The Secrets of Sunshine

by Phaedra Patrick

  Trash rustled along the street and pressed against his ankles as he walked to the house on Whitby Street. On a brown patch of ground, two mongrel dogs tore around a broken pram.

  This was an area of the city Mitchell never ventured to. There was a pressure building up behind his eyes that he attributed to the change in the weather. He rubbed the space between them and read the message on Barry’s phone again to make sure he’d got the right address.

  Pop music blared from inside the house. Mitchell rang the doorbell and waited until the door opened a little. A safety chain tugged tight across the opening and an eye appeared at the gap.

  ‘Yeah?’ a woman demanded.

  ‘Um, I’m Mitchell Fisher,’ he said. ‘I’m here for my toolbox.’

  ‘You on your own?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The chain rattled and the door opened fully. ‘Follow me. The culprit is on the sofa. He can get real nervy about strangers.’

  Mitchell followed the woman along a red carpet that was specked with grit. She wore hoop earrings with the circumference of small saucers and supermarket style Ugg boots. The white walls of the hallway were full of scuff marks and cheap framed pictures.

  ‘I’m Margie, and Petey is very sorry.’ She raised her voice as she entered her front room. ‘He’s very sorry. Aren’t you, Petey?’

  Mitchell didn’t hear a response.

  ‘Come in, love.’

  They entered the crowded sitting room, which was covered in piles of objects. He spotted a full-length mirror, a large shiny lamp and a stainless steel shovel. He wondered if they were ready to be taken to a charity shop or car boot sale. A teenager sat slouched in an armchair, scratching his arm and watching an Australian soap opera on the TV. Mitchell took a second look at him. He recognized him from Redford, carrying a shovel, just before Yvette fell.

  Margie swiped his hand away. ‘Stop picking your skin. What have you got to say to the man, Petey?’

  ‘I dunno.’

  ‘You’re very sorry, aren’t you? Very, very sorry.’

  ‘I’m very sorry, Margie.’

  ‘Say it to ’im, not me.’

  The young man gave Mitchell the briefest look. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘For what?’ Margie shouted at him.

  ‘For taking your toolbox, mister.’

  Mitchell followed Petey’s sheepish gaze to where his toolbox sat in the middle of the floor. On top of it were a pizza cutter and a chunky necklace made out of plastic gems.

  Margie picked up a silver sequinned skirt and tossed it off the sofa so Mitchell could sit down. ‘He’s got this thing, you see,’ she said. ‘He collects shiny stuff, can’t help it. It was okay when he was a kid, funny even. But now he’s an adult…’ She shook her head. ‘Had a busy one, that day, he did. Came back with a right load of gear I’m trying to trace and return, a flippin’ shovel included.’

  Petey looking longingly at Mitchell’s toolbox.

  ‘Eyes off,’ Margie snapped. She moved the necklace and pizza cutter off the top of it. ‘You’ve caused enough trouble, you ’ave.’

  Mitchell heard the strain in her voice. He had originally thought she was in her forties, but now glancing at the dark circles under her eyes, he could see she was much younger. ‘It’s okay,’ he said softly.

  ‘No. It’s not.’ She rubbed her face with both hands and held them there for a few moments, as if she was counting during a game of hide-and-seek. When she let them fall away, her eyes glistened with tears. ‘Look. Can I make you a brew or something?’

  ‘A cup of tea would be good.’

  As soon as she left the room, Petey turned up the volume on the TV even higher. Australian voices boomed around the room.

  ‘Turn that down now,’ Margie yelled.

  Petey stuck his bottom teeth over his top lip and stared at the TV, before switching it off. Then his face appeared to morph into a child’s and he flashed the sweetest smile at Mitchell. ‘Sorry, mister.’

  Margie set a cup of brick-orange tea on a glass coffee table in front of Mitchell. ‘No biscuits, sorry.’

  ‘It’s fine, I’m just relieved to have my tools back. I need them for work.’

  ‘Look through the box before you take it. Make sure nothing is missing. I didn’t tell Petey you were coming or else he might ’ave vanished and took your box with ’im.’

  ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘My boyfriend, Malcolm, saw a note on the bridge, and then he saw Petey’s new toolbox. Put two and two together, I did. Petey told Malcolm he’d got a job, and the tools were for that.’ She tutted loudly. ‘I told ’im our Petey can’t concentrate on work. Had a fall when he was a kid that damaged him.’ She tapped her temple. ‘Never been the same since. I was supposed to be looking after ’im that day. One minute he was sat on the bed and next thing he’s on the floor, crying ’is eyes out.

  ‘As he got older, we could tell things weren’t quite right with ’im. Ma blamed me.’ Margie wiped at her nose. ‘She couldn’t deal with ’im being different so she scarpered and left us to it. So, I got ’im. Had to be a flippin’ ma and a sister to ’im after that. He’s a nice kid really, but can’t resist shiny stuff. Walks around the city with sticky fingers.’ She leaned forwards and squinted at Mitchell. ‘You gonna tell on ’im or what?’

  Mitchell shook his head. ‘No. Please don’t worry. I’m pleased to get this back.’

  ‘You’ve got to be honest, don’t you? Luckily the police have been good with ’im. “Petey up to his old tricks again?” one said when I took a necklace to the station. He just gets obsessed with stuff.’ She raised her voice again. ‘Did you steal this man’s toolbox from the bridge, Petey?’

  ‘He left it there. Jumped off, he did,’ Petey replied.

  ‘Don’t tell me no fibs.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Mitchell intervened. ‘I helped a lady who fell from the bridge into the river. When I got back to the bridge my toolbox was gone.’

  Margie closed an eye. ‘I heard about that. Was she all right?’

  ‘I’m still trying to find her.’

  She nodded once. ‘Oi, Petey. Did you see that woman on the bridge? Did you see where she went to?’

  ‘Stop it, Margie.’

  ‘You need to tell this fella. Tell ’im, or he might have you down the station again. You ’ear me?’

  Peter pulled on his T-shirt sleeve. ‘She wore yellow.’

  ‘Yes, she did.’ Mitchell sat forwards. ‘The woman who fell wore a yellow dress.’

  ‘She met her twin.’

  ‘A twin? Really?’ Margie said. ‘Any other nuggets in your ’ead?’

  ‘She was shiny. Not like you,’ Petey snapped back.

  The two of them glared at each other, and Petey folded his arms. He peered at Mitchell through his fringe. ‘Her twin was shiny.’ He pressed a finger to his collarbone and drew a semicircle.

  Margie puffed out her cheeks. ‘Might have known it. You spotted ’er necklace.’

  He nodded. ‘Big and gold and shiny.’

  ‘You should keep your eyes to yourself.’

  ‘Big, shiny pineapple.’

  A shiver ran down Mitchell’s spine and Liza’s photo flashed into his mind. The three sisters in a row, Liza, Yvette and Naomi. They looked so alike.

  ‘So, you saw a woman and she wore a gold pineapple necklace?’ he confirmed.

  Peter nodded and his eyes glowed. ‘Shone like the sun, it did.’

  Margie tossed her head at Mitchell. ‘That mean something to you?’

  Mitchell breathed deeply. He stood up and took hold of his toolbox handle without checking all the tools were inside. ‘Yes. It does. Can you tell me anything else about the twin?’

  ‘You’re wasting your time,’ Margie said. ‘He’d have been looking at her necklace more than her.’

  Petey shrugged a shoulder, agreeing.

  Mitchell nodded. ‘Thank you, Margie. I should give you a reward.’

  ‘No need for that. Just doing what’s right.�
� Margie bristled. She stood up and wrapped her arm around Petey’s neck in a headlock. She shook her fist in his face before pressing the lightest kiss against his forehead. ‘He’s all right, really. Not such a bad ’un.’

  Peter grinned up at her. ‘Love ya, sis.’

  Margie accompanied Mitchell to the door. ‘It don’t get no easier,’ she sniffed as she unfastened the latch.

  He wasn’t sure what he could say. ‘You’re doing your best.’

  She shook her head and opened the door. ‘It never feels good enough.’

  As Mitchell walked away, the clouds had grown even darker and rain pricked his cheeks. He pictured Poppy making a crown with her fingers behind her head, and Liza doing the same.

  But most of all he saw the large gold pineapple necklace that Naomi Bradfield wore in the photo of her laughing with her sisters. Had she really been on the bridge that day, at the same time as Yvette? What was she hiding from them?

  When he turned the corner, the rain fell harder, drops hissing as they hit the still-hot pavement. After texting Liza to tell her he was going to call around on his way home, Mitchell dug his hands into his pockets. He walked quickly, curving his back against the weather, wondering just what was going on in the Bradfield family.

  23

  Pineapple

  When Mitchell approached Liza’s house, he felt fidgety with nerves at what he had to tell her. The rain had yet to come down fully, but the clouds were growing even darker and wet specks were more frequent on the pavement. He placed his toolbox on Liza’s doorstep and knocked on her door. As he waited for her to answer, his insides churned.

  She greeted him with a friendly smile and it felt good to be so welcomed. ‘This is a nice surprise,’ she said. ‘Luckily for you, I’m not working this afternoon.’

  ‘Hi,’ he said, the lightness in his voice not reflecting the turmoil he felt.

  When he followed Liza into the hallway, he noticed there was something different about her today. Her perfume had a tropical, fruity aroma and her lips were bright pink when they were usually bare. He wondered if he had caught her on her way out somewhere, but she didn’t mention anything.

  ‘You’ve got your toolbox back,’ she noted happily as they reached the kitchen. ‘That’s so great. Cup of tea?’

  ‘I thought it was gone forever.’ He could hear that he sounded too chipper. ‘And I’d love a drink.’

  She picked up her teapot and dropped in a couple of tea bags. ‘Where did you find your tools?’

  ‘A young man called Petey took them from the bridge.’

  ‘He stole them from you?’

  ‘I don’t think he could help himself.’

  She stared at him quizzically.

  ‘He collects shiny things,’ Mitchell explained. ‘I think his sister has a lot on her plate dealing with him and the stuff he brings home. He took my toolbox and a shovel that day.’

  ‘Hmm, that’s most unusual…’

  Mitchell pursed his lips, thinking of how to broach the subject of Naomi. He must have paused a bit too long, because Liza noticed.

  ‘Anything wrong?’ she asked, setting down two teacups and a jug of milk on the kitchen table. She sat down and poured him a cup of tea.

  Mitchell pulled out a chair and joined her. He sipped the tea slowly. ‘Well, um, Petey said he saw Yvette, before and after her accident,’ he said. ‘I think he might have been watching her…’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t like the sound of that. It seems suspicious.’

  ‘No, not in that way.’ He realized he had to just spit it out. ‘Petey said he saw Yvette meet with her twin on the bridge. Someone who looked like her, and she wore a gold pineapple pendant. I thought it sounded like Naomi.’

  Liza digested his words and began fiddling with her pink Perspex earring. ‘Well, it can’t possibly have been,’ she said snippily. ‘This Petey person stole from you, so he can’t be very trustworthy. Naomi would have said something to me if she’d seen Yvette that day.’

  Mitchell held her gaze. ‘He gave a clear description of her.’

  Liza blew into her tea but didn’t drink it, nursing the cup instead. ‘You’re right,’ she said after a long while. ‘This is very strange, and I’m not sure what to think. Why would Naomi have been on the bridge with Yvette? She can’t possibly have seen Yvette and not told us…’

  ‘Perhaps you should ask her,’ Mitchell suggested gently.

  ‘But then she might think it sounds crazy, too.’

  For a while, the only sound between them was the rattle of china cups against saucers as they sipped their tea.

  Eventually, Liza gave a loud tut and Mitchell wasn’t sure if it was aimed at him or not. ‘I’ll have to speak to her, won’t I? She’s the only one who can tell us that Petey was mistaken. He might have seen Naomi on the bridge another day, or he could have totally concocted this story. That’s possible, isn’t it?’

  Even though he thought it was unlikely, Mitchell nodded.

  Liza took her mobile out of her pocket. Her eyes swept around the room as she waited for Naomi to answer the call.

  Mitchell’s heart pumped and he straightened up a place mat on the table.

  ‘She’s not picking up.’ Liza gnawed on her bottom lip. ‘Maybe she’s gone shopping or something. I need her to tell me that she wasn’t on the bridge that day, and that she doesn’t know anything about Yvette’s disappearance… She can’t possibly have lied to me about this.’

  He heard urgency rising in her words. ‘We can go there now, if you like?’ he offered. ‘I just need to be at home when Poppy gets back from the school club.’

  Liza hesitated at first, but then nodded. She grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair and pushed her arm clumsily down the sleeve. ‘Please. Let’s go.’

  When she and Mitchell got outside, they both slid silently into her car and the sky above looked gloomier than ever.

  Naomi’s house was a half-hour drive away. She lived on an estate of executive semi-detached brick houses, which had at least two cars sitting on each of the driveways.

  ‘I like this area,’ Mitchell said, looking around admiringly. He imagined insurance brokers and business owners might live here. It was somewhere he and Anita would have aspired to live.

  After parking, Liza pulled on her handbrake. ‘I’m really proud of her. She’s totally gorgeous and has a lovely home and family. And Yvette is so clever, too…’

  She didn’t elaborate further and Mitchell thought she sounded rueful. He was an only child himself, and wasn’t used to the intricacies of growing up with siblings and the competition that might bring about. Sometimes Liza was so bright and full of life, and at other times her vulnerability felt raw to him. He side-glanced at her deep brown eyes, and couldn’t remain silent. ‘You’re all those things, too,’ he said awkwardly.

  Liza’s cheeks flushed. ‘Thanks, that’s nice to hear, among all this… But, I wasn’t fishing for compliments, you know.’

  Mitchell opened his car door. ‘Come on,’ he said kindly. ‘Let’s go and find out what’s going on for ourselves.’

  When Naomi answered the door, she wore a string of spaghetti stuck to the front of her T-shirt. Her greeting was harassed rather than friendly. ‘Oh, it’s you guys. Was I expecting you?’

  Liza shook her head. ‘It wasn’t a planned visit.’

  ‘We were, um, passing by,’ Mitchell said, and it sounded false, even to him.

  ‘Well, that’s okay. I mean, I was in the middle of tidying up, but…’ She cast her hand around weakly at the piles of toys and shoes in her hallway. ‘Sometimes it’s difficult to make even the slightest impact on this stuff.’

  Mitchell and Liza followed Naomi through to her kitchen.

  ‘I’ve run out of tea bags, but I have blackcurrant cordial,’ she said. ‘Or milk.’

  ‘I’m not thirsty, thanks,’ Mitchell said.

  ‘Me neither,’ Liza agreed.

  ‘Just me then.’ Naomi made herself a glass
of cordial and smiled expectantly, waiting for Mitchell or Liza to speak.

  Liza cleared her throat. ‘Well, we’re here because after Mitchell helped Yvette from the river, someone stole his toolbox from the bridge… We didn’t mention it over dinner.’

  Naomi looked at him. ‘Oh, sorry about that.’ She shrugged slightly, as if she didn’t understand why she needed to know this.

  ‘My friend made a poster to appeal for its return,’ Mitchell said. ‘A lady got in touch to say her brother had taken it. When I went to collect the tools, he told me that Yvette met with a woman, after her accident.’

  ‘Oh… right.’

  Mitchell saw the tendons tighten in Naomi’s neck.

  ‘Did you meet Yvette on the bridge that day, Naomi? After Mitchell rescued her?’ Liza asked firmly.

  Naomi placed a hand against her chest. Her eyes appeared hurt, questioning how her sister could possibly suggest such a thing. ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, you.’

  Naomi’s nostrils flared. ‘No, of course not,’ she said sharply. She took a gulp from her drink then poured the rest into the sink.

  Liza observed her. ‘The man said Yvette met her twin on the bridge, and she wore a gold pineapple necklace.’

  Naomi’s face flushed bright pink.

  Liza leaned forwards as if she was about to leap over the table. ‘This is important, Naomi. Yvette could be in danger. Did you, or did you not, meet her on the bridge ten days ago?’

  Naomi plucked at the piece of spaghetti on her T-shirt. ‘What danger?’ Her voice shook.

  Liza took the letter, signed with a V, from her pocket and tossed it onto the table. ‘I found this in her mailbox.’

  Naomi tentatively picked it up. As she read it, the pink in her cheeks became a mottled red. ‘At Yvette’s apartment?’

  ‘Yes.’ Liza took the letter back from her and read aloud. ‘“Don’t worry, I’ll find you. Won’t be long. I have eyes and ears everywhere.”’

  Naomi shrank back.

  ‘If this is from Victor, he could be closing in on Yvette,’ Liza pleaded.

  ‘I can’t tell you anything.’