by Anne Cassidy
Sherry had lit candles.
Rose closed her eyes. Was Sherry religious? Was she praying?
She heard Sherry walk back along the path towards the corner arch. Was she leaving? There was the sound of a plastic bag being crumpled and then she went under the brick arch.
Rose relaxed, the tension draining out of her.
A beep sounded, loud and insistent.
It was from Joshua’s phone.
‘Who’s that? Who’s there? Is someone there?’ Sherry’s voice called out.
The phone beeped again.
Rose groaned silently. She heard Sherry’s footsteps coming back through the arch.
‘Who is there!’ she demanded.
In a moment Sherry would walk down the path and find her there. After this morning’s performance she would be outraged to find Rose and doubly annoyed to know that Rose had been hiding, watching her grieving for her stepsister, lighting candles.
‘We’ll have to pretend we’re boyfriend and girlfriend,’ she whispered in Joshua’s ear.
‘What?’
She reached up and put her arms around his neck.
‘Quick, hold me.’
‘What?’
Sherry was walking slowly down the pathway.
‘Please!’ she said, pulling her hood up so that it covered her head.
Joshua’s arms went round Rose in a half-hearted way.
‘Tighter!’
He squeezed her ribs and she could feel his mouth on her hair.
‘Who’s there?’ Sherry said, her voice less strident, more uncertain.
The torch went on. Rose sensed the circle of light lying on the path ahead of Sherry. She felt panicky. If Sherry saw her she might mention it to the police and how would that look to Inspector Schillings, who had interviewed her in such a suspicious and harsh way?
The footsteps got closer and the circle of light seemed to rise up and sweep across the wall. It was only a matter of seconds before Sherry would be alongside them.
She pushed her face into Joshua’s chest just as the light beam found them. Rose glimpsed it on the wall behind. She closed her eyes tightly, feeling the warmth of Joshua. She wouldn’t look around. She would feign embarrassment and keep her face away. It was Joshua who Sherry would see, not her. Tensing, she could feel the throb of Joshua’s heartbeat.
‘What you doing?’
Rose heard Sherry’s voice from behind.
She felt Joshua’s head turn away. He was looking at Sherry.
‘We’re just looking for a bit of privacy, mate, that’s all,’ Joshua said.
‘My sister’s flowers are here. You shouldn’t be doing this!’ Sherry said.
‘Sorry. Didn’t realise that. We’re just spending a bit of time on our own. We’re not disrespecting anyone.’
‘You won’t touch them? You won’t mess them up?’
‘No. We’re stopping for a while. We’ll keep an eye on them.’
‘Yeah, well …’
Sherry turned. Rose could feel her moving away.
‘Make sure you don’t touch anything,’ Sherry called.
Rose peeked round. She was walking away, towards the arch. In seconds she was gone. They both dropped their arms. Rose stepped back away from Joshua. She felt instantly cold, a little disorientated. She patted herself down and caught Joshua’s eye. She looked away, a feeling of embarrassment flooding through her. They stood like that until the light from the torch disappeared.
‘What was that all about?’ Joshua demanded, after a minute.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to face that girl. It was just a bit of play-acting.’
‘Come on,’ Joshua said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. ‘Let’s go. This place is giving me the creeps.’
SEVENTEEN
Rose sat in the back of the Mini as Skeggsie drove towards Twickenham. The space was tiny, particularly as Joshua had moved his seat back as far as it would go so that his legs would fit in the front. Rose was behind Skeggsie and she’d unlaced her boots and put her feet up on the seat. Her socks were vivid yellow. There was music playing, a band she liked. Every now and again the satnav gave an instruction. Neither Skeggsie nor Joshua said much so she rested her head against the seat and drifted off into her own thoughts.
Now bear left. Then two hundred yards later turn right.
She had a lot to think about.
Now turn right.
Someone had written notes to Emma and Lewis asking them to be at the cemetery at six. Could it have been Bee Bee? She pictured Bee Bee in the cafeteria that day when Lewis Proctor had pretended to stab himself with a plastic knife. She’d been standing stiffly like someone in a production, as if she was taking part in a play, her silver boots and her jewellery giving her a glittery theatrical look. Emma said she was mad about Lewis, had been for years.
Could she be responsible for Emma’s death?
At the roundabout bear left. Then take a sharp right turn.
Perhaps it had nothing to do with her or Lewis. Maybe it was something completely different, unconnected. Possibly Ricky Harris had been involved in something illegal and Emma had known about it. Perhaps, once Ricky was killed, Emma was just next on the list. The killer – whoever it was – had followed Emma to the cemetery and picked a moment when she was on her own, not knowing that she was due to meet anyone. Maybe that person had slipped in and out of the rose garden without anyone seeing them.
She thought back to the rose garden the night before and felt a squirming sensation. Joshua and her pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend. Holding each other in a clumsy clinch. She’d forced him into it, trying to keep Sherry Baxter from coming face to face with her. It had been awkward afterwards, Joshua walking three or four paces ahead, clearly irritated. But by the time they got out of the cemetery and were walking along Cuttings Lane he seemed to have forgotten it.
It was just a bit of play-acting. It was the kind of thing that children did.
So why did she have this odd feeling about it?
In quarter of a mile keep right towards the A402.
She forced her mind back to the really important thing. The murders. Everything she knew about them was second-hand, gossip, bits of CCTV footage. The police would have a fuller picture with scene of crime evidence, CCTV, witness statements and information about what Ricky Harris and his mates were up to. They may well know exactly what was going on and have a suspect in mind. She, who had been at each scene of crime, who had been closer than almost anyone else to these deaths, had only a fragmentary picture of what had happened.
Continue forward on the A316.
She took out the pot of lip salve that Sara had given her and rubbed some across her lips.
At the roundabout go straight on.
Would she ever know what had happened on that platform or in the cemetery or would she have to wait to read it in the newspapers?
She sighed, focusing on Joshua’s profile. He was talking to Skeggsie, his face animated for a moment then concentrated while he was listening to Skeggsie’s reply. The music made it hard for her to hear what they were talking about but it didn’t matter. She was happier in her little world in the back seat of the car, staring at the patterns on her yellow socks.
In a quarter of a mile keep right for the A316.
‘Are we nearly there yet?’ she called.
Joshua looked round.
‘Don’t start that,’ he said. ‘I had enough of that when …’
He didn’t finish his sentence but she knew what he meant.
In a flash she had an image of the four of them sitting in the car on a long journey. Brendan driving, her mum in the passenger seat, she and Joshua in the back. Joshua with his nose in a book as the road whipped past them. How much further! her body seemed to say, her legs and arms folded up, her bottom numb. When the door of the car opened she pictured herself springing out of it like a jack-in-the-box. Not long now, Petal, Brendan would call.
Petal. It was the name that Brenda
n called her. Not Rose but Petal. You’re too small to be a rose. You’re just a petal to me, he said. Mum, tell him! she would say but her mum just shrugged her shoulders, laughing. But, actually, she liked the word Petal. Her shyness towards Brendan lasted for ages but when he coined this name for her she felt better. Hey, Petal, lass, he said, putting on a strong northern accent, Get us a cup of tea, strong mind, and some Hobnobs.
Her eyes glassed over and she turned to look out of the side window in case Joshua looked round or Skeggsie noticed her in the rear-view mirror. This was what happened when she allowed herself to think about the past. A memory came from nowhere. It surfaced like some deep-water current stirring up her thoughts. Sometimes she wished that she could forget it all, every bit and start again, as though she had no past, no emotional attachments, but it wasn’t possible.
‘Don’t look so sad, Rosie, we’ll be there soon,’ Joshua said. ‘You should put your boots on. Those socks are unsettling me.’
‘What’s wrong with them?’ Rose said, smiling in spite of herself.
She dragged her boots up on to the seat as Joshua gave her an eye-rolling look.
You have reached the destination. It is situated on the left-hand side.
The car slowed down.
‘Park over there, look it’s Pay and Display.’
She laced her boots up while Skeggsie reversed into a space, going back and forth three or four times until the car finally came to a stop. The doors opened and Skeggsie and Joshua got out. Then Skeggsie fiddled with the driver’s seat so that it folded forward and Rose squeezed out. Skeggsie held his hand out to help her but she didn’t take hold of it.
On the pavement she flexed her legs and arms and saw that Joshua was standing stock-still, staring at a building across the road. She stopped moving about and went over to him.
There it was. Amid a terrace of big Edwardian houses was one with a neon sign, Northern Star. It was four storeys high and had hanging baskets outside.
‘There it is,’ Joshua said. ‘The B and B that Dad and Kathy had a card for.’
‘You think they stayed there?’ Skeggsie said.
Joshua said nothing but walked across the road towards the Northern Star.
Rose took a deep breath and followed him.
EIGHTEEN
The door to the B and B was closed but not locked and Joshua went in first, followed by Skeggsie and then Rose. Joshua stopped as soon as he was in a wide hallway. The walls were lined with photographs of rugby teams. Some were in black and white but most were in colour. On the stairs was a large ginger cat with a squashed-looking face. It stared at them without moving a hair. From above Rose could hear the sound of feet running across a floor, like those of a child.
Joshua seemed stranded in the middle of the hallway. Skeggsie was looking at the rugby teams, reading the captions below each photograph. Rose saw a sign for Reception up ahead and she edged round Joshua and went up to a shelf that jutted out from the wall and held a signing-in book and a bell. The wall behind it was covered with posters about the area. She put her finger on the bell. The ginger cat tensed and then turned and disappeared up the stairs. Moments later a young woman emerged from a door. She was smiling, holding her hands out in front of her, moving her fingers as if fanning the air.
‘Sorry, just put a fresh coat of varnish on. Trust me to choose this minute to do it. I’m Amanda. Can I help you? We don’t have any rooms, I’m afraid. We’re fully booked up tonight and tomorrow night.’
‘Actually, we don’t want a room.’
The woman had long blonde hair that she kept flicking back off her face. Her lips were painted pale pink in a perfect Cupid’s bow. She blew gently along her nails as she looked questioningly at Rose.
‘What can I do for you, then?’
Joshua walked forward and Rose watched as Amanda’s eyes travelled up and down his body.
‘We’re here to find out about some people who might have stayed here. Five years ago. It’s a long shot that anyone might remember but …’
Amanda adopted a puzzled look.
‘You’re not the police?’
‘No.’
‘Our records are private and confidential.’
‘I know. I understand that. I just want to find out if a couple of people stayed here on Sunday, 4 November, five years ago.’
Sunday, 4 November. The day before Guy Fawkes night. The day that her mum and Brendan disappeared. It was a date that Rose roundly ignored. The beginning of November every year meant that she avoided newspapers or registering dates on her laptop. The days would pass, the banging of fireworks and the smell of sulphur in the air would distract her. She usually made sure that she had plenty to do so that the anniversary slipped by unnoticed. This year that might be more difficult.
‘You know what?’
Rose heard Joshua’s tone change.
‘You remind me of someone.’
Amanda’s eyebrows went up. Skeggsie walked over and Rose looked curiously at Joshua.
‘That girl off the telly? The one on the talent show? With the long blonde hair. Really nice-looking girl. Good singer.’
‘No!’ Amanda said, smiling.
‘No, you’re right,’ Joshua said. ‘The hair’s not quite the same. Your hair is more natural-looking.’
Rose looked at the girl with consternation. Surely she didn’t believe this nonsense. But Amanda was beaming, her newly painted nails flicking at the ends of her hair.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said.
‘No, really,’ Joshua said, nodding his head imperceptibly.
‘We should go,’ Skeggsie said gruffly. ‘She’s not allowed to give out any information about your parents.’
‘Wait a minute – your parents?’
‘Yeah. Didn’t I say? Me and Rosie, we lost touch with our parents five years ago but we think they came here and I guess we’re just trying to find out if anyone remembers them.’
‘This is your sister?’ Amanda said, her eyes resting on Rose.
‘Yeah,’ Joshua said without a second’s hesitation.
Rose was surprised at how easily Joshua told the lie. He seemed like a different person. And he’d got annoyed with her when she was play-acting! She crossed her arms tightly, determined not to say a word.
‘What’s happened to your parents?’
‘We’re not sure. We just want to know if they came here.’
‘Well, we do have books. Our books go back for years. Mrs Harrison, the owner, she keeps a record of everything.’
‘But,’ Skeggsie said, ‘they might have signed in with a false name.’
‘We usually ask to see their passports. We get a lot of foreign tourists and Mrs Harrison has a rule. See the passport, take the number. It’s something to do with the police, I think.’
‘So you might actually have those records,’ Joshua said, his voice a little in awe, not pretending any more.
‘Probably but Mrs Harrison keeps them locked up. She has them in a filing cabinet somewhere. She might not … well, she’s a real stickler for following rules and regulations.’
‘Is she here? Can I speak to her?’
‘She’s on holiday. Florida. She’s due back sometime next week. Not exactly sure when.’
‘Listen, Amanda. What about if I gave you my mobile number? Maybe you could give me a call when she returns.’
Amanda looked a bit flustered. Her neck was reddening under Joshua’s scrutiny.
‘I’d be really grateful.’
‘Oh, go on, then. Wait, I’ll get my phone.’
Amanda walked off down the hallway. She pushed open a door and Rose could hear music and canned laughter coming from a TV programme.
‘What are you doing?’ she said to Joshua in a loud whisper.
‘I’m just being nice to this girl, Rosie. She might help us.’
‘Hotel records are confidential. The owner could be stroppy,’ Skeggsie said.
‘But you’re chatting her up!’
‘She’s nice.’
‘She’s not, she’s …’
Rose didn’t know what she wanted to say. There was nothing wrong with Amanda but she hadn’t thought that this fluffy girl with the blushes and the shiny nails would have been his type.
The door opened and Amanda emerged. She brought a strong floral smell with her as though she’d just sprayed herself from top to bottom with perfume.
‘Here, let me,’ Joshua said, holding his hand out for her mobile.
He took it and fed his number into it. All the time Amanda was beaming.
‘You the manager here?’ Skeggsie said.
‘No, just the dogsbody,’ Amanda said.
Her eyes seemed to settle on Rose’s face as Joshua keyed his number into her phone.
‘You look upset,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, your big brother will look after you, I bet.’
Rose didn’t trust herself to speak. She gave a plastic smile and then turned and walked towards the front door, standing aside momentarily to allow a couple of people coming in to pass by her.
On the street outside the B and B she stood against the wall, feeling disgruntled. She had never believed that this trip was worth making, so why should she be irked about what had happened? They had found nothing out, but now Joshua was fawning over this girl and she was basking in his gaze. Even dull Skeggsie was joining in.
There was a bus stop in front of the B and B. Beyond that was the row of cars where the Mini was parked. Sauntering along was a traffic warden. Rose looked away. They had paid at the Pay and Display so they wouldn’t get a ticket. A bus pulled up in front of her and its doors opened to let off a number of people. Rose looked round at the B and B. Through the glass doors she could see Joshua and Skeggsie still talking to Amanda. She sighed. This was too much. Driving all the way over here on some kind of fool’s errand only to have Joshua smitten by some Barbie-type girl.
Don’t worry, your big brother will look after you.
Rose felt herself stiffening.
Was she jealous?
She heard shouting and looked along the road to where the traffic warden was standing, writing a ticket. A fat man was remonstrating, speaking in a loud voice, pointing across the traffic. Rose looked and saw a chemist’s shop on the other side of the road. The man was obviously making the case that he’d been picking up medication. The traffic warden, an older man with round shoulders and ebony skin, was writing the ticket, giving no sign that he was even listening. She glanced again at the fat man, then at the chemist’s shop and something caught her eye. A flash of red and a chequered flag went past. Another bus pulled up in front of her and blocked her view, but she waited for a moment and saw a man emerging from behind it on the opposite pavement carrying a bright red holdall with a chequered flag on it. It only took a second to recognise him. He was bald and wearing a leather biker’s jacket. It was the technician from her school, the one who had had the row with Ricky Harris. How odd that she should see him in this part of London. How odd that she should see him at all.
