The Quiet Girls: An absolutely addictive mystery thriller

by J. M. Hewitt

  I need to be nice to her all the time, thought Carrie. One day we’ll be all each other has. For there was no father, for either of them; no uncles or aunts or cousins or grandparents.

  The car slowed to a stop. Carrie had undone Hattie’s seatbelt, hoping Mr Lacey hadn’t noticed that she’d never worn her own.

  ‘I’d better walk you in, make sure your uncle is there,’ he said, eyes on Carrie’s again in the mirror.

  Carrie averted her gaze and looked out of the window. She craned her neck, held up her hand in a wave at nobody. ‘He’s there, waiting by the gate,’ she said, fumbling with the door handle. ‘Come on, Hattie. Thanks, Mr Lacey.’

  Dragging her sister across the seat she pulled her out of the car, slamming the door closed on Mr Lacey’s somewhat startled face.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, and gripping Hattie’s wrist she pulled her into the park.

  Mr Lacey’s car idled on the gravel drive. Out of the corner of her eye Carrie saw the car reverse a few feet.

  All the better to view us through the gates, she thought. Moving Hattie in front of her she pushed the little girl gently in her back. ‘Run,’ she ordered, ‘to the playground.’

  Strangely, for the middle of the summer holidays, the playground was deserted. Carrie leaned over, put her hands on her knees and breathed deeply.

  ‘Go and play for a while,’ she ordered Hattie.

  Hattie mimicked Carrie’s posture. With her head hanging down she said, ‘I’m thirsty.’

  Carrie straightened up, cast her mind back to when she’d come here with the school. There had been a water fountain, she was sure of it. Looking around she spotted the copse of woods across the uneven football pitch and smiled. That was where it had been, on the sidelines, because they’d all sat down and got told off for getting white paint on their black school trousers.

  ‘That way,’ she said. ‘We can get a drink.’

  ‘And an ice-cream?’ Hattie asked.

  Fondness, feelings of wanting to protect her sister vanished, sadness in its place. How many times did she have to tell Hattie there was no money for ice-creams? And just how great would it be if they both could get an ice-cream?

  She spotted the patches on Hattie’s shoulders, darker than her light brown skin. Sunburn? And she had no more cream and no jacket or shirt to cover her sister. The sun was high in the sky, affording little shade as they walked across the open field. They would drink their fill from the fountain, then go and sit in the woods for a while. Just until the sun moved across the sky a little, Carrie decided. But then they would have to go home, and home was a long way away. She chewed at the skin around her fingernails. What if Mr Lacey was still at the gates, his car engine running, waiting for them to reappear, knowing the story about the uncle was a lie?

  But it was too hot to think of a plan, and Carrie wasn’t sure why she had taken against Mr Lacey so. He was a nice man at school, everyone seemed to like him. It was just the way his eyes had looked at her, not straight on, but in the mirror in the car. It was like being looked at backwards, and Carrie didn’t like it.

  The water fountain glinted, the sun’s rays catching the silvery metal. Carrie poked at Hattie, ushered her along, hurrying her up, muttering hurried apologies when the little girl stumbled and fell. Her thirst was everything at that moment, and nothing else mattered.

  16

  The mooring of the boat wasn’t as smooth as the journey had been. Harry gripped the railing and stumbled down to where Alice sat with the Hadleys. He looked at each of them in turn, blinking the water away as it splashed up and over the side of the boat.

  ‘Nearly there,’ he said with false cheeriness.

  They all stared at him with blank, cold eyes. He collapsed into the seat beside Alice.

  ‘Can you try, for me?’ he asked quietly.

  Before she could answer Gabe heaved himself to his feet and staggered past her. ‘Can I give you a hand, mate?’ he called to Ben.

  Ben raised a hand over his shoulder, an acceptance, a dismissal? Harry wasn’t sure. Gabe sat down next to Harry.

  ‘Rough landing,’ he said.

  ‘It’s hard to dock a boat of this size here. There are these weird currents, all the way around the island and it makes it much more difficult than you might think. Ben was the only sailor I could find who was willing to take us, right Ben?’ said Harry.

  Ben’s hand again, no audible reply. Alice spoke up. ‘I think he’s trying to concentrate, maybe we shouldn’t disturb him.’

  It felt like she’d chastised him, and sitting next to Gabe, the all-man, and with Ben at the helm, Harry felt redundant.

  Silence descended, the only sound the slap of the water and the boat knocking against the side of the dock. Harry looked to Melanie. ‘You okay, champ?’

  She nodded at him. Harry looked at the twins beside her, opened his mouth to ask them the same question before clamping it shut. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ben running up the ladder to lash the boat to the side.

  Harry leapt into action, Gabe springing up to assist.

  ‘Everyone up the ladder, Harry and I will get the bags and boxes of supplies,’ instructed Gabe.

  Harry stared at him. He was in charge here, after Ben it was him who should be issuing orders. But there was no time to assert his position, instead he found himself beside the ladder, herding everyone else up to dry land.

  He was the last up, and he moved aside as Ben untied the rope and nimbly jumped back into the boat.

  ‘Thanks, Ben,’ said Harry.

  Ben glanced up at him, shading his eyes from the weak winter sun. ‘Enjoy,’ he said shortly.

  They watched him until the boat could no longer be seen in the river mist. Alice shoved her hands in her pocket. She’d not had a chance to speak to Ben before he sailed off. Would he come back as he’d promised, or had he taken her money and run with it?

  Slowly she turned to look at their worldly possessions heaped on the quay. She raised her eyes to face the others. ‘What now?’

  Harry stepped up, grappling with two of the suitcases. ‘Now we go to our new home.’

  ‘And our things?’ She gestured to the boxes, cases and bags.

  ‘We’ll do it in a few trips,’ said Harry. A slow smile crept upon his face. ‘It’ll be safe, nobody is going to steal it.’

  She summoned a smile in return, one that was hard to find. As she picked up her own weekender bag she watched as the others began to follow him. She wondered what Harry was thinking, this was supposed to be an adventure, but the tension and uncertainty was palpable. None of them, including herself she admitted, seemed very excited to be here, in their ‘new home’ as Harry had called it.

  She fell into step beside Liz Hadley. ‘What’s happened to your house, Liz?’ she asked conversationally. ‘Did you do a quick sale like Harry did?’

  ‘Sorry?’ Liz looked startled, as though she’d not realised Alice had been walking beside her.

  ‘Your house, what did you do with it?’ repeated Alice.

  Liz shrugged, shoulders, bony and narrow, rising and falling. ‘Gabe sorted everything,’ she replied, a note of apology in her tone.

  Alice nodded, waited for something else. Liz remained silent, her eyes on the ground in front of her.

  Uncomfortably, Alice fell a couple of steps behind. The twins, Willow and Lenon, walked behind their mother.

  ‘Are you kids okay?’ she asked.

  The boy remained defiantly face forward, the girl shot a glance in Alice’s direction.

  ‘Fine, thanks, Mrs Wilson,’ she replied politely.

  ‘Oh, God, call me Alice, please. After all, we’re going to be living together.’

  Lenon looked up at her for the first time. ‘We’re going to live together?’

  Alice felt herself blushing, there was something in his look, in those dark, brooding eyes that made her look away. ‘Not actually together, I understand Harry has got two cottages, adjoining, I think, and we’ll take one each of cours
e.’ She swallowed, told herself to stop rambling.

  She waited for a reply, but nothing was forthcoming. She allowed herself to fall back again so she was now at the back of the small group. In silence they walked on.

  ‘Is that it?’ Melanie, up front with Harry, tugged on his coat sleeve. ‘Is that the house?’

  Harry stopped. Pulling his glasses out of his top pocket he slipped them on and squinted in the direction that Melanie pointed.

  ‘Yes,’ he said after a moment. ‘Those are the cottages!’

  She heard the excitement in his tone, saw it on his face as he gathered the others around and gestured ahead to where the grey cottages nestled side by side. Melanie, instead of looking at her new home, watched the others. Suddenly she felt sorry for her father. Nobody wanted this, none of them wanted to be here. It begged the question; why were they here? She knew why she was, and her mother, because Harry wanted this, and it was going to make him better so he never needed the pills again. But Gabe and Liz, and their children, what was their reason?

  Melanie slipped her hand into Harry’s. ‘It’s a beautiful house, Dad.’

  He looked down at her, a smile crinkling up his face. Instantly she felt better.

  ‘Shall we go and explore our new home?’

  His words were just for her, and the others didn’t matter. Maybe her and her dad would just let them be miserable, even her mother. But the two of them were going to be just fine.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, tugging his hand.

  ‘How do we get in?’ It was Gabe who spoke up, and Harry turned to him.

  ‘Just twist the handle.’ He smiled.

  Gabe frowned. ‘No key? What about security?’

  Harry laughed, long and loud. And it was a genuine laugh, he noticed, just like he used to sound. ‘Gabe, buddy, there’s no reason to be concerned about security. We are the only people here.’ He clapped Gabe’s shoulder, in a hard and manly manner, he hoped. ‘It’s a whole new way of life, but it’s all for the better.’

  Gabe nodded, lips pinched tightly together. ‘How do we decide which family has which house?’

  Harry gestured to the cottage on their left. ‘That one has three bedrooms, I’m led to believe, so you guys can take that one.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ Gabe stood back, appraised the house. ‘Have you been here before?’

  Harry shook his head. ‘Research, but some of what I read was very, very old, so there might be surprises for all of us.’ Catching sight of Alice’s face, white and ghostlike, he smiled at her. ‘Good surprises,’ he clarified.

  ‘So…’ Gabe trailed off, looking a little unsure, Harry thought.

  ‘So we’ll go in, settle in, unpack a little. I thought we could meet up and explore in an hour.’ He leaned back, raised one arm in the direction of Gabe’s cottage. ‘The sun will be just above the chimney then, so you know when to come back out.’

  He watched as they slipped inside, one by one, a quiet little procession. When the door closed behind the Hadleys, Harry turned to Melanie and Alice, still standing on the path that led to their own front door.

  ‘Did you have to say that about the sun?’ Alice said. ‘You sound like a bloody pagan or something.’

  It hurt, but he managed not to snipe back at her. This was all going to be so new for them, hard for them, much more so than he would find it. After all, Harry had been in the library, on the forums, doing the research.

  ‘Shall we go inside?’ He smiled, but it felt stretched and forced on his face.

  Alice sighed. Melanie stepped forward. He felt her hand slip into his. Gratefully, he pulled her close.

  The floors were all concrete, hard and cold underneath Melanie’s feet. She frowned, scrubbed the ground with the toe of her trainer. She had expected wooden floorboards, traditional and homely. She moved over to the wall, reached out a hand to touch it. It too, was concrete. Grey breeze block bricks and cement, the jagged points that had not been smoothed away like thorns under her palm.

  Melanie drifted around the house, looking into the rooms, waiting for an excitement to come over her. It didn’t, but she felt quite tired. Resting her head against the grey wall, she slumped onto an old chest and thought about the day so far.

  Alice had barely spoken all day. Harry had attempted conversation, but Alice seemed shut down, mute. Melanie’s heart contracted suddenly. Was her mother getting her father’s illness; the depression? Melanie was pretty sure it wasn’t something you could catch, but wouldn’t that just be typical, Harry recovering, her mother failing?

  Worry overwriting the tiredness, Melanie clambered off the chest and went in search of Alice. She found her in the kitchen area, staring out of the window. Boxes surrounded her, still taped up. Her suitcases were at her feet, zipped and locked tight.

  ‘Mum, are you all right?’ Melanie’s voice was sharp with hardly concealed panic.

  Alice turned from the window. ‘Fine, sweetie,’ she replied distractedly. ‘Is it time to meet up with the others?’

  Melanie went to the open door and stepped outside. ‘Yes,’ she called. ‘The sun is above the chimney now.’

  As she went back through the door Alice stared hard at her. ‘Come here,’ she said.

  Obediently Melanie went over to her. Alice swept her up in a hug, holding her tight, so different to the usual cuddles she got from her mother.

  ‘You can still use your watch,’ Alice said, and her voice was raw and stripped, and to Melanie she sounded angry.

  Later, Melanie sat on her new bed which was actually very old and stroked the thick blanket her mother had placed on top. The meeting hadn’t gone very well, after they’d all met up when the sun reached the chimney.

  Melanie had hoped everyone might have been a little happier once they’d unpacked their things and made their place. But the twins had been as silent as ever; Liz, their mother, seemed barely there. Half asleep in a false dream world like when Harry had been really bad. Harry had been overly cheerful and Alice had been sullen and sulky. They didn’t even get to explore very far before the heavens opened and the rain fell, followed by a sharp snow shower.

  ‘I’d wanted to collect wood for the fires,’ said Harry in a worried tone as they all stood underneath a large pine, the spreading branches offering little shelter against the cold and wet. ‘But anything we find now will be useless.’ He pulled his collar up and regarded the others. ‘Tomorrow we need to start finding wood and creating a store. We need to be prepared for next winter, we need to dry anything we find, and it’ll need to sit for months.’

  ‘Next winter!’ Alice’s voice was shrill and angry. ‘We need to think about now, tonight and tomorrow, not next winter.’

  Harry placed a hand on her arm, soothing, consoling as he had done so many times in the past. ‘Organisation is key, Alice. For the future. All wood is wet, even if it doesn’t seem like it, it still contains moisture. It needs to be properly cut and stacked before it can burn.’

  She’d shaken him off, glared at him. Melanie had looked at the floor, embarrassed.

  ‘Maybe we should start again tomorrow,’ said Gabe, the unexpected peacekeeper.

  They’d drifted back into their little cottages, out of the grey, sad outdoors and into the grey, desolate interior.

  Cold and miserable, she pulled the blanket around her shoulders.

  ‘I’m lonely,’ she whispered to nobody.

  When the darkness fell and the house grew quiet, Melanie slipped her trainers back on and stood outside the cottage. Next door was quiet too, and she wondered how late it was. She resisted looking at her watch, she wanted to try Harry’s thing of telling the time by the sky. But the sun was gone, and she didn’t know if she could use the moon in the same way.

  She walked away from the cottage, tipped her head back and looked at the sky. There was no moon, only fat, grey clouds. No sun, no moon, no stars.

  Despondent, she walked the perimeter of the cottages, coming to a standstill outside the Hadleys’ h
ome. A faint light glowed from one of the windows, and hesitantly she stepped up to it and peered in.

  The source of light was a candle, she saw with surprise. Harry hadn’t packed candles; he had solar powered lamps which would only work with the help of the treacherous sun, of which there hadn’t been enough to charge them. Inexplicably she felt shame for her father, and hoped he never found out the Hadleys had candles.

  She moved her gaze to the bed, saw the forms of two people entwined, under layers of blankets, their arms around each other as they slept.

  Mr and Mrs Hadley’s room, she thought, and feeling guilty for spying she went to move away.

  One of the figures in the bed moved, turned over. In the dim light that the candle offered, Melanie realised it was Lenon, one of the twins.

  Her face grew hot. Lenon slept with his mother?

  The figure beside him shifted, followed him with arms and legs as he changed his sleeping position. They came to rest, limbs tangled once more, noses almost touching.

  Melanie threw herself down to the mossy ground, her fingers at her mouth, her eyes wide.

  They were pressed against each other in a way Melanie had only seen lovers doing in movies.

  And it wasn’t Mrs Hadley in the bed with Lenon. It was his sister, Willow.

  17

  ‘How many painters and decorators in the Greater Manchester area?’

  Paul looked up. ‘Thousands?’ he replied.

  Carrie sighed. ‘Ganju can’t find the man’s details.’

  Paul nodded thoughtfully. ‘We should follow up with the girl anyway, try and get some information out of her. What was her name?’ He leafed through his notebook. ‘Kelly. Kelly Prout.’