The Island

by Mary Grand

  ‘Yes, it seems odd to me. She’s asked Rosalind to be part of it too, doing nails in one part of the complex or something.’

  ‘I suppose it would mean she is back on the island for your mum. What about you, will you be involved?’

  ‘I can’t see me and Cassie getting on in business, can you! No, I’ll do my own thing.’

  Gabriel reached out and stroked her hair. ‘There are plenty of other things to occupy you here though.’

  She looked up at him, the feeling of warmth and safety she craved flooded her.

  He kissed her gently, and she sank into his arms.

  They sat together, time slipping away.

  ‘Fancy going out soon? You know, like on a proper date?’ said Gabriel. ‘I finally have a night off a week on Saturday – gosh, it’ll be September then – we could go mad, go over to Southampton even… What do you think?’

  Juliet nodded. ‘Do you know what, that would be good.’

  ‘Great, and what we do is your choice, just tell me where.’

  ‘Okay, thanks, sounds perfect. It’ll be good to have something to look forward to… Sorry I know that sounds selfish, but there has been such a lot of sadness around.’

  ‘Not selfish at all; I understand. We’ll go out and have fun. Oh, and while I think about it, I brought you a present.’

  ‘A present? Really?’

  ‘It’s not much. I was in town and saw it. Now, I know you don’t like binoculars…’

  ‘No, not really. I can never adjust them to both eyes.’

  ‘I know, I remember you saying that, and then I saw these!’

  From the bag he had strapped around his waist, he pulled a small black case and gave it to her.

  ‘Don’t worry if you don’t want to use it,’ he said, looking embarrassed now.

  She opened the case and found what looked like a mini telescope.

  ‘It’s a monocular… much easier to use – you only have to focus with one eye.’

  ‘That’s so clever.’ She lifted it to her eye and adjusted it slightly. ‘Wow it works – it’s so much easier!’

  ‘Look out there, over the cliffs, there’s a kestrel hovering. Go and have a good look.’

  She got up and walked a few paces forward and lifted the monocular up to her to eye.

  ‘It’s amazing, Gabriel, I can see the colours, so rich… How on earth does the kestrel stay still like that in the breeze.’ She stood for a minute or two watching it, totally entranced, and then she turned back to Gabriel. ‘Thank you so much, what a beautiful present. It’s really thoughtful.’

  He shrugged but had the slightly smug look of a person who knows they have bought a good present. ‘I’m glad you like it.’

  She sat next to him and kissed him. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Sometimes looking out at nature can take your mind off things. Right,’ he said, sitting up, ‘I’d better do a proper run now. I think I’ll stay up the top.’

  ‘Be careful, there was a major slip the other day; honestly they are going to need to move the main road over soon.’

  ‘I’ll be careful. Text me if you fancy a chat or anything. I’m not far.’

  Juliet left him feeling a lot better. That little taste of normality had given her back some sense of perspective.

  When she returned to the house, she was surprised to find it empty. She sat down, glad of the space to think. She was still very worried about Anwen – Juliet had seen an unpleasant side to her today. There had been ruthlessness, violence even, in her manner. Juliet remembered seeing her with Rhys that night and she was sure now that Anwen had threatened him. Thinking logically now, Juliet realised that if Anwen had killed her brother, she may have taken the car keys from Juliet’s bag to use. What if she had held onto them?

  Juliet looked up the stairs. Now was the chance to find out.

  Quickly she went upstairs. As she crept into Cassie’s room, she knew, like someone checking their partner’s phone, she was crossing a line, but she didn’t turn back.

  In one corner of Cassie’s room sat three violin cases and it struck Juliet that she’d not heard Cassie play the violin since she’d come home. She opened each of the cases in turn, the familiar smell of wood, resin, leaping out at her. Funny how she’d never even known she was aware of that smell and yet it was another piece of the puzzle of her childhood. There were the familiar little red cloths, the blocks of resin all used to carefully tend and nurture the instruments.

  Juliet closed the cases and then looked around the room again. She realised how little she’d been in here; like the music room, Cassie had always had a well-defined territory. There was an unfamiliar smell in here, something sweet, and she traced it to a small bottle of oil on Cassie’s bedside table. It was a bottle of frankincense – the same as she’d smelt in her mother’s room.

  Next to Anwen’s bed, she saw a rucksack and case. It felt wrong to be doing this, but she told herself this was for Cassie and for Rhys, and so Juliet started to rummage through them.

  Her heart sank at first – there was no sign of her car keys. But as she was searching through, a letter dropped open on the floor. It was on plain white paper, not expensive but matching the envelope, and was written with an ink pen – Juliet guessed it was from an older person. The address of Anwen’s flat was written neatly at the top and it was dated Saturday 20 August.

  Dear Anwen,

  I am sorry to hear things are so bad. I am planning to come over again on Sunday (28th). I enclose the card of where I’ll be staying. I would like to come with you to visit Euan. I am not sure how things will stand then, but if you meet me at my hotel we should know by then where we have to visit him. Either way, we could visit him at two o’clock, and so could you come to me about half past one? I will travel over early that morning but will stay overnight as it is too far to return again that day.

  Time is running out and I would like to see him again; it is good to mend some bridges. I admire that you have stuck by him when so many would have abandoned him after what he did.

  Any problems ring me at home. One day I’ll have to get a mobile phone!

  Best wishes,

  Aunt Jean.

  The card was for the Travelodge in Newport.

  Juliet took out her phone and noted the date and time on her calendar and started to replace everything carefully. However, as she was doing this, she saw a large zipped-up toilet bag tucked underneath everything. She took it out, it was very full, the zip strained. She started to unzip it and stared at the contents. There was a wad of notes. She flicked through it – a couple of hundred pounds maybe. What on earth was Anwen doing with that kind of money loose in her bag? She had said about working in different places, maybe some of it was cash in hand. Juliet carefully replaced it.

  She got up then and started to walk around the bedroom. She tentatively opened drawers, but they were all very tidy, their contents unremarkable. She glanced at Cassie’s iPad, opened it. It was still on and unlocked which wasn’t like Cassie. Juliet was in too deep now to stop and so, after taking a big breath, she went to the emails. There were only a few in her inbox, but she noticed there were a number of files. That was Cassie: each email put in its place. One was labelled ‘restaurant’, one ‘orchestra’, one ‘holidays’, and then, right at the bottom, a file which was called ‘boring stuff’.

  Juliet, of course, clicked on it and the first thing she saw was an email from someone called Tim. She’d never heard Cassie mention a Tim. She read the email. ‘Please come back, Cass, the doctors up here have to be better. I don’t understand why you have to go back there to live. There are so many more opportunities for you up here.’

  Juliet re-read the email. Why the talk of doctors? What was wrong with Cassie? She also noticed that this person Tim had called her sister Cass; it seemed to emphasise that Cassie had led a life separate to them in London, almost as if she’d taken on a different identity.

  Juliet read on. Cassie had replied, ‘There is no point going over this
any more, I’m staying.’

  There were previous emails, all from Tim. It seemed he’d been writing at least once a day since Cassie had come back to the island. A number of times, Tim had asked Cassie to return, and lines such as ‘you know how I feel about you’ and ‘I miss you so much’ made it clear this was a romantic relationship. Juliet was sure this was the person Cassie had been talking to on the phone in the bathroom. What was less clear was the meaning of phrases such as ‘we can get help for you’ and ‘I will pay for you to see someone privately’. Was illness the real reason for Cassie leaving the orchestra, and if so, why not tell them? It would make it so much easier for Mum to come to terms with Cassie giving up music, and they would all want to support her. As always, Juliet was aware that of the four sisters, Cassie was the one she understood least.

  Juliet took out her phone and noted down Tim’s email address. If she had the nerve, she would write to him, see if she could find out what was the matter with Cassie. She looked in one or two more drawers, but there were no more clues, although she did find an old-fashioned pager and wondered why Cassie would have held onto that.

  Juliet left the room, feeling a mixture of guilt for what she had done, relief to be out of there, disappointment at not finding her car keys, but also a sense of accomplishment. She had found out about this meeting of Anwen’s, and she’d found out about Tim.

  She was about to go downstairs when she saw Rosalind’s door ajar, and so pushed it open. The letter in the music box – would it be awful to try and find it too? After all, if she knew what it said wouldn’t it mean she could help Rosalind? Without daring to delve any further into her motives, she went in.

  19

  Rosalind’s room couldn’t have been more different to Cassie’s. Despite the window being open, there was an acrid smell, not quite drowned out by the rich mixture of perfumes, scents and hair products.

  The dressing table was crammed with beautiful bottles of perfume, oils and jewellery. There was a separate trolley of make-up, brushes and nail varnish, small cloths of all colours. There was a bin overflowing with used make-up wipes and tissues. Clothes were strewn everywhere.

  The idea of trying to find anything useful amongst all this seemed rather overwhelming, but Juliet started to open drawers anyway. Clothes spilled out of them and it was the same in the large wardrobe, where clothes draped off hangers onto the shoes below. However, next to this was a smaller wardrobe. Juliet opened it, expecting the same jumble of clothes but, to her surprise, it was organised and tidy. The dresses and tops were carefully hung on padded hangers, some were even in covers. They were glamorous, sophisticated dresses; the labels were designers Juliet had only seen in magazines. There were several pairs of shoes lined up. The one pair of Jimmy Choos she recognised, having teased Rosalind about them before, but there was half a dozen more pairs Juliet had never seen. She slid open the drawer below. In there was silk underwear and a couple of handbags. Everything was expensive, stylish.

  Juliet stood back. How on earth could Rosalind afford this stuff? She was always talking about saving up to travel and yet she was paying out for these kinds of clothes. Where would she be wearing such things anyway?

  Juliet was startled by what she thought was a door banging downstairs. She got up quickly, opened the bedroom door and listened. No, she must have imagined it, all she could hear now was the steady ticking of the grandfather clock. She went back into Rosalind’s room.

  Juliet picked up one handbag that was bulging slightly and opened it. There was a small, zipped compartment and she could see that inside was a smart, gold cigarette lighter. She was surprised Rosalind was smoking. In the main compartment, Juliet found a small, beautiful, leather notebook and she couldn’t resist flicking through it. The notes appeared to be recording dates, which, at first, she thought must be Rosalind’s dates for working at the restaurant over in Southampton. However, what surprised Juliet was that there were various locations mentioned. Sometimes hotels, sometimes restaurants. She wondered if Rosalind was working for some kind of catering agency, but she couldn’t ignore the other idea that had started to creep into her mind. Rosalind couldn’t be working as an escort or something, could she? Only the other day she’d seen something on YouTube about sugar daddies; young girls, Rosalind’s age, students, and the like, being paid to go out with older, rich men, for companionship and more. Juliet blanched. Was it possible Rosalind would do that? If Rhys knew about it, no wonder she was frantic for him not to tell anyone.

  Juliet glanced through the diary and recognised the name of the Sea Walls Hotel, which she knew was a very smart hotel in the centre of Southampton. Rosalind appeared to be working there Saturday, 3 September.

  Juliet had an idea. She took out her phone and sent a text to Gabriel.

  Found the perfect place for our meal out.

  Conscious of the amount of time she’d been in there, she went back to the door and listened. It was still quiet down there and so she continued her search.

  Finally, she found the musical box buried deep inside a small case under Rosalind’s bed. She noticed the photographs had all been removed and with a shaking hand opened the box, expecting to find the letter inside.

  Unnervingly the music started to play, and the sound of ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ echoed around the room.

  There was no letter inside, but at that moment she heard voices downstairs. Quickly, she returned the box, pushed it under the bed and went to the bedroom door.

  She heard Rosalind shouting, ‘I’ll just get a cardigan, I’m cold.’ Juliet was closing the door behind her when Rosalind appeared at the top of the stairs.

  ‘What were you doing in my room?’ Rosalind demanded.

  ‘I was just seeing if you were back, um, and here you are. I hope everything went okay?’

  Rosalind screwed her eyes up sceptically but said, ‘I think so, yes, but there is a lot to think about.’

  ‘Of course, well, I just need to sort a few things out in my room,’ said Juliet and quickly made her escape.

  That evening, they all ate in the kitchen. Anwen was still taking on the cooking duties, and rather tactfully cooked comforting rather than flashy food, presumably to lighten the mood. Juliet looked out at the darkness, and there was a slight chill to the air. Autumn evenings would soon quietly be taking over from the bright summer nights.

  ‘How about we take our pudding into the living room and watch TV,’ her mother suggested.

  They all looked a bit stunned; their mother had always insisted on them sitting at a table to eat, and the idea of eating in front of the TV was anathema. However, sitting together this evening was far from comfortable.

  ‘I think that’s a good idea,’ said Cassie. Taking her lead, they all started to gather their things.

  ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll go out to the workshop and finish some drawing,’ Juliet said.

  She took her dish out to the workshop, put the light on and sat in the armchair. She leaned back and closed her eyes; it was so quiet, and she remembered why she and her father escaped out here as often as they could.

  Juliet felt uncomfortable, guilty about what she’d been doing. It was hard to believe she’d been creeping around the house, looking through other people’s things. It was something she wouldn’t normally have done, but nothing was normal any more.

  She wandered over to her drawer, opened it and saw the old ignition key with the VW fob that her father had got Mira to hide in here. Examining it more closely this time she saw a piece of string through the ring and attached to it the remnants of a torn cardboard label with ‘Tho’ scribbled on it. She had no idea what it meant and still didn’t have any idea why this ignition key was important.

  Juliet did some sketching and eventually went back into the house. She could hear the noise of the TV and glanced in to see them all quietly staring at the screen. That any of them were taking in much was doubtful, but at least it gave them space to think.

  A wave of exhaustion washed
over her, she wasn’t up to sitting with them all, she needed to go to bed. In the kitchen, she poured some water into a glass, and then went to get her phone out of her bag, but as she was taking it out, her hand brushed against something hard in the inside zipped pocket.

  Juliet’s heart skipped a beat as she held her car keys in one hand, touched them lightly with the fingers of her other, felt the cold of the stone heart. Had someone been waiting for a chance to return them? Maybe this was some kind of mind game, trying to make Juliet doubt herself.

  But she didn’t. Juliet knew the set of keys had not been in her bag earlier. It had been on the dresser most of the day and this evening when she’d been out in the workshop. Anwen could have put the keys in at any time… so could anyone else in the house.

  Juliet stared at the keys and suddenly the situation felt shockingly real. Someone else here had taken her car keys the night Rhys had been killed and now they had returned them. That person had not owned up to it and for the life of her Juliet could think of no reason other than they had been involved somehow in Rhys’s death.

  She let the enormity of that sink in.

  Before Juliet had a chance to compose herself, Mira came bustling into the kitchen with Lola. Silently, Juliet held up her set of keys, the hard stone heart keyring jangling the keys. Her hands were shaking, and Mira frowned, looking confused.

  ‘These are my car keys,’ signed Juliet. ‘Someone put them back in my bag…’ She paused. She knew she had to ask everyone in the house the question, even Mira. ‘Did you put them in my bag? Please, Mira, tell me the truth, I won’t judge you, I just need to know.’

  Mira shook her head. ‘Of course not. Could they be different keys? A spare set?’

  ‘No, only these had this key ring on.’

  Mira signed and spoke clearly, precisely. ‘I promise you I did not take your car keys.’