There was a tap at the door and Adele walked in. She looked at the book Bey had put on the bed and raised an eyebrow.
‘A little childish for you, surely,’ she said. ‘I’d have thought you’d have progressed more by now.’
‘To what? A manual for cat burglars?’ Bey didn’t know why she was cheeking her grandmother, but she couldn’t help herself.
‘Your father said you were contrite. I see you were merely fooling him,’ she said.
‘I am sorry,’ said Bey. ‘I didn’t mean to take it.’
‘Why did you?’ asked Adele.
‘Because Astrid left it there.’
‘That was your only reason?’
‘Yes.’
‘Surely you knew it was wrong.’
‘I didn’t think it mattered because it came out of a cracker,’ said Bey. ‘I’ve never heard of expensive stuff in crackers before. Besides, she said she didn’t even like it and that it was too big for her.’
‘It shouldn’t have been too big,’ said Adele. ‘Your father knows her size.’
‘He got it wrong all the same.’
‘What were you going to do with it?’
‘Wear it, I suppose.’ Bey shrugged.
‘You don’t want to be here, do you?’ asked her grandmother.
Bey shrugged again.
‘I knew it was a mistake,’ said Adele. ‘You mother chose a different life for you and that was her decision. It’s important to stick to your decisions, to live with the consequences of your actions.’
‘I wanted to know about him,’ said Bey.
‘And you get everything you want, do you?’
‘Not like Anthony and Astrid,’ muttered Bey.
‘Excuse me?’
‘They got expensive stuff. I got a key ring.’
‘And you’re making a fuss over that?’
‘It’s sort of putting me in my place, isn’t it?’
‘You’re very rude for a twelve year old,’ said Adele.
‘They’re rude too.’
‘Let’s accept that nobody has been on their best behaviour,’ said Adele. ‘But it’s Christmas and you’ve been punished enough. So come downstairs and apologise to Astrid and that can be the end of it.’
‘Why should I be the one to apologise if nobody has been on their best behaviour?’ asked Bey.
‘Because nobody else stole something that didn’t belong to them.’
‘I didn’t steal it!’ cried Bey.
‘You took it and it didn’t belong to you,’ Adele reminded her. ‘That’s stealing, young lady. So you have to come down and apologise.’
‘Only if she says sorry too.’
‘For heaven’s sake!’ Adele was exasperated. ‘She’s a little girl. You’re practically grown up. You’re the one who should do the right thing.’
Bey knew she ought to do as her grandmother asked, but her temper was as fiery as her hair, and she simply couldn’t back down.
‘Are you coming downstairs or not?’ demanded Adele.
Bey was afraid she’d cry if she said anything else. And she didn’t want to cry in front of Adele Warren. So she picked up her book and stared unseeingly at the jumble of words on the page in front of her.
She only looked up when she heard the bedroom door close and she was alone again.
Bey wondered if Astrid would come and apologise to her, but she didn’t, and the bedroom door remained resolutely shut. She knew she should go downstairs, but she simply couldn’t face them all. After a while, she lay down again and closed her eyes, the book upturned beside her.
She had no idea what time it was when she woke up, but the snow was falling more heavily and beginning to stick to the dormer window. She wondered if anyone else had come up to see her; if they had, they’d decided not to disturb her. She didn’t know if that had been out of kindness to her or to themselves.
She turned on the bedside light and looked at her watch. It was after eleven and she was thirsty. There was no water in the room and she thought about sneaking down to the kitchen to get some. Not that she particularly wanted to return to the scene of her crime, especially as if they caught her wandering around the house in the middle of the night they’d probably assume she was looking for more Warren loot to take. But her throat was as dry as a desert now and she desperately wanted something to drink.
She stood hesitantly beside the door, then opened it cautiously. The lights were still on on the landing and in the hallway. She tiptoed along the landing and down the first few stairs. She could hear the faint hum of conversation but she couldn’t tell who was speaking or what they were saying. Then the living-room door opened and she scurried to the top of the staircase again. She heard footsteps in the hallway, and then the same footsteps heading back to the living room.
‘Leave the door open for a few minutes, Peter.’ It was Adele’s voice. ‘It’s quite stuffy in here now.’
‘That’s because of the cigar,’ said Peter. ‘Really and truly, I can’t believe you’d even dream of smoking one indoors, Phil. They stink.’
‘I like the smell of cigar smoke,’ said Donna.
‘I’m allowed one vice,’ said Philip. ‘And whatever I think about Lola’s choices in some things, at least she made sure the child brought me a decent cigar.’
‘I can’t believe she didn’t come downstairs again,’ said Donna. ‘Astrid always caves in after five minutes alone in her room.’
‘I’m afraid Bey is a lost cause,’ said Adele. ‘Her manners are appalling and she’s nothing more than a thief.’
Huddled on the stairs, Bey stiffened at her grandmother’s words.
‘She didn’t know the ring was real,’ said Cushla. ‘I mean, who’d ever imagine it was, Mrs Warren? Not a child, surely.’
‘She certainly couldn’t have thought it was a cheap bit of coloured glass. In those magnificent crackers!’
‘Perhaps we were thoughtless in not explaining it to her,’ said Donna. ‘Still, regardless of what she did or didn’t know, taking Astrid’s ring was wrong and her behaviour afterwards was unforgivable.’
‘Theft.’ Adele’s voice was clear. ‘No point in sugar-coating it. But there you go, like mother, like daughter. They’re both the same.’
Bey felt her body go rigid with shock. What on earth did her grandmother mean? Lola wouldn’t steal anything. She was the most honest person in the world.
‘Mum!’ This time it was Philip’s voice.
‘Make all the excuses you like,’ said Adele. ‘But I remember how it was back then. How she treated you and how she treated us. And quite frankly, even if the circumstances are different, Bey’s behaviour is exactly the same!’
Bey wrapped her arms around her legs as she strained to hear what else was being said.
‘Did her mother steal from you?’ asked Cushla. ‘Really?’
‘It’s complicated,’ said Philip.
‘Even if she did, you can’t take it out on Bey,’ said Cushla.
‘We’re not taking it out on anyone,’ said Adele. ‘You don’t know anything about it. You don’t know anything about Lola. She behaved absolutely disgracefully towards Philip on more than one occasion. Let’s just say that neither Bey nor Lola are really our sort of people.’
Bey felt rage surge through her and she clenched her fists. They were talking about her as if she were some kind of object, not a real, living person. And they had no right to say the kind of things they were saying. Fine, she was a thief. But she hadn’t meant . . . she hadn’t . . . and here she ran out of excuses, because she had meant to keep the ring, and the Warrens were right: she was practically a hardened criminal.
‘What time is Lola coming to pick her up tomorrow?’ Donna’s voice was soft.
‘I said I’d phone after breakfast,’ said Philip. ‘Although if it keeps snowing like this . . .’
‘Oh my God, don’t say she’ll be stuck here!’ cried Adele. ‘Bad enough to have Christmas Day ruined by her, but tomorrow too!’
> Bey clenched her fists even tighter. She was seething now, her contrition forgotten. She hated all of them as much as they hated her.
She got up and tiptoed back to her room, her dry throat forgotten, her eyes stinging with tears of rage. The flurries of snow danced in front of the window and she peered out anxiously. What if it became heavier overnight? What if her mother couldn’t get here to pick her up? What if she was stuck for another day among people who thought she was a thief? And who seemed to think Lola was one too? It was hard to tell who’d be most upset, her or the Warrens.
Well, she thought furiously, as she opened the wardrobe and took out her white quilted jacket, they needn’t worry about her outstaying her already outstayed welcome. She was going to leave right now. Or at least as soon as she could get out of the house without them noticing her. She was going to find a phone and call Lola and go home. And she was never going to set foot inside Cleevaun House again.
Chapter 16
Tourmaline: a versatile gemstone found in every colour
Bey sat in her room and waited for the sounds of people going to bed. When she eventually heard doors opening and closing, she jumped under the duvet and pulled it up under her chin in case anyone looked in on her. But nobody did and eventually the house settled into silence.
When she was certain there was no one about, she put on her jacket and picked up her bag. She left the Warren key ring and the locket in the centre of the dressing table. She didn’t want either of them. They could return them both to the shop and sell them to someone else for all she cared.
She opened the bedroom door and this time there were no lights on. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and then slowly made her way downstairs. She tiptoed into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water before walking stealthily along the hallway. It suddenly occurred to her that there might be a burglar alarm, but she hadn’t heard the telltale beeping of one being set. Nevertheless she checked in the little cubby space under the stairs in case there was a control panel there. That was where the panel for the alarm in her own house was. She exhaled slowly. There was an alarm, but the light was green, indicating it hadn’t been set. It would serve them right, she thought, if a real burglar broke in and took every bit of their damn jewellery!
She was still worried about all hell breaking loose when she opened the front door, but although it creaked slightly on its hinges as it swung inwards, there were no other sounds.
She caught her breath as she stepped into the cold night air. The snow had stopped falling and the sky was clear, but the temperature had definitely fallen. The steps to the house sparkled beneath the light of the moon, and were slippy underfoot. It was easier to walk across the lawn than on the driveway. She reached the gates and pressed the button marked ‘Exit’. They slid open and she stepped outside. A few moments later, they’d closed automatically behind her.
The breath she’d been holding formed a misty cloud in front of her face as she slowly exhaled. She rubbed her hands together and set off along the road. She remembered passing a phone box on the way here. It had been beside a small row of shops, close to a housing estate. She couldn’t recall exactly where she’d seen it, but she reckoned it was no more than five or ten minutes away.
The narrow pavement was as slippy as the steps to the house had been, and it was an effort to keep her balance as she walked. On the other hand, having to concentrate on staying upright meant that she wasn’t thinking about the cold.
There was a spooky quality about the deserted road that unnerved her. Everything looked different in the moonlight. It was eerily quiet, too, the only sound the faint thud of the sea as the waves hit the shore.
After what seemed like an age, there was still no sign of the shops she’d remembered. She hadn’t exactly been paying attention to the route, but she was certain the housing estate must be nearby. She knew that if she kept walking – or, more accurately, sliding – with the sea to her right, she’d eventually arrive somewhere close to home, because Ringsend was near the mouth of the River Liffey as it entered Dublin Bay. But that would take all night. Plus, she wasn’t wearing walking shoes, and her feet were already freezing. She was beginning to wish she’d stuck it out in the warmth of Cleevaun House after all.
When she finally saw the cluster of yellow street lights in the distance, she felt a surge of energy. Five minutes later, she allowed herself a whoop of satisfaction as she arrived at her destination, which had been a lot further from the house than she’d expected.
But there wasn’t a phone box. She looked around helplessly. She was positive she’d seen one earlier. She wondered if she’d imagined it simply because there were nearly always phone boxes near shops. Maybe everyone in this posh part of town had mobile phones already and didn’t need public phone boxes any more. Bey wished she’d snooped around Cleevaun House before she’d left to see if her father had a mobile himself. She could have borrowed it to phone her mum and given it back to him afterwards. Although, she thought bitterly, it’d probably be another thing he’d accuse her of stealing.
She felt hot tears prick the back of her eyelids even as she shivered in the raw night air. She knew that stalking out of Cleevaun House in a temper had been stupid. As always, she’d acted first and thought later. What she should have done when she heard her father and the rest of the family being horrible about her and Lola was to march into the living room and demand to go home. But instead she’d been her usual irrational and impulsive self, and the result was that she was shivering in front of a row of deserted shops on Christmas night when everyone else was at home.
‘Are you all right?’
The sound of the approaching car had been muffled by the snow. But it had pulled up beside her and the driver had lowered the window.
‘Are you all right?’ he repeated. He was a middle-aged man, wearing a traditional Irish tweed cap and a pair of black-rimmed glasses. ‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’ he added.
From the moment Bey was first allowed outside on her own, her mother had warned her of the dangers of accepting lifts from strangers. ‘Never get into a car,’ she’d said. ‘Even if the person says I’ve sent them. Don’t believe them. Don’t trust them. There are some bad people out there, Bey, and you don’t want to meet one of them.’
She kept her mother’s words in mind as she told the driver she was fine.
‘What are you doing out on your own tonight?’ he asked. ‘It’s Christmas.’
She didn’t answer.
‘Are you waiting for someone? Did they stand you up? Would you like to phone them?’
Bey looked at him hopefully. ‘You have a phone?’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Hop in and you can use it.’
Getting into a car and being driven off was one thing, but getting into a car to use a phone was something else entirely, she thought. She walked around to the passenger side, opened the door and slid inside. A blast of warm air from the front heaters hit her in the face. She sighed with pleasure and held her hands over the vents.
‘Where’s the phone?’ she asked.
‘Just down the road,’ he told her as he put the car into gear.
‘But you said . . .’
He ignored her, and the car started to pick up speed.
‘I thought you meant you had a mobile phone in the car!’ cried Bey. ‘I wouldn’t have got in otherwise.’
‘We’ll only be a minute.’ He didn’t look at her.
‘I don’t care.’ She tried not to sound anxious. ‘Stop here. I want to get out.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he told her. ‘We’ll be at the house in a second and you can phone from there.’
Bey knew with a horrible certainty that she’d made her second terrible mistake of the day. And this one was even more serious. She was in the car of a complete stranger, with no idea where he was taking her and nobody knowing where she was. The warnings that were supposed to have stopped her getting into it in the first place were now terrifying her
as she hunched over in the front seat. Lola had never actually been graphic about the things that could happen, but Bey had seen news reports about missing girls in the past and she couldn’t recall a single one that had worked out well.
She knew the man was going to do horrible things to her and then kill her. She would be forever remembered for being the girl who was murdered on Christmas Day.
‘Oh God, oh God, oh God.’ Her words were a whimper.
‘Be quiet.’ He reached out without looking at her and patted her knee. ‘There’s no need for that. You’ll be fine.’
The touch of his hand as he moved it along her leg made her want to be sick. Then the car lost some traction on the road and he took it away to hold the steering wheel again.
‘Let me out.’
‘When we get to the house.’
‘I want to get out now.’
They were on the coast road, and driving towards Cleevaun, because the sea was on their left. Bey could make out the railway lines of the Dart suburban train, which hugged the coastline. She wasn’t interested in the train, though. It didn’t run in the middle of the night. All she cared about was finding a way out of the situation she’d allowed herself to get into.
Maybe it’ll be OK, she comforted herself. Maybe I’m getting into a state over nothing. Maybe he’s just a weirdo. After all, who’d be bothered prowling for young girls on Christmas night, when most people are at home? Maybe he’ll bring me to his house and let me use the phone just as he’d said. It’ll probably be a dump of a place, with crappy furniture and dirty surfaces, because he’s a sad old man with nobody to look after him. Everything will be fine. There’s no need to panic.
She wanted to believe her own words. But she didn’t.
He turned onto another road that ran alongside the railway tracks, then turned again, too quickly, into a narrow country lane, where the car skidded slightly on the icy surface. As he tried to correct it, Bey, acting without thinking, grabbed the steering wheel and pushed it towards the driver’s side. The man lashed out at her, losing what little control he had. The car slid to the right and then, in what Bey afterwards thought was the single luckiest moment of her life, did a complete turn-around and ended up on the verge.
What Happened That Night: The page-turning holiday read by the No. 1 bestselling author Page 15
