by Abbie Frost
Her mother said, ‘Lucy is here. In the hospital.’
She couldn’t breathe. ‘But she wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t hurt, was she?’
It was almost too soft for her to hear. ‘She’s in a psychiatric ward.’ Hannah went to speak, to say Lucy was fine, but Ruby held up her hand to stop her. ‘The doctors say she’s doing very well, but it will take some time.’
Hannah could tell that wasn’t all. ‘Mum?’
‘Well, she’s under police guard too. They still don’t know what happened, how those people were killed. You’ve been out of it and there’s no one else who can tell them.’
No one else. Oh God. The names burst out then. ‘But Chloe and Mo?’
‘After she left you, Lucy ran to get help, but didn’t have to go far. The emergency services were already coming up the hill.’ Hannah heard the door open. ‘And look who was bringing them,’ Ruby said.
Mo stood there smiling and smiling. ‘Did you think you’d got rid of me?’ He took a seat beside her bed and she reached for his hand. She looked from him to Ruby. ‘Chloe?’
Very gently her mother said, ‘Chloe hid in the outhouse.’
Cold fingers probing her heart, as she remembered that figure standing by the door of the little shed. So that’s why he was trying to get in there.
‘I called her, but she didn’t answer. I tried to find her.’ No one spoke and Hannah closed her eyes.
Then Mo gave her hand a little shake. And when she looked again, he was beaming at her. ‘And here she is at last,’ he said.
Chloe ran into the room and thumped against the bed. ‘Careful,’ Ruby said. ‘Gently now.’
Hannah held her for a moment, feeling the tears well up. Chloe looked different, her eyes darker and her face thinner. There was a tightness around her lips that Hannah knew would be there forever.
‘I’m so, so sorry about your parents,’ Hannah said.
Chloe smiled, a brave smile. ‘I’ll be all right. I’m staying with my best friend’s family. Going to live with them in Ireland until I finish school.’ Her eyes glistened but she didn’t cry.
‘I called and called for you,’ Hannah said weakly. ‘Did you hear me?’
Chloe nodded. ‘I didn’t trust you. Mum …’ Her chest rose. ‘My mum said it might be you.’
Hannah squeezed her hand. ‘It could have been anyone.’ As Chloe went to speak she squeezed again. ‘No need to talk about it now.’
Hannah looked from her to Mo and back again. ‘What about Lucy? Did you tell the police it wasn’t her?’
Mo said, ‘Apparently my evidence doesn’t count. I left there too soon. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving you in danger because I was in such a state about Dad.’ He bit his lip, then went on, ‘I was sure she had nothing to do with it, but they need to talk to you.’
‘I tried too,’ Chloe burst out. ‘But they wouldn’t listen.’
Hannah could smile properly now. ‘Well they’ll have to listen to me. I was there.’ She turned to her mother. ‘And, after all, I have to protect my little sister.’
Ruby nodded and smiled back at her. ‘And Lucy has already told them what Jack said about Ben. That he had lights on his bike and that Jack killed him.’ She looked long and hard into Hannah’s eyes. ‘His family knows he didn’t want to die, and I’ve spoken to them. They’re very glad about that, and his mother says you can come to see them when you’re better.’
It wouldn’t be easy and it didn’t make her any less guilty, but Hannah knew it would help.
Ruby kissed her forehead and went to the door. ‘I’m going to have a break. You have some time with your friends.’
‘Please,’ Hannah said. ‘Tell the doctor I want to see the police.’
When Ruby was gone, they sat there in silence for a long time, holding hands.
Epilogue
Two years later
As green mile after green mile sped by Hannah stared at the thick red neck of the taxi driver in front of her, wondering if he was the same one as last time. Two years ago, but seeming like twenty.
She felt sick. Had felt sick even before the plane took off from Heathrow. And when she saw the first signpost for Fallon village she almost screamed at the driver to turn around and go back. Instead she closed her eyes and tried not to think. But that was impossible.
When she’d woken up in hospital after the horrors at The Guesthouse she’d imagined that was the end of it. But as her body got better, so much else got worse. Sure, she’d made some kind of peace with Ben’s family, and her friend Lori was there, as well as her mum, but the people she most needed were those who’d been through it all with her. The only ones who could truly understand. And as the weeks went by they had gradually faded from her life.
At the inquests only Hannah and Mo had been present. Chloe was allowed to give written evidence and Lucy was still in the psychiatric ward, not even able to talk.
At least the police had soon discovered how Jack Roper had set up the fake charity, Preserve the Past, and how he’d kept track of Hannah, Sandeep, and Liam over the years. And what they’d found matched Hannah and Mo’s evidence and the statement Lucy had managed to give before she broke down. So Lucy was cleared of blame for any of the deaths, including those of Jack Roper and Rob the gardener.
Mo had visited Hannah every day in hospital, but after the inquests he said it was too painful to keep seeing her. He needed time alone to focus on forgiving himself for his dad’s death.
Chloe had stayed in Ireland and Hannah had tried to keep in touch with her through WhatsApp and Skype, but for months Chloe hardly responded. Only recently had she begun to open up, admitting how hard she had found things. Now she seemed much better and said she was longing to see Hannah.
But Lucy. Poor Lucy. She’d spent over six months in a psychiatric unit. Hannah had gone over to Ireland twice to see her, meeting Lucy’s boyfriend, Damian, who was always there and who said her visits helped. ‘She knows you’ve been here and she knows you’re her sister.’ Hannah wasn’t sure. Lucy never reacted to her presence, staring out of a window, but seeming to see nothing. Her doctor said what happened at The Guesthouse had forced her to confront the years of abuse and her mind was struggling to cope.
Hannah only learned Lucy had been released when she’d had a message from Damian, to say she was slowly recovering and that she’d be in touch when she felt up to meeting people.
Then nothing – until now.
Hannah came back to herself when she spotted a signpost for Fallon ten miles away. Mo, sitting beside her in the taxi, squeezed her hand. ‘I still don’t think this is a good idea.’ His voice was croaky. ‘What’s the point?’
She could only shrug, too tense even to speak. But she squeezed back. They’d met up for the first time in ages a couple of months ago and, very cautiously, seemed to be moving into something that might turn into a real relationship.
Sunlight so bright it hurt Hannah’s eyes flashed through the taxi window, turning the fields around them a luminous green; the strip of sea in the distance a vibrant blue. As if to mock them it was a beautiful day – summer edging into a glorious autumn.
She sat up when she saw what must be the layby she remembered and Mo reached for the door handle.
But instead of stopping at the layby the taxi drove on, took a sharp left turn and headed down a newly metalled lane that wound through the fields. Mo turned to look at her. He hadn’t been expecting this either.
And as they crested the brow of the hill it was there.
Not The Guesthouse of course. The ruins of that were completely gone. But the iron gates with the gardens behind them and in the hollow, where the old house had stood for centuries, a new building.
It was very modern, with lots of glass, yet looking surprisingly at home in the landscape. As the taxi passed through the gates, slowed and stopped, the white front door opened and Lucy stood there, smiling.
Hannah couldn’t move. Couldn’t believe what she was seeing. When Lucy had
asked them to come here today she’d explained that her psychiatrist had suggested she return to the site of The Guesthouse to exorcise her demons. Hannah had imagined she wanted them there to support her during a quick visit. This was different. Lucy must have started coming months ago. But why would she choose to rebuild on this spot?
The taxi driver turned to them with a smile. ‘Here you are. Nice job they’ve made of it, haven’t they?’
Hannah’s legs were shaking as she stepped down and she was grateful for Lucy’s arms coming round her. Holding tight, as if she guessed Hannah needed support, Lucy whispered, ‘Hello, sis. It’s been too long.’
When Lucy stepped away to embrace Mo, Hannah was able to look properly at her. Her hair was longer and slightly more golden than before, but she was as beautiful as she’d ever been. Nothing like the drained husk Hannah had seen staring at the wall in the hospital.
And then the whirlwind that was Chloe burst through the door, kissing Hannah hard on the cheek before rushing past to do the same to Mo. ‘Come in. Come in and see this place. It’s wonderful. Lucy has her own recording studio.’
Chloe, at sixteen, was a tall and pretty young woman, but her giggles were still those of a little girl. She dragged Mo inside as Lucy put her arm around Hannah’s waist, holding her back. ‘Damian told me you visited when I was in the hospital. But I was lost. Lost in the memories.’
Hannah swung round in front of her. ‘You look wonderful. Are you really all right?’
When she nodded the hank of hair fell across Lucy’s eyes just as it used to. She pushed it back. ‘I think so. As all right as I’ll ever be. Don’t suppose any of us will get over it completely.’
Hannah turned to properly take in the house. She was back working for an architectural firm in London now, but it didn’t take any expertise to see how good the design was. ‘This place is amazing, but why, Lucy? Why rebuild here?’
A flash of blue from the huge eyes. ‘It’s where I belong. Where my mother belonged. Officially I inherited it from him, but this place was her family’s home. Nothing to do with him.’
That was right of course. As she was also Jack Roper’s daughter, Hannah had legally been entitled to a share in his estate and the lawyers had told her Lucy wanted her to take half, but she had refused. Lucy was right. Jack Roper stole it from her mother. The woman he’d tormented and murdered. It was nothing to do with him.
Now Lucy said, ‘I wondered how he got the money to renovate the place when he turned it into The Guesthouse.’ A quiver of disgust as she said the name. ‘Apparently the family, my mum in other words, owned loads of land all over Ireland. He sold it off and it was the time of the Irish property boom, with developers desperate for building land, so he made a packet. There was easily enough left for me to build this place and buy a flat in Dublin.’
Inside could hardly have been more different from The Guesthouse. The long living room was filled with light and sweet-smelling breezes. The whole of one wall consisted of glass doors folded back completely, meaning that the scents were wafted in from a terrace dotted with pots of herbs and flowering plants. It was only when Hannah glanced past the terrace that she saw with a pang the view she remembered. The grass rippling like a green sea to the blue-grey hills in the distance. The gardens too looked almost the same.
As if guessing her thoughts Lucy said, ‘The garden is the only part I wanted to keep as it was. The way Rob loved it.’
Then she clapped her hands. ‘OK, time to show you what I really brought you here for.’ And she headed through the glass doors and round the side of the building.
Glancing at each other, Mo and Hannah followed her and Hannah saw she had been wrong about the garden. There was one change. A group of slender, silver-barked trees, their delicate leaves still green and fluttering in the breeze, replaced the bare rose garden. Lucy stood in front of the trees, hands clasped as if in prayer, her face anxious. She looked first at Chloe and then at Mo. ‘If you don’t like it … If you don’t want this I can have them taken away, but I thought …’
There was a sob from Chloe and she ran to one of the trees and flung her arms around it, then did the same to its neighbour. Mo made a sound deep in his throat as he moved to lay his forehead against the trunk of a third tree. When Hannah looked back at Chloe she was standing between the two trees she had hugged, encircling each with an arm. A family group.
Because beneath each tree was a silver plaque and each plaque was engraved with a different name. Rosa, Liam, Sandeep.
Lucy walked over to two other trees, stroking them with gentle fingers. The plaques below them read: Jane, Rob. Her mother and her childhood friend.
She looked back at Hannah as if for reassurance. And when Hannah nodded she turned to the others, smiling. ‘I can add extra wording if you want.’
Mo shook his head, his eyes glittering. Chloe said, ‘Thank you, Lucy. I love it.’ And Mo, ‘Sandeep would have been very happy with this.’ He held out a hand to Hannah and when she came to him he dropped a kiss onto her hair.
They stood amongst the trees for a long time. Hannah felt the flecks of sunlight filtering through the slender leaves caress her face with warmth as she watched motes of dust spinning through the air.
Lucy’s voice was very gentle. ‘These are the people I want to be remembered here.’
After another few minutes, Chloe moved away and, with a sudden peal of laughter, Lucy clutched at her waist. Chloe let out a delighted giggle and Lucy said, ‘Right, inside now. Damian’s been hiding out in the kitchen and he should have food and drink ready for us. So let’s get to it.’ She ushered Mo and Chloe inside, but took Hannah’s hand and led her back to the front of the house.
Beside the front door she pointed to another plaque on the wall that Hannah hadn’t noticed before.
It was the new name of the house: Two Sisters.
‘Thank God, we don’t need a plaque under a tree,’ Lucy said. ‘But I wanted us here too.’
And still holding hands they went inside.
Acknowledgements
Thank you first and most of all to my co-conspirator Finn Cotton. To Rhian McKay and all the lovely people at Harper Collins.
To my Irish ancestors and friends for the inspiration. Please forgive me for any liberties I’ve taken with your history and your wonderful island.
To everyone who loves reading and supports books and authors by buying or borrowing from libraries. And very special thanks to all those bloggers and reviewers who take the time to share the book love. You are wonderful.
About the Author
Abbie Frost has worked as a teacher, an actor and scriptwriter, and now reviews fiction for various publications and blogs. She is a published thriller writer whose work has been shortlisted for various awards.
@FrostyAbbie
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