by Liz Flanagan
Chapter Nineteen
1.25 p.m.
A call from Mum jolts me out of it. I don’t know how long I’ve been lying there under the beech trees, playing back Saturday night … I hit reject, then dust myself off and limp down the hill into town, ignoring the voicemail alert that follows. I look down at the jumble of terraced houses, the zigzag roof of a warehouse, the shops, churches, cinema, park. All basking in the afternoon sunshine, all looking unbelievably normal.
I see Liam’s sister Nicci across the canal as I take the shortcut down a flight of stone steps. She’s sitting on the fire escape of the club where she works, smoking a cigarette. The sun stripes the side of the tall brick building and she’s got her eyes closed against it. Her hair is piled up in a high do – strawberry blonde, same as Liam’s.
‘Nicci!’ I shout and wave, and she raises her cigarette in a lazy salute.
Liam was lucky with his family. He was the baby, with a gang of older siblings all looking out for him. He told me and Eden once, ‘Most of them have gone off the rails somewhere along the way, so there’s nothing I can do will shock Mum now.’ I liked that Sharon wasn’t shockable. I remember her piercing two-finger wolf whistle from the back of the school hall when we left Year Six. How the uptight parents flinched.
Then I see Liam.
He’s coming down the middle of the street, also heading for Nic. I brake and watch, ignoring my heart.
He’s changed into jeans and a blue T-shirt, but it still doesn’t look like him. Liam usually walks all loose and easy, but today he’s hunched up, like he’s carrying something heavy on his broad shoulders. I want to shout to him, but my mouth is sandpaper.
I speed up, rushing over the bridge and around the corner into the short, dead-end street, with our old junior school filling nearly one whole side. Gothic and Victorian, its windows are plastered with artwork, filtering the high-pitched twittering of kids on a Friday afternoon. People dart across the quiet street like swallows, diving into the post office, clutching packets for the post.
Liam sees me and slows. ‘Hey.’ Something crosses his face, but it’s written in a foreign language and I can’t translate.
‘Hi. You been home?’
‘Yeah, police came round.’
‘Same here. Whole interrogation scene?’
‘Yep.’ He sighs and closes his eyes against the light, leaving his eyebrows to tell me the truth. He looks terrible. His face is pale, in spite of the tan, and his eyes are circled with shadows that look more like bruises. The freckles across his nose and cheekbones stand out against the pallor. Light catches on the soft golden stubble on his cheeks and top lip.
Seeing him hurts more than I expected. Of all the people in all the world, we must be feeling the same today, but it doesn’t help.
I want to hug him, but there’s a force field pushing us apart. He’s awkward, hands in pockets, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
Eden’s there, laughing at us. ‘You should see yourselves,’ she taunts. ‘Honestly, the pair of you! If there’s a job to do, just do it! Don’t tangle yourself up in knots.’
He opens his eyes, ridiculously blue, under those thick brows, darker than his hair. It’s like he can’t bear to see me without Eden. He covers his face with both hands and rubs his face and head, making his short hair stand up in little tufts.
I have no idea what to say next. Words turn to soggy crumbs in my mouth.
Nicci walks down the fire escape to join us, her heels clanging on the metal stairs, and we both focus on her with relief.
She glances at her phone, lights another cigarette and says briskly, ‘I’ve only got ten minutes, so we need to be quick. Fill me in. You went to school as usual, right?’ she prompts.
‘Course. It was a normal day, till …’
I wonder who told him: Claire or one of Josh’s Neanderthal mates? Maybe the first he heard of it was from Trent?
‘Then, after Barwell and Trent’s little session first thing, they sent me off home to talk to the police.’
‘Mr Barwell?’ Nic checks. ‘I remember him. He used to be all right. He’d have your back, hear your version?’
Liam shrugs, ‘Barwell’s OK, but Trent made her mind up about me years ago. She made it sound like I was prime suspect or something. Anyway, back at ours, the police took my story. Good job you saw me come in last night, Nic, or I’d be stuffed.’
‘You’ll be fine. You’re innocent. And we will find her. How did it end?’
Nicci seems focused and practical. It calms me, but works the opposite effect on Liam. His lips wobble and pull downwards. His eyes fill with tears.
‘Hey, come here. It’ll be all right.’ Nicci does what I can’t do: she pulls Liam into a hug right there in the shadow of the fire escape. I watch her hands with their long aubergine nails, deft and capable: one holds her cigarette out of the way, while the other pats Liam’s shoulders.
She lets him go and passes him a fag. ‘Here.’ She lights it for him and they both lean back on the brick wall.
‘How was it then?’ I move closer, wafting away their smoke. ‘What did they ask?’
‘It was awful.’ He squints at me, shielding his face with his free hand. ‘They thought I’d done something to Eden.’ He takes a hard drag on the cigarette. ‘Fucking feds, jumped to the worst conclusion. Cos of, y’know, Clarkson.’
‘What about Clarkson?’ I’m missing some facts here. ‘What happened with him?’
Nicci swears. ‘I’m so sorry, Liam.’
‘It wasn’t your fault! It’s Clarkson’s. No one does that, not to my sister.’
Nic smiles at him and ruffles his hair.
I join the dots, wondering if I’m seeing this picture right. ‘Did he hurt you, Nic? You mean Josh, Eden’s ex?’
‘Nah, he didn’t hurt me, but he tried.’
‘Nic turned him down, so he waited for her outside the club, to show her what she was missing. Didn’t realize I was two steps behind.’
‘Oh. That’s why you hit him.’
He looks at me and it’s complicated.
My mind works fast, trying not to jump to conclusions, but here’s a new possibility: what if Josh Clarkson got to Eden somehow, took out his jealousy? And all that swagger this morning was cover-up?
‘Mum gave the police a right bollocking again today,’ Liam is saying, with a shadow of a smile that vanishes instantly. ‘As if me laying out Josh Clarkson’s got anything to do with this. As if I’d hurt anyone. As if!’ He exhales hard, sending out a long stream of smoke.
‘I know that.’ I can’t imagine what he’s feeling. This is bad enough without anyone suspecting I might have hurt Eden. I mean, physically. ‘So will you tell me about last night? What did happen?’
‘I swear, Jess, I dropped her at the top of the lane. She didn’t want me coming to the door. The farm dogs make a right racket. Didn’t want to wake ’em all up. But I stayed and I watched her walk away and she waved when she got to the door. I told them. I told them everything – that we’d been in the park, then here in the club after. Stayed here while half eleven. Didn’t believe me till they got the alibi from you, Nic.’
I tell them what Claire said, about hearing Eden come home.
‘OK, so tell me the timings again,’ Nic says. ‘You got in at half twelve, so you must’ve left her, what, midnight-ish?’
‘Midnight, just after … something like that. I left her. I came home. Had a smoke with you, crashed. End of. That’s it, Nic, that’s all I know, I swear!’
‘I know, I know,’ she soothes.
‘But what was she like? How was she?’ I blurt. What had changed between me leaving her at the park gates and midnight?
‘Y’know.’ Liam shrugs, avoiding my eyes. ‘She didn’t want to talk much. Bit hyper, maybe. Not as bad as Saturday …’
He and I both flinch.
‘I mean, she wanted to do stuff, keep moving. After the park, we had a few drinks, we played pool, we …’ He pauses, the
n blurts, ‘OK, so we might’ve had a row.’
A row? My heart stutters and jumps like a stuck CD.
‘It’s all right,’ Nic tells him, giving me a look that makes me wonder how much she knows. ‘Did you tell the police?’
‘Yeah, some. People heard us yelling. I said, yes, we’d rowed. No, she wasn’t bloody suicidal. And there were no dodgy blokes stalking us in the shadows. How was I supposed to know she would disappear? I’m not effing psychic.’
Me and Nic are silent, waiting for the ripples of that one to disappear. I think about the tarot reading again. Hope ahead, it promised. I could really do with that coming true about now. I can’t help seeing the other image: the grim reaper.
‘So what do we do?’ he demands. ‘What the hell do we do now?’
‘We’ve got to get it on social media. I’ve seen it work,’ Nic says. ‘You post her picture and the facts, ask people to share it. Come on, come up wi’ me now. You can use the club Wi-Fi and get it done quicker.’ She stubs out her cigarette and kicks it into the gutter.
We follow her through the weathered red double doors and up the winding stair. The back bar is empty except for a bearded bloke reading a newspaper and he doesn’t look up when we come in. There’s sunlight streaming through the high windows and soft folky music on the sound system. I’ve never seen it so quiet.
‘The boss is in the office through there, so make it quick, OK?’ Nic goes behind the bar and starts putting away the clean glasses.
Liam and I take the nearest table. We pull out our phones and face each other. You could cut the tension with a giant chainsaw.
Tick, tick, tick …
I know we should hurry, but I’ve got to say something. We’ve got to get past it. Surely it’s like pulling off a plaster: do it quick and it’ll hurt less. I want to ask what they rowed about. Instead I say, ‘Did you tell Eden about Saturday?’
‘No!’ His denial is so loud that Nic looks over in surprise and the clinking of the glasses halts. Beardy-man frowns over his paper at us.
‘No! Did you?’ he hisses at me, leaning in. I see the rising flush in his cheeks and I know I’ve got one to match.
‘Course not.’ I burn up under his gaze. For a long moment we stare at each other. Then I make myself say the right thing: ‘Look, let’s forget it happened, right? Let’s just put it behind us.’
It’s not what I want to say. It’s not what I dreamed of saying. My mind’s already designed a dozen fantasy scenarios for me and Liam, but since not one of them involved Eden going missing, they’re all just hot air and wishful thinking, and I stab at them so they pop and shrivel like little balloons.
‘We’ve got to focus on finding Eden. Deal?’ She didn’t know! They didn’t row about that. So it’s not cos of us that’s she’s gone!
‘Deal,’ he mumbles, glancing over at Nic to see if she’s listening.
The awkward tension shoots off the scale.
‘OK,’ I say, ordering myself to get a grip, ‘let’s do this. So I’ll save her profile pic –’ I flick through apps on my phone and talk through what I’m doing – ‘and share it saying: “Missing, Eden Holby. Last seen just after midnight Thursday, early hours of Friday”?’ I check and he nods. ‘“Please phone West Yorkshire Police—”’
‘Wait. I’ve got a number. Police gave me this.’ Liam fishes out a crumpled business card, same as the one I’ve got, and reads it off to me.
‘OK, tagging you …’ His phone beeps as it comes through. ‘Done. You do one.’
While we’re busy, Nic brings over Cokes and packets of crisps, and I realize I’m starving. Breakfast seems like it happened a lifetime ago, to a different person.
We work at it for a bit, clicking and forwarding. When I’m done, I look down at my phone, at Eden’s face smiling up at me. She didn’t know when that photo was taken that one day it’d be used for this. I shiver, feeling cold suddenly.
‘Jess –’ Liam calls me back to reality – ‘you’re right, we can do this. If we work together, we can find her, OK?’
I swallow down the worst thoughts. ‘OK. Right.’ But the panic won’t leave me. I’ve wasted time today. I haven’t found out one useful thing. And all this time, Eden could be lying somewhere, hurt. She could be lost, she could be …
‘Look what I found?’ I tell Liam, digging the little metal lock out from my pocket. ‘I think it’s from her diary. Someone must’ve broken it open.’
‘Guess you can’t blame her mum for doing that today. But it might’ve happened any time. Iona could’ve done it months ago. It doesn’t have to mean anything.’
‘What if there’s stuff in her diary that we need to know? It might help us know where to start, who to talk to.’
‘Jess! Enough. She’s out there somewhere so let’s just get out there. Let’s start looking. At least we’ll be doing something.’ He is looking at me with a strange expression on his face. ‘Let’s start at the waterfall. Last time we went, she said it was her favourite place.’
‘OK.’ It was on my list too.
‘And there’s tonight. It’s that full-moon party, up the valley. We can walk back that way. I was supposed to be DJing. Forget that. But we need to be there, to ask around.’
‘Yeah, that makes sense,’ I say, trying not to dwell on how Mum is going react when she finds out. We’d always wanted to go to a full-moon party, me and Eden, only we were never allowed: too late, too remote.
At the full moon or solstice, some hardcore party people would drag a sound system up to a clearing in the beech woods. They’d rig up decks and speakers in the ruins of an old mill, and hundreds’d come to dance: all sorts, Liam’d told us, balding ravers next to teenage kids and everyone in between.
‘She really wanted to come tonight,’ Liam’s saying. ‘She was gonna sneak out. We’d planned it.’
‘Where is she?’ I burst out, unable to hold it in any longer. ‘Liam, what the hell is going on?’
‘You know what I think?’ he says slowly. ‘I think someone knows. She must’ve gone out again. Either she met Tyler, or she ran into someone else.’
I sit there, wondering what that means and why Eden hadn’t told me. Then I wonder just how much she’d had to drink and what state she was in, without me there to look out for her.
One night in July, Eden persuaded me and Liam to stay out late with her. We’d had to leave the club in a hurry after Eden almost started a fight. Me and Liam did the apologizing and got her out of there. We staggered over the little canal bridge, the two of us like two tugboats pulling Eden along.
‘You can’t go around telling people stuff like that,’ Liam said to her.
‘Yeah, but it’s true. She was out of his league. And she was so giving that other lad the eye.’ Eden was slurring her words and it took both of us to keep her on track.
‘Yeah, but if you piss him off, and I come over to back you up, then it’s him and me, facing off …’ Liam sighed and ran his free hand over his face and hair, tufting it up. He did that at times of stress, I’d noticed. It was warm, and he was in shorts and T. ‘Don’t you get it? If it all kicks off, it’s not just you who gets hurt. There’s me. And there’s Jess, Eden. Remember us?’
Eden pouted at being told off. We’d reached the other side now, moving slowly along the canal path, by the park railings. ‘Oh, yeah, sorry, J. We’re still doing eggshells and tiptoeing around our precious Jess.’
‘You what?’ I turned to her, stung, letting her arm fall. Let Eden keep herself upright then, if she was going to insult me.
‘Just saying, it’s been, what, six months since, and it’s like it were yesterday. Surely that’s wallowing?’
‘Eden …’ Liam saw my face and tried to stop her.
‘I’m not going to wallow.’ Eden wasn’t even looking at me. She stood there, swaying gently, in her short green cotton dress. The front of the skirt was damp where she’d spilled her drink. Her face was pale, her eyes unfocused. ‘I’m not going to let this stop me. My si
ster does not get to derail my summer—’
‘Eden, you’re pissed. Let’s go.’ Liam spoke loudly over her. ‘Move it on.’
I swallowed down my hurt. I took a long moment – deep breaths like the psychologist woman taught me. When I was calm enough to speak again, I kept it practical. ‘All back to mine. Eden, you can’t go home like that. Liam, I need you to help me.’
‘I can walk! Get off me, you fussy pair. Mother hens! Ha!’ Eden was taken with that image. She started squawking and flapping her way along the path, but at least she was moving again. For a while. She petered out after a few steps and flopped over the metal bars that edged the canal.
Me and Liam came in and took one arm each, like some bizarre four-legged race. Liam had most of the weight. Our bare arms met across Eden’s back: warm skin. I tried not to pull away too sharply as I readjusted, shaking my bracelets free. We slowly moved round to face the stone steps that led to the road. Eden put her hand up and stroked my hair as we set off again.
‘Ah, Jess, your hair is so soft. Feel that, Liam? You’d think all that dye wouldn’t help, but it’s so soft …’
‘Yeah, whatever, thanks, E.’
‘So soft … But why do you keep dyeing it? You don’t make it easy for yourself, do you, J?’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, bracing for the answer she’d give me in this state.
She stumbled and clung tighter to my neck. ‘Well, why do you dress like that – like the bride of Dracula – if you don’t want to get picked on? I’m not judging! But it’s the obvious question.’
I halted and she slammed sideways into me. Behind her, the canal was still and black, reflecting orange streetlights.
‘What the hell …?’ I couldn’t swallow this one down like I usually did. This time I was white-hot furious. ‘This is me, E. We can’t all look like our town’s next top model, and quite frankly, you’re not looking too great yourself right now.’
