My Sister's Child, page 12
‘She highlighted bits.’ I delved into in my bag and pulled the book from the padded envelope. ‘Look.’
As I opened it, Will bent beside me, hands on the table, so close I could have leaned my head on his shoulder. ‘See.’ Shifting slightly, I flipped through the pages, pausing so he could see the occasional letter brightened in yellow. ‘What do you think it means?’
‘Probably nothing.’ Will angled a sideways look at me, a line cutting between his brows. ‘What do you think?’
‘I don’t know any better than you.’ Angry without knowing why, I snapped the book shut. ‘I haven’t a clue what went on in Rachel’s mind.’
‘Me neither,’ Will said quietly, moving away. He lifted a mug off the side. ‘Coffee?’
Frustrated, I shook my head. ‘I’d rather get going if you don’t mind.’
‘Of course.’
As he put the mug on its shelf, I stooped to push the poetry book back. As I lifted the bag, something dislodged from under the table and slid to the floor. A photograph. Reaching down, I grasped hold of it and brought it to my lap. When I turned it over, my breath caught in my throat. It was Noah. Not as a newborn but on his third birthday, sitting at the table in our dining room, eyes wide as he gazed at the flickering candles on his dinosaur birthday cake. It was the photo that had disappeared from our mantelpiece, after I thought someone had been in our house – the one Adam confessed he couldn’t remember.
Not being funny, Jess, but there are so many photos. Are you sure?
Jennifer had an identical one and so did Dad. I’d convinced myself I must have got mixed up, but I hadn’t. It was here … on Will’s boat.
‘What’s wrong?’
I started at the sound of his voice. ‘This photo …’ I showed him. ‘It’s mine.’
Shock raced over his face. ‘Where was it?’
‘Under the table.’
He stared at it, puzzled. ‘It’s your son?’
‘Yes, on his birthday.’ My stomach felt as if I’d hit turbulence. ‘How did Rachel have it?’ I was thinking aloud, mind racing. ‘All this time … I knew it had gone. When I got home from work, I could tell that something was different but couldn’t put my finger on it. There hadn’t been a break-in, nothing valuable was missing, but I was sure things had been moved in our bedroom. Nothing obvious, but a drawer was slightly open, and I kept looking around the living room, wondering what was missing. I didn’t realize for a few days that it was the photo, but even that seemed insignificant, not something the police would be interested in. I thought I was wrong.’
Will listened, an intent look on his face. ‘Did Rachel know your address after you moved?’
I went to shake my head, then paused. ‘Not as far as I knew, but she could have found out if she’d wanted to. I assumed she didn’t want to know.’ I looked at him. ‘But why take the photo?’
Even before he opened his mouth to reply, I knew what he was going to say. ‘To prove something to this Lucian guy?’
I stood up, feeling sick. ‘Maybe he wanted proof she’d had his child.’ That must have been it, only something had gone terribly wrong. What had Lucian done? What would he do next?
‘Jess?’ Will’s voice seemed to reach me from a long way off. ‘Jess, you’ve gone white as a sheet.’ His hands were on my shoulders, pressing me gently down. ‘Breathe slowly.’ His voice was gentle but firm. ‘Deep breaths. In … and out. That’s it. Look at me. And again. You’re fine, Jess. It’s OK.’
But it wasn’t. As I pulled air into my lungs and puffed it out, keeping my eyes locked on Will’s, all I could think of were Noah’s words the night of the power cut.
Monsters only come out at night.
Chapter 24
Outside, life carried on as normal, a breeze cooling my overheated face. The ting of a bicycle bell made me jump as a cyclist shot by.
Will cupped my elbow. ‘Sure you want to do this?’
I nodded as we continued to the nearest tube station, reassuring myself that – for now at least – Noah was safe with Jennifer and my dad, and maybe Denny would join them for a spot of fishing. ‘I’m not sure whether it’ll help but if I can talk to Hannah, she might remember something.’
Will had contacted Rachel’s flatmate after my call the night before to tell her I was dropping by. ‘I wanted to make sure she would be there,’ he said, after I’d calmed down enough to listen. ‘I know the police spoke to her and she couldn’t tell them anything we didn’t already know, but she’s happy for you to look around.’
We arrived at the gallery on Conway Street half an hour later; a tall, red-brick building with ornamental shrubs outside and a wide glass window displaying an array of twisted sculptures on plinths. I didn’t know much about art but there was something arresting about the shapes. ‘Is that your mother?’ I pointed to the name Antonia Hanson in flowing gold script above the window.
Will slowed and nodded. ‘She taught art when she was younger, was good at spotting talent. She bought this place with money her parents left her, a sort of two-fingers up to my grandfather. She’s done a lot of good for local artists over the years.’
‘Is she here today?’
‘No, she and my father retired a couple of years ago. They live in Surrey and travel a lot. She employs someone to run the gallery as she can’t bear to sell up. She still checks in occasionally. We joke about it being her fourth child.’ He paused. ‘There’s Hannah.’
A young woman had appeared from round the side of the building, wearing a loose hooded top over workout leggings. Happy for me to visit was an overstatement, judging by her expression, though her sullen face lit up when Will spoke.
‘Hi, Hannah. This is Jess.’
She flicked a strand of pale-gold hair over her shoulder. ‘I hope it won’t take long. I’ve got friends coming round.’ Her accent was cultured, her gaze patronizing as it glided over me, dipping to my trainers and back to my face, flushed from the crowded tube ride and walk.
‘Any news on Annabel?’ Will asked her, gesturing for us to move inside.
‘As long as her parents cough up the deposit, she can move in at the end of the month.’
Will gave me an apologetic glance. ‘We need a new tenant to cover costs.’
‘Of course.’ I guessed he’d let Rachel rent the room for less than it was worth. Conway Street was obviously upmarket. Unless Hannah had a highly paid job, I guessed her parents were subsidizing her too.
‘Hannah’s an intern at an auction house,’ Will said, as she disappeared back round the side of the gallery and through a black-painted door. ‘Her father pays her rent,’ he added, lowering his voice. ‘It’s her idea of independence.’
‘She must have hated sharing with Rachel.’
He held the door open, and I ducked under his arm. ‘She wasn’t keen on the previous tenant because she was untidy. At least Rachel kept to herself.’
Following Hannah’s toned legs up a well-lit staircase, I had the feeling again of following in Rachel’s footsteps. How many times had she run up and down these stairs? What was she thinking the night she ran out to meet Lucian? I imagined her briefly; hair flying, smile bright, thinking she was heading to her future. No. That wasn’t right. She’d been drinking before she went out. Had she expected a confrontation? Suspected the meeting wouldn’t go well? Why didn’t she have the photo of Noah with her?
Confusion crowded my brain as we entered a bright room, dominated by a long, grey sofa and glass-topped coffee table. A huge mirror on the opposite wall reflected my dishevelled appearance – hair trailing out of its band, a sheen of perspiration on my forehead, years-old jacket faded around the armpits. It was as if a layer had peeled back to reveal a different version of me; one I barely recognized. ‘It’s nice,’ I said foolishly, taking mental snapshots of polished floorboards, sash windows, and neatly organized bookshelves. It was so far removed from typical student accommodation, I almost laughed.
‘My mother had it decorated when my brother moved out,’ Will said behind me, as though tracking my thoughts. ‘He shared it with a couple of friends from uni. It was a tip when they left.’
In the middle of the room, Hannah turned to face me. She’d kicked off her Converse and her toenails gleamed crimson like drops of blood. ‘So, what do you want to know?’ She didn’t bother with niceties or offer refreshments. ‘I already spoke to the police.’
‘I know,’ I said quickly, reminding myself that she was young – 20 at most – and hearing about Rachel’s death must have been a shock. ‘I’m sorry to turn up like this, but I hadn’t seen my sister for a very long time.’ I swallowed a knot of emotion. ‘I wanted to see where she lived.’
‘Well, this is it.’ Hannah spread her hands, but her gaze had softened. ‘I don’t get on with my sister,’ she said. ‘She’s a total bitch, so I get it.’ I doubted she did but appreciated her attempt at empathy. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t keen on sharing with Rachel at first, but she said it wouldn’t be for long and she mostly stayed in her room when she was here. Our paths didn’t cross much.’ She glanced at Will. ‘I’m glad she’s gone, but don’t get me wrong, what happened was awful and I’m sorry.’
‘Thanks.’ I tried to place Rachel in this room, on the sofa, watching TV, eating dinner, but the image was like a blurred photo I couldn’t bring into focus. ‘She said she wouldn’t be staying long?’
Hannah flipped her hair again before nodding. ‘She didn’t say why, but I had a feeling it was to do with that guy she was obviously in love with.’
My heart lurched. ‘Lucian?’
‘Was that his name?’ Hannah’s microbladed brows rose. ‘She never said. She was sort of happy for a while, like crazy happy, then … she changed.’
‘This was before that night?’
Hannah nodded. ‘Look, we didn’t do girly chats, but she was drinking in her room, not going to work. I panicked a bit one morning because I couldn’t hear any sounds from her room. I called Will.’ She looked at him for confirmation, nose wrinkled. ‘She was a mess,’ she said. Will had moved to sit on the arm of the sofa and Hannah dropped beside him, hands tucked between her knees. She looked younger, and I felt bad that Rachel’s behaviour had scared her. ‘She met him again, whoever he was, before that night.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I saw him.’
I exchanged a glance with Will. ‘What did he look like?’
‘You didn’t mention it,’ he said at the same time.
‘I told the police, silly.’ She nudged his knee with her elbow. ‘I didn’t actually see his face, it was from the window. Rachel had been waiting for him and she ran outside. It was raining and she didn’t have a coat on. It was like she wanted to get him away from here. She was practically pulling him down the street and it looked like they were arguing.’
My heart revved up. ‘You don’t remember anything about him at all?’
‘It was kind of hard to tell.’ She looked into the distance, thinking. ‘He was wearing a dark coat with the hood up. Because of the weather.’ She mimicked rainfall with her fingers, fluttering them over her head. ‘She was worse after seeing him. I mean, she wasn’t chatty before but afterwards … she took a bottle of vodka into her room and didn’t come out for ages.’
‘That fits with when I noticed a change in her.’ Will’s brow was furrowed. ‘She didn’t turn up for work much after that—’
‘Which is a joke when it was only downstairs,’ Hannah chipped in. ‘Even with a hangover, I manage to get the train to Notting Hill.’ Her big, round eyes swivelled to mine. ‘I work at Elmwood’s Auction House. I’m going to be their social media manager when my internship’s over.’
Good for you, I didn’t say. Amazing how the right connections can get you places. I immediately regretted the thought. She could be a hard worker, keen to make a mark on the world, for all I knew. One thing was clear: she and Rachel were poles apart.
Hannah tilted her head as though remembering something. ‘Before she passed out one night, she came out and looked at me for ages – it was a bit spooky, actually, because her eyes weren’t really focused on me – and she said, “Don’t bother with relationships. If I could go back in time” … something like that, she was slurring like mad … “I wouldn’t have gone to that party.”’ Hannah paused. ‘It was like she was thinking out loud, but then she said, “Scratch that, he was worth it.”’ Hannah shuddered as though recounting a ghostly encounter. ‘Then she ran into the bathroom and threw up everywhere.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said involuntarily.
Hannah gave me a pitying look. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ Will agreed, pushing to his feet. ‘Is it OK if Jess has a look at Rachel’s room?’
‘Sure,’ Hannah said, rising. ‘There’s nothing in there though. The police wanted to have a look at her phone or laptop, see who she’d been messaging, but she didn’t have a laptop and they couldn’t find her phone.’ A careless shrug. ‘I didn’t hear her go out that night.’
‘So, you had no idea who she was meeting?’
‘I assumed it was that guy again. She was all happy, even though she was drunk.’ Hannah’s face darkened. ‘I went back to my parents’ for a few days after I heard the news. It creeped me out.’
About to say sorry again, I closed my mouth. I wasn’t responsible for my sister’s actions, or her death. But someone was. I was growing more certain of it by the minute.
In her room, I searched again for signs of her presence, something of her imprinted between the walls, but it was as if Rachel had never set foot inside. The room was small and basic; bare floorboards, plain white walls, a double brass bed, a white-wood wardrobe with the doors standing open to reveal its empty insides – not even a coat hanger. No fairy lights draped over mirrors and around the curtain pole, like my room in Barnes had been, right up until I left. Even there, Rachel hadn’t bothered about décor, uninterested in paint colours and bed linen once she turned 13, more interested in staying at her friend Daisy’s house because – we realized later – her parents were often out, and they had unlimited access to their drinks cupboard.
‘Nothing to see,’ Hannah said in a sing-song voice as my gaze drifted round. I walked to the bed and opened the drawer in the cabinet beside it. Nothing. There was a dark ring on the surface, left by a bottle or glass – maybe the cat-shaped mug that had been among her belongings.
A shaft of dusty sunlight settled on the mattress, and I knelt to look beneath the bed, checking nothing was lying against the skirting board. Finally, when it was obvious I was wasting everyone’s time, I dusted my hands together. ‘OK, well thanks for letting me look around’, I said, hearing the tremor in my voice.
Hannah’s face had lost some of its colour and her eyebrows had drawn together. ‘Do you think someone might have hurt her?’
Catching Will’s warning look, I said quickly, ‘No, nothing like that. I’m hoping to find the person she met that night and talk to him, that’s all.’
She nodded, brightening. ‘I sneaked in here once when Rachel was out.’ A look of bafflement crossed her face. ‘She didn’t really have any stuff. Not like most people.’
‘My sister wasn’t like most people.’ I meant it to sound jokey, but Hannah was looking at Will and didn’t seem to hear.
‘You didn’t find anything either, did you?’ she said, her eyes becoming alert. ‘When you came to look at Rachel’s room.’
Chapter 25
‘What was she talking about?’
Will and I were on the pavement after Hannah had ushered us out of the apartment. Rain clouds had swallowed the sun and the street was empty. At the end, the BT Tower soared into the sky like a metal finger. ‘Will?’
He started walking and I hurried to catch up. ‘I did look around Rachel’s room,’ he admitted, smoothing his hair as the breeze pushed it around. ‘When the police said they couldn’t find her phone and there were no leads, I thought maybe it had been missed.’
‘Why didn’t you mention it before?’
He wheeled around to face me. ‘I suppose I was embarrassed. I knew it was snooping.’ His eyes fixed on mine. ‘Her phone wasn’t there so it didn’t matter in the end.’
‘If it had been, surely the police would have found it?’
Will stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against the strengthening wind. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t sure how bothered they were about finding this person Rachel had gone to meet. Considering no one knew his name.’ He gave a wry twist of his mouth. ‘Like I said, with no evidence, proof, or reliable witnesses, it was cut and dried in their eyes. A tragic accident.’
Something about the way Hannah had mentioned his being in Rachel’s room niggled at me. Was she implying there was more to their relationship? But Will’s eyes were clear and unblinking – no sign of deception.
‘I can’t imagine Rachel working in there.’ I nodded to the gallery behind Will, desperate to fill the silence stretching between us.
‘Would you like to look inside?’
I glanced through the window to where a woman – the manager, I guessed – was talking to a well-dressed couple admiring a curvy bronze sculpture. ‘Thanks, but no.’ I couldn’t face meeting anyone else new. ‘Did Rachel know much about art?’
Will’s started walking again. ‘She wasn’t that interested. She stuck to cleaning, helped with packing and paperwork sometimes.’
‘She was bright,’ I said, matching my stride to his. ‘But she couldn’t be bothered most of the time.’
‘That was the impression I got.’ We veered round a bearded man in the middle of the pavement, staring at his phone. ‘She once told me she used to play the violin.’
‘She was good.’ I’d hear her practise sometimes, the melancholy notes tugging at my chest. ‘Dad was a music professor so it was a given that we would play a musical instrument. I tried the piano but was useless, though I can sing a bit. I think, deep down, Rachel enjoyed playing but Lucian probably didn’t approve.’
