Estelle shook her head. ‘I won’t leave London.’ But in truth, it was more the fact she wouldn’t return to Lillysands. There were too many secrets there, too many ghosts.
‘Why not?’ Autumn wrinkled her nose. ‘I can’t imagine living there, all noisy and smelly, not like here.’
‘It smells of seaweed here,’ Estelle said, raising an eyebrow and trying to make the conversation light.
‘Good fresh clean seaweed, perfect for a pure-eating guru.’
Estelle smiled. ‘I see what you’re trying to do and it’s very sweet. But London’s my home now, I’ll never leave.’
‘Never say never.’ Autumn said with a wink. ‘I saw you and Darren talking. He’s quite a looker now, isn’t he? Always was, I suppose, but now he’s rich with it too.’ She leaned towards Estelle, eyes sparkling. ‘He’d make a good match for you.’
Estelle laughed. ‘Honestly, Autumn! Are you trying to set us up?’
She shrugged. ‘Why not?’
‘I think it’s a bit soon.’
Autumn didn’t answer. Instead she held Estelle’s gaze for a few seconds, as if looking into her thoughts. Just as Estelle was beginning to feel uneasy, Autumn looked down at her watch. ‘So what’s the plan? It’s nearly five. If you get a train now, you’ll get back very late.’
Estelle looked at her watch. ‘You’re right.’ She wouldn’t get back until after nine, which wasn’t too bad. But the truth was, she didn’t want to face Seb, not in the mood she expected to find him in when she returned. And anyway, she needed to stay in Lillysands a little longer. She couldn’t leave things as they were with Aiden.
‘So will you stay tonight?’ Autumn shot her a cheeky grin. ‘You know it’s my sixtieth birthday tomorrow and having you here for it would be the most wonderful present.’
Estelle thought of the promise she’d made Aiden, that she’d be there if he needed her. ‘If that’s okay?’
‘Okay? It’s the best news I’ve had in years, darling!’ Autumn grabbed her face and kissed her firmly on the cheek.
Estelle laughed. ‘Autumn!’
‘Sorry, I’m just so excited. Thank you, darling. And surely you’ve got used to my hugs and kisses? It took you a while to get used to them when you first arrived, I remember you used to freeze in my arms.’
Estelle sighed at the memory of how she’d grow brittle in Autumn’s arms, embarrassment turning her cheeks hot. Even worse when Autumn hugged and kissed her goodbye at the school gates on her first day, two weeks after she had arrived. A girl in class had even taken the mick out of her. ‘Still being kissed at the school gate by Mummy, are we?’ After a few days of it, she’d shoved Autumn away. But the wounded look on Autumn’s face had played on her mind all day. That afternoon when Autumn picked her up from school, her foster mother had been quiet and that had scared Estelle. While the affection was difficult, she was growing to love her time with the Garlands, the walks on the beach and movie nights with popcorn, snuggled up under blankets in the living room. What if Autumn didn’t want her anymore? Her social worker had told her it was her last chance before an indefinite stay in a care home.
That evening, after dinner, Autumn had asked her to stay behind while the others went into the living room. Estelle had braced herself: Here it comes, she’s going to tell me it’s not working out.
‘I know I’m too much with the hugging, Stel darlin’,’ she’d begun. ‘Max always tells me off for being overbearing.’ Estelle waited to hear the words she’d become so used to. ‘I promise from now on I’ll stop,’ Autumn had continued. ‘That’s if you want me to?’
Estelle had looked into her eyes, desperate to tell her she didn’t mind, if it meant she could stay. But so unused to expressing her feelings, she’d just nodded, pained when she saw the disappointment in Autumn’s eyes. She hadn’t been able to sleep that night, still seeing that disappointment. So, the next morning, she sought Autumn out in the kitchen and marched over to her, wrapping her arms around her and burying her face in her foster mother’s hair. The way that had made Estelle feel had surprised her. It was wonderful.
‘Don’t stop hugging me,’ she’d whispered to Autumn.
Then she’d walked out, catching the smile on Autumn’s face in the reflection of the glass.
Max walked into the kitchen now with a bulging bin bag, the memories dissipating. ‘I take it Estelle is staying for your birthday party considering that smile on your face, Autumn?’
‘Oh, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay for the party,’ Estelle said. If she could find Aiden and resolve things with him, and things felt right for her to return to London, then she would. Autumn’s face dropped. ‘But I’ll be here when you wake! I didn’t get you a present though.’
‘You being here is the best birthday present Autumn could have,’ Max said.
‘That’s what I told her!’ Autumn said, the disappointment gone.
They both laughed and Estelle found herself joining in, their exuberance infectious.
Over the next few hours, Estelle helped Autumn cook a hearty stew, somehow finding enough organic, whole foods to make it with. They talked into the night, reminiscing about the good times, glossing over the bad times … and the baby too, not one mention of the child they’d helped Estelle give up all those years before. Estelle went along with it and allowed herself to pretend everything was okay, that her daughter wasn’t missing, that her relationship hadn’t fallen to pieces … and that Aiden wasn’t angry at her. But she kept watching the door, hoping he’d walk in.
When midnight approached, she made her excuses and went up to her room. After she got changed into her nightwear, she looked again at the bed where she’d given birth. The mattress had no doubt been replaced, but the sturdy mahogany frame was still there. She took a deep breath and got beneath the thick duvet, the familiar smell of the berry washing powder Autumn still used filling her nostrils. She’d held Poppy as a newborn here, very briefly, staring down into her red little face before she’d handed her over. She’d been shocked by the solidness of the baby, the warmth and the smells; the gentle tugging of love that was beginning to swell. When she’d taken a pregnancy test months before, bouts of nausea and a few missed periods driving her to the chemists to buy one, she hadn’t seen the red cross as representing something that was real. Not at first anyway. Alice had been there and had pleaded with her to tell someone, even just to go to the doctors. But Estelle had blocked it all out. The test was wrong. She wasn’t pregnant. It was easy at first. She was so slim, it barely showed. But then one morning, she woke to the baby kicking her. She’d jumped out of bed – that very bed – and stood at the mirror, examining her growing belly. She’d been surprised as something close to affection had risen inside her for the baby she was carrying.
Then she’d heard breathing and turned to see Autumn watching her from the hallway through her half-open door. She’d quickly covered herself but it was too late. Autumn knew, she could see it in her eyes. They’d sat on the bed and Estelle had confessed everything except who the father was. Autumn had promised to support her and had even agreed to keep it a secret, telling her she’d get a nurse friend of hers to help with discreet scans and the birth itself so the authorities weren’t alerted and Estelle wouldn’t be taken away from the Garlands. In that moment, that promise, Estelle had felt a weight lifted off her shoulders.
She’d always been so desperate to make the Garlands proud of her. She’d worked so hard to make something of herself over those last couple of years, and she’d been thriving at school. She’d been daunted by the school when she first saw it, huge and white like the American campuses she saw on TV. There was no uniform either, pupils could wear what they wanted. Even teachers could be referred to by their first names. It fit in perfectly with Autumn and Max’s relaxed vibe, but for a new girl, young and fearful of how people would regard her, it was terrifying. But after the initial difficult weeks, teachers like Mr and Mrs Tate brought her out of her shell. Estelle began to flourish,
feeling her wings spreading, her grades improving. The parents’ evenings Autumn and Max religiously attended began to include heaps of praise. There would even be celebratory dinners after: Autumn hugging her and telling her what a ‘bright little thing’ she was; Max leaning across the table and grabbing her hand: ‘This is the time, Stel, when you’re so young. The world is your oyster, grab it and lap it up!’ It was hard not to be infected by it. Nothing had been expected of her before, just getting her to attend school each day was ambition enough for her previous foster carers. But with the Garlands, the world opened up. She was encouraged and expected to thrive, each small achievement a cause for celebration. It was invigorating, enlivening, and it would spill over into her moments with Aiden and Alice in that pink cottage as they excitedly discussed their futures: Estelle would be a famous chef, Aiden a singer-songwriter and Alice would be a world-renowned scientist, something Estelle didn’t doubt, she was so clever. Autumn and Max had seemed so proud of their ‘three children’, as they referred to them.
So when Estelle learnt she was pregnant, she was terrified of losing all that: their home, their pride, their love. If they could celebrate achievements with such exuberance, what would happen when Estelle did something wrong? The worst possible kind of wrong for a teenage girl. Would they banish her?
But Autumn’s reaction had shown her maybe love could be unconditional; that maybe her foster mother loved her in the good times and the bad, like good parents should. There were still moments of denial and anger as Estelle got used to the prospect of a baby. But it was easier with Autumn on her side. Over the next few months, Autumn helped Estelle to hide the pregnancy, buying her contoured clothes to conceal the bump and then, in the final weeks, telling people she was ill with glandular fever, and hiding her away in this room.
Estelle looked out at the glimmering sea now, the lights from the houses below reflected in its surface.
Where was Poppy right now, the baby who had grown within her?
She picked up her phone, quickly checking the news for updates. Then she froze when she noticed a headline. Breaking news: Chris O’Farrell says daughter may have been groomed by predator.
Estelle quickly clicked into the story.
TV presenter Chris O’Farrell believes his daughter, fifteen-year-old schoolgirl Poppy, may have been groomed before running away. He claims to have found an untraceable email on her computer from an older man giving only his first name, and lashed out at police, claiming they’re not taking his daughter’s disappearance seriously enough. More on this story as it develops.
Estelle put her hand to her mouth, feeling nauseous. Could Chris O’Farrell be right, could she have been groomed? Estelle flicked to the photo of the Polaroid she’d received, staring into Poppy’s brown eyes. If so, that might mean whoever groomed her into running away sent this Polaroid to Estelle.
But who would do that?
Estelle went to the window, peering out over Lillysands, heart thumping loud in her ears. ‘Where are you, Poppy?’
As she asked the question, she caught a glimpse of a shadow in the garden. Her heartbeat trebled. She frowned, peering closer.
But the shadow had disappeared.
Chapter Eleven
Friday, 5 May
When Estelle awoke, it was early the next day, the sky bright and blue. Looking at her phone, she saw she had a voicemail. Could it be from Seb? She quickly accessed the voicemail and put her phone to her ear. But it was a message from Detective Jones instead, asking her to call him.
She dialled his number straightaway but the detective wasn’t available so she left her own message.
It had been three days since Poppy had disappeared and with news of her possibly being groomed coming out, the detective must be as worried as Estelle now. Maybe he wanted to ask her some more questions? Or maybe he had new information?
She couldn’t sit here and stew over it though. It would send her crazy. She needed to get out and clear her mind. So she pulled on her running gear then jogged downstairs. When she got to the kitchen, Autumn was laying out a large breakfast, a cigarette dangling out of her red lips. ‘Honey, I do not remember you getting up this early when you lived here!’ she said with a laugh.
‘And I don’t remember you getting up this early!’
‘Then we’ve both changed.’
Estelle went over to her and kissed her cheek. ‘Happy birthday, Autumn.’
‘Thank you, sweetheart.’
‘Isn’t Max supposed to be making you breakfast in bed?’ Estelle asked.
‘I love doing this, you know that. Where do you think you got your love of food from? How do you want your eggs?’
‘Oh, I’m fine, really. I prefer running on an empty stomach.’
Autumn raised an eyebrow as she looked her up and down. ‘Have you lost your mind? Come here and get some breakfast inside you.’
She looked at the fry up. It brought back so many memories of having breakfast cooked for her each morning here by Autumn. It was tempting to say yes – she remembered the delicious breakfasts Autumn used to make. But now more than ever she needed to stick to her healthy eating habits. ‘No really, it’s fine, but thank you. I’ll see you later.’
She walked down the hallway and opened the front door. Then, breathing in the crisp morning air, she set off down the pavement. But as she passed the tree in front of the house, something caught her eye. Propped up against the base of the trunk was an envelope with her name on. Estelle frowned, looking around her. Had the figure she’d seen skulking in the darkness the night before put it there? She reached down for it with trembling hands, then tore it open.
Something dropped out onto the dewy grass.
A Polaroid.
Chapter Twelve
I see you found the photo.
I feel a stab of excitement. It’s thrilling really, seeing the look on your face, knowing my handiwork is causing that.
Next time, I want to do something to really scare you. Something to make you realise this is serious.
But this will do for now.
I know why it feels so good today: I saw you with him yesterday.
The way it made me feel. The jealousy curling in the pit of my stomach. I hate it, hate how weak it makes me.
That’s not why I’m doing this though. Not the main reason anyway.
But it helps. Doing something helps ease the pain of seeing you two so close.
Part of me wants to step out from the shadows now. Talk to you.
You would never guess it was me who left the photo there.
But I am so so angry with you. What if I lose control?
So, for now, I’ll just watch.
What’s going through your mind? Your eyes show nothing.
I suppose we’re not so different. I keep everything pent up inside too. But it takes all of my energy. Leaves me exhausted by the end of the day.
I bet it doesn’t tire you though. You’re a real mistress of it. Face like glass.
I wonder what will happen when the glass shatters?
Chapter Thirteen
Estelle reached for the photo, barely breathing.
Then she let out a gasp.
It wasn’t a picture of Poppy this time. It was a photo of Alice, in the distance. She was in the garden at the Garlands, peering out to sea from the edge of the cliff there, face pensive. It would have been taken from the path leading down to the beach, shared by all the houses along the road.
Taken without her knowledge?
Estelle ran her fingers over the photo. Someone must have taken very good care of it. It was in perfect condition, despite having been shot years ago. Polaroid photos faded. There’d been an old one hanging in Mr Tate’s classroom, a picture of a house that had fallen into the sea. It was bleached white with time, the house barely discernible.
Estelle shivered. How long had someone been planning to send this to her?
How long had someone been watching her?
Her eyes moved to the
bottom of the frame. Scrawled in messy handwriting was the message: Watch your back or you might go over the edge.
Fear trembled through Estelle. This confirmed it. Whoever was leaving her these Polaroid photos was right here in Lillysands. She looked around her then caught sight of Aiden driving up the road in a four by four. She jogged towards him, holding up the photo. She wanted to show him, have him involved. She couldn’t deal with this alone.
He pulled to a stop beside her and powered down his window. He looked into her eyes a few moments, a mixture of emotions in his: the hurt she’d seen last night, some anger still, but some affection too. His eyes dropped to the photo. ‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘Someone left it in an envelope by the tree. It’s a Polaroid photo, just like the one of Poppy.’
He got out of his car and took it from her, examining it. ‘Is that Alice?’ he asked.
Estelle nodded.
‘But what’s that got to do with Alice?’
Estelle clutched onto the Polaroid, taking deep breaths. ‘I don’t know.’
Aiden went to speak to her again but before he had the chance, Estelle’s phone rang. She looked down at it to see it was a London number. She put the phone to her ear. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello, Miss Forster.’ It was DC Jones.
‘Has there been any update?’ she asked as Aiden watched her.
‘Nothing so far. I’ll be honest, we’re grasping at straws. It’s been three days now and as you can imagine, Poppy’s parents are very concerned.’
‘Yes, I can imagine. What about the grooming story?’
He sighed. ‘It’s just an avenue we’re exploring. I just wanted to ring to see if you’d had any contact from Poppy?’
‘No, not from Poppy.’
‘What do you mean?’
She looked at the photo. ‘I received another Polaroid photo this morning.’
‘Of Poppy?’
Estelle swallowed. She peered at Aiden. ‘Of my foster sister, Alice Shepherd. She died the day Poppy was born.’
Her Last Breath Page 9
