by Penny Kline
One last look round. The place was cleaner and tidier than when she moved in. The new microwave contrasted with the old appliances – a greasy cooker and a fridge, covered in rust marks. Returning to her immaculate flat would be a pleasure. It had to be. Put her bags in the car. Lock the door to the flat. Key in an envelope, posted to the landlady, who would be glad her tenant had left early since it meant she could re-let to some other poor mug.
People often underestimate the sense of smell. It must be coming from outside in the road. Road menders, heating up tar? But long before she reached the hallway, she knew it was inside. Smoke filled her eyes and, as she attempted to wave it away, she spotted the burning rag that had been pushed through the letterbox and had set fire to the straw mat. She stuck out a foot – but she was only wearing socks and had to run back to the bedroom and search about for her shoes – and by the time she found them the fire had spread to the greasy carpet. Stamping it out, she kicked the charred remains through the open door, ran up the iron steps, just in time to see a figure with the hood of his jacket pulled up. He was standing at the end of the road, waiting, watching the house, hoping for flames, but as soon as he saw her he shot round the corner.
Did he have a car? If he had, she would lose him. Who was he? A local tearaway, an arsonist who loved seeing fire engines? Anger spurred her on and she caught up with him as he was attempting to start his car. As the engine fired, she wrenched open the door and switched off the ignition. He struggled to break free, but she was too strong for him.
‘What the fuck did you think you were doing? She dragged back his hood, determined he was not going to get away with it.
‘You!’ The shock was like a bucket of icy water in her face. ‘What did you think I was going to do? I’m leaving, going back to London. How did you know where I was living? You followed my car, is that what you did? No, I’m not going to let go of you, not until you tell me. The house could have burned down. Someone might have been killed. Is that what you wanted? You’re insane. What were you afraid of? It’s not me you should fear, it’s that artist woman.’
Chapter 34
When she pushed open the door to Ava’s Place, Ava made a beeline for her. ‘Come through.’ She nodded in the direction of the girl with a nose ring. ‘She can cope for five minutes. Did you bring the photos of Phoebe?’
Erin followed her into a room filled with boxes, some empty, some half-full. ‘Stock’, Ava explained unnecessarily, ‘one of these days I’ll have a proper clear out. Let’s have a look.’
Erin showed her the pictures. Phoebe, awake, Phoebe fast asleep. And one a nurse had taken of Erin holding Phoebe in her arms.
‘Oh, look at her.’ Ava took the phone from Erin’s hand and studied each picture. ‘She’s lovely, such a pretty little thing.’
‘Who’s her father?’
‘Her father?’
‘Ollie’s been camping out in a derelict bungalow. Hoshi told me where he was. We’ve brought him back to Bristol.’
‘To Claudia’s house?’
‘No.’
Ava locked her fingers, a signal that meant she was going to try and fob her off with lies. ‘Is he all right?’
‘Phoebe’s father, Ava. Hoshi heard you talking about it on the phone. No, not the details or he’d have told me. Why didn’t you?’
‘I thought the baby might die.’
Erin erupted with anger. ‘And the problem would go away. How could you? Hoshi told Ollie the truth – how Claudia had been pregnant when he moved in with her – and now he thinks he’ll be accused of killing her. He thinks I heard them having a blazing row.’
‘But you didn’t?’ Ava sat down heavily on a box of canned tomatoes. ‘She wanted a child. God only knows why, but you know your sister. Once she’d got a bee in her bonnet . . .’
‘She got pregnant deliberately?’
Ava nodded.
‘And then regretted it?’
‘Heavens, no, she was ecstatic. Boasted how it had worked first go. Made me feel a bit queasy, but the two of them . . . She was fond of him.’
‘Who?’
‘I thought you’d have worked it out.’
‘How?’
‘It was Kent.’
‘What! I thought he was gay.’
‘Ambidextrous. And in any case he’d have done anything for Claudia. And she’d read somewhere that older men pass on better genes, produce brighter kids. All nonsense, in fact I think I’ve heard the opposite’s the case, but once your sister got something into her head there was no reasoning with her. “Impregnating a dear friend” – that was how Kent described it.’
‘You tried to talk her out of it?’
‘Hardly. The deed was done long before I found out. He’s dying, Erin. Kent. Inoperable brain tumour. Won’t be with us for more than another month or two. He only told me a few days ago. I was devastated. That play you saw was his final performance.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Was that what he and Ava had been talking about when she saw them together, outside the café? I’m dying, Ava. The baby. I know Claudia wanted me to have nothing to do with it, but after she was killed . . .
Ava let out a long, weary sigh. ‘When I told you about the play I was hoping he might confide. I said you deserved to know. And so did poor Ollie. Your sister was so—’
‘I know. Single-minded, stopped at nothing to get what she wanted.’
‘You said it, my darling. But she had her good points. She was such good company, so amusing, so lively. What will happen to the poor little mite?’
‘Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.’
‘You’ll bring her up as your own?’
All these weeks, she had believed Ava was Claudia’s biggest fan when, in reality, she had thought her selfish, ruthless, indifferent to how much she hurt people.
‘She told Ollie it made no difference who the father was. It was just a baby.’
‘Poor boy. He was besotted with her.’ Ava held out an arm for Erin to pull her up. ‘Better go and see who’s waiting to be served. Old nose ring’s not that reliable on her own.’
‘If you’d told me before . . .’ But her anger had evaporated. The news about Kent had been a shock, but now she felt only relief.
‘Was it Hoshi who told Ollie about the baby?’ A flicker of doubt crossed her face. ‘No, it doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes, it does. You think Ollie—’
‘But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.’ She glanced at the storeroom door. ‘He’s such a sweet boy.’
Erin gave her a cold stare, ‘You’d better get back to your customers. I only came here because I needed to know who the father is. Please don’t talk to anyone else—’
‘What do you think I am. First, you accuse me of keeping it to myself. Now you’re saying I can’t keep my mouth shut. Oh, I’m sorry, my darling, but it’s over now and the two of us mustn’t fall out. Can I tell Kent you know? I won’t if you don’t want me to. He was worried he might be left holding the baby, so to speak, but now he’s so ill there’s no question of him taking any responsibility. And it’s not as though he’s got any money. He rents where he lives, gets by with odd bits of coaching. No, don’t look like that, she’s your sister’s baby, your baby. There won’t be a problem, will there? They will let you keep her?’
In an attempt to relax, Erin was having a bath, trying out some of Claudia’s array of bath oils – rainforest flowers, cocoa butter, chamomile. Claudia had liked company when she had a bath. Come and sit with me, Erin, bring us a couple of glasses of white wine. Once she had asked Ollie to join her in the water. Erin smiled to herself at the memory of the expression on his face. There was not much else to smile about.
Later, she would call round at Jennie and Ben’s. Would she tell them about Kent? Not yet, not until she had convinced herself Ollie had been in Leigh Woods when the accident happened. Leigh Woods was on the opposite side of the river. She had never been there herself, but you could see it from the suspension bridge, a nature
reserve, known for its rare trees and various species of orchids. Would anyone go there after dark?
On an impulse, she decided to talk to Jennie and Ben. If Jon had been around she would have talked to him, asked his advice. What would he have said? That Ollie had probably walked in the woods earlier in the afternoon, and was on his way home at the time of the accident. Jennie and Ben were less likely to let him off the hook, and she needed to work out what she was going to say to Ollie. What questions she was going to ask him.
Any resentment she had felt towards Jennie, had disappeared the instant she understood why she had been unwilling to help. In the same circumstances, she would have kept quiet herself in case the pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. She admired people who were so open they told their friends everything, even things that showed them in a less than good light. Admired them, but would never be one of them. Maeve might be, or would she grow out of her ability to express her feelings so freely? Jon was wary, self-contained. Maybe Maeve’s birth mother had been an extravert. She would never know.
Lying back, in the blissfully hot water, she closed her eyes and thought about a time when Phoebe was strong enough to leave the unit, when she could buy her a cot, and a car seat, and plenty of clothes. What with? She was running short of cash and tempted to use some of the money from Claudia’s desk. At least part of it was probably owed to overseas students, who had failed to receive their dissertations, but they were unlikely to claim it.
Using Claudia’s Snoopy mug, she poured warm water over her hair, feeling it trickle down her back. Phoebe was not yet out of danger, but every day she grew stronger, more resilient, and she was putting on weight. Somehow, Erin had got it into her head, if she finished the illustrations by the end of the month, Phoebe would be out of the incubator, and out of danger. Then she could relax and it would simply be a question of waiting until she reached a weight where she was allowed home. Could she really relax? Only if she was certain Claudia’s death had been accidental. But in all likelihood she would never know.
Outside the warmth of the water, the bathroom felt chilly. A draught came through from the top of the sash window, that refused to close. Downstairs, Miss Havisham was mewing loudly. Then she heard her padding up the stairs, pausing on the landing, wondering whether to carry on up to the loft, or were the sounds she could hear coming from somewhere else. Putting in an appearance and demanding food, was a daily event now. Erin could have blocked off the cat flap, but knew she never would. In spite of the occasional dead bird or mouse, she had grown attached to the cat.
Something soft touched the back of her neck and her head jerked up, knocking against the side of the bath. Water ran down her face, and she reached out for a towel, but it was too far away, and when she tried to stand up she was held down, and through streaming eyes, she saw a figure towering above her.
‘What are you doing?’ Diana’s hand was on her shoulder. Breathe deeply. Try to stay calm. ‘How did you get in?’
‘Oh, Jon’s always had a key.’ Her voice was light, almost lilting. ‘He used to help Claudia with her computer. Well, that’s what he said he was doing.’ The steam from the bath was making her cough but the hand never lost its grip. ‘The baby is Jon’s.’
‘The baby? No, it isn’t. I know who the father is—’
‘I saw them.’
‘Who? When?’
‘They were kissing.’
‘Oh, that. I know the time you must be thinking about, but she was only kissing him because he agreed not to tell the university about the dissertations. Jon told you, he must have done, Claudia and Kent – they had this scam . . . Claudia kissed everyone, she was that kind of . . .’ Erin tried to climb out of the bath but Diana pushed her back and she lost her balance and her head went under the water before she emerged, spluttering and coughing.
‘You’ll take Maeve.’
‘Maeve? What are you talking about?’ The two of them were more or less the same height, but Diana was standing, and she was sitting in tepid, soapy water.
‘You and Jon,’ she said. ‘When he couldn’t have your sister . . .’
‘No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. Let me get dressed and we can talk properly.’
‘He came here by himself. When Maeve was at school.’
‘To give me money for the classes.’ Not entirely true, but a thought had come to her. The man with the hoodie. ‘You’ve been watching the house?’ Why was Diana’s other hand behind her back? What was she holding?
‘I saw the two of you at the shops.’
‘When? The shops? You couldn’t have done. I’ve never been to the shops with . . .’ But that was not what she meant.
‘People like her don’t deserve to have children. They don’t deserve to live.’
The building site. The scaffolding. ‘It was you.’
Diana’s left arm swung out from behind her back and the corpse of a rat fell into the water with a splash. Erin let out an involuntary scream as it bumped against her. Bedraggled, and with blood on its neck, it floated for a moment then sank.
‘Maeve’s mine.’ Diana’s voice was a snarl.
‘Yes, of course she is. Tell me what you want and we can—’
‘Stella said you’re the one I should fear.’
‘Stella?’ The dead rat was wedged between her legs.
‘Maeve’s birth mother. Birth mothers, that’s what they call them. Mothers who don’t want their children.’ Both her hands were on Erin’s head, pushing her under the water and holding her down until the breath left her lungs and she squirmed and struggled, finally breaking free and sliding over the side of the bath. Scrambling to her feet, she stumbled, half ran, along the passage, and on down the stairs, hanging onto the rail, slipping, scraping her knees and jumping up again.
Diana was coming after her, getting closer. Reaching out a dripping hand, Erin wrenched open the front door and fell through it, into the path of a tall, smartly dressed woman. Stella.
‘No!’ She tried to squeeze past, but Stella caught hold of her, spinning her round and pinning her naked body against the wall. ‘Don’t run. I’m not going to hurt you. Where is Diana? Is she here?’
As Erin sank to the ground, Stella took off her jacket and crouched down, wrapping it round her, and the two of them watched as Diana raced across the road, almost getting hit by a passing motor bike, and jumped into her car and drove off, turning left at the top of the road without bothering to check if anything was coming in the other direction.
Chapter 35
They sat on Erin’s bed. Erin was wearing her pyjamas and a thick sweater, and holding a mug of tea.
‘How did you know?’ The shock was starting to wear off but she still spoke through chattering teeth.
Stella stood up to study a drawing. The little girl, holding the smallest guinea pig. ‘She put a burning rag through the letterbox of the basement. I thought it was some kid who enjoyed seeing places go up in flames. If I hadn’t been there, smelled the smoke . . .’
‘Why?’
‘Mm?’
‘Why did she do it?’
‘It was only when I was leaving, to return to London, that it struck me I’d inadvertently dropped you in it. I’ve seen the way Jon looks at you.’
‘You watched the house? Why?’
‘I had to find out where Jon lived. To make sure Maeve was all right. All these years…. I had no right, but it had started to prey on my mind. The regret, and if I’m honest the curiosity. A few days ago Diana saw me talking to her.’ She turned away from the drawing. What’s it called? The book you’re illustrating.’
‘The . . .’ For a moment she had forgotten. ‘The Littlest Guinea pig.’
Stella nodded. ‘I’ll look out for it in the shops. I’m Maeve’s mother.’
‘Her mother? You mean her birth mother?’ She was so unlike the woman Erin had imagined, the one Jon had been in love with, the one who had given up on her own child. ‘They haven’t told her. She thinks . . . How did Diana know where yo
u were staying?’
‘Must have followed me. At first, I thought you were Jon’s wife. Later, I realised he lived somewhere else, but brought Maeve to your house. And sometimes he came by himself.’
‘She has art lessons. Does Jon know you’re in the city? I don’t think Diana meant to harm me. I think she came to the house to talk. I thought she had a knife but it was only a dead rat.’
‘A dead rat? She’s off her head.’ Stella checked her watch. ‘Does Maeve walk home from school on her own?’
‘Yes. Yes, I think so. Oh God, what time is it?’
‘Ten past three.’
‘She comes out at half past. Or it could be earlier.’
‘Come on then, hurry up and get some clothes on. We’ll go in my car. You’re in no fit state to drive.’
The car heater was turned up high but Erin still shivered with cold. What had Diana planned to do? She had killed Claudia so what difference would one more person make? What was she doing now? Had she gone straight home or was she driving round Bristol? Or waiting for Maeve to come out of school so she could bundle her into the car – and drive up north, or into Wales? You read about parents – although it was usually fathers – who killed their children rather than lose them. Surely Diana . . . But if she was in her right mind, she would never have admitted she dropped the scaffolding pole on Claudia.
Normally it would have taken ten minutes to reach the house, but the road ahead was blocked by scaffolders, unloading poles. Stella shouted at the men and one of them held up a hand, spreading out four fingers to indicate when they would be gone. Reversing so fast Erin was sure they would scrape a parked car, Stella yelled at her to take an alternative route.
‘Next on the right, then left, then down to the bottom of the hill.’ Erin’s head was fuzzy and she was finding it difficult to focus. ‘Then left again and keep straight on. She’d never hurt Maeve. She’s her whole life. She thinks of her as her own child and as far as Maeve’s concerned, Diana is her biological mother.’
‘She’s never been told?’ The car swerved to the right and Erin remembered the fox, or had it been a cat, that she had only just missed when she and Hoshi were on their way to Brean.
