No Place Like Home Page 15

  Opening the back door and satisfied that Beth would be busy for the whole day, Molly headed for the shed and began to pile logs precariously along one arm, picked up the coal bucket with the other and went to close the door behind her. But then stopped. Looked back in. The rusty old spade that had hung by the window was gone. She knew she hadn’t moved it and knew that Beth would rather starve than do anything manual, which meant only one thing. Once again, someone else had been here. Turning, she scoured the garden, looked across the bay, took in the rugged coastline. The inaccessibility. The thought that someone had been in here continued to poke at her mind, like a finger, constantly prodding, reminding her of the way Charlie would hover over her as a child, the belt from his trousers held tightly in his hand, the spittle flying out of his mouth as he screamed and the way he’d angrily haul her from one room to the other, launching her against walls and banister rails. ‘You need to learn to be good,’ he’d scream. ‘Bad things happen to naughty girls like you, really bad things.’ The words would make her cower, do anything he’d asked as she’d imagine all the things he could do, all the ways he could hurt her.

  But then, with a shake of her head, the doubt set in. Charlie was evil, but he wasn’t stupid. By coming here, by sending messages, he’d be risking his parole, the risk of going back inside a definite possibility. No, she knew that taking spades wasn’t Charlie’s style and her eyes drifted to Niall’s, to the men who were already busily working on his garden and while listening carefully, she scanned the garden, all the time searching for clues. Uneasily, she went back into the house, locked the door behind her. Checked it twice.

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ she promised herself. ‘She’ll be all right… and… and he can’t get in.’

  28

  The thick, depressing clouds that had circled around the sky all day had suddenly turned to darkness with the moon hidden behind them to make everything look and feel a little more eerie than normal. Keeping one eye on the sky, the other on the road, Molly tried to decide whether the torrents of rain would once again come down, just as they had during almost every day for the past week and, when they did, how difficult getting home along the lane would become.

  Yawning, she caught her breath and frowned as a loud ping caused her to quickly glance down at the neon orange fuel light. Cursing, she turned the car around, went back towards town, to where she was sure she’d just driven past a supermarket, but couldn’t remember if there had been a petrol station beside it or not. It was just another reminder that she needed to learn about the local area, and while adding it to her list of things to do, she tried to count just how many things had already gone wrong in a single day since getting up that morning.

  Pulling into the fuel station, the sound of her ringtone began. Beth’s name flashed up on the screen and immediately she felt the nerves bubble up in her throat. Instinct told her to answer, that something was wrong and, without thought, she immediately pulled straight through the forecourt, out of the other side, clicked to answer.

  ‘Beth, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Moll, it’s late, where are you?’

  Feeling relieved at the sound of her sister’s voice, Molly began to answer. ‘It was a late one at the surgery, couldn’t be helped. An unerupted molar, more difficult than normal. Had to practically dissect it to get it out. Suture it up after. Patient was a bit shaky and, in the end, she didn’t want to drive and had to wait for a friend to come and collect her. Anyhow, I need to go for some fuel, so that’s where I’m going right now, to the petrol station.’

  ‘Moll, please. Please just shut up for a minute.’ She paused, sobbed, her words came out broken, sporadic. ‘I need you to come home – right now.’

  Molly took short, sharp breaths. Her heart boomed audibly in her ears and she could feel the blood pulsating through her mind.

  ‘Okay, I’m coming. Where’s Gran?’

  ‘She – had to – go home.’

  ‘Beth.’ Molly couldn’t breathe, couldn’t understand why their gran had left and images of their mum having been home alone flashed in front of her eyes. ‘Beth, are you alone, is anyone with you?’ Again, she waited for an answer that didn’t come, just soft muffled sobs that came from her sister. ‘Beth, listen to me, I’m on my way, lock the doors.’

  She sped up. Aimed the car out of town, towards the main road. Narrowly missed a kerb and heard a car’s horn blasted out to her right. Swallowing hard, she looked over her shoulder, saw the red light, the one she’d just driven straight through. ‘Beth, are… are you okay? Tell me what’s wrong.’ Apart from another sob, Beth was silent. ‘Beth… damn it, speak to me.’

  ‘Moll, the police. They came, they were here,’ she finally said, her words interspersed between a torrent of tears. ‘You told me not to let anyone in, so I didn’t.’

  ‘Good girl. That’s good.’ Oblivious to anything else on the road, Molly looked over her shoulder, tried to work out where she was, which roundabout she was approaching. Realising all too late that she’d taken a wrong turn, she held her breath, quickly moved across the lanes, heard the blast of a horn, another driver she’d managed to annoy, and without waving or acknowledging, she went around the roundabout, headed back to the main road. ‘Beth, Beth, keep talking to me. I’m not far away now.’ She bit down on her lip, searched the road signs.

  ‘Carol. She’s missing. No one’s seen her for days. The last place they say she went… was here, she went to this house. Last Friday.’

  ‘What?’ Slowing the car, an explosion of questions shot through Molly’s mind as her thoughts went back to Friday. She could clearly see the back door, the keys swinging in the lock, the picture and then, there had been the milk, the cat… the missed appointment. Everything pointed to the fact that something had happened, something bad.

  ‘Moll. They asked about the house, wanted to know if we’d seen her.’

  ‘And what did you tell them?’

  ‘I said we hadn’t. That by the time we got here, she’d already gone.’

  Molly nodded. ‘Good, that’s good, you didn’t lie. It’s true, we haven’t seen her.’

  ‘But, Moll, I told them about the door. I told them it was open, that she’d left the keys. That we’d thought it odd and that we’d tried to phone her. I told them you’d been to the house.’ She paused. ‘They asked why. Wanted to know why you’d been… and I had to tell them the truth, didn’t I?’

  ‘Hey. It’s okay. You did the right thing.’ Moll could hear the anxiety in Beth’s voice. Felt the need to be there as a fist of nerves struck her in the gut, like a thunder ball, along with the sour taste of bile as it rose in her throat. Shaking her head, she pushed the questions to the back of her mind, spotted a road sign. ‘Beth, sit tight, honey, I’m just turning out of town. I won’t be long. I promise.’

  Driving at speed, Molly felt her stomach tighten without pain, every part of her felt numb. Her eyes glossed over as she looked down and saw the orange neon light. It still flashed at her, she was still running out of fuel. The thought that she could run out at any second was one thing too many, too many things were going wrong, and it wasn’t as though they’d only just started. If they had, if everything had simply begun on Friday, like Niall had said, she’d blame it on the house. But it hadn’t. All the strange happenings had begun so long ago, she now considered them normal. They were simply her life, the way they’d lived. In truth, the moment her mum had met Charlie, an unpredictable whirlwind of events had begun, events that had followed them throughout their whole lives and she thought back to that day in the car, wished she’d rung the police, told them her suspicions. Only then could she have rationalised what had happened, while all the time knowing that each tiny piece of information alone added up to nothing, sounded ludicrous. But mixed together, they were a whole cauldron of problems that gave her just one conclusion… Charlie.

  Driving as quickly as she could, Molly felt the car grunt and groan. It hit each and every pothole and for once she didn’t care, she d
rove over them anyway, and then, as the house came into view, she felt relieved that the fuel had got her there. With her foot heavy on the brakes, she lurched forward, flung open the car door and ran along the cobbled path, towards the house.

  ‘Beth, it’s me, open the door.’ Cupping her hand over her eyes, Molly peered through the side window, saw Beth sitting on the bottom step of the stairs. ‘Come on, honey, let me in.’ Stepping through the door, Molly immediately saw Beth’s tear-stained face and pulled her into a hug. ‘It’s okay, I’m here.’ Holding her as tightly as she could, Molly moved Beth back to sit on the step. ‘Hey, come on. It’s okay.’ She scanned the lane. ‘You said the police were here, where… where did they go?’

  Wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, Beth held out a business card. ‘They left this. Said we should call them. You know, if we saw Carol or if we thought of anything that might help them.’

  Molly nodded, concentrated on the business card, read the policeman’s name. ‘Okay, that makes sense. After all, she didn’t really live here, did she? The chances that this was the last place she’d been, well it’s unlikely, isn’t it?’ She tried to reassure Beth, gave an uneasy smile, unsure who she was trying to convince. ‘Where’s Gran?’

  Standing up, Beth moved to the living room, beckoned for Molly to follow. ‘There’s something else you need to see. We found this, when Gran saw it she got all funny, said she had things to do.’ With a shaking hand, she passed Molly an old, tatty photograph. ‘I know it upset her, but I don’t know what it means?’

  ‘Ah, the picture, you found it?’ Molly whispered but felt her hand shaking as she looked down and with a gasp, she took note of the composition. It was a picture of Michael. Once again he was leaning against the door jamb and the child’s bike lay on the path beside him, but that was where the similarities ended.

  ‘It’s taken on the same day, isn’t it?’ Beth added. ‘But look…’ Her finger shakily pointed to the edge of the photograph and to the woman who sat on the grass, the white cotton shirt, the ripped jeans, her face plain to see. ‘Moll, this picture, it’s old. Looking at Mum’s face, her age, it was probably taken before we were born, right?’ She paused, shook her head. ‘So, what was our mum doing, sitting on the grass of this house, right back then?’ A sob left her throat. ‘And if she’d known Michael before, why the hell didn’t she tell us?’

  29

  Molly turned over in bed, punched at her pillow and cursed the lack of curtains. Shielding her eyes from the morning sun, she checked her watch. It was still too early to get up, far too early to go to work and she lay with her eyes closed, thinking about the picture, about the fact that their mother hadn’t told them the whole truth and the fact that this house, in all its glory, had more answers to give than Molly had ever given it credit for.

  Rolling her memory backwards, Molly thought of the comments her grandad had growled, wondered what he knew. ‘You’re breaking her heart, hasn’t she lost enough, all those years of keeping everyone’s business, your mother’s secrets, pretending all is okay, when so much was wrong?’ The words had invaded her dreams, her mind and her waking hours as she tried to understand what he’d meant. Turning over and opening her eyes, Molly remembered the look that had passed between her grandparents. The formidable glare that had made it more than obvious that her gran had known exactly what he’d meant. The strange exchange that had alerted Molly and set off the radar that had annoyingly spiralled around her mind like an old-fashioned film rapidly flicking past to show years of their lives, frame by frame. She’d wondered about the truth for half the night, about how many secrets their mother had kept and, even more, what her grandparents knew. Because whatever those secrets were, each and every one seemed to revolve around this house.

  Pushing herself up against the pillows, Molly felt for her handbag and pulled out the picture she’d hidden there the night before. ‘They’d known each other a long time, probably loved each other all that time. So why was it a secret?’ Her finger gently traced the line of her mother’s face, until it came to rest above her heart. ‘Why pretend you’d only just met? What were you hiding?’ She paused, took a deep breath, thought of the refuge they’d lived in. The years of hiding. ‘Who were you scared of?’

  Turning onto her back, she stared up at the old-fashioned coving that surrounded the room, knowing she’d soon have to decorate. Her mind flicked onto fast forward and she began wondering how many layers of décor there would be and, beneath them, how many new secrets would emerge.

  ‘What trouble have you caused?’ she asked the house. ‘How many secrets have you kept?’ She turned, heard the sound of the waves crash onto the rocks below. The tide was coming in, just as it had been that morning many years ago when she’d watched Beth run into the sea. She could still see it now, the wave, the tears that had followed and the man who’d scooped her up and into his arms. Had that been Michael? Had he been there all along, watching them play? Was that why Charlie had been so cross? Had he known Michael too? And if he had, if there had been animosity between them, could she be sure that Michael’s death had been an accident? Had he really fallen from the roof and, if he had, what had he been doing up there? No one had known. They’d asked and now… Carol Cooper, the only link to Michael, had disappeared too. The thought that it was all connected was too much to take in and she stared at her mobile, the business card the police had left her. She wanted to phone them, wanted to air her thoughts, her worries. But didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t understand what was happening herself and just knew that by saying it all out loud, she’d verge on sounding crazy. After all, Charlie had been in prison, he’d been locked up when it had happened, which brought her thoughts full circle. What else did this house have in common, who else could be behind the happenings?

  Beth’s alarm clock cut into her thoughts. The piercing noise was quickly followed by footsteps trudging crossing the landing. The bathroom door opened and closed. Then, unusually, the sound of singing could be heard. It was a sound that made Molly close her eyes and smile. Ironically, she felt a sense of achievement. Beth hadn’t begun to complain within seconds of waking up. It was a sound she’d hoped for, especially after the night before, when they’d taken delivery of her new double sleigh bed and spent half the night painting the walls and positioning the bed, a time when Jackson’s name had been repeatedly mentioned. The thought that Beth had a boyfriend had sent Molly’s emotions through the roof. She’d been thrilled for her sister, the idea that she might have a new and first love was exciting. But the thought of the intimacy, the possible sexual activity, all else that went with it, terrified her, and she hoped her sister was more sensible than she occasionally acted.

  Jumping out of bed, Molly began working her way around the room, ran her fingers along the windowsill, across the wall and finally the wardrobe door. She stopped as a realisation suddenly hit her, and she began mentally kicking herself from one side of the room to the other.

  ‘Of course they don’t… No one leaves a house to someone they’ve only just met, do they? No one does that. Not when they have a niece, family, others they could leave it to. But Michael chose to leave it to Mum and why? Because they’d known each other for years. According to the picture, they’d been in love for years. Yet no one knew… they’d kept it a secret.’ Angrily, she swished open the wardrobe door, caught sight of the tiny, white, wooden door within, the entrance to her very own Narnia. The place that now contained the majority of her mother’s possessions, the answers to her secrets. Which made Molly wonder, had she kept anything at all, anything that would give them the truth? Would she want them to search through the boxes, to find what she’d hidden?

  A loud and intrusive knocking made her glance back at the clock. She pushed her fluffy white sheep slippers onto her feet, peered out of the window. Thought of the police, of their visit the night before. Wondered if they were back. If Carol Cooper had been found.

  The knocking continued. ‘I’ll be down in a minute. I’m not
dressed.’ Pulling a thin satin dressing gown out of the wardrobe, she slipped it on over her chemise, pulled open her bedroom door and immediately heard Beth’s dulcet tones rocking out a song, the sound of the shower, followed by another round of knocking that echoed up the stairs.

  ‘All right, all right, I’m coming.’ She hesitated with her hand on the door handle, her fingers on the key. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Look, it’s Niall. I’m sorry it’s early, I just…’ His voice trailed off as she flung the door open.

  ‘Niall, oh, hi, how are you?’ Feeling embarrassed, she avoided his gaze. ‘You do know it’s seven-thirty in the morning, don’t you?’ Using the door as a shield, Molly felt the colour rush to her cheeks and secretly, from behind the door, she pulled the dressing gown tightly across herself, fully aware that beneath the gown was just a simple chemise, and that right now, she wholeheartedly wished she’d gone to bed wearing her thick fleecy, totally unflattering pyjamas that covered every inch of her and more.

  ‘Well… what do we have here?’ Crossing his arms, he stood back. A look of amusement flashed across his face. ‘I’d say I’m sorry,’ he said cheekily, ‘you know, that I came over a bit early. But… well, right now I’m kind of pleased.’ Uncrossing his arms, he pointed to the sheep slippers. ‘’Cause they are just too cute.’ He laughed, clasped his hands together, raised an eyebrow into an arch and gave an appreciative smile. ‘In fact, I think they’re almost the cutest things I’ve seen today.’

  ‘Ah, okay. Well, now you’ve made fun of my slippers, maybe you could come back tonight, at a time when I’ll be dressed and wearing proper boots or shoes.’ She was deadly serious, but seeing the sparkle in his eyes, began to wonder if once again she had make-up smeared all down her face, or the world’s best bed hair, and nervously she moved herself a little further behind the door.