Butterfly Grave (Murder Notebooks) Page 2

  Rose worried about him.

  In the last weeks, even without this recent drama, Joshua had begun to change. Instead of being confident he was now edgy and nervous. The easy-going attitude he had had when they first met up in September, after their five-year separation, had been chipped away by the things that had happened to them.

  She remembered that first night. Then she’d been bursting with excitement about seeing him. She’d left her boarding school months before and become a student at a college in Camden. He’d started university in East London and although they’d been in touch for months via email they hadn’t come face to face. Heading out to see him that night she’d been like some jittery girl on a first date. She’d seen photos of him but had no idea what it would be like to stand next to him, no longer a tall awkward boy who she had once lived with. Now he was flesh and blood, all grown up.

  She hadn’t been disappointed.

  In the months since then a lot had happened, grim things alongside startling discoveries about what had happened to their parents. Throughout it all an odd thing had begun to happen to Rose. She developed a growing attraction towards Joshua. She had come to think of him as her stepbrother but in reality he was not related to her. Their parents were never married and there was no blood link between them. But the four of them had lived as a unit and Rose thought of him as the only family she had left in the world. And then when she finally met him some completely new and disturbing feelings began to grow. Every hug Joshua gave her, every time he touched her arm or grabbed her hand, she felt a powerful longing for him and wanted to kiss him. More than once she’d felt her lips drawn to his. She’d always stopped herself, though, pulled back, stepped away.

  She had fallen in love with him.

  She hid her feelings and tried to pretend that things were normal between them. Common law stepbrother and sister; that’s what they were. It didn’t explain the nights that she couldn’t sleep or the thrill that went through her chest when he touched her hair or her neck or her fingers.

  There had been times when she’d considered telling him. I know we’ve always thought of ourselves as stepbrother and sister, she might say, but really there’s nothing to stop us getting closer to each other. And what if she had said it? She’d imagined the world stopping for a moment as he tried to work out what she meant. He might look at her with blank incomprehension. Or he might be shocked, angry even.

  It might spoil everything.

  After the shopping trip to Camden and the gift of the blue earrings, she’d given him the present she’d bought for him for Christmas: a book about world-famous bridges. He’d been pleased with it and began turning the pages immediately. Then he’d hugged her, the hug lasting longer than she’d expected. I’ll miss you, he’d whispered, when I’m up in Newcastle and his hand had rubbed up and down her back and caused her spine to weaken and her skin to tingle. After what seemed like a long time he’d pulled away from her and looked, for a second, as if he wanted to say something.

  That had been the time for her to speak. But she hadn’t been able to say anything. Then the front door had slammed and Rose had stepped back, startled, aware that Anna had come home. The moment had gone.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours, they were off the motorway and back on normal roads with traffic lights and pedestrian crossings. They were passing streets of houses, parades of shops, garages and warehouses. As they went on she saw more people walking along, some with pushchairs, dogs on leads, and shopping trolleys. There was noise as well: the beeping of car horns, the screeching of brakes and scraps of music coming from other cars.

  The car had stopped in a queue.

  ‘Tyne Tunnel,’ Joshua said. ‘We need to go under the river.’

  They moved forward and in minutes were going underground, the car close to one in front, all heading in the same direction, a strange quiet descending, cut off from the noise and life out on the street. Then with a burst of daylight they emerged on the other side. Back on to suburban roads, heading towards Joshua’s home. Rose opened her window slightly and noticed a tang of something in the air. She realised it was the smell of the sea.

  Then the car turned into a street, slowed down and parked.

  ‘Here we are,’ Joshua said.

  The houses were brick-built, semi-detached with front gardens. She was surprised. They reminded her of the house she and Joshua had lived in in East London, with her mum and Brendan, in Brewster Road.

  ‘This is Newcastle?’ she said.

  ‘It’s Whitley Bay. About twenty minutes from the city centre.’

  They unpacked the car and Skeggsie went off to his own house. After he’d gone the bags sat in the hallway while Joshua opened the pile of letters that had built up.

  Rose looked around.

  The inside of the house was very similar to the one they’d lived in before. She walked along and peeked into the living room. There was a bay window just like the old house and a fireplace with decorative tiles down each side. Their tiles had had yellow flowers and she remembered the bottom one had been cracked. Here there were pink chrysanthemums, the tiles all intact. She walked further along the hallway. The door opened on to a big kitchen-diner, previously two rooms that had been knocked into one. It was all exactly the same as Brewster Road. Rose wondered if upstairs would have three bedrooms, one of them tiny and a bathroom at the back of the house.

  Had Joshua ever noticed the similarities?

  ‘Shall I make a hot drink?’ she said.

  Joshua nodded, distracted by the letters.

  She went into the kitchen and filled up the kettle, found some cups in the cupboard and some coffee. While it was boiling she looked at the table in the middle of the room. It was dark shiny wood with matching chairs, each one neatly slotted into place. Their table in Brewster Road had not been so smart. It was wooden and square and had four odd chairs around it. One of its legs had been shorter than the others so that it was unsteady and seesaw-like.

  As soon as Brendan and Joshua had moved in with her mother and her they’d become an instant family. The two of them had fitted neatly into the empty places at that kitchen table. They’d played games of cards and eaten meals there, sometimes at the same time. They’d cut up cakes and placed slices on porcelain plates. They’d read newspapers, opened letters and Christmas and birthday cards. They’d had arguments and made up at that table. Joshua had seen it as his job to fold up wads of paper and cardboard to fit under the dodgy leg so that the table was level. Then days later it was wonky again.

  Joshua had been eleven, two years older than her. She’d been amazed by this tall, gangly boy who was sharing her house. He’d been at Big School and wore a posh uniform and did Latin and French. He’d called her Rosie, which she hadn’t liked at first. His room had been tiny but still he filled it with computers and bits of old machines that he liked to fix. He fixed her computer whenever it wouldn’t do what she wanted it to do. In return she would play him tunes on her violin. Occasionally she’d make him cups of lukewarm tea and cheese sandwiches with big spoonfuls of lumpy brown pickle which they sat and ate at the table in the kitchen.

  ‘You all right, Rosie?’

  Joshua’s voice broke into her thoughts. He was standing at the door of the kitchen with the letters in his hand.

  ‘Sure,’ she said, turning back to the kettle and pouring boiling water into the cups.

  ‘You have been careful lately?’ Joshua said. ‘No sign of anyone watching you? On the way to college? While you’re there?’

  ‘No,’ she said.

  She’d answered these questions a number of times in the past weeks. It wasn’t just cars following them that Joshua worried about. It was people as well.

  ‘You do look around and see who’s there at college? And on the train? And out of the house window? Just to make sure no one is hanging around?’

  ‘I do. Honestly, I do.’

  She gave a wan smile.

  ‘We can’t let our guard down, Rosie.
We have to be careful all the time. It’s a dangerous world.’

  His forehead was crinkled into lines. She wished he could mend this like he mended her computer and the dodgy table.

  But he couldn’t. His uncle was in hospital and his dad and her mum were still missing. There was no easy fix.

  THREE

  The doorbell rang. Rose went to answer it.

  A blonde woman stood there holding a dog. She wasn’t wearing a coat and had car keys hanging from her free hand. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the kind worn by a young girl.

  ‘I’m Susie,’ she said. ‘I used to be Stu’s girlfriend? I’ve brought Poppy back.’

  Poppy strained on the lead. She had seen Joshua behind Rose in the hallway. Susie unhooked her and she raced towards him, jumping up on her hind legs. Rose stood back. The dog was white and brown and looked something like a collie. When she leapt up at her Rose patted her gingerly, turning away slightly to fend her off. She didn’t like dogs much. Poppy’s claws scraped on the floor and her panting and squeaks of delight filled up the hallway. Joshua squatted down and she lay on her back, her tail swishing across the boards.

  ‘You’re Joshua,’ the woman said bluntly. ‘Susie Tyler. We finally meet. Have I come at a bad time? Well, I know it’s a bad time . . .’

  ‘No please, come in . . .’

  ‘Poppy’s missed you,’ Susie said.

  ‘I’ve missed her.’

  There was an uneasy silence.

  ‘Let’s go in the living room,’ Rose said, feeling awkward.

  ‘Poppy can go in the kitchen till she calms down,’ Joshua said.

  He made little clicking noises and patted Poppy as she went backwards and forwards excitedly along the hallway. Rose walked ahead of Susie into the small living room at the front of the house.

  ‘Cold in here,’ Susie said. ‘This room’s always cold.’

  Susie looked terrible, Rose thought. Her hairstyle was severe and her skin looked drained, yellowish. She had on jeans and a baggy jumper, the cuffs covering her hands. She sat on the sofa and crossed her legs, her elbows on her knees, a huge diamanté ‘S’ hanging from her car keys. Joshua came back into the room.

  ‘You want a drink? Tea? Coffee?’

  Susie shook her head. ‘I’d have a smoke if I hadn’t given them up two weeks last Tuesday. How is Stu? Have you seen him?’

  ‘No. We’ve only just got here. I know he had an operation today.’

  Joshua sat down.

  ‘But he’s going to be all right, though? There’s no lasting damage?’

  ‘I don’t really know.’

  ‘I’d like to see him but . . .’

  ‘Susie, what happened with you and Stu? The newspaper said he’d broken up with you and was drinking heavily.’

  ‘Right. So you weren’t in touch with him at all? I mean he didn’t tell you what had been going on between me and him?’

  ‘He wasn’t much of a talker.’

  ‘I might as well come straight to the point. I’m married.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Stu knew I was married. At least he knew I was still living with my husband but we weren’t close. Living in separate parts of the house. The trouble is it’s not black and white. You love someone. You don’t love someone. You get married, you fall out of love, you get a divorce. Simple. But love’s not like that . . .’

  ‘Susie, I just want to know about Stu?’ Joshua said gently.

  ‘Right,’ she said, sniffing, sitting up straight, using one hand to pull the oversize jumper further down her legs. ‘I met Stu at a vintage car rally. My sister’s husband is mad for old cars so we went. My sister recognised Stu because he taught my nephew History. Anyway I went to get a couple of teas and Stu was there and we started talking. He told me about the classic MG Roadster he had in his garage, said he was bringing it back to life. Asked me if I’d like to come and look at it and I asked if he tried that line with every woman he met. Anyhow I work at Morrisons, in the pharmacy. And I saw him there a couple of days later and he asked me round to his house for a meal and that’s how it all started. At the time me and my husband Greg were talking about splitting up. We’d never been able to have children, see. We’d been through counselling and stuff but we were just about done.’

  ‘Did Stu know? Right from the beginning?’

  ‘He did. I told him that me and Greg hadn’t slept in the same bedroom for two years.’

  Joshua glanced at Rose and then looked down at the carpet. He didn’t speak. The only sounds were Poppy’s tiny moans coming from the kitchen. Susie didn’t seem to notice his embarrassment.

  ‘And we had made an appointment to see a solicitor but when it came to it we never bothered. Then I met Stu and I told Greg I was leaving but Greg broke down and . . . I couldn’t . . . See Greg is a partner in a cafe just off the Promenade? The Blue Kettle. His partner’s ill and the bills are coming in. The business might go bust. And we’ve been together for fifteen years. On top of everything I suppose me leaving him was too much.’

  Susie took a deep breath.

  ‘So I finished it with Stu. He kept contacting me, though. Phoning me, hanging round Morrisons. Greg saw him there last Friday and the two of them had a fight. Stu hit Greg and knocked him out. That was the last . . . the last time I spoke to him.’

  Susie’s eyes glassed over. Rose watched as a tear slid out of the side and ran down her cheek, leaving a trail on her skin. Susie pulled out a white cotton hanky from her back pocket. It had been folded up and ironed. As she shook it out its creases stayed. She blew her nose and then bunched it up in her hand.

  ‘I heard about his accident from my neighbour whose husband works in the police station. I couldn’t believe it. I went straight there and arranged to get Poppy.’

  Susie stood up.

  ‘So it’s all finished between you and Stu?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m back with my husband. We’re giving it another try. Look, I should go.’

  Her fingers were up to her lips as though there was a cigarette there. Then she walked out into the hallway.

  ‘Thanks for looking after Poppy.’

  ‘I’m sorry for what happened, Joshua. I mean, about me and Stu and Greg. I never set out to make a mess of things but it just got out of hand.’

  Joshua opened the front door.

  ‘I feel bad saying this but I won’t be visiting Stu in the hospital. Greg wouldn’t like it. Will you tell your uncle when you see him? I do care about him but it’s better for me and Greg if . . .’

  Then she was gone. Joshua closed the door.

  He seemed stuck to the spot.

  ‘So that’s why Stu was drinking heavily. She chose her husband over him. It’s such a cliché. He had a broken heart. He drank too much and lost his way on the cliff. Nothing but a stupid accident.’

  Later Rose unpacked her stuff in the box room at the front of the house. It was tiny and had a window overlooking the street. The bed had no sheets on it, just a duvet spread across the mattress and a pillow. There was a chest of drawers and some hooks on the back door. Three wooden hangers hung from them. It felt as though it was a room that no one had ever slept in or used.

  She walked across to the window and looked out into the street. It seemed fuller now than when they first drove up, cars and vans parked along each side, one van further along double-parked. Most probably delivering something, Christmas presents perhaps.

  She could hear Joshua downstairs. The television was on and he was channel-hopping. She walked out into the hallway and put her hand on the banister rail. The layout of rooms on this floor was the same as their old house. The same tiny box room had been Joshua’s and hers was across the way where Joshua’s bedroom now was. Her mum and Brendan’s bedroom had been at the back next to the bathroom. It overlooked the long and overgrown garden that no one ever seemed to have time to sort out.

  How happy they had been.

  Until the day they lost it all.

  On 4th Nov
ember her mother and Brendan went out for a meal and Rose and Josh had a babysitter. Rose was allowed to stay up until they got home. She sat with the babysitter, Sandy, watching television and chatting.

  The air was pungent with the smell of fireworks, the sounds popping all evening. Sandy started to get worried about eleven and her dad came round. He told Rose everything would be all right and that she should go to bed so she did. Joshua hung about on the landing. Rose saw him there early the next morning. He was still wearing the same clothes. He hadn’t gone to bed at all. Are they back? she’d asked, fearful because somehow, deep inside, she knew they weren’t. The house gave it away. Her room seemed bigger, emptier. The central heating seemed to moan as it came on and the windows rattled as though something was locked outside. Are they back? she’d said.

  Without turning round Joshua shook his head.

  Kathy and Brendan were gone and no one knew where or why.

  A policeman came to see them later. He sat with them at the kitchen table. He made them drinks. Joshua’s tea was too hot and hers too sugary. They looked at each other in a bewildered way when he told them their parents were missing and that they’d have to spend a short time in foster care until it became clear what had happened. Rose played with the place mat in front of her, straightening it up, turning it round. Then she got up and went upstairs to pack a bag.

  A while later she met her grandmother for the first time. A social worker took her to a house in Belsize Park, explaining on the way about the existence of this relative whom she had never met. Rose expected an older version of her mother but what she got was something quite different. Anna Christie was tall and dressed smartly like someone about to go to a wedding. Rose was to go and live with her. She would have her own study and bedroom and her grandmother would arrange for her to go to a boarding school. Joshua was to go and live with an uncle in Newcastle. On the day she went to live there the social worker carried her bags and she carried her violin case. They’d had to park a bit away and Rose had trailed along behind. If she couldn’t stay with Joshua then it didn’t matter where she was. The front door opened and her grandmother led her up to her rooms and left her there to get settled in. She sat on the bed with her not yet unpacked bags by her feet. Adrift, floating away from the life she had once had. At the same time she knew that Joshua was on the train to Newcastle.