‘Would you like some water?’
‘No, thank you.’ She’d been able to feel her cheeks redden, the heat rising in her face. ‘I’ll be gone in a minute.’
‘Actually, would you mind staying?’ he’d asked. ‘I need to go through these files and could do with some help.’ He had looked at her, and she’d noticed how kind his eyes were. ‘If you don’t have anything else to do,’ he’d added.
‘No. Yes, of course, I can stay and help.’
They’d gone over the paperwork, looking for examples for a new campaign he’d been working on. The hours had gone by quickly and before Bea had known it, it had been past the time she usually left. ‘I’m sorry for keeping you here for so long,’ Laurence had said when he’d realised. ‘We can continue with this tomorrow.’
Bea had been about to leave when he’d mentioned the accident. ‘I remember hearing about the crash when it happened. That must have been really rough. I’m sorry.’
She had lowered her head, unsure how to respond. She hated talking about it, but she hadn’t wanted to seem rude. ‘Thank you. It was a long time ago,’ she’d said.
‘Didn’t you lose your brother in the accident?’
The words had seemed to echo around the small office. She hadn’t known what to say. She never mentioned Sebastian, made sure that he never came up in conversation. Whenever she met someone new she’d tell them about losing her parents but never about her brother. It was a pain too big for her to relive over and over. Something that she wanted to keep buried deep.
For a moment she’d tried to find a way to avoid answering. Perhaps she could pretend that she hadn’t heard him. Or deflect with another question, a comment. But her brain had felt completely blank. No ideas had come to mind. And looking at Laurence’s kind face, so different from the person that everyone had said he was, she’d made a decision to be honest.
‘Yes. Sebastian was sitting next to me. He took the seat by the window. It was cold that morning and he wanted me to be away from the draught.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he’d said.
Now, through the phone, Bea could hear the sound of Laurence pacing. For long moments he said nothing. ‘I’m coming over,’ he finally said. ‘Tell me where you are and I’ll come meet you.’
She looked around her, at the people going about their business. She noticed for the first time the Christmas lights across the street, adorning the light poles. And she knew that there was only one place where she wanted to be, one person that she needed to be with, who could help her deal with the crushing pain she was feeling in her heart. She had to go home.
‘I’m sorry, I need to take the day off,’ she said. She wouldn’t let him convince her otherwise. She had to stand her ground irrespective of how much she was needed at the office. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Bea rushed to the edge of the pavement and scrutinised the cars coming towards her. She spotted a taxi with its light on and put her arm up, waving frantically, making sure that the driver wouldn’t miss her. She needed to get going right now. The longer it took her to get there, the longer it would take for the pain to go away. Her heart was beating faster and faster and she stared right at the driver, willing him to stop. The car slowed down and then stopped right next to her, the driver rolling down the window to speak with her. But she didn’t say anything, didn’t want to give him the opportunity to refuse taking her. Instead, she got in, put her bag down next to her, and looked straight at the driver, only then giving him the Stones’ address.
48
Bea sat back in the car, her head resting against the seat, looking out of the window at the streets. There were people bundled up in heavy coats, scarves wrapped around their necks, hats pulled over their ears. Many were carrying heavy shopping bags. Where had the time gone? With everything that had happened Bea hadn’t even had time to think that Christmas was next week.
Not that it meant much to her. Ever since her parents had died, Christmas had only brought feelings of grief. While everyone else had been looking forward to celebrating with their family, Bea and the other children would be stuck in the home with Miriam. They’d stick together, trying their best to bring some joy into the days, keeping their heads down, trying not to anger her.
The Stones had been big on celebrations. There was always an enormous tree, its branches weighed down with decorations that had been collected over many years. There were the antique silver balls that had been Gemma’s grandmother’s. Baubles with Sophia and Alexander’s baby handprints on them. Wood slices from the bottom of Christmas trees, the years written on them in Gemma’s perfect cursive. In the middle of November Gemma would send Martin up to the attic to bring down the boxes of decorations. Gemma would start opening crates, putting festive trinkets here and there. The Santa on a sleigh went on the sideboard in the dining room. The snowman family on the entryway table. A bunch of pinecones that the children had foraged from Hampstead Heath and Gemma had sprayed in gold and silver glitter would be put in a large red bowl on the coffee table. Gemma would start baking, making sugar cookies and mince pies. The whole house would smell of cloves and cinnamon.
She could never forget the first Christmas after she’d started living with them. She’d woken up in the morning to vigorous knocks on her bedroom door. She’d jumped out of bed, terrified that something was wrong. But when she’d opened the door, she’d come face to face with Sophia and Alexander. ‘Come on,’ Sophia had exclaimed, grabbing Bea’s arm and pulling her out into the hallway.
‘What’s happening? What’s wrong?’ Bea had said, so terrified that she hadn’t even noticed the cold air hitting her bare arms.
‘It’s Christmas, silly,’ Alexander had said, grasping her other arm and pulling her forward. ‘Let’s go see what Mum and Dad got us.’
At the top of the stairs, Sophia and Alexander had stopped, let go of Bea’s arms, and waited patiently while she slowly went down, careful of every step, making sure that she didn’t twist her ankle or slip in her fluffy socks.
As soon as they’d got to the living room, she’d spotted Gemma, sitting in her armchair, a cup of coffee in one hand. She’d smiled at them as she’d stood up. It was that smile that was always ingrained in Bea’s brain. The smile of pure kindness, of real love.
She felt her eyes mist over and closed them tightly, not wanting the taxi driver to see her through his mirror, realise that she was falling apart in the back of his car. She had to be strong, at least until she got home.
Finally, the taxi pulled up in front of the familiar house. There was a large poinsettia in the front window and a massive wreath hanging from the door. They hadn’t been there at the weekend: Gemma must have just put them up. Bea pulled a bunch of notes out of her wallet and handed them over to the driver. She got out of the car and fumbled with the latch on the gate, finally opening it, and walking down the path to the front door. She rang the bell. Once. Twice. Three times. The seconds felt like hours, but finally the door flung open and Gemma stood there, her face pink, her greying hair pulled off her face. She was wearing a red polka-dot apron, splotches of flour smeared over the front. Her eyes opened wide as soon as she saw Bea.
‘Hello, dear, what are you doing here? Is everything all right?’ Gemma looked right at the younger woman, her eyes staring into Bea’s, before opening the door wide and moving to the side.
‘Are you alone?’
‘Yes, Martin took Sophia and Sean back to their house. They’re working on the nursery.’ Gemma’s eyes narrowed. ‘What’s happening? You’re scaring me now.’
For a moment Bea wanted to tell her that everything was all right, that she just wanted to come visit, but she couldn’t lie. Not any more. Not to Gemma.
Instead, she took a step towards the older woman and put her arms around her neck, hugging her tight, inhaling the scent of vanilla. She felt Gemma’s hands on her back, her strong arms holding her firmly. And for the first time in years Bea burst into tears, her body heaving as the sobs shook her.
Bea shook her head. ‘No,’ she finally said, her voice breaking on the word. ‘I just needed to see you.’ She let go of Gemma and took a step back. She looked right at her, and she knew that she could tell her the truth. That there was no reason to hide from Gemma. That whatever she said, whatever she did, the Stones would always love her. As if she were their own child.
‘It’s about Miriam.’ She paused and took a deep breath. This was it. She was either going to be honest or not. ‘We did something horrible when we were kids. All of us did. And the police are going to find out.’
*
The smell of hibiscus was the first thing that Bea noticed when she opened her eyes. She was surrounded by a pool of pink and gold. Her head was resting on something soft. Her body was covered by a fluffy blanket.
Slowly she lifted her head, trying to get a better idea of her surroundings, but she knew exactly where she was. Her old room in the Stones’ house, the one she always slept in on the rare occasions she stayed over, when Gemma would insist that it was too late to get back to London or when she’d plan to come for the weekend.
Bea pulled the covers closer to her face and inhaled the fragrant fabric. It smelt like home, like comfort and love and happiness. And it made her feel secure.
She’d spoken with Gemma for hours, telling her about Sebastian, who he really was, the mischief he always managed to get into. The memories that she had suppressed for so many years came flooding back and suddenly she couldn’t stop talking. She told Gemma how they had vowed to stick together after their parents died, the constant fear of being separated.
And then she told her about Miriam. About the beatings, the threats, the continual psychological taunts. Gemma’s face crumpled and her eyes glistened. But her mouth was set in anger. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she finally asked. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone? You didn’t have to go through all that. You were just children.’
‘We were scared. Perhaps we were naive but we thought that this might be normal, that every children’s home was like that. We’d just be moved somewhere similar. Or even worse. But we wouldn’t have each other. Miriam had instilled that fear in us. We were petrified of being separated.’
‘You should say something now. She needs to pay for what she did to you. Horrible woman.’
But Bea shook her head. ‘We can’t.’
‘Why not? Because she’s sick?’
‘No, nothing to do with that.’ Bea paused and looked at Gemma. She knew that she should stop, that she should never tell anyone. She had promised the others. But she couldn’t restrain herself. ‘You see, it got so bad that we wanted to find a way to make her sick. We wanted to make her frail. So she wouldn’t have the energy for the beatings, for the constant abuse. We thought we could have a better life if we kept her under control. So, we decided to start poisoning her. Not enough to kill her, but enough to make her sick.’
Gemma didn’t move but a flicker of emotion flashed across her face. Perhaps incredulity. Or fear. ‘Did you do that?’ she finally asked.
Bea averted her gaze, unable to look at Gemma’s kind face, see the disappointment and disbelief in her eyes. ‘We stole rat poison from school and started putting a little bit in her food. Just a small amount.’
Gemma gasped. ‘Oh, my goodness. What happened to her?’
‘At first nothing, so we increased the amount. After a few days she started getting tired all the time, her hands shook, she would sometimes run to the bathroom and we’d hear her throw up. She had to sit down for longer periods, seemed confused.’
‘And you continued doing it?’
‘It was the only way to live a semi-decent life. We were so scared of her. We knew that one day one of us was going to get properly hurt if she continued beating us. We had no choice really, at least not one we were able to see at the time.’
‘Bea, how could you do that? How did you even know what to do?’
‘We spent hours at the library researching. We thought we had it all planned perfectly. We had small amounts all portioned out, ready to be mixed into her food. Enough to make her sick, but not too sick.’
‘So you were all in on it? All the kids in the house?’
‘Yes. It was only the five of us and we were close. But now I know how bad it was, how horrible, that it wasn’t really the answer. And I cannot stop thinking that perhaps if she was not so jittery she might have had a better hold on the van and managed to avoid the lorry. The accident might never have happened. Sebastian would still be here. We killed him. We all did.’
The hallway clock chimed, breaking the silence. Bea looked at Gemma and felt even more ashamed of what they’d done. ‘I’m sorry. I never wanted to disappoint you.’
The moments dragged as Gemma sat there, not saying anything, looking right at the younger woman. Bea feared that she was going to ask her to leave, that she didn’t want someone like her in her home.
‘Oh, honey,’ Gemma finally said. ‘You could never disappoint me. From the first time that I saw you in that hospital, I knew that you were the missing link in our family, the one person that we needed to make us complete. I was right. I’ve loved you from the first day we brought you home. From before that. We all have. You’re one of us.
‘I’m proud of you. Of the woman you’ve become. Of the hurdles you had to jump over to get where you are. Of the way you have been able to endure your pain, overcome it. And now that I know what you had to go through, of the abuse… Hell, I want to go kill her myself. And I won’t use poison. I’ll wring her neck with my bare hands.’
Bea stared at her. And then, when she couldn’t hold back any longer, she giggled. The thought of gentle Gemma wrestling with a bedridden Miriam was comical, mostly because she knew it would never happen. Gemma cocked her head to one side and smiled.
‘And as for you having anything to do with Sebastian’s death, that’s complete nonsense. The accident was just that, a horrible accident. If anything, Miriam should have known better than to drive when she wasn’t feeling herself.’
They sat in silence for a while, both wrapped up in their thoughts. For the first time in weeks Bea felt relief and her body started to relax. Confiding in Gemma felt good, reassuring. She knew that the Stones would always be there for her now, irrespective of what she had done in the past.
But there was more that she needed to tell Gemma. And she didn’t know how the woman who had treated her like a daughter would react.
‘Sometimes I feel a little confused.’ Bea looked down, staring at her hands, wrapped around each other, turning them over and over in her lap. ‘When Sebastian died, part of me didn’t want to talk about him, think about him. But the other kept him alive. Every night I say goodnight to him. Sometimes I talk to him, tell him about my day, ask him questions. I imagine him how he should look now, what he should be doing. Sometimes I wonder whether I’m just crazy.’
She paused and glanced up at Gemma. The older woman smiled and nodded. ‘I know. I heard you talking to him when you had just moved in with us. You were still sleeping downstairs and your door was ajar. I walked past and heard you talking. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I stopped to listen, thought perhaps you needed something and were afraid or embarrassed to ask. You were so quiet back then and I didn’t know what to say to help you feel at home, to make you realise that this was your home.
‘And then I heard you have this one-sided conversation, with pauses, and laughter. I thought you were on the phone, but we didn’t have a phone in that room. And when I heard you say his name, I was terrified. I spoke with Martin and we decided to wait it out, see if it was a one-time thing, that perhaps you missed your brother so much that you needed some comfort.
‘But I heard you again and again. I tried getting you to speak about Sebastian to us, but you wouldn’t. So we spoke to a child psychologist, were prepared to take you to see her. She said
it sometimes happened. That when children experience extreme trauma, they can have challenges letting go of the people they lost. She said that you were keeping him alive as a coping mechanism and as long as this didn’t impact your life otherwise, it was not a problem. We watched you carefully and you seemed fine. We didn’t want to put you through more trauma by taking you to see a psychologist. We felt that what you needed was love and stability, and that’s what we tried to give you.
‘But if you feel that you need help, then that’s what we’ll do. Anything that you need. We’re always here for you.’
Tears sprang to Bea’s eyes. She blinked rapidly but to no avail. They started streaming down her cheeks. She tried to speak, to thank Gemma, but the words caught in her throat. Gemma leaned forward and put her arms around Bea, hugging her tight, and Bea felt her body heaving with the continuous sobs. ‘There, there,’ Gemma said over and over, her voice soft and melodic, her hand rubbing circles on Bea’s back. ‘You’re all right. Everything will be all right.’
She finally stopped crying. Her eyes felt swollen, her head throbbed. Gemma looked at her and gave her one last hug, holding her tight for a few seconds. ‘Let me make you some tea. It will help you feel better.’
Bea followed her into the kitchen and sat at the table while Gemma boiled water and rummaged in the cabinet for the right teabag. After a few minutes she put a bright pink mug in front of Bea. Her princess mug that Sophia had got her for one birthday.
‘You’re staying here tonight,’ Gemma said, her expression resolute. Bea knew there was no arguing with her. There was no point. Gemma had made up her mind. And there was nowhere else that Bea wanted to be. This was home and she needed to be with the people she loved.
49
The plane was cold. Ronnie Moss gritted his teeth, trying to keep himself from shivering. The metal handcuffs were icy against his wrists. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, stretched his legs in front of him. The doctors had given him some exercises to keep the blood flowing, make sure he didn’t get a blood clot.
We All Fall Down Page 28
