This Girl, That Girl, page 14
Dee laughed along with him. ‘Quite right. No partying for you this year, Jake Morgan. In fact, you’d better not drink at all.’
‘Here, let me show you the latest Ruby pics. I was going to show you in the pub last week.’ Ruby was Jake and Hayley’s four-year-old daughter. Dee didn’t think she’d ever met a prouder dad.
She scrolled through the latest photos he’d taken and made all the right noises. It made her sad to think she’d never have a child of her own. She might have done, if she’d stayed with Euan. There was still time – just about. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about it. She’d thought about it when she’d seen him in the pub the other night. The way he’d looked at her when he thought she couldn’t see him. Jake and Lindsay were right. He’d take her back in a heartbeat, and there were worse things in life than not fancying your husband, especially if, deep down, you really liked each other.
But it was crazy, thinking like that. Stupid. She handed him back his phone. ‘I am grateful, you know, for all the work you do for me and Lins, for stepping up at short notice.’
Jake shrugged. ‘No need to thank me.’ He grinned then. ‘It’s not as if I do it for free.’
‘True,’ Dee said. Hayley had once told her and Lindsay that she wished Jake would give up on his acting ambitions and find a proper job so that she could reduce her own working hours and spend more time with Ruby. After all his experience at Fond Farewells, Jake would easily have been able to get a job in one of the bigger funeral firms. He was practical and capable and not in the least bit squeamish about the less savoury side of the business. But Dee knew how heart-breaking it must be to give up on your dreams. Gina had tried for years to make a go of it as a professional dancer, but it had been hard, living from short-term contract to short-term contract. That was why, in the end, she’d made the decision to train as a teacher.
Jake drained his cup of coffee and got up to leave. ‘What’s up with Lins, by the way?’
Dee gave him a wary look.
‘She didn’t seem her usual self when I spoke to her on the phone last night.’
Dee started shuffling some papers around on her desk. ‘Maybe you need to ask her that question, not me.’
Jake nodded. ‘She’s asked me to pick her up from that course later. Said she wants to talk about something. I just thought you might know what’s going on with her.’
Dee dry-swallowed. Jake might not be quite as friendly to her next time they met, not once he knew Dee had accused his sister of ‘whoring herself out’.
‘I don’t really know what’s going on with her,’ she said, not meeting his eye.
Jake went to leave. ‘Guess I’ll see you at the match on Sunday then.’
‘Let’s just hope it stays dry,’ Dee said.
With any luck, she and Lindsay would have called some kind of truce before then.
31
Scarlett slept badly the night after Mickey North’s visit. She had to accept what she was feeling: she didn’t trust her own brother. And if her dad was turning up at the yard unannounced, then maybe she wasn’t the only one.
As soon as she was dressed and had forced herself to eat some toast and drink a small coffee she made up her mind to phone Ollie and put her suspicions to the test. And now that she’d reached this decision, she wanted to do it straight away. She was both dreading and, in a weird way, looking forward to the conversation. What was wrong with her for feeling like this? How was it possible to hold these two conflicting emotions at the same time?
She waited for him to answer the call, not knowing exactly what she was going to say but preferring to wing it. It wouldn’t do to sound too rehearsed.
‘Scar? What’s up?’
She launched straight into it, surprised at how steady her voice sounded. How calm. ‘Thanks for sending Mickey round to fix the window. Although I have a horrible feeling it was a complete waste of his time.’ Her pulse quickened. She could almost sense him frowning.
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because I’ve decided I’m going to relocate the summer house so that I don’t have to walk all the way up the end of the garden to use it.’ She thought she heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, but maybe it was her own breath she could hear. ‘If I’m going to live here for the rest of my life – and, frankly, I can’t see how I’ll ever want to move – then I want to make sure it’s accessible for when I’m not feeling so strong, or when I’m older.’
There was a noticeable beat before her brother responded. ‘That’s crazy. Why go to all that effort for something you’ll probably only use a few times a year? And that’s a big job, Scar. I won’t have the time or the manpower for something like that. Not for a good long while.’ There was exasperation in his voice, but something else too. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’m not asking you to do it. I’ll get someone else in. I’ve got plenty of savings.’ She carried the phone over to the sofa and sat down with it, warming to her theme, even though it made her nervous. ‘I fancy one of those log-cabin-type ones. I can start that pottery hobby I’ve been talking about for years.’ Her voice was too loud, too high.
‘That’s a terrible idea.’
She twiddled the silver ring on her middle finger, not trusting herself to respond.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It just seems a bit extreme. Building a log cabin for a hobby you don’t even know you’ll stick at.’
‘But you know I’ve always fancied being a potter. I went to those evening classes.’
Ollie snorted. ‘So throwing a couple of misshapen pots in an evening class makes you a potter, does it?’ He was trying to sound sarcastic, but Scarlett recognized the tension in his voice.
‘Why do you have to be so disparaging? And, for your information, I didn’t just throw a couple of misshapen pots, I made a really nice vase and a collection of matching bowls.’ She tried to control the rising tension in her own voice, to make it sound more like defensiveness. ‘I made ceramic gifts for Christmas presents. You got an ashtray, remember? I did decorative application and glazing too. I’m actually quite good at it.’
Another pause. ‘So go to a more advanced class. And if you want a pottery studio in the garden – which it sounds like you do – with a wheel and a kiln and everything – why don’t you just look into getting one installed? You don’t have to go to all the trouble of relocating the summer house. That’s just making unnecessary work.’
‘Possibly. But that’s my decision to make, isn’t it?’ She paused. ‘I fancy a low-maintenance gravel garden up that end.’
The line was silent. Then he spoke. ‘Since when did you get interested in gardening?’
‘I’m not. That’s why I want a low-maintenance gravel garden. The clue’s in the name, you twit.’
She could tell he was getting annoyed. Not just annoyed, but anxious. The apartment upstairs might be his now, but the garden belonged to her. She could do what she liked with it. He wouldn’t be able to stop her, no matter how hard he tried. Scarlett was stubborn. Isn’t that how he’d always described her?
‘I suppose it’s a better idea than Clive’s fishpond,’ he said.
Scarlett frowned. A fishpond. She’d forgotten all about that. Clive had also once suggested they get rid of the summer house. His plan had been to put a pond up there instead. Apparently, he’d always fancied keeping koi carp.
Ollie was still talking. ‘If you really are set on this idea, then I’ll dismantle it for you. If you’re going to shell out for a log cabin, you won’t want to waste money paying someone to get rid of the summer house as well. Not unless you want to blow your entire savings. I can do that. I’ll put a patio over the concrete base. Then you can have somewhere to sit to enjoy your low-maintenance gravel garden.’
Something bad hovered just below Scarlett’s conscious mind. It reminded her of how she’d felt when she’d stood outside Rebecca’s bedroom door. The blood was so loud in her ears it was a wonder Ollie couldn’t hear it too.
She struggled to keep her composure. ‘Okay,’ she said at last. ‘I’ll have a think and do a bit of research. There’s no point doing anything before next year anyway. I’m just having one of those dreaming and planning type of days.’
Ollie made a harumphing noise. Was it her imagination or was this also laced with relief?
When the call was over Scarlett’s hands were trembling. She raised her head slowly and stared at the pristine white ceiling above her, her breath trapped at the back of her throat. Her neck felt clammy under her T-shirt. Something vile was playing out behind her eyes. Something utterly preposterous, and yet …
She thought of those odd little things her aunt had started saying in the months leading up to her death. Things Scarlett had put down to Rebecca’s failing mind. Things she sometimes giggled at behind her aunt’s back with Ollie or, worse still, ignored altogether, dismissed as nonsense.
If Rebecca’s confused mind had been remembering something that she’d forgotten was supposed to be a secret, and if that secret had something to do with Gina Caplin’s disappearance, then wouldn’t her aunt’s life have been in danger?
A crack opened up inside her. Scarlett clamped her hand across her mouth and staggered to her feet. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. How could she even be entertaining the possibility? There was no way. No way on earth. This was her brother. The same brother who’d clung to her when he was a little boy, frightened of the dark. The same brother she’d looked after when their mother died. The same brother who’d adored Rebecca as much as she had.
Besides, the police had investigated. Forensics had been all over the place. They were satisfied with their conclusions.
But what if they’d got it wrong?
32
It was Saturday and Dee was still mooching about the flat in her pyjamas. She hadn’t been able to settle to anything after Jake had left the office yesterday. She’d kept hoping that Lindsay would come back from her course and tell her all about it. In the past, when either of them had been on any kind of training session, they would give the other one the lowdown on what they’d learned, describe the other attendees, and the lunch, maybe complain about the facilitator, and indulge themselves in all those other bits of gossip that came from spending a day away from the office.
But Lindsay had obviously decided to go straight home. She had deliberately avoided coming back.
‘You all right, Dee?’ her dad said.
‘Yeah, just a bit headachey. Didn’t sleep well last night.’
‘Still worrying about Lindsay?’
‘Yeah.’ Dee had told him that Lindsay had confessed to stealing the helmet and the jacket and sorted things out with Trevor Cooper, but she hadn’t told him how she’d sorted them out. She usually told her dad everything, but she couldn’t tell him that. How could she?
‘We’re hardly speaking to each other at the moment. We’ve both said some really mean things.’
‘Don’t worry, love,’ he said, gently squeezing her shoulder. ‘You two will get through this, I know you will. Just be patient. I know you’re feeling let down by what she did, and I can’t blame you for that, but imagine how ashamed she must be feeling. How embarrassed. Maybe the football match tomorrow will help smooth things over. You’ll have to be civil to one another in front of Sue and Alan, won’t you? Maybe it’ll allow you both to start afresh.’
Dee nodded and gave her dad a hug.
‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘I’ll make us both a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich, shall I?’
While her dad was pottering about in the kitchen Dee thought about what he’d said and knew he was right. Much as she was dreading standing around in a cold, muddy park watching a football match, she and Lindsay would be working together, handing out flyers and jangling a collection bucket. It would give them the chance to talk on neutral ground.
She curled up on the sofa and switched the telly on, tried to drown out her thoughts. It wasn’t just this business with Lindsay, it was everything. It was as though she’d been catapulted back in time and all the emotions and worries she’d entertained in the weeks and months after Gina went missing had crowded back into her mind in one noisy procession. That awful feeling of fear and dread had started up again. She was a mess.
She knew the reason for it, of course. It was because of this event they were planning for March, not to mention the football match tomorrow. There’d been the phone calls and meetings with the Caplins. Constant reminders of Gina’s name and face. For some time now, her missing friend had been more like a background noise. A dull ache that only occasionally intensified. Now, all of a sudden, she was up front and centre, demanding to be remembered.
Demanding to be found.
Dee got up and fetched the manuscript she’d left in her bedroom, brought it back to the sofa. It was because of this, too. Three hundred pages of double-spaced typing in Times New Roman font, waiting to be proofread for errors. A novel that demonstrated the romantic, gentle side of Gina’s nature. The private side.
Dee thought of Gina sitting in her bedroom dreaming it all up, this fantasy world of hers. The singer who’d fallen in love with a married man. Dee leafed through the manuscript again. Had Gina also met and fallen in love with someone? Someone she wanted to keep a secret from her friends? From her parents?
She’d been so happy on that last holiday to Morocco. Her skin had been glowing, almost as if she’d been lit from within. She’d been excited about the teaching course she’d been about to start, the anticipation of a totally new direction. That was what she’d told them, and they’d believed her, because why wouldn’t they? And she and Lindsay were equally excited about their change of direction. About the launch of Fond Farewells.
But now that Dee thought about it, and now that she’d read this novel, she couldn’t help wondering whether it had been more than that. Had Gina also been in love with a married man? But if she had been, then surely Dee and Lindsay would have been the first ones to know about it. They’d told each other everything.
Although, of course, that wasn’t strictly true. Dee hadn’t told them she was gay. She’d kept her sexuality hidden from everyone. She’d broken Euan’s heart because she hadn’t had the courage to come clean and tell him the truth. And Gina hadn’t told them she was writing a novel. Hadn’t even told her parents.
Dee began to bite her nails. Was it significant that Gina had made her main character a singer rather than, say, a secretary or a lawyer or a nurse, or any of the countless other jobs she could have chosen? Singing and dancing. Both were creative professions. By making her character a singer, might Gina have been exploring that side of herself that wanted to be on the stage, in front of an audience?
The same side of herself she shared with Jake.
Dee put the novel aside. Her dad had just come in with her tea and sandwich. As she nibbled at the bacon, Dee thought of how, once, a long time ago, when they were in their early twenties, Jake had taught them all ‘Chopsticks’ – a friend had been teaching him to play keyboard, and he was really good at it, said it was useful for an actor to be familiar with at least one musical instrument, as it made you so much more versatile – but Gina had never been able to manage more than a few notes. In the end, he’d given up trying to teach her in despair. ‘It’s so easy,’ he’d said, but however many times she practised, she hadn’t been able to get the hang of it. Lindsay and Dee had teased her about it. Not long after that, Jake and Gina had started dating.
Dee put her plate on the coffee table and settled back on the sofa with her tea.
Was it possible that Gina had based the piano teacher in her novel on Jake? That a small part of her had sometimes wondered what it would have been like if they’d stayed together and he hadn’t married Hayley? Hadn’t Dee been thinking the same sort of thing herself recently, about her and Euan? It was natural to think like that sometimes, to wonder how your life might have turned out, had you taken a different path. Of course, it had been Gina who’d ended her relationship with Jake – that’s if you could even call going out with someone for four months in your early twenties a relationship.
Dee thought of that tear sliding from the corner of Jake’s eye in the pub and shook her head to drive the thought away. Of course he was sad. He was sad because he’d lost a friend. They were all sad. He’d only been married to Hayley a couple of years when Gina went missing. That was far too soon to start having an affair.
And yet people had affairs all the time, didn’t they? Dee thought back to her last conversation with Lindsay. Her argument with her. When Dee had accused her of using sex to manipulate Trevor Cooper into keeping quiet and told her that that sort of thing didn’t just happen, Lindsay had told her, in the most unequivocal of terms, that it did. She’d basically implied that it wouldn’t happen to the likes of Dee because she never went anywhere or did anything.
Dee had to admit it, Lindsay did have a point. Maybe that sort of thing happened all the time if you were open to it, if you saw opportunities and took them. Some people seemed to recognize those moments when they happened and were able to act on them without qualms, or at least to shelve their qualms until after the event. Some people had higher sex drives than others and weren’t so hung up on the potential embarrassment of rejection or misunderstanding. Not everyone was as big a coward as Dee when it came to sex.
Dee stared at the TV, wishing she was half as interested in this cookery programme as her dad clearly was. Was it possible that Jake and Gina did have a fling? Maybe they’d run into each other somewhere while they were both on their own and whatever spark they’d felt when they were younger had reignited. Maybe they’d had a secret affair and Gina had wanted him to leave Hayley for her. Maybe she’d got clingy and … and …
Dee took another sip of tea, disliking the turn her thoughts had taken, because the more she thought about this scenario, the more uncomfortable she felt, until she had to force herself to stop thinking about it. This is what you’re like, she told herself, always imagining the worst. Always fearful and suspicious. Even of your own friends. The very thought of gentle Jake doing anything to hurt someone, especially a woman, was outrageous. She felt guilty for even thinking it. It was absurd.
