The Strangler's Daughter

by Amy Cross

  “Lisa?”

  Turning as Dad nudges my arm, I see that some guests are already starting to arrive. I don't recognize any of them, but I guess they might be people Mum knew from work. They're all wearing black, and they all look sad, and the sight of them looking sad makes me feel sad. I'm starting to understand what Dad meant when he said that today might be difficult.

  “Wait right here,” he says, sounding tired already. “I have to go and greet a few people.”

  He walks away, and I'm relieved that he didn't try to take me with him. I'd rather just fade into the background; in fact, I'd rather not be here at all, but I guess I owe it to Mum to show up and show everyone that I'm upset.

  “Good morning, Lisa.”

  I turn to my left, and I'm surprised – and a little relieved – to see that Grandma has found me.

  “Look at you,” she says with a faint, teary-eyed smile, “you're so grown up. Your mother would be so proud of you.”

  I glance toward the coffin.

  “I'm sorry I haven't been around much over the past few days,” Grandma continues. “As I'm sure you'll imagine, I've been very busy. I want to thank you again for giving me that newspaper cutting. It turned out to be very useful.”

  “How is it useful?” I ask.

  “I'm still working that part out,” she says, looking past me.

  Turning, I see that she's looking at Dad. I watch as he shakes hands with a man I've never seen before. They're talking, and Dad smiles for a few seconds as if he's making a joke. Already, however, more people are arriving and Dad has to go and talk to them. I briefly feel sorry for him, but then I realize that he seems to be totally in his element. As much as Dad often says that he hates dealing with people, he's managing to pretend that he's enjoying the whole thing.

  “Look at that bastard,” Grandma mutters.

  I turn to her.

  “Sorry, darling,” she adds, “forget you heard that. Grandma shouldn't say words like that, especially not in a church. Now, tell me, do you have any friends coming today to keep you company?”

  I shake my head.

  “Your father didn't think to do that, huh? Well, I suppose that's typical.”

  I feel a shiver pass through my chest.

  “Come on, then,” she says, taking my hand in hers and leading me along the aisle, toward the coffin. “Let's go and take a look at the flowers. They look so beautiful up there, don't they?”

  With each step along the aisle, I feel more and more nervous. Without Grandma here, I'm sure I'd have turned around by now and run, but somehow I manage to keep going until finally we stop. From here, the coffin looks even larger than before, and I still feel as if it's too big for Mum, but I figure that doesn't matter right now.

  Looking up at Grandma, I see that there are tears running down her face. She's whispering something under her breath, but I can't make out what she's saying until I lean a little closer.

  “I'll make him pay for this, Michelle,” she murmurs. “I'll figure out what you discovered about him, and I'll bring that bastard down. Even if it's the last thing I ever do.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Today

  “Hey!” a familiar voice calls. “Are we gonna start bumping into each other all the time now?”

  I hesitate, before slipping the letter back into my bag. I feel a flicker of concern, and then I turn to see that Caitlin's coming out of the cafe and wandering over to join me.

  “I am so bored in there this morning,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I've folded all the napkins, I've polished all the cutlery, I've even cleaned the yard at the back, and now I literally have nothing to do. There's not even internet in there, I can't even rot my brain with stupid videos.”

  “I'm sure you'll get a customer eventually,” I tell her.

  “Oh, I know I will. Even if I have to come outside and drag them in.” She grins at me. “Come on, Lisa,” she adds. “I need you to save my life.”

  “I'm sorry?” I reply.

  “From boredom,” she says, grabbing my arm and leading me toward the cafe. “You're not gonna let me die of boredom, are you? Don't worry, it's all on the house. My aunt won't even notice. Besides, do you have anything better to be doing on this fine morning? No, you don't. So get inside.”

  ***

  I watch through the window as the postman empties the box and then climbs into his van. He slams the door shut and drives away, and I realize that it's probably a good thing that I didn't post that letter. If I had, there'd be no going back now.

  “And here we are,” Caitlin says, coming up behind me. “What do you make of this bad boy?”

  Turning, I'm startled to see that she's very carefully carrying a huge chocolate cake toward the table. I'm really not sure what to say, and as she sets the cake down I see that it's wobbling slightly.

  “I need a taste tester,” she explains excitedly as she sits opposite me. “This cake, or a cake very much like it, could be the key to me changing my whole life.”

  “How does that work?” I ask as she starts cutting us each a slice.

  “I've had it with Forkworth,” she continues. “I live with my aunt, I have no social life, and I spend my days working here in this charming but lifeless cafe.” She transfers a slice onto one of the plates, which she then slides toward me. “I've been thinking. I have no real qualifications, so uni's out for me. So what do I know about? What strengths do I have to take into the world with me?”

  “Um...”

  “I know cakes,” she adds. “I've been working in my aunt's cafe for so long, I know cakes inside out. And people in London want cakes, don't they? So cakes are my route out of Forkworth and into the glittering world of London. And before you say it, I know this might sound a little crazy, it might even sound desperate, but it's literally my only shot. Either that, or I go and sell my body. Which, admittedly, would be better than working here.”

  “Um, sure,” I say, although I'm struggling a little to keep up with everything she's telling me.

  “Try the cake.”

  “It looks amazing.”

  “I know, but try it. Tell me what you think.”

  I hesitate, before using a fork to cut a corner from the cake. I slip the piece into my mouth and start chewing, and in an instant I'm overcome by a rather profound realization.

  “Do you like it?” Caitlin asks nervously.

  I finish chewing, and then I swallow.

  “That,” I say, genuinely shocked, “is the best piece of cake I've ever eaten in my life.”

  “I knew it!” She claps her hands together hard as she gets to her feet. “Bitch, I know my cakes!”

  “Bitch?”

  “I have another one,” she continues, as she picks the chocolate cake up. “I have several, actually. I'm sorry, Lisa, but you're going to be my guinea pig today, and you have no choice. I'll lock you in, if that's what it takes. You seem like a cake expert, so let's get this show on the road!”

  “Cake expert?” I reply softly, but she's already hurrying to the back room, leaving me sitting alone at the table and wondering exactly how I got myself into this situation.

  ***

  “I think I'm gonna be sick,” Caitlin groans an hour later, as she sits sprawled on the seat opposite me. “I never realized it was true before, but now I understand. There is such a thing as too much cake.”

  “I think I can actually feel it inside me,” I reply, shocked by how bloated I've become.

  “I'm sorry,” she says, “but I have to do this.”

  I look over and watch as she unbuttons the front of her jeans and then pulls the zip down.

  “What are you doing that for?” I ask.

  “For release!” she gasps, before letting out a faint sigh. “That feels better. Try it.”

  I hesitate, before realizing that maybe it might help. Reaching down, I undo just the very top button, and almost immediately I feel a sense of relief.

  “Better?” Caitlin asks.

  “
Better,” I reply. “At least now I don't feel as if I'm going to -”

  “What's going on in here?” a voice calls out, and I turn to see Caitlin's aunt stepping into the room.

  “Nothing!” Caitlin says, leaping to her feet and fumbling to zip her jeans back up. “This is my friend Lisa. I was just giving her a free cake testing session!”

  Friend? Did she just call me her friend?

  “This place is a mess!” Caitlin's aunt continues, looking around the cafe. “There's a trail of crumbs leading all the way into the kitchen! We'll end up with ants!”

  “I'll clean up,” Caitlin stammers. “I was going to, I swear!”

  Getting to my feet, I struggle to button my jeans properly.

  “I'll help you,” I murmur.

  “I go into town for a couple of hours,” Caitlin's aunt continues, “and this is what I come back to? I never thought you could be so irresponsible, girl! I thought I'd taught you a few things about being an adult!”

  “I just wanted Lisa to taste my cakes,” Caitlin replies. “No-one's come in all day. I was bored out of my mind.”

  “I don't care,” her aunt snaps. “This is no way to demonstrate your sense of responsibility, young lady. How do you think your parents would react if I called them right now and told them about this disgraceful scene?”

  “I suspect they wouldn't give a shit,” Caitlin replies.

  “Get into that kitchen right now!” her aunt roars. “Don't you dare you use that language around me. Go and fetch some cleaning equipment! I'm going to have to close for the rest of the day while you undo this terrible mess you've created!”

  Caitlin sighs and heads to one of the back rooms, leaving me standing alone with her aunt.

  “I'm really sorry,” I say timidly. “She really just wanted me to try her cakes, and they're really nice.”

  Her aunt glares at me.

  “I'll get going,” I add, turning and hurrying to the door. “Sorry again. I'm really sorry.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ten years ago

  I've never seen so many people in our cottage's front room.

  After the funeral, most people went home, but about fifteen accepted Dad's invitation to come back for coffee and cake. I'm not entirely sure that Dad expected them to do that; he looked more than a little uncomfortable as they were all coming through the door, and he seems to be struggling to keep the coffee flowing. I've tried to help, but he told me that I'd be more useful in here, talking to the guests.

  It's like he's never met me before.

  “So what are your plans after you're done with school, Lisa?” one of Mum's friends asks. “You must be going back soon for your big exam year. Are you going to stay on after that?”

  “I don't know,” I reply, and that's true. I don't. “I haven't really thought about it.”

  “The world's your oyster,” he continues. “I remember what it was like to be your age. I didn't appreciate the importance of all the choices I had. That's the thing about life, Lisa. It has a way of narrowing down your options pretty fast.”

  I smile, but I don't really know what to say. I genuinely haven't given any thought to what I'll do when I get older, but this guy is making me worry.

  “Your mother would be so proud of you,” he adds, reaching out and putting a hand on the side of my arm. “I know she was already, but she'll be watching over you. You know that, don't you?”

  “Sure,” I reply, mainly because I know that's what he wants me to say.

  “I remember you when you were just a little baby wrapped in a blanket,” the man's wife says. “Your mother looked so happy when she was holding you.”

  I turn to her, and I see that there are tears in her eyes.

  “After the difficulties with the birth,” she continues, “I think she was just so relieved to get you home.”

  “So she told you about that?” I ask.

  “Well, yes...” She seems a little uncomfortable now. “I suppose this isn't the appropriate time to bring it up, though. I think -”

  “Did she tell you about the cord around my neck?”

  There's a pause. I know I'm maybe being a little pushy, but at the same time this is probably my only opportunity to ever ask these people.

  “We know the basics,” she says, clearly choosing her words with care, “but what's important is that you pulled through to become the fine, upstanding young woman that you are now. You're lucky you didn't experience any side effects.”

  “I did experience side effects,” I tell her.

  She stares at me, before looking over at her husband. They both seem to not want to be part of this conversation.

  “It wrapped around here,” I say, touching my throat. “All the way, more than once, and it pulled tight. Apparently I was turning blue or purple, and he doctors said -”

  “Everything's alright now,” the woman says, getting to her feet. “I'm sorry, sweetheart, we should mix a little, but we'll see you before we leave. Come on, Brian. We should mix.”

  “We should mix,” her husband says, sighing as he follows her across the room.

  Left alone on the sofa, I can't help feeling that I could have managed that situation a little better. I don't even know why I felt the urge to bring up the details of what happened, but I guess I just wanted a few more details. Mum and Dad and Grandma have told me the story. I guess I just feel as if there might be some more, as if there might be crucial facts that I haven't figured out yet.

  After a few minutes, I finish my cup of tea and stand up. I head toward the kitchen, although I stop at the back window as I spot Grandma standing at the far end of the garden. She's talking to someone, and she seems quite animated, almost as if she's on the verge of having an argument. I don't recognize the man she's with, but Grandma has been acting strange all day and I want to know what's upsetting her so much.

  The man turns and walks away, leaving Grandma all alone. She looks upset, and I watch as she sits down on the bench next to the pond.

  “Lisa? Can you cut some slices of cake?”

  Turning, I see that Dad has come over to me. He seems more flustered than ever.

  “What's wrong with Grandma?” I ask.

  He looks out the window, and now he seems lost in thought.

  “Who knows what goes through that woman's head?” he says, taking me by the arm and steering me into the kitchen. “Why? What has she said to you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Because you mustn't believe her,” he continues. “Your grandmother gets strange ideas sometimes. So if she says anything that seems odd, just file it away as one of her fantasies.” He pauses. “But let me know, Lisa. If she says anything about me, that is. Promise?”

  “I promise,” I reply, and then I head over to the table where two more cakes are waiting to be cut.

  As I get to work, I glance at Dad and see that he's looking out the window. He seems to be staring toward the far end of the garden, as if he's watching Grandma, and I can't shake the feeling that he's worried about her. Or maybe worried isn't the right word.

  I think he's angry about something.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Today

  “Goddamn bitch!”

  After loitering near the cafe for the best part of an hour, I finally see Caitlin come storming out from a side door.

  “Hey,” I say, hurrying after her, “are you sure you don't want me to help clean up the mess?”

  “What mess?” she snaps angrily. “Aunt Delia's just a dragon. She's always hated me, ever since she was stuck looking after me. Well, those days are over and she can stick her job up her arse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I quit. I just told her that, and I'm moving out of her fusty, porcelain mouse filled house as well.”

  “You're moving out?” I ask, shocked by the news. “What do you mean? Where are you going to go?”

  Stopping, she turns to me, and I can see that there are tears in her eyes.

&nb
sp; “We have a spare room,” I tell her, before realizing that having her live with us might be a really bad idea. Dad probably wouldn't be happy, and it'd be even worse if he did agree.

  “That's sweet of you, Lisa,” she replies, “but this is a sign from God. I've spent long enough rotting in dumb little Forkworth. I was getting complacent, but this is the kick up the butt that I've needed for a while. I could've ended up spending the rest of my life trying to make the perfect cake here, how sad would that have been? Now I'm going to go to London. When I told you about my plans, I wasn't sure about the timescale, but now I am. Screw Forkworth. I'm out of this dump.”

  “You are?” I reply. “When?”

  “Now. Today.” She hesitates. “This week. Within a week, definitely. I have friends there, I can crash on couches for a little while until I get a job. I'm not completely unemployable, you know. I'm twenty-five years old, it's time I spread my wings a little.”

  “But do you have enough money to move to London?” I ask. “Why not wait a while?”

  “If I wait, I'll never leave.”

  “What does your aunt think?”

  “She thinks I'm an idiot,” she replies. “She thinks I'll never make it in London. She thinks I'll end up on the streets.”

  “Maybe you should talk to her some more.”

  “I'm an adult, Lisa,” she says firmly. “I've been listening to my aunt ever since my parents shuffled me off to live with her, and look at me now. I can't live like this. No-one can, it's not natural. She treats me like I'm still a child. No, it's worst than that, she treats me like I'm some kind of pet. I'll go crazy if I stick around here.” She takes a deep breath, as if she's starting to calm down just a little. “And now,” she adds, “I need to go and make some serious plans. And think about what I should take with me when I leave. And drink, probably quite heavily. You in?”