Come Back For Me

by Heidi Perks

  ‘But it still doesn’t make it right,’ I say.

  ‘I loved her,’ Ruth goes on breathlessly. ‘I loved her so much.’

  ‘I know you did.’

  ‘But I failed her too in the end, didn’t I? I didn’t know she was sick.’

  Despite myself, I reach for Ruth’s hand.

  ‘Jill missed you a lot when you left, she – she never stopped hoping you’d come back,’ Ruth says, looking to the corner of the room. ‘She never knew you wrote. Bob kept your letters from her, so she never knew how to find you.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’ I gasp.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She pulls her hand away. ‘I didn’t want him to, but after everything that happened—’

  ‘Do you mean with Iona? Ruth, what happened to her?’ I press forward, leaning across the table.

  Ruth draws in a deep breath and releases it slowly. ‘I wasn’t there. I don’t know.’

  ‘I think you do.’

  ‘Only what I’ve been told.’ She looks at me, tears sliding down her cheeks. Running a hand up and down her dressing gown, she scratches at her skin through the thick fabric.

  A door slams at the back of the house. Only my eyes move as they flick to the side, expecting Bob to have appeared in the room.

  Another slam. A heavy thud.

  ‘You should go,’ Ruth whispers, her words so quiet I’m not sure I heard them. ‘Go,’ she says again, but I don’t budge, and suddenly Bob is standing in the doorway, a heavy dark coat slicked damp with rain, black hair sculpted off his face, eyes boring through me.

  Fight or flight.

  I answered flight in my counselling training. I always knew I wasn’t brave. Not when it came to it. But tonight I freeze.

  Evergreen Island

  7 September 1993

  Iona was sitting on the bench by the quay as David said she would be. She looked up when Maria emerged from between the trees and Maria hesitated for a moment before walking over and sitting beside her.

  ‘We’re not who you’re looking for.’ Maria studied the girl. Iona didn’t look as confident as she had earlier and Maria wondered what conversation David might have already had with her. ‘I think you’re here looking for a sister, and while you look alike, it’s not Bonnie.’

  ‘That would suit you, wouldn’t it?’ Iona said, but it was spoken with resignation rather than malice.

  ‘Why do you think your sister is here, Iona?’ She needed to understand what the girl knew.

  Iona hugged her knees to her chest. ‘I always remembered I’d once had a baby sister, but my mum used to tell me I was wrong. She said I was making it up. I knew I wasn’t, though. I remembered her being in the room. I remembered her cry. Her smell. You don’t make things like that up, do you?’

  Maria gave a small shake of her head.

  ‘She was there one day and not the next. I never gave up on the idea of her, finding out what happened. Part of me thought my mum might have done something to her.’ She shuddered. ‘Then three years ago I decided to look for her. I told Mum and she completely flipped. She got really angry and wasn’t making any sense, but she was so out of it, she suddenly blurted the truth.’ Iona gave a short laugh. ‘She admitted she’d sold her baby. How sick is that? I couldn’t look at her after that. There was no way I could speak to her again, and thank God she realised that and had enough intelligence to leave me alone.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I saw this TV programme about adoption. I’d started seeing a guy who worked at the hospital and he was a useless idiot but he helped me look up all sorts of records. There was one care worker who used to visit us all the time and I recognised her name when we found it. My mum used to mutter, “Oh look, Joyful is here”’ – Maria flinched at her mother’s name – ‘but I always looked forward to her coming because she was kind. She brought me treats.

  ‘Then I found her obituary in the paper,’ Iona went on. ‘It said she’d had a daughter.’ She turned and looked at Maria. ‘I kind of thought that lead had come to a dead end but I looked up your name anyway and found a picture of you in a newspaper. You were protesting about some developments on the island.’

  Maria remembered the article. Stella had proudly stuck the clipping in her scrapbook.

  ‘Your name was in the headline clear as day, and right next to it was another one I recognised. At first I couldn’t work out why I’d heard of Annie Webb, but then I remembered seeing her in the records as a midwife. Maybe I shouldn’t have read anything into you and Annie both living on this remote island together, but it seemed strange. I wanted to come and see it for myself. So I came over for a day trip. And then another. And I watched you and your precious family and—’ Iona suddenly stopped.

  ‘Go on,’ Maria urged in a whisper.

  ‘You all looked so perfect from the outside. Or you did at first. But Bonnie – she looked nothing like the other two, I could see that straight away. And the more I watched her the more I realised she was an outcast. I knew she must be the sister that had been taken from me and I hated that she had all this and I’d been left with nothing.’ She spat out the last word.

  ‘Only she isn’t the sister that was taken from you,’ Maria said.

  ‘But when I came over at the start of the summer she latched on to me, telling me all these things like she never felt she belonged here and didn’t feel like part of the family …’ Iona drifted off as Maria caught her breath. She couldn’t bear to hear Bonnie actually felt that way. All the things that had always worried her might be true.

  ‘I promise you Bonnie is not the girl you’re looking for,’ Maria said.

  ‘I know,’ Iona replied and Maria was taken aback.

  She opened her mouth to ask, how do you know? but the words caught in her throat.

  The ensuing silence was unbearable until Iona said, ‘David told me she couldn’t be. He said Bonnie’s mother was only fifteen.’

  Maria’s heart leaped into her mouth. She felt her skin turn cold, inch by inch, until her whole body was frozen.

  David told her that? He had admitted what they’d done?

  ‘I know my mum was older than thirteen when she had me, so …’ Iona shrugged. ‘Why did you do it?’ she asked.

  Maria couldn’t speak. She wanted to. She wanted to scream that her husband had betrayed them in the worst possible way. He had failed their family. For this girl. This stranger.

  Slowly the blood drained from her face.

  ‘Please tell me why you did it,’ Iona went on. ‘I just need to understand, and then …’ She waved a hand towards the water.

  And then you’ll go? Maria thought. And then I’ll get rid of you forever?

  ‘I’d lost two babies,’ Maria said in a tight whisper. ‘I was worried I wasn’t ever going to have one of my own.’ Her body was rigid with fury. That, she realised, had overtaken fear and now all she could think was that she had to get this girl off the island, but not for Iona’s safety, which David seemed so concerned about – for her family’s.

  ‘So you thought you’d take someone else’s?’ Iona asked.

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’ Maria shook her head vigorously. ‘I met her once. I had to. I needed to have some kind of—’ Maria bit her lip. ‘I wanted to reassure myself we were doing the right thing.’

  ‘You wanted to clear your conscience.’

  ‘No,’ Maria said adamantly, twisting round to face Iona. ‘This young girl’s parents refused to have anything to do with her after she got pregnant. She’d lost everything and she was desperate. She was living in a bedsit and she thought …’ Maria paused. ‘She believed the only way through it was to start again. On her own.

  ‘I know what we did might not have been legal, but Bonnie would have been put into foster care and I saw what some of those places were like when I went with my mum. I also knew our money would do much more for that girl than any other so-called support. So actually – actually, my conscience was clear. Bonnie’s birth mother straightened
herself out with what we gave her.’

  ‘Unlike mine,’ Iona said solemnly. ‘So, who is my sister then?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Maria said faintly. ‘I don’t know anything about your sister.’ This was of course a lie, but Maria wouldn’t tell her the truth.

  Iona let out a sigh and turned away. ‘So she might never have been brought to this island? She could be anywhere.’

  ‘She could be, yes.’

  A part of Maria’s heart fractured at the thought that the sister Iona was looking for was within grasping distance. But she needed Iona to leave. If Bob had been told who Iona was searching for, she wasn’t safe.

  ‘I’m so sorry about what you’ve been through, but there’s nothing on this island for you,’ Maria said. ‘I think it’s best you don’t stay any longer.’

  ‘So that I don’t tell anyone?’ Iona turned to her. ‘Is that what you’re afraid of?’

  ‘We can make sure you’re alright,’ Maria went on.

  ‘You mean pay me off?’

  ‘We can help.’

  Iona laughed. ‘You think I’m here for money?’

  ‘No, I can’t give you what you’re here for. But I do think money could give you a new start. Don’t you?’

  ‘So I just go now, do I?’ Iona smirked as if the idea were ludicrous.

  ‘First thing in the morning,’ Maria said. ‘I think you should say goodbye to Bonnie. Tell her you’ve got a sick aunt who needs you urgently. David will take you to the mainland at eight.’ Maria leant over and clasped her hands around Iona’s. ‘We’ll get your money for you then, but I’m begging you not to say anything to her. I promise we can help you.’

  Maria’s heart thumped an unsteady beat as she waited for Iona to refuse.

  ‘Fine. I’ll be there.’

  Maria’s eyes widened as she nodded. ‘Great. Okay. Good,’ she said as she let go of Iona’s hands and stood, all the while tearing herself into little pieces. It wasn’t right to deny Iona her sister, but what else could she do?

  Maria passed through the white picket fence, kicking it shut behind her as she looked up to see David waiting for her at the kitchen window. All those little broken pieces began to mould together into an iron clump in her chest. His own guilt had led him to admit to the girl what they’d done, and she knew in that moment she would never be able to forgive him for that.

  PRESENT

  Chapter Thirty-One

  ‘What the hell are you doing here again?’ Bob growls, peeling off two thick black gloves from his hands and tossing them to the side. ‘I told you—’

  ‘She was just leaving,’ Ruth interrupts, quickly standing and trying to bustle me up too.

  Bob steps forward. His hand blocks me from moving as he stretches it across me, leaning on the back of my chair. ‘I asked what you’re doing here,’ he says, eyes roaming my face, an action that makes him look nervous though the rest of him gives no such impression.

  ‘I just wanted to speak to you both,’ I tell him.

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘Go ahead.’

  Ruth patters behind him, tapping from one foot to the other, but when Bob turns to look at her she immediately stills. ‘What have you been telling her?’ he demands.

  She shakes her head, her lips part. ‘She knew,’ Ruth says quietly. ‘She already knew about Jill.’

  Bob raises his hand and slams it back on the chair, glaring at Ruth.

  ‘She’s telling the truth,’ I say. ‘I knew about Jill before I came back today.’

  ‘Go upstairs,’ he tells his wife.

  Ruth hesitates. She glances at me, then back at Bob, but it only takes a moment before she disappears and her footsteps race up the stairs.

  Confident she’s gone, Bob turns back to me, glowering, and strides around the table to sit down opposite me. His movements are slow and purposeful as if he’s not fazed by me one bit. ‘So what are you doing here?’ he asks me again.

  ‘I want to know the truth,’ I tell him.

  ‘And what business do you think it is of yours?’

  ‘My brother is innocent,’ I say. When Bob doesn’t react I go on, ‘I don’t think he killed Iona but I believe someone’s happy for him to take the blame.’

  Bob dips his head ever so slightly to one side.

  ‘Iona came to the island looking for her sister. She was here for Jill.’ I try keeping my words level, though each sentence comes out in sharp puffs.

  ‘And I take it you’ve gone to the police with your so-called information?’

  I open my mouth, pause, clamp it shut again.

  Bob laughs, his head lolling back. ‘No, I didn’t think so. Why is that?’ When I don’t answer he goes on, ‘I killed Iona. Is that what you think?’

  ‘You had reason to,’ I say. My hands tremble behind me and I tell myself he won’t harm me while Ruth’s upstairs, though she’s been covering up for him for years.

  My eyes flick to the front door, an action that seems to amuse him, but I’m certain I could outrun him if I need to.

  ‘You think I’m the only one with a motive?’ he asks. ‘I imagine you’ve already worked out someone else had one too, only you don’t like the thought of that.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ The words tumble out of my mouth.

  Bob laughs again. ‘It was your parents who were freaked by her arrival, not me. Though I think you already know that.’

  I bite my lip, willing my heart to stop hammering.

  Bob presses his fists to his mouth and then splays his hands flat against the table as he considers his best option. ‘You see, whatever I might have done, I only agreed because your parents had set a precedent. I assume you know Bonnie isn’t actually your real sister?’

  The air around me stills.

  ‘Iona knew that but she didn’t have a clue about Jill,’ he goes on as if he hasn’t just told me the one thing that has split my world in two.

  My ears buzz and I shake my head, trying to stop the noise so I can focus on what he’s telling me, but the room is beginning to spin and I feel like I might throw up.

  ‘It was your parents whose exposure was being threatened, not mine,’ he is saying, ‘so I had no reason to kill her, did I?’

  ‘Of course you did.’ My words sound foreign, hazy, like they don’t belong to me.

  ‘Your parents were determined that girl was going to ruin their lives. So, you think you can come here and get your brother off the hook because he’s innocent? Well, he probably is,’ Bob leers, leaning back in his chair like he’s played his trump card. ‘But I’m not your killer.’

  His eyes bore into me as he leans forward until his face is only inches from mine. I smell sweat, and stale onion on his breath, and automatically pull back, trying to find my footing as I edge myself out of the chair.

  ‘I told you before you shouldn’t be here, digging around. You were never going to like what you found.’

  ‘I know you sent me the threats,’ I say.

  ‘Threats?’ He screws his face up.

  ‘The notes you’ve been leaving me. I’ve taken the first one to the police. They’ll know you’ve got something to hide, so there’s no point trying to put this on my parents.’

  Bob laughs. ‘I can honestly say I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You want my brother to go to prison so the police don’t come looking for you,’ I say.

  Bob prods his thick fingers against his chest. ‘I didn’t kill her. I didn’t run away,’ he sneers, his eyes roaming over my face as he presses closer again. I inch my way around him, desperate for him to get out of my face. Whatever I’d come here for, I no longer want to hear. Whatever Bob tells me, I need to go to the police with what I know.

  ‘Who made the decision to up and leave in the middle of a storm?’ he says.

  I flinch as a drop of his spit lands on my lip, and I push back further until I’m almost in the doorway to the hall. ‘I don’t believe you. My dad could never—’

 
‘No,’ Bob laughs. ‘No. I don’t actually think your dad could.’

  My hand grips the door frame and I use it to steady myself. I don’t want to hear what you’re telling me, Bob. The words scream inside my head but they don’t come out.

  ‘Not the answers you came here for?’ he is saying. ‘What a shame. You were so keen to find out what happened.’

  ‘You can make anything up because my parents can’t defend themselves.’ I stumble backwards, feeling for the front door behind me. I want to hold my hands over my ears, sing loudly, do anything to stop his lies.

  ‘Thing about this place is that secrets can stay hidden for a very long time.’

  I reach down for my coat and when I straighten up he is right beside me. I’m surprised at his sudden agility. He moves quickly for such a big man.

  ‘You really want the truth?’ Bob says.

  No. I really don’t think I do any more. I turn the door knob, opening the door as a rush of cold air slaps me, and I stumble outside.

  ‘Your mother killed Iona,’ he says as I start scrambling up the driveway. ‘And I’m the one who’s been keeping her secret all these years.

  ‘You can run but you can’t go far,’ he calls after me. ‘You know there’s no way off this island tonight.’

  I reach the top of the path, falling against a tree. A rise of nausea swells inside me, making me retch over my shoes and my already sodden jeans. Rainwater smears my vomit into streaks and stings my eyes, but none of these things matter any more. None of it matters.

  Evergreen Island

  8 September 1993