The Home

by Sarah Stovell

  ‘Annie’s mother didn’t kill herself. Annie did it.’

  At first, he simply looked shocked. Then slowly he said, ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ I told him. ‘I’m really sure.’

  I wasn’t sure how much he already knew, so I gave him the full story. I told him how Annie’s mother had been mad and they were poor, and she never had enough food, and her mother beat her and abandoned her, and how Annie longed to get away but couldn’t work out how to, and how, in the end, she tricked her mother into taking too many sleeping pills and she’d died. Afterwards, he nodded. ‘Thank you for telling me this, Hope. It was a brave thing to do.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’ll log what you’ve told me and when Helen comes back to work after Christmas, we’ll discuss it.’ He looked at me seriously. ‘But of course we can’t ignore this.’

  I understood his tone. It was the tone of someone saying, ‘If you’re making this up, now’s your chance to back down.’

  But I wasn’t backing down.

  78

  Annie

  If I couldn’t tell Helen, then I had no choice but to try and put a stop to this myself.

  The girls were still at home when I left to walk down to Meddleswater. Dusk had fallen by the time I got there, and I wondered how they would find their way. Before long, the only light would come from the moon, which was full, but hardly enough for them to see by. Hope wasn’t the sort to plan things properly. She wouldn’t have thought to bring a torch.

  It was cold, so I let myself into the church. The sight of it – the rows of pews, the aisle running between them, the altar – took me straight back to the afternoon I’d come here with Hope, and I felt a pain in my chest, as sharp and raw as an open wound. For a minute or two, I perched on the edge of a pew and put my head in my hands, wishing and wishing it had never come to this. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing. I only knew that Hope had lost all sense of reason, that she and Lara were in danger and I had to stop it. But now I was here it seemed a foolish idea, a task that was beyond me.

  I went on sitting there for fifteen minutes or so, and then Hope’s voice drifted towards me from outside. ‘He won’t be long. We’ll just wait here. Don’t worry.’

  What should I do? I thought about going outside and telling Lara the truth: that Ace was a dangerous man, and she was better off staying in care – where she’d be looked after – or dead than with him. But if I went out there now, Hope would just shout at me and upset me, and there seemed to be no point in that. I should wait until I heard Ace. There was no road to Meddleswater. Like the home, you had to park half a mile away and walk to it, so there’d be time. He couldn’t just bundle his cargo into his van and get away.

  I stood up and moved back towards the door so I could listen more clearly to what was going on.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Hope was asking. ‘Are you cold? You can wait in the church if you want. I’ve got no bloody phone signal, so I can’t text him to let him know where we are. But I’ll wait here. You go inside if you like.’

  I thought about hiding, but the church was dark enough. If I just stayed here…

  Lara came inside. I could barely see her, but I was aware of her footsteps. She simply walked towards a pew and sat down.

  My breathing was rapid and shallow. I tried to slow it down by taking long, deep breaths, the way I used to when my mother was in one of her rages. I wished I’d never come here. I had no idea what I was even planning to do. How would I ever be a match for Ace Clarke? I hadn’t thought this through properly. I should just let them go, then head back to the home and spill it all out to Helen or Danny. Just tell them the truth – everything about my mother, about Hope, the baby … And then face whatever happened next. Surely nothing could be as bad as what was going on now.

  It was then that I heard him outside. ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ he was saying.

  He made me feel sick and, for a minute, I thought I might be.

  ‘You must be dying for a drink. I brought you some vodka and Coke.’

  I sensed her hesitate.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Ace said.

  There was only silence from Hope.

  ‘If you’ve got rid of this baby, you’ll have a drink.’

  I hated him. I really, really hated him.

  ‘And where’s Lara?’

  ‘She’s in the church. She was cold. I’ll go and get her.’

  He lowered his voice. I had to strain to hear him. ‘Not yet, sweetheart. Not yet. If Lara’s going to be living with you, then you and I aren’t going to get much time alone together, are we? So let’s make the most of now.’

  I could hear what they were doing, and knew Lara would be hearing it, too.

  In the darkness of the church, I called out to her. ‘Lara? Lara, it’s Annie. Don’t be frightened.’

  I could see the dark shape of her on the other side of the aisle, and moved to sit beside her.

  ‘Lara,’ I said. ‘I know what Hope has told you. She isn’t being honest, you know. Ace isn’t a good man. He doesn’t want to protect you. He’ll harm you. Hope is just desperate. She’ll do anything to keep her baby, and she’s clutching at this plan, hoping she can make it work and keep you safe until she’s got enough money to get you both out of there. But she can’t. There is no way it can work. He’s bad, Lara. You need to come back to the home with me.’

  She said nothing, of course. She barely moved. She had no reason to believe me.

  I let my words sit between us, hoping they’d settle. There was no point saying more than I’d already said.

  When the sounds of Hope and Ace fucking each other had ended, I stood up and stepped outside. Lara didn’t come with me. It was impossible to know what she was thinking. I imagined her sitting there, vulnerable and confused.

  Outside, the temperature had dropped and darkness had fallen. I pulled my coat tight around me. The moon was full over the lake, casting a faint, silver light over the black water and the old wooden jetty. An abandoned rowing boat bobbed close to the shore.

  I could see Hope and Ace sitting on the ground, held in the yellow glow of Ace’s flashlight. Hope was holding a flask to her mouth, drinking deeply.

  They didn’t see me until I said, ‘What are you doing, Hope? You’re pregnant.’

  Hope’s voice was loud and slurred. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

  ‘Putting a stop to this.’ I turned to Ace. ‘She hasn’t got rid of the baby. She just wants—’

  He didn’t let me finish. To Hope, he said, ‘Is this true?’

  ‘No! Of course it’s not true. She’s a liar. She’s mad, Ace. Completely mental. She’s obsessed with me. She’s the whole reason I need to get away. She—’

  Calmly, he said, ‘Now, let’s stop the dramatics and get to the bottom of this. I can’t take anyone anywhere until I know the truth of the situation.’

  ‘She’s mental, Ace. She’s mental. Take no notice of her.’ And then, as if to prove she was no longer pregnant, she held the flask to her lips again, tipped her head back and drank. ‘There,’ she said afterwards. ‘Got any more where that came from?’

  He reached into his pocket and brought out another flask. ‘I was hoping to have this for myself,’ he said benevolently. ‘But you take it if you want it.’

  She downed it as quickly as she’d downed the first. ‘There,’ she said. ‘Now can we go? I’ll go and get Lara.’

  She strode off. She’d had a lot to drink, and quickly, and she staggered.

  Ace said to me, ‘Is what you said true?’

  ‘Of course it’s true.’ I wanted to spit in his face.

  He sighed. ‘I thought as much. Lying little bitch.’

  Lara and Hope came out of the church, and as they approached I turned to Lara and grabbed both her hands in mine. ‘Come back with me, Lara. Come back to the home. This man isn’t safe.’

  The look on her face was one of bewilderment. She stared at me, and then at Hope. Again, I
said, ‘Come back with me. There are better places for you to be.’

  ‘Annie, why don’t you just fuck off?’

  Hope, of course.

  I looked at her, swaggering towards me. The wound in my chest bloomed open again. This was the girl I’d loved so intensely and probably still would love if she’d give me a chance. We could go, I thought, we could run back to the home. They’d help us. They’d see us through this and then, in time, maybe Hope and I could…

  But she was drunk and angry, and now suddenly there were hands in my hair, dragging me to the ground and backwards, towards the water.

  ‘Just fuck off, Annie. Fuck off and mind your own business.’

  I fought her hard, but her grip was strong and I couldn’t stand up. She stopped to catch her breath a couple of times, but wouldn’t let go of me. Then she dragged me, further and further towards the water’s edge. And then I felt the wooden slats of the jetty beneath me, my body jolting over them. I could feel my back bruising, sharp pains up my spine.

  At the end of the jetty, she let go of me briefly. I tried to stand.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ she said, and pressed her foot down hard on my chest.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m getting you out of the way. It’s alright. You won’t die. But you’ll have to swim for a while and that’ll give me the chance to leave without you poking your do-gooding nose into things.’

  ‘I’m not…’

  She released her foot and stood back. ‘I don’t know what I ever saw in you, Annie,’ she said. ‘You’re nothing. Nothing but a murderer. And by the way, I’ve told Danny.’

  ‘Told Danny what?’

  ‘That you killed your mother.’

  ‘You wouldn’t.’

  ‘I would. I have. He’s going to talk about it with Helen when she comes back to work. I think you’ll find your time’s up, Annie. They can’t ignore this. If I were you, I’d just fill my pockets with stones and jump in. Or would you like me to push you?’

  ‘You absolute bitch,’ I said, in a voice low and deep with rage. I could feel all that love, once beautiful and gentle and hopeful, being churned into hatred so thick, I couldn’t keep it inside me. I was going to overflow. I got to my feet and delivered a punch, straight to her face, the way my mother had done with me.

  She shouted at me, but her words were slurred.

  Lara looked on, our silent witness.

  Part Five

  79

  January the 25th. The weather is perfect for a funeral. Grey, rainy, with occasional rolls of thunder in the distance. I couldn’t have ordered better conditions on Amazon. Later today, all signs that I was ever on Earth will be gone, although there’s still the trial to come, but that’s not for ages yet. Ace will rot in his prison cell until then, and probably afterwards if Annie keeps playing her cards right. She has nerves of steel, that girl. I could never have ruined her. She didn’t deserve to be ruined and I should never have even tried. I still loved her, even when I hated her.

  She’s in her room, getting ready. I watch her painting her nails pastel pink and stepping into the green dress I used to love seeing her in. She’s trying to brace herself for the sight of the coffin. It’s the worst bit, she knows that. It wasn’t very long ago that she saw her mother’s coffin, lying before the altar like a sacrifice. Two deaths now.

  You’re practically a serial killer, Annie, I say to her.

  I know, she says. I know. I’m sorry, Hope. I’m so sorry. I just…

  It’s OK. I probably deserved it. It was madness to think it could ever work. Complete madness. You saved Lara. Think of it like that. And you’ve saved so many other girls. You’ve saved them from Ace by getting him banged up. Really, you should be congratulated.

  I wish it could have been different for us.

  I do, too.

  This sadness is going to kill me. I never wanted you to die.

  I know. And I could never have had that baby.

  I love you.

  I love you.

  80

  Helen

  Helen stood at the front of the chapel and gripped Annie’s hand. They’d already seen the coffin when the hearse drove up outside. There were white lilies laid on the top, a gift from the home. She was aware of Annie holding her breath for a while, but she didn’t cry, then they walked in and took their seats.

  Hope’s mother was here, hanging around outside with two prison guards. Helen had never even seen a photo of her before. She was skinny, and her face grey and drawn and ancient, even though she couldn’t be beyond her thirties. There were teeth missing from her mouth and a purple bruise almost covered one cheek. Helen supposed that was what happened in prison to people who killed their children. They didn’t get an easy time of it.

  The entrance music started. Hope’s favourite song, according to Annie. It blared into the room like the opening of a rave. Beside her, Annie grinned.

  Four men carried the coffin down the aisle, and Hope’s mother faltered behind it with a prison guard on each arm. Her head hung low and she walked slowly, as if she were weighed down.

  She took her seat at the front.

  God, it was horrendous. Out there in the normal world, where people were mostly decent and loving, the funeral of a fifteen-year-old girl would be a massive event: the venue filled with friends and families and teachers; the service lovingly planned by parents who had no idea how they could go on in the face of this; music and poetry recitals, memories recollected by those who were brave enough to recall them. And flowers. So many flowers, the whole town would be awash with them.

  Hope’s funeral was nothing like that. There were so few people here. The front pews were occupied by staff from the children’s home. They all looked stricken and exhausted, of course, but only Annie was truly grieving.

  Standing on the other side of Helen was Lara. Yesterday, Helen had said to her, ‘It’s up to you. You can come to the funeral if you want to, but you don’t have to. You don’t have to make any decisions until the morning.’

  In the morning, she’d come downstairs, smartly dressed in black, and Helen had realised with surprise that she wanted to come. No one knew what Lara had seen that night. All they knew was that she was the only girl who’d been in her bed on Christmas morning, so either she hadn’t been involved, or she’d fled the scene. Annie hadn’t mentioned her in the police interviews. She’d laid the blame squarely on Ace.

  Ace. Between them, the girls had done it. They were sending him down, without Hope ever having to go through the trauma of testifying what he’d done to her.

  Helen knew she ought to be feeling guilty, because she knew what had happened. When Danny told her what Hope had reported about Annie having killed her mother, she’d looked at him questioningly and said, ‘Really, Danny? Do you believe that?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘We’ve got it in her file. Her mother died from an overdose of sleeping pills after a lifetime of battling mental illness. The case is over and done with. It was barely even a case to begin with.’

  ‘But shouldn’t we at least—?’

  ‘You know what the police will say, Danny. Kids like Hope make things up. All the time. It’s part and parcel of being a child in care. You make false allegations. You betray people. If there was anything at all to suggest Annie had been involved with her mother’s death, the police would have found it.

  And it was exactly what the police did say, when she told them. They took a cursory look at the file, then closed it again.

  But this was different. Helen knew the girls had a suicide pact. The note to Lara confirmed it, but somewhere along the line, it had gone wrong, and Annie had backed down and then taken the opportunity to get Ace banged up for murder.

  Helen knew. She knew and she hadn’t spoken up. But what good would that have done? Hope would still be dead, and Ace Clarke would be a free, wealthy and happy man, ready to do this again to someone else. Sometimes, true justice happened outside the law. There w
ere times when true justice meant not lying, but just keeping calmly and steadily silent.

  She rested her hand on Lara’s shoulder as the coffin came to rest at the front of the chapel. They stood there, the three of them, each one knowing the truth, and all of them bound never to say a word.

  81

  Lara

  After the funeral, I go straight to my room. On the shelf at the top of my cupboard there’s a box. I can smell it before I see it. It’s a musty smell but also sweet, like the brown mush of rotten apples.

  I take the box down and open it. Inside is a dead mouse and two dead beetles. I found the mouse yesterday, under the hedge in the garden. It’s a dormouse – ginger-coloured and very small. Its big eyes are still open. I pick it up and cradle it in my hands for a while, then lay it on the floor beside me. At the bottom of the box are Hope’s scan photos, the grainy images of a part-formed baby who never got to live.

  They’re dead now, both of them. Just like my family.

  I didn’t mean to do it. I heard them arguing and then the arguing turned to fighting, real fighting with fists and feet, and all my old memories flooded to the surface. I couldn’t see or hear the world around me. I was surrounded by the past, trapped in it, suffocating, choking, drowning.

  My father was shouting, my mother smashing the house apart, my sister crying. I could hear it from upstairs and all I knew was that I had to make it stop. My sister was so young, and no one would protect her because they were all locked in the world of their own drunken heartache.

  I raced downstairs and flung open the kitchen door. My mother was standing by the oven; my sister hunched, crying, in a corner; my father at the table, where the gun he used for pheasant shooting lay close to his hand.

  I said nothing, just looked at them. I wanted to pick the baby up and take her to safety, but she was too far away, so I did the only thing I could think of. I reached for the gun and shot and shot until they fell down.