The Mum Mystery

by Gwyneth Rees

  ‘Dad’s gonna kill me, yeah . . . yeah . . . but he’s not here, is he?’

  ‘Yeah, Esmie – stop being such a little goody-goody!’ Jake teased.

  I had been about to tell them that, right at that moment, Dad’s car was pulling into our drive (which I knew would be as much of a surprise to Matty as it was to me, since our father hardly ever got home this early). But instead I kept my mouth shut.

  As Dad walked in – the sound of his entrance drowned out by the radio – Jake and Matty both had their backs to the door. Jake was still larking about with the camisole and Matty was giggling, the pink knickers still on his head as he bent over and rummaged around in the clothes- basket to see what else was there. Dad stared at them angrily for a few moments, before stepping forward and whacking my brother on the bum (on the non-wounded side and not as hard as he might have done, which I guess shows that he’s not that ruthless).

  ‘Hey!’ Matthew protested indignantly, clearly thinking it was me until he turned round and saw Dad glaring at him.

  ‘I told him you’d be mad at him, Dad,’ I said brightly, stepping forward to snatch the knickers off my brother’s head.

  Jake hastily dropped the camisole back in with the other clothes. ‘I’m bailing, Matt,’ he said quickly. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  As Jake made a rapid exit, Dad switched off the radio. Then he turned to face my brother, whose hair was standing on end with all the static.

  ‘Dad, we were just mucking around,’ Matty blurted. He was blushing bright red now.

  ‘So I see,’ Dad snapped. ‘And would Jake muck around like that at his house, with his mothers underwear, do you think?’

  Matty opened his mouth but he seemed incapable of further speech.

  ‘He probably would,’ I put in helpfully. ‘He’d probably muck around like that with his granny’s underwear. Jake is totally gross.’

  Dad ignored me and kept his attention fixed on my brother. ‘Now you listen to me, Matthew. When Lizzie moves in with us, I expect you to treat her with the same respect you’d treat –’ But he broke off then, as if he was suddenly worried that he might have gone too far.

  I knew what Dad had been about to say though – and I didn’t think it was going too far. If you ask me, the trouble with Dad is that he never goes far enough where the matter of finding us a new mum is concerned.

  ‘It’s a pity Lizzie’s not really our mother,’ I pointed out quickly. ‘You know, Dad . . . the way she’d be if you actually got married to her . . . Well, she’d be our stepmother then, not our mother, but that’s practically the same thing.’ (A couple of weekends ago, Dad had taken Lizzie away for a romantic mini-break and I had got very excited because, according to a survey in one of Holly’s mum’s magazines, a significantly high proportion of women reported being on a weekend trip away when their partners proposed. But Dad and Lizzie still weren’t engaged when they came back, and ever since then I’d been trying to give Dad a bit of a nudge.)

  Unfortunately that seemed to make Dad even more irritated. ‘Is your homework done, Esmie?’ he asked, sounding like he hoped it wasn’t so that he could send me off to do it, preferably to the furthest-away room in our house.

  ‘Not exactly, but—’

  ‘Well would you please go and do it exactly?’ And I ended up getting sent upstairs along with my brother.

  I was in the middle of my maths homework when I heard Lizzie arriving, and I was having trouble concentrating because I kept thinking about what had happened earlier with Nevada.

  I had brought the jewellery box back up to my bedroom, and the more I thought about it, the harder it was to believe that it could really give out psychic vibes. Of course, it was just possible that Nevada’s aunt or uncle had told her my mum’s name. They had never known my mum because they had only moved into our street a few years ago, but I supposed that one of our other neighbours could have mentioned her.

  As soon as I’d finished the maths problem I was working on, I decided to go and say hello to Lizzie. The living-room door was open and I could hear Dad and her talking as I descended the stairs.

  ‘So did you get Matthew to the doctor’s this morning?’ Lizzie was asking.

  ‘Eventually. I guess he’s at that really self-conscious sort of age.’

  ‘Unlike Esmie.’ Lizzie sounded amused as she added, ‘She certainly seems to be enjoying all the drama as usual!’

  Dad gave a short laugh. ‘I think she’s congratulating herself on saving Matty’s life!’

  ‘Did Matty say any more about how it happened?’

  ‘No, but I’ve a feeling it was some prank or other,’ Dad replied.

  I burst into the room, exclaiming indignantly, ‘I am not enjoying all the drama!’ It was the first time I had ever heard Lizzie say anything about me that was remotely uncomplimentary, and I was a little bit miffed.

  ‘Oh, Esmie, I didn’t mean it in a horrible way,’ Lizzie said quickly. ‘I just meant that you and Holly do always seem to find yourselves at the centre of the action – that’s all. Listen, I’ve got some good news.’

  And it turned out that she had just taken a couple to see her flat and they had liked it so much that they’d wanted to rent it as soon as possible. In fact they had even said that they’d prefer to buy it rather than rent it and had offered her a really good price for it.

  ‘That’s brilliant news!’ I exclaimed, beaming at her. Now Lizzie could sell her flat and move in with us and hopefully it wouldn’t be long before Dad asked her to marry him.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Lizzie said, ‘and they totally understood when I told them I’d rather not sell it just yet.’

  I felt a tiny pang of worry as I remembered what my brother had said to me the day before. ‘Matty says you don’t want to sell your flat because you might want to move back into it when you get fed up living with us, but that’s not true is it?’ I couldn’t help blurting out.

  Lizzie and Dad both stared at me.

  ‘Matthew said what?’ Dad said, and I suddenly realized that I might have landed my brother in more trouble.

  ‘John, it’s OK,’ Lizzie said quickly. ‘Matty isn’t really himself at the moment.’

  Lizzie was a total saint, I thought, though I didn’t reckon she’d feel quite so sympathetic towards Matty if she’d seen the way he’d been wearing her knickers on his head earlier on.

  ‘Lizzie’s right, Dad,’ I said. ‘Matty tried to phone Jennifer when we got home from school but she wouldn’t speak to him. He was crying afterwards, though he pretended not to be. Holly says boys don’t like people to see them cry because they think it’s not macho. Do you think that’s true, Dad?’

  ‘Well . . .’ He looked like he wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

  ‘Holly reckons boys are really too afraid to show their feelings,’ I continued, ‘whereas girls aren’t. She read an article about it in one of her mum’s magazines. It was called: Men versus Women: which is really the weaker sex?’

  Dad rolled his eyes. (He quite often rolls his eyes when I quote things that Holly has said.)

  ‘John, maybe you should go and talk to Matthew now,’ Lizzie suggested, sounding worried.

  ‘Sure. I just want to see the news first.’

  ‘It’s important that Dad watches the news so that he can keep up to date with all the latest murders,’ I told her. ‘In fact, I think I’d better watch it too.’

  Dad sighed impatiently. ‘Esmie, have you finished your homework?’

  ‘Not completely,’ I replied, ‘but—’

  ‘Well please go and do it completely.’

  I sighed too, because Dad can be so predictable sometimes. I left the room like he’d said, but as soon as I reached the stairs I stopped to listen to the rest of their conversation.

  ‘John, he’s clearly in a real state over this business with Jennifer.’

  ‘I know he is, but he’ll get over it. They’ve only been dating a few months. I had loads of girlfriends when I was his age.’
/>   ‘It’s not the same. He adored Jennifer. And have you ever thought that he might be more vulnerable than other boys his age when it comes to losing people?’

  There was a long pause. ‘You mean because he lost Claire?’

  ‘Just go and speak to him, John. Please.’

  As I headed for my bedroom I felt puzzled by what Lizzie had said and I wondered if she was right. Was Matthew more vulnerable to losing the other people in his life because our mother had died? And if he was, did that mean I was as well? I remembered that Matthew had been inconsolable for days after our grandmother first moved to Chicago with her new husband. He had been ten at the time, and Dad had had to take time off work to look after him because he’d refused to go to school and refused to stay with our childminder. He had calmed down in the end but he had been very clingy to Dad for a long time afterwards. I had been upset too, of course, but I had got over it much quicker than my brother. And now I was the one who was always on the phone to Grandma – not Matthew.

  The next day was Saturday. Lizzie had gone out, and Dad and I were in the middle of eating breakfast in the kitchen when there was a loud ringing on our doorbell. Dad went to answer it and I followed him.

  It was Nevada’s uncle, and this time he looked furious.

  ‘If it’s about Hercule—’ Dad began.

  ‘This morning I found paw prints painted all over the bonnet of my car!’

  Dad looked confused. ‘When you say painted—’

  ‘Red paw prints painted all across my bonnet. And I know who’s responsible!’

  ‘Look I really don’t think Hercule—’ Dad began.

  ‘I’m talking about your son! My wife saw him and that friend of his hanging around in the street yesterday evening. That spray-paint doesn’t come off, you know. Now my bonnet’s ruined and I want to know what you’re going to do about it!’

  Dad looked astounded. ‘Did your wife actually see my son spray-painting your car?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Because I find that very hard to believe. He’s not a vandal. Look, I’ll speak to him and see if he knows anything, but I suggest you make an official complaint down at the police station.’

  As Dad closed the front door I looked up the stairs and saw Matthew standing at the top in his pyjama bottoms. He had a surprised sort of expression on his face as if he couldn’t believe that Dad had just stood up for him like that.

  Dad told him to get dressed and come downstairs. I thought it was a bit strange that Dad wasn’t launching into an interrogation straight away, until I realized that he wanted some time to question me first.

  ‘Esmie, how long was Jake here yesterday evening?’ he asked when we were back in the kitchen with our breakfasts in front of us again.

  ‘Not that long. He just came round to see how Matty was.’

  ‘And did they go outside?’

  I nodded. ‘But only for a short time.’ Not that you needed a long time to spray-paint some paw prints on a car, I thought. I remembered how Matty and Jake had seemed in really high spirits when they’d come back inside again. And there was the even more incriminating fact that they had spray-painted the school sign only a couple of days before, using the same colour paint. But of course, Dad didn’t know anything about that.

  Matty came downstairs twenty minutes later and stood at the sink munching toast while Dad asked him about Mr Stevens’s allegation. He had stopped limping now, but he was still avoiding sitting down whenever possible.

  ‘We did go out the front for a little while last night, but so what?’ Matthew said defensively, avoiding meeting Dad’s gaze.

  ‘Well, what were you doing out there?’ Dad wanted to know.

  ‘Just having a private chat without big-ears listening in,’ Matthew answered, looking sideways at me. (And I may as well admit now that that has got to be the most plausible excuse my brother has ever come up with.)

  Dad sighed. ‘Well, that much I can believe.’ He paused. ‘So while you were out there, did you see anyone else hanging around?’

  ‘Only Hercule. He had a paintbrush in one paw and a pot of paint hooked over the other. I didn’t think anything of it at the time but –’ My brother started to giggle.

  ‘Matthew, this isn’t funny,’ Dad began, although he had the trace of a smile on his face too. ‘Look, if you saw anything—’

  Just then the doorbell rang again.

  Dad sighed. ‘If that’s Frank I want you to stay out of the way.’

  As soon as he left the kitchen, I homed in on my brother. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? It’s just like what you did to the school sign!’

  Matthew gave an irritating little smirk. ‘You can’t prove anything, Esmie – and neither can Dad.’

  ‘It’s for you, Esmie!’ Dad shouted from the hall.

  I immediately thought it must be Holly coming to make up with me, and I hurried to the front door.

  It was Nevada. ‘Esmie, I need to speak to you in private.’

  I led her up to my room, where I quickly straightened my duvet and pulled back the curtains. ‘Your uncle just came over here about his car,’ I said.

  Nevada nodded. ‘He’s really furious about it. He’s phoned the garage and he has to report it to the police or he won’t be able to claim on his insurance. He wanted to give them Matthew’s name, but Aunt Ruth’s made him promise not to. She didn’t actually see Matthew do it, and she doesn’t want to fall out with your dad as well as with Mrs Lewis.’ She paused. ‘The thing is, even if your brother did do it, Carys isn’t going to hold it against him. She really wants to go out with him on a date. That’s what I came to tell you.’

  ‘I haven’t even shown Matthew her photo yet,’ I said.

  ‘Well, you’d better hurry up. I’ll give you her mobile number, and if he wants to meet her, tell him to text her. He can’t call at the house or Uncle Frank will have a fit.’

  ‘I’ll tell him,’ I said.

  As Nevada was leaving my room she noticed the photograph that always stands on my dressing table.

  ‘Is that your mum?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can I touch it?’

  I nodded, starting to feel the back of my neck go tingly as she picked up the photograph and ran her finger gently across the glass covering my mother’s face.

  ‘Can I have another look at jewellery box?’

  I nodded again and watched her carefully pick that up too, lifting the lid to reveal the inside, which was still totally empty. Somehow I hadn’t been able to bring myself to fill it with my own jewellery yet.

  ‘It’s just that I’ve been getting some other names in my head,’ she said softly. ‘I’m not sure if they were friends of your mum or something. The names are Rusty . . . Kirsten . . . and Amanda . . .’

  I frowned. We were still in touch with quite a few of my mother’s friends and none of them were called that. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said.

  ‘Well, those are the names I’m getting. They must have been her friends when she was younger or something. You said this was her jewellery box when she was your age, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’ I trailed off. To be honest I was starting to feel a bit sceptical about Nevada’s psychic skills. After all, it was easy enough to pluck three names out of the air and tell me they must have been my mother’s friends when she was a girl. I mean, how could I ever prove or disprove that?

  Nevada seemed to sense how I was feeling. ‘If you don’t believe me, you should ask someone who knew your mum as a child,’ she said. ‘Has she got any brothers or sisters?’

  ‘My grandma in America would be the best person,’ I said. ‘She’d know the names of the friends my mum had when she was my age.’

  ‘Ask her then.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘And don’t forget to ask Matthew about Carys. She’s not doing anything tonight if he wants to take her out.’

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘It’s Saturday. Isn’t that when you said Jennifer
works at Burger King?’

  I nodded. Nevada had a point. ‘I’ll ask him today,’ I said.

  ‘Hey, do you want to come and have a look at my uncle’s car?’ she added as an afterthought.

  So I went outside with her and had a look. On the car’s shiny white bonnet, two sets of paw prints had been sprayed, not very neatly, in bright red paint.

  ‘It isn’t that funny, is it?’ she said. ‘Especially since it won’t wash off.’

  ‘It’s not funny at all,’ I agreed. And suddenly I felt really ashamed of my brother.

  When I got back to our house I went straight up to Matty’s room. ‘You’ve made a real mess of Mr Stevens’s car, Matthew,’ I told him. ‘Now he’s got to take it to the garage and get the bonnet totally resprayed, and it’s going to cost loads of money.’

  ‘Look, Esmie, it’s got nothing to do with you,’ he grunted.

  ‘Yes it has,’ I replied. ‘I don’t want to watch you turn into a criminal and get sent to prison, OK?’

  ‘Esmie, don’t be daft!’

  ‘You just broke the law, Matthew!’ I snapped. ‘And if you don’t promise not to do anything like this again, then I’m going to tell Dad. I reckon he’ll know how to make you stop.’

  ‘Hey, come off it, Ez!’

  ‘Well, promise me then.’

  ‘OK, OK, I promise. Look, Jake and I got a bit carried away last night, that’s all.’

  ‘Lizzie’s right,’ I said crossly. ‘You’re not yourself and it’s all because of Jennifer. But that’s no excuse! You’ve got to either get her back or get over her! Here!’ And I thrust the photo of Carys into his hand, telling him that she had already spotted him from across the road, and that she fancied him and wanted to go out on a date with him.

  When he had finished gaping at me, he looked at the photo and I could tell he was impressed with Carys’s looks. ‘The thing is, Esmie,’ he said, handing it back to me, ‘I don’t think I can go out with anyone else at the moment.’

  ‘Listen, Matthew, if you take Carys to Burger King tonight it might make Jennifer jealous enough to want you back.’

  He frowned. ‘I couldn’t do that.’ ‘Why not? If you want her back, isn’t it worth trying anything?’