Hidden Hours

by Sara Foster

  ‘No school?’ she says to the girls, helping herself to the pot of fresh coffee.

  ‘Last day was yesterday, silly,’ Savannah says, giving her a hug. ‘I told you, Auntie Gillian is spending all day with us – we’re going to see the Christmas lights later too.’

  ‘That’s great,’ Eleanor replies. As she looks around she might – almost – be able to pretend that nothing is wrong, if it weren’t for the strained silence of her uncle and aunt. Then Susan’s phone rings and she offers a polite ‘Excuse me’ as she walks out of the room to answer it.

  Eleanor realises there is something to be thankful for in her mother’s visit, because Gillian’s presence will most likely mean that Susan will remain polite and guarded for the duration of the holiday. Eleanor might be intrigued by the thought of her unhinged aunt brandishing a golf club, but she’s not keen to witness it.

  She studies her uncle as she leans against the counter sipping her coffee. Ian’s head is down, as he calmly reads the newspaper. She remembers her mother’s words last night. Perhaps everyone has to pretend to some degree. Yet it has reminded her of how multi-faceted people are – constantly choosing which of their many sides to turn to the light. Perhaps it’s not something to be so wary of; perhaps it’s just a way of getting through life. Is self-protection really such a bad thing?

  But as soon as she asks this question of herself, she is nine years old again, back in a hospital room with her parents, waiting for her brother to come round from his sedation.

  September 2005

  ‘Look,’ she says, glancing out the window and pointing towards the car park, ‘there’s Solomon.’

  She watches as Solomon climbs slowly and stiffly out of his pick-up, as though every single one of his bones is aching.

  Her dad marches across and peers over her shoulder, then heads for the door.

  ‘Martin,’ her mother calls after him, a warning in her voice. But he has already gone.

  Eleanor sees the expression on her mother’s face. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Gillian snaps. ‘Come away from the window, Eleanor.’

  But she doesn’t. She watches Solomon look up as though he can see her beyond the glass. She presses her hand against the windowpane, wanting to reach him, to thank him for being so kind last night, and then she sees her father dash down the front steps and his arms are waving and it looks as though he is shouting at Solomon even though they can’t hear a word.

  Her mother is next to her, trying to drag her away, but she won’t come. Solomon looks surprised and steps backwards, and as he does so he holds his hands up as though trying to placate Eleanor’s father and calm him down, but Martin gestures angrily at the pick-up and then storms back inside. Solomon stares after him, then shakes his head sadly. He still hasn’t moved by the time Martin re-enters the room, his face red.

  ‘What did you just say to him?’ Gillian demands.

  Eleanor has never seen her mother so angry. She has gone a deep puce colour, and her whole body is shaking.

  ‘I told him to stay away from us for good.’

  ‘Martin! What the hell . . .’ Gillian stomps towards the door. ‘I’m going after him. He helped us last night, can’t you see that? Why are you taking it out on him?’

  As soon as Gillian has left, Martin marches over to stand close to Eleanor. ‘What do you think it looks like, that you were at his house in your nightie?’ he growls, spitting the words into her face, his eyes ablaze with fury.

  ‘I was sleepwalking,’ she stammers. ‘I’m sure it’s just because I was missing Lily’s room.’

  ‘Do you know how much trouble that man has caused us?’ her father continues in a menacing voice. ‘He’s cost us everything – everything.’

  Eleanor flinches. How can this be Solomon’s fault? He had tried to help them, hadn’t he?

  ‘You,’ Martin shakes a finger in Eleanor’s face, ‘are never to visit him again, ever, do you understand?’

  Eleanor nods hastily, just wanting her father to move away from her.

  ‘Dad,’ comes a weak voice from the bed. They both jump and turn to see that Aiden is awake, watching them, his face stricken. ‘You shouldn’t be mad with Eleanor. You should be mad with me.’

  ‘Eleanor? Eleanor?’

  She is standing in the Harborne Grove kitchen, and her uncle is staring at her.

  ‘Where are the others?’ she asks, confused. How can they have all gone without her noticing?

  ‘Savannah has dragged your mother away to her room,’ Ian says. ‘I need to talk to you. Come, quickly, please.’

  She follows him through the house, to his office. Naeve waits for them inside, and Eleanor balks at the door, remembering her secret incursion in here, sure that Naeve has finally confided in her dad, and that she’s now in trouble. But when she turns around her uncle is right behind her, already shutting the door.

  ‘I told you things would begin to come to light if we just hung on for a few days,’ Ian begins, his eyes shining feverishly. ‘Susan has just had a phone call from Ernie. Nathan has been arrested. He gave some sort of false alibi, apparently, and the person he was with has retracted it.’

  Caroline? Eleanor thinks immediately. Had their conversation yesterday actually made a difference? Had Eleanor pricked her conscience?

  ‘So, can we tell them about the ring now?’ Naeve asks quietly.

  ‘No,’ Ian growls, making both girls jump. ‘Do not say anything until we find out what happens to Nathan. Not a word to either of your mothers,’ he continues, pointing to Naeve and then Eleanor. ‘I’ve already paid Lilian a sizeable sum to ensure she doesn’t mention it. It’s only going to get messier if it all comes out, and god knows what Susan would say – or do.’ He gingerly touches his fingers to the purple–black lump on his forehead.

  ‘You bribed Lilian?’ Eleanor gasps.

  ‘Bribed is the wrong word, Eleanor. I am just protecting our family until the truth comes out. What we have to do now is get on with our lives and act like a normal family preparing for Christmas, okay?’

  Eleanor opens her mouth to reply, but before she can say anything else there’s a small knock at the door. ‘Dad? Naeve? What are you all doing in there?’

  Ian opens it and they all stare at Savvie’s flushed, excited face. Ian picks her up and smiles at her. ‘Christmas secrets, Sav,’ he says, tapping his nose, and she giggles.

  Eleanor can’t stand being part of this. She’s sick of all the games. She turns away and as she does so she catches Naeve’s eye. From the astute look on her cousin’s face, she suspects she has an ally.

  50

  the lies

  ‘What have you got to make this stick?’ Superintendent Louise Thornton asks Detective Inspector Priya Prashad. ‘It’s Nathan bloody Lane. You’re going to have to be on top of your game.’

  ‘We’ve got evidence of domestic abuse. The fact he was having her followed. The texts to her sisters, where she sounds terrified of him. Plus the witnesses who say he went after her when she slapped him. We might have the CCTV too.’

  ‘It’s not enough,’ Louise says, shaking her head.

  No, it’s probably not, Priya thinks, but she’s too darn stubborn to say it, because she’s sure Nathan Lane is a wife-beater, and one way or another she’s determined to see him held accountable.

  Eleanor thinks about her uncle’s words. What we have to do now is get on with our lives and act like a normal family.

  He’s right, she thinks. Nathan is under arrest, and isn’t that what she’s wanted all along?

  So, why doesn’t she feel pleased?

  Act normal.

  For most of the afternoon, it’s as though she is caught inside a bubble. Susan and Ian are nowhere to be seen. Instead she’s forced to watch the spectacle of Gillian getting to know her nieces. Savannah insists on them dancing to Christmas music, eating mince pies and watching crap Christmas TV. Naeve gives Eleanor regular pleading looks – it’s clear that acting normal is a
s uncomfortable for her as it is for Eleanor, but Eleanor can’t figure out how to rescue them. Finally, as dusk draws near, Gillian agrees to take Savannah to the local park to see the Christmas lights, and the house falls quiet again.

  In the lull, Eleanor heads up to her room and sits on the floor, next to her mother’s suitcase. She picks up a wrapped Christmas gift and tries to guess what it is. For a moment she is in their very first home again, eight years old, and her mother is laughing as she snatches a package from Eleanor’s prying paws, chiding her, ‘No cheating!’ It was the last Christmas she remembers when the laughter wasn’t forced. One of the last they had all been together. The next year they’d been sheltering in the shed, that ill-fated toy dalmatian the highlight of her day.

  And then the year after that . . .

  No, she tells herself, don’t go there. But she can’t stop herself.

  The next year there had been no Christmas. Just Eleanor and her mother stumbling through the days, trying to come to terms with all they had lost.

  September 2005

  In the hospital room, Eleanor watches her father march over to her brother.

  ‘Do not say another word,’ Martin says, leaning over Aiden. ‘Not a word. You are not to blame, do you understand?’

  ‘But Dad . . .’ Aiden is crying. Eleanor is scared. She edges over to the window and can see her mother talking to Solomon on the front steps of the small country hospital, her hand placed comfortingly on Solomon’s arm. Come back up here, she wills her mother. Come back fast.

  ‘No buts, Aiden,’ Martin draws his chair close to Aiden’s bed, and beckons Eleanor over. ‘Listen to me, both of you. The house is gone. All that’s left is the bits and pieces we’ve got in the shed. We need the insurance money, okay? The fire began on Solomon’s property, Aiden. That’s not your fault.’

  ‘But Dad, I . . .’

  ‘No, Aiden, you were asleep in bed when the fire began, weren’t you? Weren’t you? No one needs to know anything else. Not even your mother.’

  Aiden stares at his Dad for a long moment, then nods.

  Eleanor comes back to the present, her thoughts interrupted by her mobile phone ringing. When she sees it’s Will, she squirms as she recalls the awkwardness between them last night. She lets it ring out, and a moment later there’s a short trill telling her she has a new voicemail. She dials and listens.

  ‘Eleanor, I’m really sorry if I freaked you out last night. I know it’s been a horrible time, and I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Look, I’m going home to my family for Christmas tomorrow, and I wondered if you wanted to meet me tonight. Just as friends. There’s this beautiful ice rink at Somerset House, and it’s forecast to snow later. I think you would love it. No pressure, just let me know.’

  He sounds so friendly; she feels bad for being reticent. She calls him back straightaway.

  ‘Nathan’s been arrested,’ she says as soon as he answers. ‘Ernie rang Susan this morning to tell her.’

  Will gives a long exhale. ‘Thank god. Finally! I was beginning to think it would never happen. Why now?’

  ‘It sounds like Caroline retracted her alibi. It all seems too easy, doesn’t it? Or am I just getting sceptical and suspicious about everything now?’

  Will gives a short laugh. ‘Maybe. I guess we’ll have to wait and see. How are you today, Eleanor? I’ve been thinking a lot about everything you told me last night. You didn’t finish your story, did you? There’s more.’

  She hesitates. ‘Yes, there’s more.’ But she doesn’t want to talk about it. Act normal. ‘Do you still want to take me ice skating?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then how about I meet you there in an hour and a half? Would six o’clock be okay?’

  ‘Great,’ he replies. As they finish the call there’s a knock on her door. Eleanor jumps up to answer it and finds Naeve looking anxious on the other side.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Sure.’ Eleanor steps back for her to enter. Naeve comes inside then turns and pushes the door closed behind her. She hovers close to it, saying nothing, and Eleanor realises how nervous she looks.

  ‘What is it, Naeve? Has something happened?’

  Naeve sits on the bed. ‘I want to ask you something.’

  ‘Okay.’ Eleanor sits next to her, a fresh round of nerves beginning to flutter.

  ‘You don’t agree with Dad, do you? You think we should tell the truth?’

  Eleanor isn’t sure what to say. ‘What do you think?’

  Naeve doesn’t speak, but she slowly opens her clenched right hand. Nestled on Naeve’s palm is Arabella’s ring.

  ‘Naeve!’ Eleanor jumps up and puts a hand on her cousin’s arm, to steady herself as much as Naeve. ‘What are you doing with that? Where did you get it?’

  ‘Dad asked me to hide it.’

  Eleanor blinks rapidly, repeating the words in her head, trying to take in what she just heard. ‘Did you just say your dad asked you to hide it?’ she manages to stutter eventually.

  Naeve nods. ‘He asked me to put it in my school locker, so it was out of the house. He said he couldn’t take it himself, in case he was being watched. It was end of term yesterday, so I brought it home, and now he wants me to get rid of it. He told me to put it in a bin when I went out with Auntie Gillian, but I didn’t go . . . because . . . because I thought you might want it back.’ She opens Eleanor’s hand and puts the ring into it. ‘I think you should decide what to do with it. I know it shouldn’t go in the bin. You had it first. And you’ve been looking for it too, haven’t you?’

  Eleanor recalls her cousin’s face when Naeve had caught her leaving Ian’s office. ‘Yes,’ she says, ‘I have.’ She stares at the ring – so much smaller than she remembers, so innocuous in her hand. As she curls her fingers over it, the sharp little diamond edges jut into her palm. Her uncle’s words play in her mind. Not a word about the ring to anyone. But the voice she hears is her father’s.

  Not a word.

  Fury is building inside her. She jumps up. ‘Where is your dad right now?’ she asks in a strange, even voice, not wanting to frighten Naeve.

  ‘He had to go out – he’ll be back after dinner, he said.’

  ‘Right, then.’ She opens her hand and stares at the ring. Then she turns back to the awkward thirteen-year-old in front of her. This girl who shares Eleanor’s flesh and blood is making a brave, bold choice. She is trusting Eleanor to do the right thing.

  ‘Leave this with me, Naeve,’ she says.

  Naeve nods and turns to go.

  ‘Naeve,’ Eleanor calls after her.

  Her cousin looks back.

  ‘Your dad should never have asked you to do that. You know that, don’t you?’

  Naeve nods. ‘I know,’ she says softly.

  Once Naeve has gone, Eleanor slips the ring carefully into the zip pocket of her jacket. She wants to confront Ian, but then what? How can she trust him? It would be safer to take the ring straight to the police, and let them deal with it.

  She checks her watch. Only an hour until she has to meet Will, but she can’t leave Naeve in the house on her own. While she’s waiting for her mother and Savvie to come back, she selects the map on her phone, and looks up Somerset House. As she locates the nearest Tube station, she glances over the screen and sees landmarks she recognises not too far south: Hungerford Bridge, Embankment Station, and a small symbol of a monument, tagged as ‘Cleopatra’s Needle’.

  She shudders. Does Will know how close they will be to the scene of last week’s crime?

  Not that close, she tells herself. Get off the Tube at Temple and you won’t even go past there. Stop being paranoid.

  She grabs her coat and bag and runs down the stairs. On the first landing she hears voices in the kitchen. Her mother and Savvie are home. Before she goes down she knocks on Naeve’s door.

  When Naeve opens the door, her eyes are red and blotchy. Eleanor can’t stand the thought of her crying alone, but Naeve looks so sullen tha
t she instinctively knows not to mention it. ‘Where is your mum?’ she asks breathlessly.

  ‘I don’t know. She texted me and said she’ll be back for dinner.’

  ‘Listen,’ Eleanor leans close to her cousin, ‘I have to go out for a while. When your mum gets in, tell her everything. Tell her about the ring, and tell her what your dad asked you to do. You shouldn’t have to keep these secrets.’

  Naeve begins to shake her head rapidly, and Eleanor grabs her hand to stop her. ‘It will be okay. Talk to her straightaway, and I will back you up.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Naeve frowns.

  ‘I promised a friend I would meet them at Somerset House. I’ll only be a couple of hours.’

  ‘Okay,’ Naeve says, nodding and biting her lip, looking close to tears again.

  Eleanor reaches out and squeezes Naeve’s shoulder, then runs down the next flight of stairs. In the kitchen she sees her mum and Savvie setting out mince pies. ‘I’m going out to meet a friend for a little while. Naeve is upstairs, Mum. Keep an eye on her.’

  ‘I will.’ Gillian looks concerned, but Eleanor keeps going. As she opens the door, a blast of cold air almost takes her breath away. She hurries down the road towards the Tube, checking and rechecking the ring in her pocket. Things are turning full circle, she can feel it: the ground is unsteady, as though the world is about to shift again. Something is coming. She needs to be vigilant. She needs to be ready.

  51

  the fall

  Naeve lies on her bed, head hidden under the covers, her heart racing as she listens to the voices downstairs. It’s only a matter of time until she has to admit what she’s done.

  Sure enough, the knock on her door comes minutes later. ‘Come in,’ she says, and braces herself, preparing to face down her dad.

  Eleanor and Will step onto the rink in the frosty night air, surrounded by a throng of happy, glowing faces, everyone wrapped up warm. The skaters glide clockwise together on the glittering white ice, circling one another in an intricate, elegant dance, the majestic backdrop of Somerset House behind them. The pillared balcony that runs the length of the two-storey building is up-lit with columns of warm yellow light, and in front of that, on the starboard side of the rink, an enormous Christmas tree sparkles and shimmers with a thousand golden fairy lights of its own.