the long-awaited rain continued to pour.
Chapter 29
My first thought the next morning was that the storm was still raging, but as I drifted up from the depths of the deepest sleep I had enjoyed in weeks, I realised that it wasn’t thunder at all, but someone hammering hard on the front door. Jacob, sound asleep on his front next to me, didn’t stir and I slipped quietly out of the bed, pulled on my dressing gown and closed the bedroom door behind me.
‘Whatever is it?’ I gulped, taking in Lisa’s tear-stained face and Mark’s glowering one as I opened the front door. ‘What’s happened?’
‘It’s the garden,’ Lisa sobbed, ‘can you come over, Poppy? I don’t know what we’re going to do.’
Mark stepped forward and draped an arm round her shoulders, kissing the top of her head.
‘Come as soon as you can love, will you?’ he said to me.
He sounded more serious than I had ever heard him and that, coupled with Lisa’s despair, undid all the good work Jacob had put in on my shoulders.
‘Everyone’s making their way over,’ he said, nodding over to Prosperous Place. ‘We’re going to go and see Jacob and then we’ll be going back.’
‘Don’t worry about him,’ I said, thinking that whatever had happened, no one needed to discover that Jacob wasn’t home at this time on a Sunday morning and then start wondering where he was. ‘I’ll get dressed and then go and get him. You two head back now.’
Perhaps I was being a little paranoid, but I didn’t think it would be that big a leap, for an enquiring mind like Lisa’s or Carole’s, to start wondering if my neighbour and I had spent the evening together; and the last thing I wanted was word somehow getting back to Ryan, especially as Jacob and I had promised to keep things between us platonic. If my memory served, and I was certain that it did, then we had more than crossed that line, at least three times, during the last few hours.
‘All right,’ said Lisa, sniffing, ‘but hurry, won’t you?’
‘I will,’ I promised.
I raced back up the stairs and found Jacob awake and sitting up in bed.
‘Well, good morning.’ He smiled.
His hair was its usual mess and there were dark smudges under his eyes betraying the fact that he’d had nowhere near the recommended hours of sleep. He looked extremely content and relaxed though, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl back under the covers with him and snuggle down for the rest of the day. The guilt I had been feeling about betraying my brother’s wishes just seconds before
was momentarily forgotten, but I knew there would be a reason, an important reason, why Lisa and Mark had looked so devastated.
I hurriedly shed my dressing gown, letting it puddle around my feet, and Jacob pulled back the sheets.
‘No time for that,’ I said, pulling a clean T-shirt over my head. ‘We need to get to the garden.’
‘What, now?’ He frowned, looking at the clock on the nightstand. ‘But it poured all night. No one will be expecting you to be on watering duty this morning.’
I had been so distracted by the sight of my neighbours that I hadn’t noticed whether the rain had cooled the outside temperature. It was certainly still hot in the bedroom.
‘It’s not that,’ I said, tutting, ‘didn’t you just hear Lisa and Mark?’
He shrugged, and I guessed not.
‘Something’s happened,’ I said, ‘at the Grow-Well. Everyone’s going over.’
‘Oh no,’ Jacob groaned, throwing back the sheet and treating me to a sight of his beautifully toned body, ‘it’ll be the storm, won’t it? I bet it’s done no end of damage.’
*
It was certainly cooler, but muggy with it, as we walked over wondering what we were about to face. As we stepped through the gate it felt as though every bit of air had been suddenly squeezed out of my lungs.
‘This wasn’t the storm,’ I stammered, my eyes taking in the scene of destruction and devastation before us. ‘Thunder and rain couldn’t do this.’
‘You’re right,’ said Graham. ‘We’ve been vandalised.’
We all huddled together under the dripping branches of the old oak tree, waiting while the police, different officers this time, strode about assessing the damage, asking questions and scribbling notes.
‘They didn’t take long to get here, did they?’ commented Jacob.
‘Probably because of what happened at the house,’ said Graham reasonably.
Their response time might have been speedy, but they didn’t hang about long and I didn’t see any of them sweeping the scene for fingerprints; but, given the amount of rain that had fallen, there probably wouldn’t have been any left.
