Secrets in the Shadows

by Hannah Emery

  ‘But what’s the point of him loving me if I just keep messing things up? What was the point of me loving him when I knew it was doomed?’ What was the point in any of it, Louisa wondered, unaware if she was even talking out loud anymore. She stirred the casserole and eyed silent Noel, who sat poring over the book about whales Louisa had given him a few months ago. One of the guests had left it in their room, and Louisa had a feeling that Noel would like it. He liked any kind of book, as long as it was factual. He never said he liked them, but his constant reading gave him away. Mags didn’t talk to Noel that much, and Louisa wondered if that was why he was so quiet, or if he was just that way anyway. She wondered if Mags had been different and chatted to him relentlessly about life and friends and the local football team and school and what was for tea whether he would still be sitting there so quietly now, leafing silently through his borrowed pages.

  Mags gave a long sigh, which interrupted Louisa’s thoughts.

  ‘I don’t know, Lou. I don’t know what the point was. Come on, let’s have dinner.’

  ‘He didn’t even leave me anything. A parting gift, or words to remember him by. He just went. And so it seems like there was absolutely no point.’

  The point of Lewis became clear a week later, when Louisa couldn’t drink her morning cup of tea for the fifth day running, and her period was two weeks late, and she felt as though she hadn’t slept for weeks even though she went to bed at eight every night. It became clear when she felt a bubble of movement in her abdomen, when her breasts swelled like ripe fruits before her very eyes and a cloud of nausea followed her everywhere she went. It became clearest when she held in her arms her blue, screaming, brand new twin daughters. For when Lewis had disappeared, he had left Louisa not just one parting gift, but two.

  When the twins were a few weeks old, their eyes began to change colour. Louisa had hoped that their eyes wouldn’t change from their deep blue to green, because she wouldn’t have wanted to always stare into apple green eyes that reminded her of Lewis and her father. But the colour they changed to wasn’t green. It was a deep velvet violet that made Louisa think of her mother, and the boy with the purple eyes.

  Louisa remembered how her mother had cried out for the boy with the purple eyes so many times before the day she had disappeared. Rose had been always searching for him, and now, in the violet eyes of her own daughters, Louisa saw whose blood coursed around her own body and the tiny bodies of her twin daughters, and why her mother had never been able to let the boy with the purple eyes go.

  My father, she thought as she stroked the precious heads of her baby girls. She wept as she remembered the man with green eyes who she had loved for all those years, whose blood she didn’t even share. She wept as she remembered the cake he had made for her fourteenth birthday, and the shell he had left on her pillow when she first arrived to live with him, and the way he had played and walked and talked with her as she stumbled along the path of childhood. She would have been alone without him. She wondered if he had known that they were no more than acquaintances, thrown together with only her mother as a link that was as fragile as a web.

  Louisa continued to weep until she had let all her tears drip onto the babies’ downy little heads and they awoke, howling with hunger.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Grace, 2008

  ‘So,’ says Mags, eyes wide in anticipation. ‘What’s your news?’

  Grace tears a piece of ham from her slice of pizza. The twins and Eliot are round at Mags’s house for the evening. The night is an attempt by Mags at a celebration of Elsie and Eliot’s engagement the week before. A banner hangs unevenly over the table, a dated wall clock poking out from the middle. There’s confetti too, sharp little silver cupids and hearts that keep sticking to Grace’s skin.

  ‘My news?’

  ‘Yes, Elsie said you had some good news too,’ Mags said, before biting a huge chunk of pizza and leaving a string of unruly cheese to dangle on her chin.

  ‘Oh, it’s just a bit of news, really. I’ve joined a drama group. And I’ve got a part in Macbeth in December.’

  Mags beams and wipes the cheese away, leaving a smear of tomato sauce in its path. ‘That’s wonderful! I’m so pleased you’ve got yourself involved in drama again.’

  Grace pops the ham into her mouth and swallows it before answering. ‘Me too. The group seems really nice, and I’d forgotten how much I enjoy acting.’

  ‘What perfect timing for you to be distracted too,’ Mags says, more quietly, although everybody can still hear her. Grace sees Elsie look up from her pizza questioningly. Mags is staring at Elsie’s engagement ring.

  ‘I mean with the shop being quieter now half term’s over. So, Grace, what’s the part?’ Mags asks quickly, getting up from the table and going in the fridge for some ketchup.

  ‘It’s only a small part. One of the witches.’

  ‘I still think you should have got a better part than that,’ Eliot says, shaking his head sadly.

  Mags looks at Eliot suspiciously as she dumps the ketchup on the table amongst the pizza boxes and napkins. ‘Why?’

  ‘You weren’t even there when I auditioned,’ Grace points out.

  ‘I know you will have excelled. You deserved more than a witch’s role.’

  ‘At least I got a part. And if I do well, then next time I might get a main part,’ Grace says, echoing Noel’s positive words.

  ‘That’s such a cliché, Grace.’ Eliot is smiling, but his words sting Grace like nettles. ‘I’m sorry. I’m disappointed for you, that’s all. You’ve played Lady Macbeth before. That part should have been yours.’

  ‘Well, it’s not mine, this time. And I’m fine with it. So let it go,’ Grace says.

  ‘Good for you, Grace,’ Elsie says, poking Eliot in the arm. ‘I think you’ll enjoy it.’

  There’s a pause while everyone carries on eating pizza. After a few minutes, Elsie pushes her plate away and wipes her hands with a napkin. ‘Mags, I’m really glad that you asked us to come round tonight. There’s something I want to speak to you about. I can’t really go on with the wedding plans until I’ve asked you about this. I need to know something.’

  Mags glances at Grace so quickly that nobody else notices. Grace stops chewing, the pizza suddenly seeming inedible. She wonders if somehow, Elsie knows about the argument Grace had with Mags, and about the premonition of Grace marrying Eliot. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the Engaged! banner drift down on one side, the full clock suddenly revealed.

  ‘Obviously, I won’t be having any parents at the wedding,’ Elsie begins, her eyes on her napkin, which she is tearing into tiny pieces. Grace starts chewing again. ‘I don’t even really know anything about my dad, or where he might be. So I wondered if you would give me away?’

  The clock ticks, and the remaining side of the banner gives up, so that it falls down completely, swirling to the floor in a silver blur. Grace sees that Elsie is clutching Eliot’s hand tightly. Speaking about their mum and dad must have been really hard for her. It’s the second time in a week that Elsie has mentioned their parents, after over ten years of stony avoidance.

  Mags’s eyes become watery, her blue eye make-up blurring at the edges. ‘Of course I will. I would love to, Elsie.’ She looks down and clears her throat. ‘I remember planning your mum and dad’s wedding.’ Mags waits for a second before continuing. There are no objections, so she takes a breath and carries on. ‘It was exciting choosing colours and flowers with her. I was the chief bridesmaid, you see. Elsie, Louisa didn’t have her mother there when she was organising her wedding, and I know that broke her heart.’

  Elsie huffs, but her eyes fill with tears. She brushes them away savagely.

  ‘I know I won’t ever replace your mum, but I will be here for you. As little or as much as you’d like.’

  There’s a silence, and then Elsie sweeps the little pieces of napkin up with her hand. ‘You knew my mum and dad the most. Do you think they’d like it if they knew you
were giving me away?’

  ‘Yes. Louisa would have been happy about it, I’m sure. Like I said, she hated that her mother had left her alone. That’s why I can never quite believe that she … ’ Mags’s words run empty. There are none big enough. ‘Anyway,’ she continues brightly, ‘while we’re on the subject of it all, what have you decided to do about Rose House?’

  Grace glances at Elsie, who looks at Eliot, who shrugs and fiddles with his tie. ‘The market’s very unpredictable, but it’s a very attractive house,’ he says, sounding like an estate agent. ‘It would sell quite easily.’

  Grace picks up a little confetti Cupid and inspects him. She thinks of how she feels when she stays over at Elsie’s: anxious and haunted. ‘I suppose we could just put it on the market and see what happens. I know we haven’t really spoken about it properly but I’ve decided I’m fine with selling up.’

  Elsie raises her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Really? I thought you were dead against it?’

  ‘No. It was a shock. But you’ve explained what happened. I know you need to move on. We all do,’ Grace says, thinking of Noel and wishing he was here to cheer her on.

  ‘Well then, that’s settled,’ Eliot says, pulling his beer towards him and taking a long gulp. ‘I’ll contact the agents about it and confirm the sale sign can stay up. Then we can get the ball rolling.’

  As Grace watches Elsie and Eliot exchange glances, she realises that she might not believe that the sale sign going up was a mistake after all. A small fire quivers inside her at the idea that Elsie might have lied to her, that this might all have been a plot. But as she thinks of Noel, and his demand that she stop obsessing over her sister, and how different Elsie seems at the moment, how much happier she is, she takes a last bite of pizza. The dough thuds down in her stomach, quelling the fire that wants so badly to take control.

  ‘So, Elsie,’ Mags says as quiet is descending again. ‘Have you thought about your wedding dress? What kind of style do you want?’

  She’ll want something plain, Grace thinks, pushing her plate away.

  ‘Oh I don’t know, something quite plain, probably,’ Elsie says.

  ‘Haven’t you seen anything you like yet?’

  Elsie shrugs. ‘Not really. There are a few nice ones in the magazines I’ve been looking in, but I haven’t really been dress shopping yet.’

  Mags stands up suddenly. ‘I have something to show you two girls.’

  She’s back in a matter of seconds, after the twins and Eliot have heard her thud up the stairs, rifle and rustle through paper and bags, and then return down the stairs heavily and out of breath. When she returns to the table, she is holding a huge white box.

  ‘Let’s go in the lounge, girls, and I’ll show you what’s in here. Eliot, get yourself another beer. We won’t be long.’

  As they all move to the dark, cluttered lounge, Grace and Elsie look at each other, each wondering if the other knows what’s in the box.

  Mags flicks the lights on and places it gently on the oriental rug. ‘I wasn’t going to show you this, yet. I got it out of the loft when you got engaged. I suppose I felt a bit nostalgic, which isn’t like me,’ she sniffs. ‘Anyway, as you’ve been talking about your mum tonight, I feel like you need to see this.’

  Mags lifts the top from the box, and pulls out a wedding dress. It’s crumpled, and the once-white netting and lace have an unpleasant grey tinge to them. But Grace can’t see any of that: Grace is looking at the lace daisies that are stitched delicately over the arms, and seeing the vision she knows so well flash into her mind. She can’t help it: she gasps and puts her hand over her mouth.

  ‘I know,’ Mags says, misunderstanding. ‘Your mum gave this to me around the time your dad left. She didn’t want it in the house, but she didn’t want to get rid of it either. She said that if she threw it away it would be giving up hope of him coming back, and she didn’t want to do that. I put it away when she gave it to me, and I haven’t had it out since.’

  Elsie pulls the dress from the box and holds it up against herself. She is kneeling down, so the tired fabric flows out onto the rug. The musty scent of slow decay lingers in the air.

  ‘I’m sure your mother would love you to wear it on your own wedding day. That’s if you want to,’ Mags says to Elsie carefully, eyeing Grace.

  Grace looks down, looks anywhere except at the dress she knows so intricately: the way the sleeves would be slightly too long on her and cover her wrists, the velvety feel of the daisies underneath her fingertips, the surprising weight of the short train at the back. She looks at Elsie, and sees how her sister is actually considering Mags’s offer. For the first time since she had the vision of marrying Eliot in this dress, Grace wonders if she might have got it wrong. But before she can feel the doubt, it has swooped away, and she knows that she, not Elsie, is destined to wear this dress.

  ‘Well?’ Mags prompts, sensitive pauses never her strong point. ‘What do you think, Elsie?’

  Elsie suddenly drops the sleeve she has been admiring as though it is burning hot.

  ‘No,’ she says. ‘I’ll choose my own. I don’t want to wear this one. But thanks.’ She shuffles to her feet. ‘I fancy another slice of pizza, if there is any,’ she says as she rushes back into the kitchen.

  At about eleven o’clock, Mags’s pronounced yawns and the thought of being at the shop all day the next day make Grace stand and clear the pizza boxes. Elsie has brought her car tonight, and as they drive away from the house, Grace leans forward in the back seat and touches her sister’s shoulder.

  ‘It’s a really nice idea for Mags to give you away.’

  ‘Well, it’s what I want.’

  ‘Talking about Mum and Dad tonight reminded me of something I found,’ Grace says as the car swings onto the desolate promenade. ‘There were some postcards in one of the boxes we brought down from your loft.’

  Elsie nods, keeping her eyes on the road. ‘Were they Mum’s?’

  ‘Yes. They were from our dad, I think. They didn’t say a lot. Just that he still loved her. Then there was a last one, from around the time she left us, that was blank. That might have had something to do with why she left. The things she did might not have been to do with us. It might have all been because of him.’

  Elsie nods again, and then turns up the radio. Eliot begins singing along to the song that has come on: a slow, pained Indie track.

  Grace thinks of the other postcards to Rose. She thinks of the one that promises a gift and that talks of knowing what should be and will be. She watches Elsie and Eliot together in the front, Eliot singing, and Elsie smiling at his efforts to hit each note. She sits back in her seat, and decides to keep that postcard to herself.

  When she lets herself into her flat, she picks up the mail from the mat in the hall. She went straight to Mags’s house from the shop and so hasn’t been home yet tonight. There’s a bill, and a postcard. The postcard is from London, with four predictable pictures of tourist attractions in each corner: Big Ben, the London Eye, Buckingham Palace and the Tower of London. Grace smiles, knowing who it’s from. She flips it over and sees Noel’s handwriting: neat and masculine.

  Another postcard to add to your collection. Saw it and thought of you. N x

  Grace thinks of Noel buying the postcard, picking it from a rack, queuing to pay, finding Grace’s postcode, finding a stamp, stopping at a postbox. Writing a kiss.

  She flops on the sofa and takes her mobile phone out of her bag. Her mind races as she presses ‘call’, images whirling around: the wedding dress, Elsie’s engagement ring, the postcards. When Mags eventually answers the phone, Grace takes a moment to respond, to push through the pictures in her mind and string together what she wants to say.

  ‘Sorry to call so late. Thanks for tonight,’ she begins with.

  Mags is guarded. She doesn’t want Grace to ruin everything. She thinks it’s imminent. It’s all so clear in her pauses, in her stilted replies. ‘No problem.’

  ‘Mum’s wedding dr
ess is the one I’m wearing in my premonition. On my wedding day, with Eliot,’ Grace bursts out. There’s silence. Grace imagines Mags on the phone in her cluttered lounge, a lounge where their mother should sit with Mags and talk and drink tea with her friend like a normal middle-aged woman. But instead, her mother is buried somewhere, and nobody knows where.

  ‘You didn’t say there was a specific premonition like that,’ Mags says.

  ‘It’s always the same.’

  ‘You need to ignore it.’ The control in Mags’s voice begins to unravel.

  ‘I know. I need you to get rid of it. The dress.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Elsie doesn’t want it. Perhaps if the dress is gone, the visions will change.’

  ‘I think it’s the right thing to do.’

  ‘I’m so sick of seeing that wedding in my mind, Mags. I’m tired of it controlling everything I think.’ I’m tired of not being able to just love Noel, she adds silently.

  ‘So, you don’t really want Eliot?’ Mags asks.

  ‘I don’t know, Mags. I saw the vision of our future within an hour of meeting him. I used to think that I would have fallen in love with him anyway. But these days I’m not so sure. It’s so hard to know if thinking I’m meant to marry Eliot makes me want to. But I’m so frightened of getting involved with anybody else in case my future with Eliot ends up hurting them.’

  There’s a pause as Grace thinks of Noel, as Mags sighs, knowing the pattern of all this better than Grace.

  ‘I just think that if I could somehow manage to get rid of the visions, or change them slightly, then things might be a bit clearer.’

  ‘Then the dress is gone,’ Mags says, and Grace can hear the lift of a smile in her voice.

  It is a couple of weeks later when Elsie takes the phone call that makes everything lurch forwards, away from what they all know. Her mobile, normally buried deep in one of her huge, bright handbags, has been sitting on the counter of the shop all morning. When it rings, Elsie springs forwards hastily, snatching it from the counter and answering within seconds.