My Sweet Valentine, page 9
We gazed dreamily at each other, “Actually,” I said, “I’ve added something different. A bit of a twist.”
He arched his eyebrows, “Oh, I don’t suppose you can divulge?”
I shook my head, “No, sorry, I don’t usually discuss my books. I feel it’s bad luck.”
He grinned, “Okay, I understand that, but I want to have a read when it’s published, okay?” I nodded as he squeezed my hand again and moved closer, his thigh very close to mine, sending shivers running down my spine, which I did my best to ignore, as I said, “Can we get back on track now?”
“Of course, actually, I didn’t know we were off it.” He smiled, his face all wrinkles and dimples, making my heart beat faster.
“It’s just that the reason I mentioned the gypsies wasn’t because of the hold up to the building work but because of the gypsies themselves.”
“What do you mean?” Some of the people surrounding us got up to leave with much hand shaking and goodbyes. The jukebox whirred and clicked, and Donny Osmond began to sing “Puppy Love.” Andy grinned at me and raised his eyebrows as a group of big men with shaved heads and tattoos began to sing along, swaying to the music and raising their pints in the air as they did so.
I smiled and slowly shook my head, and then said, “The man with the blue van was obviously a gypsy. The little boys shouted at him using derogatory names, definitely not PC now, didn’t they?”
“Oh yes, I see what you mean, but it can’t be the same gypsies if that’s what you’re getting at. I don’t see what bearing it has on what happened to Susie so long ago.”
“But it might be the same ones. Apparently, they return to the same places year after year.” I shrugged, “They’re families, you see. The man with the blue van might still be with them.”
“No, we already found out that the blue van has probably been scrapped.”
“Not the man, though. The man won’t have been scrapped, will he?”
Andy laughed gleefully, “No, I’m sure he won’t have been scrapped, but he might have died.”
I shrugged, “Yes, true, he might have died, but he looked to be only in his twenties in nineteen ninety, so he might possibly be in his sixties now.”
Andy nodded, “Yeah, you could be right. I suppose it’s worth looking into.”
“I’ve already asked Emma to let me know if she sees a blue van or a man with a bald head and tattoos. If not, I’m thinking that maybe we should pay Emma a visit and have a look for ourselves. What do you think?”
“Yes, I think we should. I’ve met your daughter, but I’d love to see the baby and meet your son-in-law, of course.”
The man, Jeff, shouted over to us, “We’re moving on now. Nice to have met you, Jenny.”
We raised our hands as he moved towards the door, where he stopped and, doffing his hat, said, “I hope to see you both at the Trades Club.”
“Love to,” we shouted back as they disappeared out of the door, and then turning back to Andy, “Your friends are nice.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, “I’ve known them for years now. Ever since I came to Hebden.”
“So, you moved to Hebden after Susie went missing?”
He nodded. “Yes, as I told you, my wife and I split up. We’re divorced now; she stayed in Tod, and I came here. I had to get away from that place.”
“Is she still there, in Todmorden?”
“Yes,” His mouth twisted wryly, “Well, I think so. She married again. I don’t know if there’s any children.”
“What’s her name?”
“My ex? Fran, Francesca.”
Sipping morosely from his pint, he smiled at me, “Shall we change the subject?”
“Okay, I’m sorry.” I took a deep breath, “I know I’m rabbiting on about the gypsies, but can the police become involved with evicting them from somebody’s land?”
“Oh, yes, but only if a crime has been committed. It’s the responsibility of the landowner, you see, a civil matter, and once the landowner gets a court order, they usually move on without a fuss. The police will only intervene under certain circumstances which are set out in the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act 1994.”
I took a sip of wine, “Wow, good on you for remembering all the legislation.”
He smiled and gave a little dip of his head, saying, “It’s my job.”
“But what circumstances?” I asked him.
“Well,” Andy took a long pull at his beer, “If they believe two or more people are trespassing or preparing to stay for a long period of time, or there’s damage to the land or abusive behavior, or if there are six or more caravans or camper vans on the site.”
“Oh, well, it seems to me that the police could intervene in this case. I think a visit to Emma is a must.”
“Yes, maybe so, but, as I said, they may go quietly for the landowner, the builder. Look, Jenny, I really appreciate you helping me like this for going to the hypnotist,” Slowly, he shook his head.
“What are you getting at?”
“I know you saw the blue van and the man with the tattoos as part of your dredged-up memories, I suppose you’d call them, but it doesn’t mean that it has anything to do with Susie’s disappearance. By the time Susie came out of nursery that day, he and his van may have gone. We could be barking up the wrong tree. That’s all I’m saying.”
I drained my wine, feeling it travel rapidly down my throat and into my stomach, quietening down the butterflies of anxiety that were fluttering around in there, “Oh God, Andy, I know that. I told you before I went to the hypnotist that it was a hunch, something that was on my mind, something I couldn’t explain. I haven’t an answer to it, to any of it, but it’s worth exploring. You must think it’s worth looking into.”
I gazed at him imploringly as, leaning in close to me, he grasped my hand, “Of course it is, but it’s me, I suppose, and the time that’s passed since it happened, I just can’t imagine Susie just being there, being somewhere, an adult, a grown-up, maybe with a husband, children,” He shook his head helplessly, “I just can’t imagine it.”
“Have you always thought the worst?”
He gazed at me, his eyes big and deep, fathomless as pools, “Yes, as the years went by.”
“Well,” I said, “We can only try with this.” There was a whirr and a click from the jukebox, and Elton John started to sing “Your Song” just as the door opened and a group of people came in, making a beeline for the bar and bringing in a stream of cool night air.
He nodded and said, “Yes, you’re right,” There was a short silence before he raised his pint and said, “Another drink?”
We had another drink and then made our way back along the canal, enjoying the walk in the cool, clear night, the sky arching above as a great black cavern studded with tiny stars. A tiny breeze shook the trees, shedding the last of the leaves that twirled quickly through the air, softly brushing against our faces as we approached my boat. We stopped outside, and Andy leaned in close and kissed my cheek and then whispered into my ear, “You’ve no idea how happy I’ve been since you came into my life, Jenny.”
I leaned back a little so I could see his face, “Really?”
“Yes,” he nodded as he stared into my eyes, “I’m still on a quest to try and find Susie, but it’s not my whole life. I’ve got somebody else to think about now.”
“I know what you mean,” I said, “I’d been feeling a bit down until I met you.”
“You had?”
I nodded, “Yes, over a long period of time, though, the loss of my husband and then Dave left, and to cap it all, I found myself living on a boat. I, well, I questioned my state of mind sometimes, but since you came along…” The words trailed away as Andy pulled me in close to his body and kissed the soft skin near my mouth.
I smiled at him and said, “Would you like to come in for coffee, or” I shrugged, “A glass of wine?”
“That would be lovely.”
Andy’s hand felt warm against mine as we made our way up onto the deck of the boat. Fumbling in my bag, a little light-headed from the wine I’d drunk, I found the key and inserted it into the lock, carefully opening the door. We stepped inside, Andy immediately enclosing me tightly in his arms. His lips sought mine, they tasted of the beer he’d drunk earlier and he smelt spicy, the cologne he wore warm on his skin.
“You’re lovely, Jenny, really lovely,” he whispered, his breath ragged.
“So are you,” I whispered as, not wanting to let him go, I stuck out a foot and, with a little careful maneuvering, carefully closed the door.
***
Hi Jenny, what a surprise to hear from you after all these years. I’m sorry I’ve been so long in getting back to you, but I’ve been on holiday with my husband, to Crete, again lol. I do love that place so much. Anyway, yes, I do remember you. Young Jenny Clarke, who was such a great help to me in Toddy Tots Day Nursery for a two-week work experience.
I remember you being so good with children that I thought you should work with them, but, unfortunately, you happened to be there when the lovely little Susie Valentine disappeared. What an awful time that was. I get shivers down my spine every time I think of it. And that’s often. Despite how long ago it was. I really hope that incident didn’t put you off from pursuing work in that field.
I’d be very happy to meet to talk about Susie, but I really don’t know what I could tell you. Everything was investigated by the police at the time, and there was simply no trace of her. Obviously, her parents were distraught. I’ve often wondered how they are and what happened to them, but as so many years have gone by, I’ll probably never know.
Will you please suggest somewhere we could meet? I still live in Todmorden and I’ve no idea where you live now, so do let me know. I shall look forward to hearing from you, Jenny. Vanessa x
It was raining hard, the pattering on the roof loud in here, inside my little boat, loud as bullets, as if I was under siege, but strangely wild and exhilarating. This was the first time it had rained so hard since I’d moved in. Peering from the window, I could see it coming down in long silver sheets like needles piercing the ground and great round drops that hit the water, churning it up, and all the ducks and geese and even the swans bobbing about as if they were enjoying themselves immensely.
“Hmm,” I thought, as I sipped my coffee, my novel “Hidden Desires” on the screen of the laptop in front of me, “Fabulous, she wants to meet.”
I’d gone on to Facebook, in a sudden blank lull from writing, not sure which way the story was going now, expecting to be disappointed yet again, but a message was there from Vanessa with a clear invitation to meet. Maybe Todmorden should be the place. I used to go to a lovely little café on the Main Street that had really good coffee and excellent homemade cakes and biscuits, and their lemon meringue pie was to die for.
My tummy rumbled alarmingly and, glancing at the clock, realized it was time for lunch, and Sydney too, who had woken up, a furry ball, bleary-eyed and stretching, but, before that, I really should let Andy know about Vanessa.
Picking up my phone, I tapped out a quick message, “Hi Andy, Vanessa has been in touch and said she’d like to meet. She lives in Todmorden, so I’m going to suggest meeting there in a café on the Main Street called “Love Coffee.” I don’t know if you’ve ever been in there, but it’s a really nice place. Hope that’s okay with you? Let me know, and I’ll arrange a date and time x.”
As I pressed the message send button, thoughts of Andy rushed through my mind, and I closed my eyes, bringing up his image in front of me, his handsome face, with its sprinkling of stubble around his cheeks and chin, his eyes, bottomless green pools and his lips red and ripe for kissing. My phone beeped and, so sure it was a message from Andy, I clicked on it straight away. My heart sank as I saw it was from Dave again. Since our argument a few weeks ago, he’d taken to texting most days, saying he was just checking in. This was no different. “Hi Jenny, just checking in to see how you are. It would be nice if you’d let me know x.”
Afraid that he’d ring, angry and abusive, as he had before, I replied straight away, “All okay here, Dave.” Yeah, okay, short and sweet, but it should keep him quiet for a day or two.
Stretching and glancing at the screen of the laptop where I was desperately trying to deal with the relationship between Josh and Henry now, as Jeanette had finally got the message and made her weeping way to the train station with a bulging suitcase, leaving the story wide open. I stood up and, stomach rumbling very alarmingly, made my way to the kitchen, closely followed by a meowing Sydney, to find something nice for lunch.
Chapter Ten
Nineteen-Ninety and Present Day
I felt a hand on my shoulder, hot and heavy, burning through my tee shirt and onto my skin. I turned quickly, my heart banging like a drum, afraid it was the man with the tattoos, afraid that the man with the tattoos was standing behind me, and it was his hand so heavy on my shoulder. But it wasn’t him. It was a lady, a pretty lady wearing a yellow summer dress and a wide-brimmed straw hat, lipstick a slash of red across her face.
“You dropped something,” she told me, “Here you are.” She held out a piece of paper.
“No,” I said, shaking my head and trying to turn away to look back at the road where traffic flowed thick and fast, eager to be on my way. I was afraid of being late for my appointment, “Sorry, but it isn’t mine.”
“It is,” she said, “I saw you drop it. You’d better take it. It might be important. Is it your homework?”
I shook my head but, frowning, took the paper from her, taking a quick glance as I stepped forward. “Careful dear,” said the lady, putting her arm out in front of me, “Don’t cross until you see the little green man.”
“I won’t,” I told her.
She smiled just as the green man beeped, and everybody flowed across the road, cars on either side waiting impatiently, their engines revving, drivers, white-knuckled, holding onto the wheel, frustrated because of the delay and the heat. The lady wearing the yellow dress wiggled her fingers at me and walked on, her hips swaying beneath the yellow dress.
Curiously, I looked at the piece of paper again, turning it over and over in my hands, and realizing it was a card, a stick figure of a man, his eyes colored in very green on the front. Smiling, I put it inside my rucksack when suddenly, nausea overcame me, rising up higher and higher in my throat until I thought I would be sick. Everything around me went hazy as if the sun had passed behind a cloud, and then everything began to turn around and around, all in a green and blue blur, as if the world was spinning on its axis, and my heart raced, and I began to pant as if I was a dog running in the heat.
I heard a voice, a calm voice, “It’s okay, Jenny, it’s okay, let yourself come back. Come back to the present time. Leave nineteen-ninety behind.”
My eyes snapped open to come face to face with the hypnotist, Woody Linford. He smiled, his brown eyes twinkling despite the concern in them, “Are you okay, Jenny? Just lie still for a while. You may feel nauseous. Sometimes patients say they feel as if they’re spinning before they come back.”
“Yes, I do, just a little,” I told him.
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Yes, I think so,” I saw the piece of paper in my hand, the stick man with the very green eyes. Slowly, I nodded, “I must have it somewhere, but I don’t remember where I’ve put it. I don’t think I’ll have thrown it away.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure. Something I had in my hand, a piece of paper, I mean, a card. It didn’t belong to me but to the little girl, Susie.” I gazed at Woody Linford.
“Did you take it from her that day?”
“Oh no, no, of course not. I helped her make it. It was for her daddy, a Father’s Day card.”
“Oh,” He looked sad, his face a mass of lines and wrinkles, “Do you think you still have it? At home somewhere?”
“I don’t know,” I shook my head, tiny little shakes, “I’ve never seen it. Never once throughout the years. It’s strange, don’t you think?”
He nodded, “Yes, it is. Poignant somehow, sad,” and then, “Do you feel better now? You have some color in your face. You were as white as a ghost.”
I laughed and said, “I feel much better now.” Shakily, my legs like jelly, I slowly stood up and held out my hand, “Thank you.”
He clasped my hand, his grip firm, “Are you sure you’re ready to go?”
“Yes.”
“If you need me again, you know where I am.”
I nodded as I shrugged on my coat, pulled on my hat and a pair of gloves, and made my way out into the cold, dark November night.
***
“It must be somewhere,” I thought to myself, “I was holding it in my hand, and I don’t remember giving it to Vanessa the following day at the nursery.” A hot wave of despair washed over me at the thought that I may have thrown it away. “But I wouldn’t have done that, not knowingly anyway.”
I racked my brains trying to think of where it could be, and with everything having been packed for moving only a few months ago, the chances of finding it were very remote. I sat on the settee, my head in my hands, the pattering of raindrops still sounding on the roof. Would it never stop? And thoughts rushing through my head. I remembered it as if it were yesterday, Susie drawing on the card, the stick figure that was her daddy, with long limbs and brightly colored green eyes, her little tongue poking out from between her lips as she concentrated.
“Ah,” I thought, “I have a box somewhere where I keep all my important papers. Things like birth certificates, marriage certificate, Frank’s death certificate, and NHS card. Now, where is it?” Quickly, I delved into the storage space beneath the seats in the sitting area, and, yes, there it was, an old tin decorated with flowers, probably filled with chocolates or biscuits at some point in time.
