‘No,’ Charity said, shaking her head. ‘I think it’s a good thing.’
‘You sure?’
She nodded. ‘I’m sure.’
The reflection of the flame in the window seemed to dance over King’s Lynn’s cobbled streets outside. Charity took Niall’s hand. They were standing in the small gallery surrounded by Niall’s photos, taking a few moments before people started arriving for his event to look at the candle Niall had lit for Faith.
They were quiet for a few moments and then Niall looked at Charity. ‘Do you ever wonder why Faith was walking on the road in the middle of the night?’
Charity continued staring at the flame. ‘Everyone did: my parents, the police. But we never found out. It’s in the past.’
‘She’d seemed different when I saw her a couple of weeks before. Preoccupied.’
‘She was busy with her studies.’
Niall frowned. ‘I don’t know, I think it was more than that.’
Charity sighed. ‘We’ll never know, will we? Why bring it up now, Niall?’
‘It’s something I always think about on the anniversary. Not just what happened but why Faith was there, on that road.’
‘Look, this is your night,’ Charity said, squeezing his hand. ‘Let’s not ruin it.’
‘You’re right.’ He reached into his pocket, pulling a box out. ‘I have something for you.’
She opened it to find a delicate necklace inside, their two initials entwined in a pendant, just like the etchings.
‘It’s beautiful, Niall,’ she said as he helped her put it on.
‘All ready?’ They turned to see the gallery owner, a short thin man with a bald head, smiling at them.
‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ Niall said, taking a deep breath as he looked around him at the photos he’d taken from his recent visits to the UK’s submerged forests. Most of them were on land, eerie tree stumps spreading out over vast wastelands.
‘It looks amazing,’ Charity said, adjusting his tie. ‘Now just enjoy yourself.’
Thirty minutes later, the tiny gallery was filled with people drinking wine and admiring the photos. Niall had been dragged away to talk to a local journalist and Charity stayed by the candle, watching him with pride. It almost felt as though Faith was by her side. She imagined her dressed in a beautiful pale blue dress, long blonde hair down her back, watching proudly too. But then the mirage of Faith seemed to change before Charity’s eyes, hair dripping with rainwater, face bloody, a puddle around her bare feet.
Why had Faith been walking along the road alone that night?
Charity quickly drank some of her sparkling wine, willing the image away.
‘You okay?’ Niall asked, walking over to her.
‘Fine. How’s it going?’
His face lit up. ‘Four photographs sold.’
‘Already? Wow!’
‘Charity! Niall!’ a familiar voice exclaimed from nearby.
They both turned to see Lana North heading towards them, the hem of her sleek black dress swishing around her ankles. Dan was behind her, a glass of champagne in his hand, a small smile on his face. He was wearing light blue chinos and a casual white shirt, his handsome face was deeply tanned. His hair was a little longer, his blond fringe sweeping over the top of his green eyes.
Charity felt her stomach flip, remembering his green eyes burning into hers as he leant close to her on that boat.
She gripped Niall’s hand tighter as though it was an anchor. He stared at Dan, his neck flushing.
‘It’s so great to see you both,’ Lana said, leaning down to kiss Charity on the cheek. Charity smelt the strong scent of alcohol. ‘We were so excited when we read about Niall’s exhibition, we knew we had to come, didn’t we, Dan? Especially seeing as we bought Niall the camera that took all these exquisite photos.’
Charity looked at Niall, confused. ‘I don’t understand.’
Niall’s face flushed.
‘You didn’t tell Charity?’ Lana asked. ‘How strange.’
‘Why would he, darling?’ Dan said. He shook Niall’s hand then gave Charity a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘It was just a loan, wasn’t it, Niall? Most of it’s paid off now.’
Niall looked at Charity. ‘I was going to mention it. But it’s like Dan said, I’ve nearly paid it off.’
Charity stared at him, trying to control her emotions.
‘These are wonderful, Niall,’ Dan said, looking around him. ‘You really are a true talent.’
Niall smiled tightly. ‘Thank you, Dan. I wish we could stay and talk. But I hope you understand, there’s a bunch of people I need to talk to. Thanks for coming.’
‘Of course,’ Dan said as Lana looked disappointed. ‘Go mingle.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you contacted Dan when you broke your camera?’ Charity asked as they walked away.
‘I was desperate, Charity,’ Niall said under his breath. ‘It was just a loan.’
‘That’s not the issue. It’s the fact you didn’t tell me.’
He sighed. ‘Look, I was embarrassed, alright? All my talk of Dan being bourgeois and I go running to him for help.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that, Niall. You shouldn’t be ashamed. You know I’d never judge you.’
His face softened. ‘I know. I should have told you. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine,’ Charity said, stroking his cheek.
Niall peered towards Dan and Lana, grimacing. ‘I wish they hadn’t come, especially Lana. She’s clearly drunk.’
‘She’s not that bad. And isn’t it worth it? Without Dan’s help you wouldn’t have been able to take all those photos.’
His eyes remained on Lana, brow creased. ‘I guess.’
An elderly couple approached Niall and started asking him questions. Charity excused herself and went to get a drink.
‘Here, let me.’ She turned to see Dan standing beside her, bottle in hand. He smiled, looking her up and down. ‘I have to say, you look rather stunning tonight, Charity.’
Charity blushed. ‘Thank you. That’s quite a compliment coming from a man whose wife used to be a model.’
He looked down into his glass, frowning.
‘Is everything okay?’ Charity asked.
‘Lana’s still not great.’
‘I’m sorry. So she didn’t see any other counsellors after we spoke?’
‘A few. Same old story, she grows bored of them. She’s drinking a lot now too.’
‘I noticed.’
‘Sometimes I wonder…’ He sighed, shaking his head. ‘No, I’m being silly.’
‘Tell me.’
He looked at her, his green eyes sinking into hers. ‘Sometimes I wonder how different my life would be if I’d met someone like you instead of Lana.’
Charity looked at him in shock. ‘Dan…’
He stepped towards her, his handsome face pained. ‘That night on the boat. I think of it often, Charity. Don’t you?’
‘What night?’ They both turned to see Lana standing behind him, a look of horror on her face.
‘It was nothing, darling,’ Dan said quickly.
Lana ignored him, just stared at Charity. ‘Charity?’ she asked, her voice trembling.
Charity tried to find the words. She looked up at Dan quickly, then away.
Lana’s eyes filled with tears. ‘God, look at the two of you, you can’t keep your eyes off each other! Why am I surprised?’
She had raised her voice, and people around the room were glancing over. Charity’s eyes searched the crowd, trying to find Niall.
‘Oh well, I’m one to talk, aren’t I, Dan?’ Lana said, face hardening.
A fleeting look of panic crossed Dan’s face. He tried to steer Lana away. ‘Lana, darling, I think it’s time we left, don’t you?’
But Lana shrugged his arm off. ‘We might as well just tell her,’ Lana said. ‘Then it’ll all be out in the open.’
‘Tell me what?’ Charity asked. ‘I don’t understand.’
<
br /> ‘Niall and I slept together in India,’ Lana said, crossing her arms and shooting Charity a triumphant look.
Charity’s stomach plummeted as she looked at Lana. ‘What?’
Dan sighed. ‘Oh, Lana.’
‘You knew?’ Charity asked him.
‘Lana told me a few months ago.’
‘When did it happen?’ Charity asked, trying to keep the tremble from her voice.
‘Dan and I argued,’ Lana said, sounding bored. ‘I came to the hotel to find him. I’d pretended I’d left but I hadn’t. I didn’t expect him to go running to you. I ended up finding a very depressed and drunk Niall instead and one thing led to another…’ Her voice trailed off as she shrugged. ‘These things happen.’
Charity thought back to that night when she found him waiting outside her villa. Had he been with Lana just before that?
But what about her and Dan? Hadn’t they nearly kissed too?
What a mess.
Niall appeared from the crowds, a smile on his face when he noticed Charity. She looked at him, unable to comprehend what Lana had said. She shoved past Lana and went to him.
‘Is it true?’ she asked. ‘You and Lana in India. Is it true?’
He closed his eyes briefly. Then he reached for Charity’s hand, his face desperate. ‘I was drunk. Very drunk.’
‘I can’t believe this.’
‘You and I weren’t together then, Charity.’
‘But we’d shared those moments. Then you go and sleep with Lana?’
‘We argued, remember? I had a few drinks, I hardly remember it,’ Niall said. ‘I don’t care about all this, all I care about is you. Let’s just go back to our hotel and—’
‘And what? No, I need to be alone.’
She shrugged his hand off and strode from the gallery, jumping into her car. As she drove back to the hut, she tried to block out the thought of Niall with Lana. When she drew up outside the hut forty-five minutes later, she was shocked to see Hope sitting on the bench outside, a suitcase by her feet. Charity jumped out of her car and ran to her, grabbing her into a hug. ‘You don’t know how happy I am to see you right now.’
‘Clearly!’ Hope pulled away from her, looking Charity up and down. ‘Where have you just come from, a school prom?’
Charity looked down at her dress. ‘Just a party. What are you doing here?’
‘I said I’d contact you when I was ready, didn’t I? I didn’t expect to have to wait in the freezing cold for three hours though.’ She pulled her long purple suede coat around her small frame and shivered.
‘You’ve been here three hours? You should have called first!’
‘I didn’t know I was going to forgive you. I just woke this morning and realised I had.’
Charity couldn’t help but smile. ‘So I’m forgiven?’
‘You were a kid, foolish and in love. I just wish you’d told me you were in the car when it happened.’
Charity squeezed her sister’s hand. ‘I’m sorry. Truly.’
Hope examined Charity’s face under the lamplight. ‘Have you been crying?’
Charity nodded.
‘What happened?’ Hope asked.
‘Long story. Let’s get you inside.’
‘Is it Niall?’ Hope asked.
‘How did you know?’
Hope jutted her chin towards Niall’s motorbike that was parked down the side of the hut.
‘Oh.’
Hope looked up at the dark sky in frustration. ‘How could you go running back to him, Charity?’
Charity didn’t say anything, just looked out to sea.
‘Tell me what happened?’ said Hope.
After Charity told her sister, Hope wrinkled her nose. ‘Really? Niall and Lana North?’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe they suit each other. And didn’t you and Dan nearly kiss? I think this speaks volumes about you and Niall.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What you have is shallow. You think you love Niall. But what you love is the memory of those exciting months before Faith was snatched away from us – before he took her away.’ Hope shifted around on the bench so she was facing Charity, strands of her long red hair lifting in the wind. ‘Don’t you see, it was your golden age, exhilarating trysts with a rebellious young man, stolen kisses on the beach. It’s everything a teenage girl dreams of. Well, I dreamt about what book I was going to read next but that’s by the by.’ She took Charity’s hand, looking into her eyes. ‘The point is, after Faith died, everything turned grey. You’ve been hoping to get back those days when Faith was alive by rekindling your romance with Niall. That’s why you don’t blame Niall for what happened that night. If you did, you’d lose him…and therefore everything that happened before. To move on, Charity, you need to move on from Niall. But it scares you because it’s the unknown.’
Charity let out a slow breath.
‘Charity?’
They both looked up to see Niall approaching them in the darkness.
‘The question now is,’ Hope said quietly as she watched him walk towards them, ‘are you ready to move on from the past?’ She turned to Charity. ‘Are we?’
‘What do you mean, we?’
Hope smiled. ‘I’ve put the café up for sale. Fancy running away somewhere?’
Charity looked between Niall and Hope.
Time to choose.
Chapter Fourteen
Willow
Norfolk, UK
October 2016
I take in the rotting tree stumps littered around the beach then peer up at the grey skies, letting the fine mist of drizzle wet my face. I need the cool rain to calm me down. Ever since I left Austria two weeks ago, I’ve felt something buzzing inside: a hunger to know more about my family’s past…and its future. If Niall Lane is my father and Luki is my brother, that changes everything.
I pull Niall Lane’s photograph of this forest out of my rucksack. He’s a gifted photographer, somehow making what’s a dull wedge of a place into something right out of some gothic novel. Maybe it’s the angle he chose, down low so the camera lens is looking right up at a tree stump, dozens of stumps spreading out in the background. Even the brown seaweed that slimes over the tree stumps looks arty, the stumps’ roots reaching out like rotting innards.
As I look at the photograph, I think of the fact Mum might have been here when Niall Lane took it. They’d lived here together after all. I shrug my rucksack over my shoulder and take a deep weary breath. I’m not entirely sure what I’m hoping to achieve by being here. Aunt Hope seemed to have developed yet another case of amnesia when I asked her where Mum and Niall lived. So it’s not like I can visit their place. But I felt drawn here, like I needed to come to the place Mum once lived.
I walk around the submerged remains of the trees trying to see if I can find another etching, squatting down to get a look at each stump. After a while my knees begin to ache. It’s easier doing this underwater. Finally, I find it, a hint of a looping ‘C’ under some seaweed. I pull the seaweed away and settle back on my heels, ignoring the pain in my knees as I stare at the etching.
‘So,’ I say to myself, ‘here it is.’ I take a photo with my phone, might as well keep a memento of my own. I think of the way I obliterated the etching I found in India. I won’t be so childish this time. Instead I trace my finger across Mum’s initial. Maybe she touched it too? Thinking about that gets me all choked up.
I stand, wiping the tears from my cheeks as I pull my grey woollen coat around myself. It’s getting windy, and bloody freezing. Time for a bath, maybe some Irish coffee. Then I can figure out how to find out where Mum and Niall lived.
As I head back to my hotel in my hired car a few minutes later, I’m relieved to be leaving the forlorn landscape behind, the view outside my car window replaced by wispy green marshes, even a hint of blue sky. It’s like the clouds gathered just for my visit to the submerged forest. Now I’m gone, they’ve scattered.
After a while, I realise I’m driving through a village I d
on’t recognise. White cottages topped with thatched roofs line the road, the spire of a church rising ahead of me.
‘Bugger, I’m lost,’ I murmur to myself.
I stop outside a small newsagent’s and try to get the sat nav up on my phone. But there’s no reception. I jump out of the car and stride into the shop. It’s tiny, so tiny I knock a row of crisps off a shelf as I squeeze down the narrow aisle. I grab some supplies – an energy drink, some cereal bars and, what the hell, a few bottles of beer. As I pay, I ask the bored teenager behind the counter if he knows where my hotel is. He mumbles some directions and I head back out, carrier bag swinging.
That’s when I notice the lighthouse in the distance. It looks just like the lighthouse from a photo that was packed away with a bunch of others from Mum’s study after she died. I’d scoured them for hours, picking out all the tiny details.
It can’t be a coincidence.
I head towards it. When I get there, marshes spread out before me, the sea soft and calm beyond. I’m on a small lane looking out on to the sea, a weather-beaten old bench perched on the marshes to my left, something else I recognise from the photo. I look around the corner and see a row of beach huts lining the lane. They’re all the same army-green colour, the paint peeling.
The photo must have been taken from outside one of those huts, judging by the angle.
Did Mum stay here with Niall Lane? Did he take the photo?
I go to the first hut. Like the others, it has a small veranda at its front. It seems empty so I’m not surprised when there’s no answer to my knock. Bright blue curtains hang from the window in the hut next to it, a gold wind chime tinkling in the breeze. There’s a TV on inside. I take a deep breath and knock on the door. The TV goes silent then I hear floorboards creaking before the door swings open to reveal a woman in her mid forties with white hair and sparkling blue eyes.
‘How can I help?’ she asks in a brisk voice.
‘I think my mum may have stayed in one of these huts years ago,’ I reply. ‘She passed away when I was a kid so I’m visiting all the places she stayed.’
Her face softens. ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. There’s a chance she may have rented the place. My mother used to rent it out back in the day. No records mind, my mother was scatty as anything.’ My heart sinks. ‘But we’ve got a box of items people left behind over the years just in case they come back for them. You could have a look through, see if there’s anything you recognise?’ She opens the door wide. ‘I’m Jean. Come in, have a cuppa while you’re looking through it all.’
My Sister’s Secret Page 17
