Before You Were Gone Page 11

  ‘I’ve found plenty of things I like,’ Dee said, ‘but I think I’ve made my decision.’

  She pointed to the painting she’d picked out a moment ago.

  ‘Oh.’ Annie’s face softened as she looked at the painting. ‘You’ve got a good eye, you know. That’s one of my favourites.’

  ‘You sure you want to sell it?’ Dee said.

  ‘Of course.’ Annie smiled. ‘I’m glad you like it. I can arrange to get it framed for you too, if want? A friend of mine can do it for half the price you’d pay anyone else. What do you think?’

  ‘Sounds great,’ Dee said.

  ‘Let me give her a ring and see if she’s free,’ Annie said. ‘We’ll need to go to her workshop so you can choose a frame you’d like.’

  ‘What about lunch?’ Fiona interrupted.

  ‘It won’t take long,’ Annie said. ‘You don’t mind waiting a few more minutes, do you?’

  ‘There’s no need,’ Dee said to Annie. ‘Can you pick a frame for me? You’ll make a better choice than I would.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Annie said, ‘a frame is such a personal choice. What if I choose one and you don’t like it?’

  ‘I don’t believe that will happen,’ Dee said. ‘Seriously, Annie. You’d be doing me a favour. I’ve got a load of work to get through when I get back home. The sooner I can get going, the better.’

  ‘If you’re sure,’ Annie said.

  ‘I’m certain.’ Dee looked at Fiona. ‘Sorry I’ve taken up so much of your daughter’s time.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Fiona said. ‘Not really. To be honest with you, it’s a real pleasure to see Annie finally making money from her art. She’s worked so hard at it. We didn’t want her to become an artist, you know. She’s our only child and we were terribly overprotective. We wanted her to have a career that’s a bit more secure. But she’s such a stubborn thing. When she decides on something, she goes for it. Doesn’t let anyone stand in her way.

  ‘She’s always supported herself financially, too. She’s never asked us for a penny, working part-time while she built up her portfolio. And now, finally, because of Claire and this exhibition, Annie’s able to give up her other work and focus on her art. Which is brilliant, because the more time she’s able to spend on her art, the more chance she has of making a go of it.’

  And there you had it. A simple explanation for why Annie had stopped working at the pub. Not because she was hiding, but because she’d started making money from the exhibition and she was able to give up the pub job. Suddenly, Dee felt immensely stupid.

  It was clear that Fiona and Annie were close. And it was blindingly obvious that Annie Holden was exactly who she said she was. The idea that she was somehow Emer’s long-lost sister seemed, suddenly, ridiculous. Dee didn’t understand how she’d ever let things get this far. She should have put a stop to it the moment Emer asked for her help.

  She took a sip of coffee, then wished she hadn’t. Instant coffee, which tasted as if it had been sitting in the jar for years.

  ‘I’d better let you two get to your lunch.’ She put the mug down on the single table in the room. ‘I’ve taken up more than enough of your time.’

  ‘It was lovely to meet you,’ Fiona said. ‘Sorry I interrupted your meeting. I wouldn’t have barged in if I’d known you were here. I’m just so used to Annie losing herself when she’s here and forgetting she’s sometimes meant to be somewhere else.’

  ‘It’s not a problem,’ Dee said, ‘really.’

  ‘Thanks so much for being so enthusiastic about my work,’ Annie said, smiling at Dee. ‘It means a huge amount. I’ll call you as soon as it’s ready to be collected. Probably about a week’s time, if that’s okay?’

  Dee paid for the painting and said goodbye to Annie and her mother. After leaving the studio, she called Emer as she walked back towards Aldgate East station.

  ‘I really need to see you,’ she said, when Emer picked up.

  ‘Is it to do with Kitty?’

  ‘Sort of,’ Dee said. ‘But it’s not a conversation I want to have over the phone. Can you meet?’

  ‘Not today,’ Emer said. ‘I know it’s the weekend, but I’ve got a deadline, so I’m working flat out today and tomorrow. Could you do Monday instead?’

  ‘No, I can’t do Monday,’ Dee said. ‘I’m in London now and, believe it or not, Emer, I actually have a life that involves more than running around the place on your behalf. If you want to see me on Monday, come to Eastbourne.’

  ‘Wait,’ Emer said. ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. This job is a complete nightmare. I’d walk out of it today and never come back, but I’ve promised myself I’d stick it out, no matter how hard it gets. I haven’t always been that good at sticking things out, you see, and I’m trying to get better at it. That’s why I can’t meet you today. But you’re right, I shouldn’t expect you to come up to London again on Monday just because it’s more convenient. I’ll call in sick on Monday and I’ll come to Eastbourne. Would that be okay?’

  ‘You don’t have to do that,’ Dee said, already feeling bad. She was disappointed Emer couldn’t meet her, but it was hardly Emer’s fault that her new job was keeping her busy.

  ‘I do,’ Emer said. ‘You’ve already done so much for me, and I’m really grateful. Just tell me where you want to meet, and I’ll be there. I’ll work out later how to get to you. I can get a train, right?’

  ‘Emer, stop. I was being a bitch, and I’m sorry. I really don’t want you taking a sickie. Your work’s important, I get that. I’ll come to London. It’s really not a problem for me because I can work on the train. Tell me where you work and I’ll come to you.’

  ‘Canary Wharf. We could meet at the DLR station.’

  ‘I thought you worked in the City?’

  ‘Isn’t Canary Wharf part of the City?’ Emer said.

  ‘Not exactly.’ Dee smiled. ‘You’d better promise me you’ll take some time off when all this is done and get to know London a bit better. Okay, I’ll let you get back to work for now, and I’ll see you Monday. Let’s make it around midday. I can treat you to a nice lunch somewhere.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Emer said. ‘See you then.’

  Seventeen

  June 1997

  Kitty lay in bed, eyes wide open staring at the familiar grey shadows in the room. Too scared to close her eyes in case she fell asleep, she kept checking her watch as the minutes crawled by. She’d arranged to meet Lucy at half past nine. Kitty was supposed to be at Lucy’s tonight for a sleepover, but yesterday Mum had got angry about something and said Kitty couldn’t go. It wasn’t fair, but there was nothing Kitty could do about it. She’d asked Mrs Ryan if she’d speak to Mum, but Mrs Ryan had sighed and said she didn’t think she should interfere. Most of the time, Kitty liked Lucy’s mum because she was kind and never got angry, but right now she was raging with her. Mrs Ryan was a coward, just like every other adult Kitty knew. All of them too afraid to stand up to her mother and tell her not to be such a cow.

  Dad hadn’t come home after work, which meant Mum’s mood was worse than usual this evening. It was stupid, because they all knew he was in the pub, and if Mum didn’t like that, Kitty didn’t understand why she didn’t just walk down there and tell him to come home. Instead, she clattered around the house, muttering to herself and shouting at Kitty to get into the kitchen and help her cook tea because did Kitty think her mother was a slave with no life of her own?

  Finally, tea was finished and the girls were banished upstairs to their bedroom. Emer had wanted to play a game, and sulked like a baby when Kitty told her she was too tired for anything except bed. Emer had cried for a bit after that and Kitty felt bad then. Normally, she would have climbed into Emer’s bed and cuddled her and chatted to her until she stopped crying, but tonight she was too scared to do that in case she fell asleep. Sometimes, it was easier falling asleep in Emer’s bed, because it was so warm and cosy when they cuddled up to each other like that.

  It felt lik
e she’d been waiting here for ages, and she was starting to wonder if she’d got it wrong. But then she heard the creaking sound the front door made when you opened it, and the click-clack of her mother’s heels on the street outside. Kitty threw back her quilt and got up. She’d kept her clothes on when she went to bed, sneaking under the quilt while Emer was brushing her teeth, so her sister wouldn’t ask any stupid questions about why Kitty was going to bed with her clothes on.

  When she’d eventually stopped crying, Emer had fallen asleep. Now, she was lying on her back, snoring. Kitty wasn’t worried about going out and leaving her by herself. Emer never woke up once she was asleep. Kitty thought she could probably have a party in the room when Emer was sleeping and it wouldn’t wake her.

  Outside, Kitty took in deep breaths of cool evening air, waiting for the bad feelings inside her to quieten down. She was so tired of feeling like this. All the anger that she couldn’t shake off, no matter how hard she tried. It burned inside her, eating a big hole in her stomach until there was nothing left of her except this rage. Everything in her life felt so wrong. She wanted things to be different after tonight, but what if nothing changed? No, she couldn’t let herself think like that. She had to believe that when her father knew the truth, he would change. He’d stop going to the pub every night and he’d start being the father he was meant to be.

  He would leave their mother, and he’d take Kitty and Emer with him. They’d start a new life, just the three of them. And once he was away from their mother, he’d stop drinking because he’d realise he only ever drank to cover up his own unhappiness.

  That’s why she was doing this, she reminded herself as she ran along the street and turned into the fancy estate at the top of the hill where Lucy lived.

  Here, the houses couldn’t be more different to the ones on the street where Kitty lived. Tiny two-up, two-down cottages that constantly felt as if the walls were closing in on you. These houses were big, detached, two- and three-storey mansions with double garages and huge gardens with views across town. It wasn’t fair that Lucy and Maeve got to live in a big house with a garden and a tree house, when Kitty had to share their tiny house with her parents and Emer. It wasn’t fair that Lucy’s parents never argued and her mother never, ever told Lucy she was a mistake and she wished she’d never had her. Kitty was starting to realise that nothing in this life was fair.

  She’d half expected Lucy not to come. But when she reached the meeting point, behind the tree at the end of Lucy’s road, Lucy was already there.

  ‘You’re late,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Sorry,’ Kitty said. ‘I had to wait until my mum left. Did you bring the torch?’

  Lucy held up the torch.

  ‘Good.’ Kitty nodded. ‘Don’t turn it on yet. Wait until we need it.’

  She crossed the road to the woods that divided the town in two, separating Irish Town – the older part of town – from the newer houses where Lucy and Kitty lived. There was a road that ran around the edge of the woods, joining the two sections of the town, but the quickest way to Old Town, and the Coyne house, was to follow the path that ran through the woods. Going through the woods also meant there was less chance they’d be seen by any nosey adults wanting to know what two girls were doing out by themselves this late in the evening.

  But even though the sun hadn’t set yet, the woods felt dark and scary.

  ‘Better switch that on,’ Kitty said.

  Lucy did as she was told, but it wasn’t long before she was moaning about being scared and telling Kitty she wanted to go home.

  ‘No!’ Kitty grabbed Lucy’s arm, tugging her forward. ‘You promised, Lucy. You can’t turn back now.’

  ‘I don’t like it in here.’ Lucy pulled her arm free. ‘And stop dragging me like that. What’s so important about doing this, anyway? Don’t tell me it’s just because we won’t be able to do it soon because the house will be knocked down. There’s something else going on, isn’t there?’

  ‘There’s nothing else,’ Kitty said. ‘I thought it would be an adventure, that’s all. Don’t you want our lives to be more exciting than they are? You read all those books about kids who do things like this all the time. Why can’t you be a bit more like them?’

  ‘They’re just books,’ Lucy said. ‘Not real people. In case you hadn’t noticed.’

  The light from the torch swept across the lines of trees, creating long shadows that looked like creatures waiting to pounce on them. Angry with Lucy for being such a coward, Kitty kept walking, following the torch light until it started to fade.

  ‘Wait for me!’

  The light started moving again, bouncing off the trees and swinging through the darkness. Then Lucy was beside her, taking her hand, and they were walking side by side, letting the light guide them through the woods.

  The house stood by itself, on a clearing where the woods ended. There was no wall or fence separating the house from the land around it. All they had to do was cross the clearing until they reached the house. There was a driveway at the front of the property. The gates, at the end of the driveway, were open. Kitty knew if she walked down the driveway and through the gates, she would reach the road that connected the two sides of town.

  Several cars were parked outside the house. Kitty recognised her parents’ battered Fiat, but none of the others.

  ‘What’s your car doing here?’ Lucy whispered. ‘Your mother will go mad if she sees us. We should leave now.’

  She hadn’t switched the torch off. As she spoke, she trained the light on the row of cars as if she was trying to see inside them.

  ‘Turn that thing off,’ Kitty hissed. ‘The last thing we want is anyone inside the house seeing that.’

  She crept across the driveway, not bothering to wait for Lucy. Knowing Lucy was too much of a coward to stay out here by herself. They were almost at the house when a movement in one of the upstairs windows caught Kitty’s eye. She looked up, saw the curtain had been pulled back and someone was standing there.

  She ducked down behind one of the cars, gesturing for Lucy to get down too. She held her breath, her heart beating hard and fast inside her chest. It wasn’t too late. They could still turn back, walk away before anyone saw them. But she was here now and she had to go through with it. Again, she remembered pushing open the front door of her house and hearing the noises from the kitchen. It had sounded as if someone was being hurt and she’d been so scared. She should have turned around and gone back outside again, but she hadn’t. She’d tiptoed forward, following the noise.

  They hadn’t even bothered closing the door. It was like her mother wanted someone to see what she was doing. Even though what she was doing was the most disgusting thing Kitty had ever seen in her life and she didn’t know how her mother could ever want anyone to see her like that.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Lucy’s voice banished the memory.

  Kitty peered around the side of the car before she answered. It was getting dark now; the sun had gone for the night and a silver crescent moon had appeared in the grey sky. The lights were on in several of the rooms on both floors. Behind the drawn curtains, she could see the shapes of people moving about. But she didn’t care about any of them. All she cared about was the person she’d seen in the upstairs window.

  ‘We’re going in.’

  She stood up and ran towards house, her feet crunching loudly on the gravelled driveway. The sound echoed in the still night before fading into the darkness, until it was like Kitty had never been there.

  Eighteen

  ‘She’s not Kitty.’

  ‘Are you absolutely sure about that?’

  ‘Yes, I am. I’m so sorry. I know how much you wanted it to be her.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Emer looked down at the table, at the plate of ravioli she had barely touched.

  ‘It’s my fault,’ Dee said.

  ‘How do you make that out?’

  ‘I shouldn’t have let things get as far as they did. I got carried away with w
anting to help you.’

  Emer picked up a tiny morsel of pasta with her fork and put it into her mouth.

  ‘Who is she then?’ she said, when she’d finished chewing.

  ‘Her name is Annie Holden,’ Dee said. ‘She’s an artist. From Sussex initially, but she lives in London now. She used to work part-time at the Town of Ramsgate pub, but she’s given that up recently to focus on her art.’

  They were sitting in an upmarket Italian restaurant near Canary Wharf. Emer had been waiting for Dee at the DLR station when she’d got off the train, and they’d come straight here.

  ‘I asked my colleagues to recommend somewhere,’ Emer had said. ‘A few of them said this place is really good.’

  And really expensive, Dee had thought, eyeing the menu when they arrived. She’d ordered a plate of osso bucco that she’d almost finished. The veal was tender and delicious and, she’d reluctantly acknowledged, just about worth the outlandish price tag that came with it.

  ‘And there’s no way she could be Kitty?’ Emer asked.

  ‘I met her mother,’ Dee said. ‘She’s a lovely, ordinary woman who clearly adores her daughter. Talking to her made me realise.’

  ‘Realise what?’

  ‘We both wanted to believe Kitty was still alive,’ Dee said. ‘You, because it meant your sister hadn’t died. Me, because finding Kitty would have been such a lovely thing to be able to do for you. But we were kidding ourselves. Death is the hardest thing in the world to accept. I’ve lost people close to me and there have been times I’d do anything at all to bring them back to life. But that’s not something any of us can do.’

  She didn’t add that digging into Annie’s private life for no good reason wasn’t something that sat easily with her. Of course, digging into people’s private lives was part of an investigative journalist’s job description. But an equally important part of the job was knowing when it was time to stop. And right now, it was time to stop investigating Annie Holden just because she bore a passing resemblance to Emer’s dead sister.