She followed her daughter through the passage, ending up on Scriveners Road. The light had almost gone by now. She watched as Alice rounded the bend and suddenly realised where they were.
This is the street where Aleph lives. Cressida was still getting to know Curdizan.
She watched as Alice passed Aleph’s house, and headed for the archway to Narrowboat Lane. She didn’t like Alice going this way. For all the area’s modernisation, the path to the archway was badly lit, a former haunt of prostitutes. Who was it told me that? she thought.
Alice paused and Cressida stopped, stepping back quickly into the shadows, Alice was typing on the iPad, laughing and holding the tablet up high. As if she was trying to take a photo. Why here, of all places? Alice turned the tablet around, as if she was showing the screen to someone. Cressida gasped and hurried forward. Alice was obviously not alone.
Cressida rushed towards her, shouting, ‘Alice, it’s me.’ Whoever was with her could be trouble, and Cressida couldn’t take that chance.
‘Mum,’ typed Alice, ‘What a surprise! I’d like you to meet my friend, Tom.’
Cressida looked up Narrowboat Lane, but all she could see in the fading light were a couple of women strolling away. She couldn’t see any men or boys.
‘He’s always running away,’ typed Alice. ‘I don’t think he likes me taking his photo. Not that it ever comes out when I try.’
‘Here, let me see.’ Cressida grabbed the iPad quickly, wanting to check that Tom was a boy and not a man, and a threat to her daughter, but there weren’t even any boys in the picture. She saw the street with its trees in bud and a couple of women in rather quaint costumes, and a lot of closed shops but that was all. Cressida sighed.
Alice believed she’d been talking to someone, that was evident. A boy who didn’t seem to exist, on the screen or in the street. Could this be a part of the problem?
Chapter 18
Then – Thomas
I hadn’t expected to see Alice, not by the archway that led to the school. I don’t know why not, it wasn’t that far from where we first met. I guess I was thinking about the boot, and feeling rather proud of myself. But when I saw Alice, it all came back, how I’d run off the last time I’d seen her, and then I didn’t feel quite so proud. Alice smiled and her face lit up.
‘Hello Tom,’ she typed on the tablet. ‘Great to see you. How are you?’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘But I can’t stop now, I’ve got to get home, My ma’s expecting me straight away.’ I watched her face fall, and then I felt guilty and regretful, it wasn’t as if I didn’t like her. So I thought about how to make amends.
‘Why don’t you try for another photo?’ I nodded at the tablet.
‘Sure,’ she typed, and held the thing up for me to smile at. Then she showed me the photo she’d taken. ‘What do you think?’ My heart sank.
‘You’ve got a definite knack for that,’ I said frankly, admiring the view and the blossoming trees. She’d even managed to capture the light. Alice said nothing, she’d already seen what I had noticed, I wasn’t in it. Yet again.
I told myself I didn’t care, I didn’t know how the damn thing worked, how the picture came out, straight away and in colour. I’d never seen colour in a photo before. But it made me proud that Alice could do that. Then I had a thought.
‘Will you take my friend’s photo? Another friend,’ I added quickly, grinning and thinking, of course, of Louise.
‘Sure,’ said Alice and as she answered I saw this woman running towards us. She was almost invisible, almost not there, but I guess that could have been the failing light. And she was wearing the oddest clothes. I could see at once, she wasn’t happy. Right, Thomas, lad, it’s time to move on.
‘Sorry Alice, I’ve got to run. I’ll see you around, hopefully soon.’ I doubled back and made my way down Narrowboat Lane, I knew these streets like the back of my hand. The woman would never catch me up.
Going the long way took a lot more time, it meant I was late to the pub again. I skipped going home and rushed through the door of the Keepsake Arms, gasping for breath. I needn’t have bothered, the place was empty. I noticed Miranda looked amused.
‘Where have you been until now, Thomas? You’re starting to make a habit of this.’
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I said.’
‘Why don’t you try me? I’m bored as anything, stuck in here. The least you can do is keep me amused.’
‘I think I’ve seen a ghost,’ I said.
Miranda was thrilled about the boot. ‘You’re definitely sure this is the one?’
‘Of course I’m sure, I’ve read the tag. Guess who left it to be repaired?’ I felt a tiny twinge of fear.
‘My mother,’ she said and looked so sad. ‘That boot had been on the shelf for years. I can’t imagine why she did it.’
‘Well, at least you know they’ve done a good job.’ Miranda ignored me.
‘You’re sure it was McCarthy’s shop? Not David Rennin’s across the road?’
‘Of course I’m sure, a mate of mine, works there. We had a good chat.’ I paused, thinking.
I knew I was only a lad to her, but I’d had to grow up fast in the Low. I saw by her face that something was wrong, more than just a boot going missing or some ridiculous superstition. She looked troubled.
‘You’re far too young for this Thomas, but there’s no-one else I can tell but you. Apart from your ma and I’m not that sure she isn’t involved.’
‘You’ll have to tell me now,’ I said. ‘Involved in what?’ Miranda nodded and scanned the room. The bar was still empty apart from a man, and Reg and Cath, over in the corner and supping ale. Steve was out back, stacking crates.
‘Come with me then, Thomas, and hurry.’ I followed Miranda up the stairs.
She didn’t stop when we reached the first floor. Two floors up, we went through a door and up more stairs to the pub attic, a narrow, cramped space which was cluttered with stuff. Miranda went in and I followed.
I watched her move some chairs and a table, stopping at something I couldn’t see, half hidden behind a huge sideboard. I followed quickly and found Miranda staring at a trunk. As I watched she levered it open, clearly something she’d done before. I peered in.
The trunk was filled to the brim with shoes. Unlike the boot, they were all brand new.
Chapter 19
Now – Aleph
Guinevere James had got to me. Not the recording, that was expected, but what she’d said after, about the ghosts, that they’d lived in this house. And if Parks was her cousin, she would know. Presumably. I swore, loudly.
Forget the ghosts, I told myself. They don’t matter. But all the same, the house felt cold. I stood in the hall, silent, thinking.
Nobody died in here, I thought. That’s what Gemma Pearce had said. Even the previous owner hadn’t. But, realistically, was that likely? The house dated back to the 1850s, somebody would have died in here. The question was, who?
And was it important?
A loud crash shattered my thoughts. I hurried down the hall to the kitchen, my heart pounding and nearly tripping over the boot, which was lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. The trap door leading to the cellar was open. How had that happened?
I hadn’t left the windows open, and even if I had, the draught must have come from down there, not here. I took a torch and went to look, with more than a little trepidation. I didn’t think it could be a burglar. I was right, it wasn’t. And the windows down there were barred and closed.
I looked around the cellar carefully, striding across to the cupboard door, the one I’d not opened the previous time. Maybe it led to some kind of vent. I tugged, firmly and the door flew open, nearly sending me flying backwards. I shone my torch inside the space.
There were three narrow shelves inside the cupboard, all of them bare, but heavy with dust. I groped around underneath the shelves and at the bottom I felt a draught. Nothing of any consequence. I sighed, defeated and got to my fe
et.
I don’t believe in ghosts, I thought. I kicked the cupboard door to close it, and hurried back up to the light of the kitchen, scanning the cellar with the torch as I left. There was nothing to see, wherever I looked. But the air was thick with cold and fear.
I could hear the sound of my phone ringing, where I’d left it, on the table. I nudged the trapdoor shut with my foot.
‘Just ringing to check that everything’s fine,’ Cressida told me, sounding disturbed.
But is it? I thought, grabbing a chair and staring at the trapdoor. ‘Is anything wrong?’
‘Alice has got an imaginary friend.’
I laughed out loud, relieved at such a trivial tale.
‘It’s not funny,’ said Cressida, angry. ‘She’s far too old for that sort of thing.’
‘So how do you know this friend’s made up?’
‘She says he’s called Tom and he doesn’t wear shoes and always looks shabby. Have you come across any boys like that? Then she complains he never shows up in the photos she takes. And it’s true he doesn’t, I saw one myself.’
‘Perhaps she’s just a bad photographer.’
‘Oh, come on, Aleph, kids these days are used to such things. They all know how to take a photo, it’s simply a matter of point and click. The street was there, there were even some trees, but I didn’t see Tom. By the time I’d caught her up and checked, Tom had vanished into the night. Supposedly. That’s why I think she made him up. That and his clothes.’ Cressida paused.
‘What am I going to do about Alice? She really believes the boy was there.’
‘Couldn’t he be a boy from school?’
‘I know there isn’t a Tom in her class, but that doesn’t mean he’s not in her year. But it doesn’t seem like he’s real to me, if he was real, he’d have been in the photo. All I saw was Narrowboat Lane.’
‘Why don’t we talk about Tom tomorrow, when Alice comes round in the afternoon? You won’t forget to bring the recording?’
‘I didn’t have time to fix up the chat with Alison Clipper. She’s one of the mums that Alice knows. I thought tomorrow, you could just meet Alice and then, next week, I’ll bring the recording. And before you ask, it’s all above board, I’ve spoken to Alice about what’s happening.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘It’s important she knows.’ I leant down and picked up the boot. My mind was still on the trapdoor incident.
‘And that’s not all,’ Cressida was saying. ‘I asked Alice what Tom was wearing and she reported, “The same as the last time.” Which was one more reason she thought he was poor. So I said, “Maybe it’s his school uniform,” and Alice shook her head and smiled.’
‘“Not like any I’ve ever seen.” And then she said he was holding a boot.’
‘What?’ I said. It was all I could do not to drop the phone.
‘That’s what she said. It was small and brown and rather old fashioned. You know the sort, that’s done up with buttons.’
‘I certainly do,’ I told her, grimly. ‘It sounds just like the one in my hand.’
Chapter 20
Then – Miranda
Miranda watched Tom stare at the trunk. ‘I only managed to open it this morning.’
‘They look like the ones in McCarthy’s shop.’
‘That’s because they’re McCarthy’s stock. But these never found their way to the shop. I don’t know what I’m going to do.’
‘Why don’t I ask my ma about them? She and your mother did his laundry. Maybe he asked her to store them here.’
‘That doesn’t sound very likely to me. No, I’ll talk to my ma first. They are in her pub, after all.’
‘Sure,’ said Tom, sounding worried. Both of them knew the shops had stockrooms, there wasn’t any reason to store them up here. Miranda knew it all smelt bad.
‘Miranda?’ called Cath. ‘You’re needed down here.’
Miranda slammed the trunk lid shut. ‘Coming,’ she said, and glanced at Tom who averted his eyes. For once the lad had nothing to say. Together they trooped back down the stairs.
The following day she spoke to her ma.
‘The boot that went missing off the shelf? You removed it.’
‘Yes, that’s right. I wanted to get it smartened up. The boot is meant to be for luck and I thought ours was on the way out. Business has been a bit slow, lately. So I took it along to McCarthy’s shop and gave it to Percy who said he’d repair it.’ A shadow suddenly crossed her face. ‘They’re still wearing black in the shop, you know.’ Miranda ignored her.
‘You’ve wasted money repairing a boot we can’t even wear? You said to me the takings were down, and yet you think we’ve got money to burn.’
‘It didn’t cost us a penny, Miranda. Percy said he’d do it for nothing, in Matt’s memory.’
‘So it’s Matt, now is it?’ Miranda said, folding her arms and staring at her mother. ‘All very cosy, I must say.’
‘I worked for that man for years, Miranda. I think I’m entitled to call him Matt. And as for the boot, for me it’s a keepsake. From years ago, when I first knew Matt. And as you know, we’re the Keepsake Arms.’ She smiled feebly.
‘Now hang on Ma,’ said Miranda, confused. ‘I thought the boot was found in the pub. By one of the blokes who fixed that pipe.’
‘That’s not quite true,’ said her mother, colouring. ‘I was given the boot by Matt McCarthy. I liked the story of a lucky shoe.’
‘You were given it when?’ said Miranda, coldly. She could feel the heat of her anger growing, the thought of what her da might have felt.
‘A few years back, when your da was in trouble. Matt was a brick, helping us out, just like he did when your father died. I couldn’t have managed without his help.’
I’ll bet you couldn’t, Miranda thought. To think that tart had been right all along. ‘So all this started before Da died?’
‘All what started?’ Her mother’s face paled. ‘Oh, no, Miranda, you’ve got it all wrong. That’s not how it was, I was gutted, lost, when your da passed away. I liked Matt, of course I did, he was good to me, kind, but not in that way. Your da was the only one for me.’
Sure, thought Miranda who wasn’t convinced by what she’d heard ‘So tell me ma, while we’re talking about it, did Matt give you the shoes in the trunk, or did you take them all by yourself?’
And hated herself for feeling triumphant when her mother gasped and fell to the floor.
Chapter 21
Now – Aleph
I know it was stupid, unrealistic, but when I left, I hoped they’d stop. I thought that maybe once I moved, to a different town and started again, they wouldn’t find out, or if they did, they’d let it be done, and then, at last, I’d be free to start over. Or at least as free as my mind would allow. But they didn’t stop.
The envelope sat on the mantelpiece.
When Cressida left the other week, I’d rescued the envelope from the bin, and put it up there as a kind of penance. I knew it would have to go in the box, along with the others, but for now I let it sit on the shelf, reminding me of what I’d done, and how I’d never forgive myself. And neither would they. I sighed heavily. The doorbell rang.
I whipped the envelope off the mantelpiece and stuffed it behind a cushion quickly. I couldn’t have Cressida seeing it again. Or even Alice.
Alice was not what I thought she’d be. She was tall and blonde with ice blue eyes and not one bit like her mother to look at. She seemed cool, detached and in control, as if she was making some sort of judgement. She probably was. I tried to smile but it came out wrong and the girl looked away and stared at the floor. Her clothes were pretty, a very pale pink, with flowers and frills, but the clothes didn’t fit the girl I saw.
‘Hello, Alice, it’s good to meet you.’ She ignored my hand and didn’t even type me a message on her iPad. I wondered why I’d agreed to this.
I led my guests towards the kitchen. After yesterday’s trapdoor incident, I had my doubts about using the kitchen, bu
t my office was small and the kitchen had mugs, a kettle and some biscuits. At least I’d remembered to hide the boot.
Crazy, I’d thought, the boot means nothing, but all the same, I’d still hidden it. I didn’t want Alice freaking out. My whole perspective on life had changed in the last few years. The world didn’t seem that safe anymore, or even meaningful. All those things that everyone did, going to work, meeting friends at the weekend, gossip and chatter, all seemed fake. I knew that mostly those things were important, kept people connected, but nobody said what they really thought. Suddenly, I felt warmer towards Alice. Maybe, as someone who didn’t speak, she felt the same, felt excluded. I turned around and saw her standing, staring at me. But it wasn’t me she was staring at, her eyes were glued to a place behind me. Where the trapdoor was.
Quick as a flash, her iPad came out. Cressida and I rushed to her side.
‘I’m not going in the kitchen, Mother.’
‘What?’ said Cressida, disbelieving.
‘Can’t you hear them crying, Mum? They’re driving me mad.’
‘Don’t be silly, Alice, please. There’s nobody crying.’
‘The children,’ I said to Cressida, quickly. ‘I think Alice can hear the children.’
Alice ignored me and went on typing. ‘It’s terrible, Mother, sad and tragic. I’m not staying.’
‘What children? There aren’t any children.’ Cressida, puzzled, was looking around.
‘Enough,’ I said, and ushered them out, suggesting to Cressida they go upstairs. Alice and I had a little tussle; she clearly wanted to leave the house.
‘Upstairs, now!’ Cressida said and Alice gave in, gritting her teeth and scowling at me. But she made us go first.
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