‘That’s not true. You have––’
‘Stop pretending. You knew Kate. You invited her to the party. I couldn’t work out who she was. Then I remembered. Ava took her big sister away from her, that’s how she sees it. Now she’s taken my little sister. Was she behind the roses too? You have to tell me. For God’s sake, Lena, Ava might die. You have to tell me what’s going on.’
She fiddles with my coat, feeling around with her hands, and too late, I remember. She slides Ava’s phone out of the pocket, holds it up.
‘Now you have to tell me.’
I look at Martha properly for the first time. I see Ava in the angular lines of her cheekbones, the same intensity in her eyes. Then I see Ava’s lifeless body. Nothing matters if she’s dead. I slide to the floor and press my back to the wall, hugging my knees to my chest.
Finally I start speaking. ‘Kate saw the newspaper article. She was, what, ten, eleven when the accident happened. Her big sister was her world and suddenly she was gone. She kept that article; for her it was gospel. Lena good, Ava bad. As far as she was concerned, Ava killed her big sister. You can’t blame her. You hated Ava too for what she did.’
‘But she’s my sister. Hate and love are interchangeable in families. You wouldn’t understand that.’
‘You don’t know me.’ It’s buried deep, but I can’t help loving my parents, my brother, despite his choosing crime as a way of life. ‘Of course I understand.’ Another image takes the place of my family: a little girl, holding Tess’s hand.
‘I remember her,’ Martha says. ‘She was a shy kid, didn’t have many friends.’
‘And she lost the only person who’d looked out for her. She kept that article and waited. She contacted me six months later, asked to meet me. She wanted to know exactly what had happened to her sister. I was a mess at the time. Kate wanted to make sure Ava never forgot. She came up with the idea of doing something to commemorate the anniversary. The black roses were a symbol to remind Ava what she’d done. At first I tried to dissuade her; it was a crazy idea. But she kept pestering me, and the longer it went on, the more difficult it became to confess. I’d saved Ava’s life and I didn’t want her to ever forget. I wanted her to need me – I had no one else.
‘The roses today took us both by surprise; they weren’t part of the plan. Kate wasn’t even meant to be at the party. But she found out Ava was leaving and she had to stop her. And when Ava assumed you were behind them, it was perfect. It could have been you. You hated her too. You’ve punished her for all these years.’
Martha is shaking her head, incredulous. ‘What about the photographs?’
‘What photographs?
‘Her face has been scratched out of all the pictures in her photo album.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You might do something so hateful, but it’s not my style. That must have been Kate as well. She’s been messing with my head too. She threw my frame on the fire to make me think it was you doing all this. Why do you hate me so much? All I ever did was love Ava as a sister. That’s all I ever wanted.’
Martha takes out a tissue and dabs at her eyes, blows her nose.
‘You’re right. I did hate you. I didn’t trust you. I saw things our parents didn’t. Ava used to tell me what you got up to when you went out. I thought you were a bad influence.’
‘We were teenagers.’
‘You weren’t a teenager when you took the passport. Why would you do that?’
‘Because I didn’t want her to leave me.’ My voice comes out as a wail, and one of the women in the waiting room looks across. ‘None of this matters now,’ I whisper. ‘Nothing matters any more. You might as well know the truth.’
The sound of footsteps approaching makes me look up. A radio crackles and I hear a man’s voice. Two police officers are coming towards us.
‘What do you mean?’ Martha asks.
I stare at the ground, focusing on a coffee stain on the grey flooring as I reveal the secret I have kept all these years. ‘You were right to hate me. It was me all along, not Ava. I didn’t save her life; I pushed her into the road. It was my fault Tess died.’
Martha gasps out loud and grabs my arm, her nails digging into my skin.
‘Say that again.’
‘It was me.’
‘You.’ She gasps out loud as two shiny boots move into my line of vision and I look up into the face of a police officer. Martha removes her hand, but my skin burns where her nails dug in.
‘Lena Baker?’
I nod, and he speaks into his radio.
‘We’ve got her.’ To me he says, ‘I’d like to ask you a few questions.’
‘Oh God,’ Martha says, her voice trembling. ‘I’ve just seen your tattoo.’
I pull my dress back over the intricate image of a black rose, its petals no longer crusted with dried blood, the plaster gone. It doesn’t matter any more who sees it. Ava’s never going to see it now.
‘Why?’ Martha’s voice is loud. ‘Why the tattoo?’ The second police officer stiffens and moves so she’s standing between us. ‘Let her answer me,’ Martha says between gritted teeth.
‘The roses bind us together, don’t you see?’ I say. ‘Look where the tattoo is, right where her scar is, her only physical memento of that time.’
‘You’re mad.’
‘I knew you’d never understand.’
‘But she hates the black roses – wouldn’t it make her suspicious, she’d think you were behind them?’
‘Ava was never meant to know I was involved with sending the roses. Kate should have stuck to the rules. To me the roses were a reminder of how close we are. You know I thought she’d want me to go New York with her. I’m sure she would have changed her mind, – either taken me with her or stayed behind, she can’t cope without me. And if she’d queried the tattoo I was going to tell her it was just a black and white tattoo of a rose. That it was just a coincidence and I had no idea about all the black roses over the years. And if she did leave me it was a punishment for both of us – for us not staying together, for her abandoning me; me not doing enough to keep her here. By that point, I would no longer care if she saw it and knew I was behind the roses. Because my life would be over. And now hers is too.’
‘You really think she would have believed that? That it was just a coincidence?’
‘I can make Ava believe anything. You know that.’
Martha shakes her head as if she thinks I’m crazy. I don’t care what she thinks.
Nothing matters now that I’ve lost Ava.
Forty-Four
2005
Everything was spinning again and Lena was shouting and she wasn’t sure but she thought she’d hit her and her cheek hurt and the street lights were too bright. Lena was pulling her and then she was laughing but she didn’t know why.
‘Come on, Ava.’ Lena grabbed her arm and pulled her up, then pushed her towards the gate.
‘I don’t want to go home,’ Ava said, shaking her arm free. The movement made her lose her balance, and she stumbled against the wall.
‘We’re going,’ Lena said, raising her voice. Her face burned.
‘No,’ Ava said. ‘I don’t want to go.’
Lena walked through the gate and waited, her chest heaving. Ava moved towards her. Tess was getting into a car further along the street.
Lena wanted her to get into Tess’s car. Lena appeared beside her, still talking but Ava’s mind was fuzzy again and she folded her arms to steady herself.
‘Stop telling me what to do. Danny said I don’t have to do what you say. He’s asked me to go to the cinema with him.’
Ava heard a car door slam.
‘You know how much I like him.’
‘He wants to go to university, like me. I shouldn’t tell you this but he said you’re not his type.’
A car brake screeched and they both turned to see the car lurch forward. Tess wasn’t a very good driver.
‘You can’t make me leave,’ she said to Lena. ‘I�
�m going back to Danny.’ The car lights dazzled Ava and made her head spin again and something pushed against her back, and she stumbled forward into the road, feeling numb as the car headed straight at her. A scraping and crashing noise roared into her head, followed by screams that weren’t hers. A silent darkness descended.
Forty-Five
2005
Lena couldn’t believe how drunk Ava was. She opened the front door and Danny helped her to get Ava outside. She sat on the floor and Danny hovered, but Lena waved at him to go back inside.
‘Come on, Ava.’ Lena grabbed her arm and pulled her up, then pushed her towards the gate.
‘I don’t want to go home,’ Ava said, shaking her arm free. The movement made her lose her balance, and she stumbled against the wall.
‘We’re going,’ Lena said, raising her voice. Her face burned.
‘No,’ Ava said. ‘I don’t want to go.’
Lena walked through the gate and waited, her chest heaving. Ava moved towards her. Tess was getting into a car further along the street.
‘We can get a lift if we hurry,’ Lena said.
‘Stop telling me what to do. Danny said I don’t have to do what you say. He’s asked me to go to the cinema with him.’
A car door slammed and Lena felt her hopes shatter.
‘You know how much I like him.’
‘He wants to go to university, like me. I shouldn’t tell you this but he said you’re not his type.’
Ava’s mouth was still forming words, but the sound of a car engine revving loudly, too loudly, drowned out her words. Lena couldn’t bear to hear any more cruel truths from Ava; so this was how she really felt about her. Not good enough, for her or for Danny. Lena felt bruised inside, broken.
Ava moved closer.
‘You can’t make me leave,’ she said to Lena. ‘I’m going back to Danny.’
Lena was consumed by a wave of rage at her friend’s stubbornness. As the headlights blazed and the car shot towards them, she ran after her, and shoved her with all her strength. The car hit Ava, swerved and veered off the road as somebody screamed. And then there was a dark and desperate silence.
Forty-Six
2005
Martha closed her bedroom door and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Her parents were going mad, letting that girl live with them. So what if she was a hero. Something was off with this whole situation, but God knows how she could prove it.
Tess’s funeral had been the worst day of her whole life. Rain had pelted down over the funeral party, who huddled under a roof of black umbrellas. Women were draped in drab outfits in place of the colourful dresses and pastel coats they normally wore in spring. The head, Mrs Schaffer, was there along with a scattering of other teachers, but no pupils other than Tess’s friends from sixth form. The school was holding a special memorial assembly, and even though much time had passed, Martha knew there would be a lot of dramatic weeping from girls who had never even known Tess. Martha kept her own grief to herself, but that didn’t make her suffering any less.
The newspaper report had come out a couple of months after the funeral. A journalist from the local paper had interviewed Lena, publicising the difficult family circumstances she had grown up in. A bad-girl-come-good kind of angle, relating how Lena had pushed past her miserable childhood, which should have made her furious with the world, and performed the heroic act of rushing to save her childhood friend. When Martha had read it, the paper had ripped between her fingers she was gripping hold of it so hard, her hands shaking at the swirl of emotions roaring inside her.
‘She could have told the press we wouldn’t have her in the house,’ her father had said, throwing a meaningful glance at her mum across the Caesar salad.
‘We should invite her round here,’ her mum had replied. ‘Thank her at least.’
‘We can do more than that.’ Her dad had wiped his hands on a serviette. ‘Why not ask her if she’d like to stay in the spare room until her exams are finished. Her father clearly can’t cope with her, and that way he can take up the place in rehab he’s been offered. She might have to go into care otherwise. That will mess up her exams completely.’
Martha had set her cutlery down on her plate, making a clattering sound.
‘No, Dad. That’s too much. We don’t know for sure what happened.’
‘Can’t you read?’ Ava said, pointing at the newspaper. ‘She saved my life. You should be grateful to her, but no, you’ve always hated her.’ She got up and went and threw her arms around her father. ‘It’s a brilliant idea, Dad, thank you. I know she’ll say yes.’
That was the moment Martha knew she’d made the right decision. She was due to take up her place at Edinburgh University to study journalism next week, and she couldn’t wait to get as far away from home as possible. As far away from Lena as she could.
Forty-Seven
Ava
We meet in Central Park. I’m here early, well wrapped up in a faux-fur coat and hat, a woollen scarf covering most of my face; I needed time to sit and prepare myself. Ben offered to come with me, to take the day off work – he’d do that for me, but not in the self-sacrificing way Lena used to. I shudder when I think of her. I try not to, but she’s still always there, lurking at the edge of my thoughts.
When I came round in the hospital, they told me I’d been unconscious for a week and that my family had been advised to prepare themselves for the worst. When they mentioned my sister, I thought at first they meant Lena, and then it all flooded back. Lena was not my real sister. Martha was at the party … A sharp pain seared through my head. The party. Short sequences of memories returned to me, each one causing the pain to worsen. I cried out, and the nurse rushed over. She told me I was on morphine and that she could adjust the dose if I was hurting, and I just about managed to nod my throbbing head. The drug erased the memories and I preferred the semi-conscious state of drowsing to the clarity I experienced on waking.
Ben was the first person I saw, his hands holding onto mine, warm, solid. He had to be part of a dream, and I closed my eyes quickly, wanting to stay with him. But his gentle voice was persistent, repeating my name, telling me how he’d rushed to be with me as soon as he got the news; how he’d thought the party was next week, how Lena had misled him. Lena. Hearing her name made me open my eyes, my chest full of restless moths, and struggle to sit up, but Ben calmed me down, called the nurse, who reassured me I was safe.
‘You were right,’ I told him, ‘about Lena.’
He nodded. ‘You know I always trust my gut, and there was something disturbing about her. She hated me being around you; she tried to hide it, but I could tell. That’s why I got you to change your plans that time you were both supposed to be coming to visit. But she can’t hurt you now. And I’m not leaving the UK until you’re on that plane coming back with me.’
After that, Mum was there every time I opened my eyes; I later learned I’d woken for the first time on one of the rare occasions she’d been persuaded to take a break from her vigil and had gone home to sleep. She gave herself a hard time for missing me coming round and refused to leave after that until I was out of danger. Danger. I had felt as if I was in danger most of my life. Was it over at last?
The doctor arrived with his clipboard and went over my injuries with me: broken collarbone and ribs, deep bruising all over. But none of that mattered, because the scar had stopped hurting. My fingers brushed over it every now and then to be sure, but there was nothing. The raised skin was still smooth against my fingers, but it didn’t throb any longer. Lena had gone from my life and taken the pain with her.
I’ve selected my favourite spot in the park: a bench with a view over the lake. The trees are covered with a white dusting of snow and the bitter cold is a constant surprise. The lake is partially frozen. Tall buildings fill the skyline surrounding the park and I feel protected knowing they are there. No way could this park be in London – I like to remind myself where I am.
Martha has been in con
stant contact. She was there with Mum the day I woke, and I realised the time had come to start living again. But first I had to ask the question that had been there since I’d opened my eyes.
‘Where is she?’
I didn’t need to say her name; her presence hung over every one of us in the hospital room. The last thing I could remember was Lena threatening me with a knife and Martha telling me to run, followed by a screeching sound and a white flash turning to black in my head.
‘She isn’t allowed in,’ Mum said. ‘You don’t need to worry about her while you’re in here. The police will want to speak to you about the accident and it will be up to you whether you press charges or not.’
‘Press charges?’
They helped me piece together what had happened. Kate was the mastermind of all this; Kate Davies, little Kate, Tess’s younger sister, who I could barely remember. Mum brought a photo in at my request to remind me. Kate had known I wouldn’t recognise her; why would I? Our paths had never intersected. My big sister’s best friend’s little sister – she was nobody to me, an insignificant child. A girl of around ten or eleven in school uniform with a solemn stare and a badly cut fringe looked out of the photograph at me, a complete stranger.
It turned out that that little girl had kept the newspaper cutting about the accident, enlisting Lena to help her punish the person who had caused her sister’s death. Me. Only it wasn’t me. That’s the hardest part to take in in all of this: that guilt I’ve carried around my whole life was completely unnecessary; it didn’t belong to me. It belonged to Lena.
‘It makes sense to me now, in a warped kind of way,’ Martha said. ‘I can see how Lena rationalised it: by keeping the accident alive in your mind and feeding your guilt and shame, you’d continue to need her in your life. Kate getting in touch with her, wanting revenge, had reminded her of all that she stood to lose once she’d wormed her way into our family.’ Mum looked distressed at this and I squeezed her hand; Lena had fooled us all. All of us except for Martha. A wave of love for my sister washed over me. My real sister.
The Leaving Party: An absolutely gripping and addictive psychological thriller Page 19
