The Rumor, page 12
I’m trying to get my head around the implications of what Kay has just said when the phone rings.
“Hello, darling.” Mom’s voice sounds all weak and croaky. “Any chance you could take Sol out for a walk later? I’ve come down with some kind of virus. I feel awful. All aches and pains.”
“Oh no. You poor thing. Of course I will. I’ve got Alfie at home with me today, but we’ll drop by in a bit.”
“Why isn’t he at school? He’s not still having problems, is he?”
Oh God. If she thinks I’ve put Alfie in any kind of danger, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“No, no. He’s fine. It’s a long story, Mom. I’ll tell you later. You get yourself off to bed and I’ll let myself in with the spare key.”
When the call is over Kay stands up. “Sounds like you’re wanted somewhere else, honey,” she says. “I’d better get going.”
From upstairs comes the sound of Alfie, still making lightsaber noises in his bedroom.
“Thank you so much for making that for him. He loves it.”
When Kay is halfway down the path, she stops and turns around. “Can I give you some advice?” she says. “Stop worrying about that silly Twitter account and the photo. It’s a Halloween prank, that’s all.”
I nod. She’s right.
“By the way, hon, if you ever need anyone to look after Alfie at short notice, say if your mom can’t do it, or she’s not feeling well, you know you can always knock on my door. I’m usually in. Save you going through the babysitting circle every time.”
“Thank you, Kay. That’s really, really kind of you.”
24
AFTER MUCH SOUL SEARCHING, I decide that I’ll take Alfie back to school after lunch. I can’t justify keeping him out all day, and it’ll look bad if he goes to Liam’s party when he hasn’t been at school. Besides, now that I’ve spoken to Kay, I feel much calmer. She’s so kind and levelheaded. Of course it’s a Halloween prank. Not a very nice one, admittedly, but a prank nonetheless. It has to be.
Alfie is delighted when I tell him we’re taking Sol for a walk. He seems to have forgotten all about being upset with me earlier. That’s the great thing about children. They live in the moment and, right now, he’s happy. Which means I am, too.
At Mom’s, I call through the mail slot before using the spare key. This is the first time I’ve had to use it and Sol is confused and excited, running back and forth between the hall and Mom’s bedroom, and barking nonstop.
At last he settles down and pads off to his basket, closely followed by Alfie. I perch on the end of Mom’s bed.
She heaves herself upright. She looks terrible. “Sorry about the mess. I didn’t feel up to tidying.”
“I’m not surprised. You look awful.”
“What’s the story with Alfie, then?” she says.
I hesitate. If I tell her about the photo, she’ll only start worrying.
I lower my voice. “Alfie had a little accident as we arrived. It was my fault, I forgot to remind him to go to the bathroom. He was really embarrassed. Don’t say anything, for goodness’ sake. Now then, is there anything I can get you while I’m here?”
She shakes her head and points to her cluttered bedside table. “I made myself a mug of Theraflu.”
“What about something to eat?”
“No, I just want to sleep. Maybe when you get back?”
Propped up against her pillows, she looks pale and weak. “Why do I have to come down with something now?” she says. “I’ll have to miss my choir rehearsal tonight and it’s only two weeks before our concert.”
“I’m sure you’re all brilliant at it already.”
Mom snorts. “We’re so not. Our new choirmaster is insisting on us learning all the words by heart. We’ve always been able to keep our song sheets before.” She sighs. “It’s going to be a disaster.”
She gives me a sideways look. “Are you sure you won’t consider joining us one day? If we had some new blood, it would make such a difference. And you’ve got a lovely voice.”
Not this again. Will she never give up?
“Absolutely not.”
She gives me the same look she always gives me when I refuse to join the Flinstead church choir, but I don’t budge.
“Don’t forget the poop bags,” she says, and wriggles down under her quilt.
* * *
—
SOL IS GETTING on a bit now. He has the characteristic graying around the muzzle and eyes, and the long hairs between his toes are also turning gray, but he isn’t overweight like lots of old Labradors and he still enjoys a good walk. We head for the beach. I’m pretty sure, if left to his own devices, Sol could make his own way here, he’s done it so often.
When we reach the grass, his tail starts to wag and he picks up his pace. I unclip his leash and he circles the grass a few times, nose to the ground, before depositing a large brown turd. Alfie watches with his usual fascination as I get two black bags out of my pocket and dispose of the warm, smelly offering as fast as I can. This has to be the worst part of taking a dog for a walk. I should be used to it by now. I’ve been picking up dog poop on and off for most of my life.
“Grandma only uses one bag,” Alfie says.
“Well, I use two.”
“Grandma says it’s because you’re a fussbudget,” he says.
“Oh, does she now?”
The tide is out as far as it can go and, after a brief game of chase with Alfie, Sol lumbers off toward the drift line. He doesn’t have the stamina for too much running these days and prefers to plod along with Alfie and me, pausing every so often to sniff at the tide’s offerings: slimy clumps of brown sea kelp and bladder wrack; black skate pods, or “mermaid’s purses,” as I used to call them; the shells of whelks and scallops, limpets and mussels; upturned razor clams, their pearlescent sheen gleaming in the late-October sun; and frothy suds of sea-foam trembling and scudding across the wet sand.
Alfie tries to catch them, but every time he approaches they blow away and he groans with laughter.
I’m laughing at this, laughing with him, and pulling my woolen hat out of my pocket because my ears are freezing, when Maddie bobs into my sight line. She’s walking fast, chin parallel to the sand, her slightly bent arms swinging rhythmically, almost mechanically, at her sides. She’s power walking. I’ve seen her do this before. She’s so in the zone, she almost mows me down.
“Oh hi, I didn’t even see you there,” she says. Her face is pink from exertion, and a fine sheen of sweat coats her forehead and upper lip. She crouches down to retie the laces of her sneakers, and I can’t help noticing how fit she looks. It’s humiliating that a woman in her late fifties is in better condition than I am. I really must start doing some proper exercise.
When she straightens up, she laughs. “Look at you, all wrapped up, and here’s me, sweating like a pig.” She pulls the collar of her sweatshirt away from her and lets it ping back to create a draft on her neck. “Actually, I’m glad I’ve bumped into you. There’s something I wanted to tell you.”
I brace myself for what’s coming. If it’s more of the same about Sonia Martins from Stones and Crones, I’m not sure I want to hear it. I glance over at Alfie and Sol, who are examining what looks from here like a large dead crab. At least I hope it’s dead, because Alfie has just lifted it up with his fingers and, if it isn’t, he’s about to get a nasty pinch.
“It’s about my friend, from Pilates.”
“The probation officer?”
“No, another one.”
Oh God. What’s she going to come out with this time? If only I’d swerved out of her way and let her power walk past me.
“She’s buying my neighbor’s house. It’s being sold by Pegton’s, so you probably know it. In fact, it was me who first told her it was up for sale.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Maple Drive. Number twenty-four.”
So Anne Wilson is one of Maddie’s friends. “I’d forgotten you lived there,” I say.
“Yes, I’m right next door at number twenty-two. The thing is…” She sighs. “I wish I hadn’t said anything now. I mean, she might have found the place on Zillow, of course. But if I’d kept my mouth shut, chances are someone else would have put an offer in before she got around to viewing it.”
“You don’t want her living next door to you?”
“Not really. Not now. I’ve found something out about her, you see. Something that’s made me—how can I put it?—reevaluate our friendship.”
I don’t ask what, because I know she’s going to tell me anyway.
“I’ve known her for ages. We used to work in the same office—that’s how we first met. Then Martin did some tax work for her husband, Graham, and we started going out for meals together, the four of us. We even went away together once. To Miami. Not the most successful of vacations, but that’s another story. Then Anne discovered Graham was having an affair and they split up. I didn’t see much of her for ages because she got a little odd. You know how some women get when their husbands leave them for someone else. Really bitter and vindictive. I mean, I’m not saying I wouldn’t be absolutely furious if Martin had an affair, but I wouldn’t stalk the other woman and make her life hell. I wouldn’t become completely obsessed with her, to the point of making myself miserable. At least, I hope I wouldn’t. I hope I’d have more self-respect.” She sniffs. “I can’t vouch for what I would or wouldn’t do to Martin, of course.”
I glance over Maddie’s shoulder. Alfie is now throwing a stick into the shallows and Sol is lumbering dutifully after it.
“But then I started seeing her again at Pilates and she’d stopped going on and on about it. She really seemed to have turned a corner and put it all behind her. I’d gotten my old friend back at last. And she has a new boyfriend now. A lawyer. Although, between you and me, he’s got a bit of history, too.”
She mimes someone taking a swig of drink. “Another sort of weakness altogether, but he’s sober now, thank God.”
“Yes, she was with a man the first time she viewed the house. Tall, silver-haired.”
“That’s him. New man. New house.” Maddie giggles. “New face, too. Anne’s always been vain.”
“So why don’t you want her moving in next door to you?”
“Because one of our mutual acquaintances has just told me that the woman Graham left her for is the woman who owns that New Age shop I was telling you about. Sonia Martins.”
I stare at her, my brain racing with this new information.
“The woman you thought might be Sally McGowan,” I say.
Maddie blushes. “It isn’t her. Sonia Martins was born here in Flinstead. Her mother’s lived here for ages. I didn’t realize that when I told you. I didn’t know.” She shakes her head. “The thing is, now that I know it’s her that Graham had the affair with, I’m convinced that Anne is behind this horrible vendetta against her and, worse still, that it’s all my fault. Because I was the one who told her about the rumor. It’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do. I thought she’d moved on from all that vindictiveness, but clearly she hasn’t.”
Maddie twists her fingers in front of her and stares out to sea. “I can’t prove it was her, but I’m certain it was, and I really don’t want her living next door to me. Not now that I know what she’s done.”
She turns to face me. “You know the shop window got smashed last night?”
“Oh my God! No!”
“It was being boarded up when I walked past just now. Oh, I’m not saying it was Anne who did that. But these things take on a life of their own, don’t they? She just lit the fuse and stood back.” Maddie sighs. “I shouldn’t say this, not with you working at Pegton’s, but I really hope the sale falls through. Whenever I see Susan Marchant now, I keep telling her she must be nuts to want to sell such a beautiful house, but she just looks at me as if I’m the nutcase. I can’t blame her, of course. She’ll need the money, won’t she?”
“Well, actually, no, she won’t. She’s going to give it to…” I clear my throat. I’ve no right to start blabbing about Susan Marchant’s charitable intentions. I’ve already caused enough trouble by passing on the rumor about McGowan—none of this would have happened if I’d kept my mouth shut.
Maddie gives me a questioning look, but luckily Sol starts barking—the perfect excuse to turn away and see what he and Alfie are up to. But Sol is standing alone at the water’s edge and Alfie is nowhere to be seen. My heart skips a beat. I scan the beach. He must be here somewhere. I only just saw him throwing a stick.
“What’s the matter?” Maddie asks.
“I can’t see Alfie. I can’t see him anywhere.” My chest tightens with fear.
“Don’t panic. He can’t have gone far.”
We both turn toward the sea at the same time, but there’s no sign of him. Alfie wouldn’t have gone in the water. Not in this chilly weather. I just know he wouldn’t, and even if he had, he’d have come running back the minute the cold water reached his knees. Besides, it’s so shallow on this stretch of beach.
A memory from the news ages ago comes back to me. Two little children arriving for their vacation on a Florida beach. Running into the sea excitedly, never to be seen again. Not alive, anyway. But Alfie wouldn’t do that. Not on a day like this.
“Alfie? Alfie?” I shout as loud as I can, but my voice is lost on the wind. Now I’m running. Running toward the wooden breakwaters and the next stretch of beach, but there’s no one else down here. No one except Maddie and Sol and me.
“I’ll go the other way,” Maddie shouts, and she jogs off in the direction of Mistden Pier, calling Alfie’s name as she goes.
Sol is still barking. “Where is he, Sol? Where’s Alfie?”
I follow the direction of his gaze and see a woman in a pale-blue jacket striding purposefully along the boardwalk. She appears to be holding on to something with her hand.
And then I see it. A little shock of hair, bobbing in and out of view behind the seawall, and I’m suddenly so dizzy I think I’m going to faint. It’s the top of Alfie’s head.
25
IT’S LIKE ONE OF THOSE nightmares when you’re being chased and you can’t run fast enough. Except this is no dream. This is really happening, and I’m the one who’s chasing. My feet sink into the wet sand and the muscles in my calves pull with the effort. I have to reach the steps up to the boardwalk, but the sand gets drier the nearer to them I get and it’s harder and harder to run. It feels like I’m moving in slow motion.
Whoever has Alfie could be halfway up the cliff path by now. If I don’t catch up with her, she could be across the parking lot and into a car in minutes. My heart pounds. What was I thinking, taking my eyes off him? Standing around listening to more of Maddie’s silly gossip.
At last, I reach the wooden steps and take them two at a time, using the metal handrail to haul myself up. I can just about see them up ahead, following the line of the cabanas. The woman in the blue jacket and Alfie, trotting along beside her. I can’t believe he’s doing that. I’ve told him a million times not to go with strangers. I scream his name, but the noise that reaches my ears is reed-thin. A whisper on the wind.
Now I’m running on the hard concrete. Sprinting, or trying to, the colors of the cabanas whizzing past in my peripheral vision. For one terrifying second, I almost lose my balance and topple over face-first, but somehow I keep going. I haven’t run like this for years, and it hurts. It really hurts.
The distance between me and Alfie shrinks. I’ve almost caught up with them, but still he can’t hear me shouting his name. This wind, it’s impossible. The woman in the blue jacket is tall and slender. I’m sure I’ve seen that straight black hair before. It’s someone about my age. I can tell from her clothes and the way she’s moving. The occasional blurred flash of her profile as she glances down at Alfie. Who is she? How dare she take my son? And is it my imagination, or has she just started walking even faster?
“Alfie!” I scream and, this time, thank God, his head turns and his tearstained face breaks into a massive smile. He drops the woman’s hand and charges toward me, barreling into my legs and almost toppling me.
I sink to a crouching position and wrap my arms around his body, hugging him tight. When I look up, Karen is standing in front of me, her face etched with concern. She looks different somehow.
“I found him all alone on the sand,” she says. “He was crying his eyes out.”
“He wasn’t all alone! He was with me, and Sol. Where were you taking him?”
Her jaw tightens. “To the school. I don’t know your phone number and I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to call the police…I…”
“But didn’t you see me talking to Maddie?” My voice is ragged from all the running, not to mention blind panic. “We were right there. You must have seen us.” I hold Alfie by the shoulders and peer into his face. “Alfie, darling, couldn’t you see Mommy? I was right there the whole time. You were playing with Sol, weren’t you?”
His lower lip trembles. “I threw his stick and another dog took it so I ran after it.” His face crumples. “I couldn’t see you anymore. I couldn’t see Sol, either. The beach looked all different.”
He starts to wail and I hug him to my chest again. He’s still so small and vulnerable, and the beach is huge when the tide’s out. How much bigger must it seem to someone Alfie’s size?
“Oh, Alfie. What have I told you about running off?”
“We looked for you everywhere,” Karen says. Her face is stricken. “You didn’t tell me Mommy was wearing a hat, did you, Alfie?”
“She wasn’t,” he says, his voice muffled by my coat.
