Angel Kiss (16 page)

So I just messed around for a bit. Emily had uploaded pictures from the gig in Sligo the night before. I clicked through the photos, smiling at the ones of Emily and the lads pulling stupid faces. But I didn’t smile at the next one. I recognized his red hoodie immediately. There he was … eating the face off some blonde girl. She was wearing a slutty belly-top and his hands were all over her.

I felt sick … so confused, jealous, angry. I logged off and just needed to get out of there.

‘Ali, if you see my mum would you mind telling her that I had to leave early? Thanks,’ I said, before hurrying out of the café, slamming the door behind me. I was definitely forgetting about him now.

As I hurried home, I felt angry and upset, but at the same time I felt a strange sense of relief. Nick had found someone
else. I could forget about him now. I could stop thinking about him all the time. I could stop obsessing about how I was going to explain myself to him. This was exactly what I needed. I didn’t need anything distracting me from my duty to Jane. Being crazy about someone was a distraction. A horrible, unhealthy distraction. I was done with boys. It always, always ended badly. I didn’t need them in my life. Or else, I’d keep them there, but never get attached. I’d be like Hannah: always the dumper, never the dumpee. Always the one to turn them down, never the one sitting staring at the phone, waiting for them to text. I’d be the one who’d forget to text
them
back. I’d be the one who forgot their birthdays, forgot their numbers, forgot their
names even. I picked a yellow flower from the ditch and ripped off the petals one by one.
I don’t love him. I don’t love him. I don’t love him.
Unfortunately, with every petal plucked, my initial rage started to dwindle. And it was just replaced with hurt. But the thought of Nick with that girl was enough to at least dull my obsession. Although I knew I wasn’t going to be able to forget about him, I was at least going to try.

I spent that evening in the caravan making flyers. I wanted Mum to think I was at least interested in finding something to do for the summer. Besides, I could really have done with the extra cash. Freelance ghost whispering wasn’t proving the most lucrative occupation. And I needed to keep my mind as far away as possible from you know who. I finally finished the flyers, managing to get glitter-glue everywhere in the process.

My phone buzzed. It was such a rare occurrence in the caravan that it made me jump. The one bar of coverage that came and went must have decided to come back. It was a message from Emily, asking if I wanted to sleep at her house tonight, as a few of the girls from St Mary’s were staying over. Maybe I could talk to her about that photo of Nick. But I decided that dwelling on it would do no good whatsoever. Plus she would want to know the whole story about what had happened in the
bedroom, and I couldn’t tell her that. I was excited about getting to know my new schoolmates, but wondered if Mum would let me sleep there. Ever since I’d disguised staying at Cian’s as an all-night birthday celebration at Hannah’s, Mum had been extremely wary of sleepovers.

‘Mum, can I stay over at Emily’s? It’s just the girls staying over. And her parents will be there and –’

‘No problem,’ said Mum. ‘You enjoy yourself.’

What? No request for Emily’s exact address? No demand to ring her parents to check everything was above board? Maybe now that I was nearly sixteen she had more faith in me.

I heard a car drive in and looked out the window. It wasn’t a car. It was a van. A familiar van. Now I knew why Mum was so happy to be rid of me for the night. Ew.

‘I’m not a taxi service,’ said Brigid, picking up the stick of glue and pasting another photograph on to the giant collage. Lydia flicked through one of the photo albums from the stack on the table, choosing the occasional picture that was worthy of inclusion in the collage to be displayed at Mary’s fiftieth birthday party. She was wearing an awesome pink mini-dress and bright red boots. Those colours really shouldn’t have worked together, but they did on Lydia.

‘Emily’s house is so far away,’ said Colin. ‘And it’s lashing rain.’

‘It’s drizzling,’ said Brigid. ‘Why do you always have to be so dramatic?’

‘I am not!’ said Colin, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

‘Look at this one!’ said Lydia, holding up a photograph of a couple kissing. The girl was wearing a yellow jacket with
extreme shoulder pads and the guy was sporting some really severe sideburns.

‘Who’s that with Mary?’ asked Colin.

‘That’s Joe Clancy.’

‘No way!’ I said.

‘They used to go out,’ said Brigid. ‘Joe and Michael even had a fight over her out in the main street once. The entire village saw it.’

‘Maybe I should leave this one where it is,’ said Lydia, slotting the photograph back into the album.

Mary had been a pretty young woman, with rosy cheeks and long curly brown hair. If you ignored the dodgy fashion, she looked lovely in all the pictures.

‘Our mother always had a camera out,’ said Brigid. ‘There are probably more pictures of Mary here than in her own house.’

‘Right, enough with the trip down memory lane,’ said Colin. ‘We’re late.’

Brigid and Lydia pointed to the half-empty bottle of wine on the table. ‘We couldn’t drop you even if we wanted to,’ said Brigid.

Colin rolled his eyes and took out his phone.

‘I’ll see how Carla’s getting there,’ he said as he began scrolling through his phonebook. I didn’t know David’s sister was a friend of Emily’s – she seemed much younger. I really hoped Amanda wasn’t going too. She was so irritating.

‘Hey,’ said Colin, ‘any chance we could get a lift to Emily’s with you? OK, cool. Thanks! Bye!’ He hung up. ‘Her dad’s taking us,’ said Colin. ‘They’ll be here in ten minutes.’

Peter Mulvey was pretty much what I expected from a high-flying business executive. He drove a flashy car, wore an expensive suit and kept his designer sunglasses on even at dusk. I sat in the passenger seat in silence while Carla and Colin chatted loudly in the back. It turned out Carla was on Emily’s hockey team, and thankfully hadn’t brought Amanda along.

‘Mary was telling me that your back garden is in a bit of a state?’ said Peter, eventually making conversation. ‘I know a very good waste-removal company that could help you with that.’

‘I think my mum’s got it sorted, thanks,’ I said. Despite my best efforts I couldn’t stop thinking about Nick. The thought of him with that girl made me sick. At least there was no chance of me having to see him tonight.

‘Find anything interesting?’ said Peter.

‘Sorry?’

‘In your garden. Mary was saying there were all sorts of things buried under there. Did you find anything interesting?’

‘No,’ I said, perhaps a little too abruptly. ‘Nothing at all. You don’t want to get too close to it anyway – it really smells.’ I felt dizzy again and my headache was coming back. I tried my best to ignore it, looking out the window as we sped past the fields.

Peter pulled up right to the door. I could see into the sitting room – there were lots of girls already there. Colin and I thanked Peter for the lift, then I grabbed my rucksack and stepped out into the rain.

‘Well now, let me see …’ said Emily’s dad, Henry. He was a small man with a balding head and huge glasses. ‘There have
been five murders recorded in these parts since 1960. Kathleen Brogan, suffocated by her husband, Charles. Mary Hughes, hit over the head by a burglar, died instantly. Francis Quinn, shot in the back of the head while out hunting, and Poppy Gilleece, stabbed by her half-sister in a jealous rage. I explore all these murders in more detail in my book. There has been only one unsolved case – the murder of Beth Cullen.’ My heart sank as he continued. ‘I’m afraid, Colin, that an investigative project entitled
Unsolved Murders in Avarna
would leave you examining only one incident. Five is actually quite a high number of murders for a village area. There must be something in the water,’ he joked.

Emily dropped the remainder of a packet of marshmallows into a giant bowl and started to pour out ten mugs of hot chocolate. ‘Let’s hope not,’ she said.

‘I’ll have to advise you to pick another topic for your school history project,’ added Henry.

Colin nodded. ‘I think you’re right, thanks.’

‘Why are you talking about school?’ asked Emily.

‘I like to get started during the summer,’ said Colin. ‘I just can’t get enough of schoolwork!’ He sounded so convincing I almost believed him.

‘Hear that, Emily?’ said Henry. ‘Maybe you should put down those novels of yours and start doing your history project!’

‘Colin, I didn’t know you chose hist–’

‘I’ll help you with those,’ said Colin, taking the tray of mugs and signalling for her to keep quiet.

‘You are so strange,’ she muttered.

Emily’s friends were all very nice. I tried to memorize their names and join in the chatter, only occasionally letting my mind wander back to Nick. I wondered what he was doing tonight.
Probably trying to figure out how he’d ever fancied such a complete nutter. He could think whatever he liked now though, I didn’t care. Well, I tried to convince myself that I didn’t.

By the end of the night I was no closer to finding out who Jane was, but, on the upside, I had got to know Emily’s friends. We stayed up until four o’clock, watching
Gossip Girl
reruns and eating chocolate ice cream. One of Emily’s best friends played drums, and she was thinking of getting a band together. School was just a few weeks away, but now it didn’t seem like such a major deal. The girls had advised me who to befriend and who to avoid, and told me which teachers were all right and which ones to watch out for. I wished that school was the only thing I had to worry about.

I had thought that perhaps sleeping in a different house would mean I’d be spared the nightmare. On the contrary, it had been exactly the same. The next morning, just like every morning, I woke up feeling as if I’d been in a fistfight, my head thumping and my body aching. I’d dreamed of the body pushing down on me, shoving my head into the cold ground, and bits of bark digging into my bare legs.

Back in the caravan, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the bathroom mirror and winced. I looked pale, not a stunning pale like Lydia, but a sickly pale. My face was drained. I picked up Mum’s blusher and dusted it on to my cheeks, giving them an artificial rosy glow. My eyeliner helped distract from the tired look in my eyes. There was one positive sign – the bruises had faded. They were hardly even visible now. They had served their purpose: Jane had got my attention. I had time to spare, time which I didn’t want to spend focusing on my mounting
problems. I took out my guitar and began strumming and singing softly, each word of my song slowly pushing all the other stuff out of my head.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I looked at the message. It was from Colin, and simply said JANE UPDATE. I texted back TELL ME! and waited a few moments for his reply. MY HOUSE. NOW.

I left the caravan so fast I didn’t even remember to take my iPod, and I always took that everywhere. I desperately wanted to find out what Colin knew. When I got to the guesthouse he was alone in the kitchen making coffee.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘You’re not going to believe this.’ He pointed to a note on the table in front of me.

The paper was pale pink. Probably from a cute little letter set, one that made you want to get a pen pal just so you could have an excuse to buy it. Little pink hearts formed a border round the page, although their colour had faded with time. The handwriting was small and neat.

I picked up the note and read it aloud.

My eyes fixed on the final word.

‘Where did you get this?’ I asked, my heart thumping.

‘In the attic. Mam asked me to go up and look for more photographs, and I found this in among a pile of Lydia’s stuff.

‘Who’s Audrey?’

‘No idea. My mam said she doesn’t know anyone called Audrey. My dad didn’t have a clue either.’

‘Did you ask Lydia?’

‘Not yet, but we could ask her now,’ said Colin as we spotted Lydia heading for the dining room. She jumped when she saw us sitting in the semi-darkness. She was carrying a red silk dress, its plunging neckline sparkling with diamanté studs.

‘Lydia, have you ever seen this before?’ Colin asked, holding up the notepaper. She came over to the table and peered at it. Her face seemed to get paler. She scanned down through the words. There was some recognition there – I was sure of it.

‘No, never seen it before,’ she shrugged. Her hands gripped the dress more tightly.

‘I found it in your box in the attic,’ said Colin. I kept staring at Lydia. She definitely seemed a little bit flustered.

‘Do you know who Audrey is?’ I asked.

‘Nope.’

‘What about Jane? Did you know anybody called Jane?’

‘No offence, guys,’ she said with a smile, ‘but I really don’t
have time to chat about a letter you two found in the attic. I have to finish this dress I’m making Mary for her birthday.’ Lydia walked out the door.

‘She knows something,’ I whispered.

‘Definitely,’ said Colin, folding up the note and dropping it into my pocket.

Mum and I had gone for dinner to Clancy’s pub. She was tired and we both needed a break from our cramped living quarters. It was nearly ten o’clock, and Mum was enjoying an after-dinner drink. It was relatively quiet; there were two couples I didn’t know finishing off a late meal, and Mary and Lydia were sitting at the table behind me. They were the most unlikely best friends in the world. Mary was so prim and organized; Lydia so cool and carefree. Lydia had said hi to us when she came in, but wasn’t her usual friendly self. I was sure she knew something about that note. I was close enough to overhear what they were saying, but couldn’t really concentrate when Mum was chatting to me. When two of Mum’s new teacher friends came in and joined us I had a chance to eavesdrop on Lydia and Mary’s conversation.