Finding Jennifer Jones (20 page)

“And now you’ve come to see me!”

“Yes, and I want to say face to face that it was a terrible day at the lake and I am so sorry…”

“There’s no need. You said that in the letter.”

“I know but…”

“It was a long time ago. We were just children.”

“Yes, we were.”

Little Lucy Bussell was trying to put her at her ease; it made her feel emotional. She hadn’t always been kind to Lucy when they were
just children
.

“After it all happened you went into foster care,” Kate said after a moment.

“For a while. My mum was ill. Then when she was better I lived with her again. We changed our name. Because of the publicity.”

“And Joe went into foster care?”

“He did. Then we all lived together again. Stevie came now and then.”

There was music playing in the cafe, Kate realised. It was orchestral, some tune that she’d heard before, but it was so low she could hardly make it out. One of the mothers was reading a story to her toddler. The child was making excited noises and trying to turn the page before the mother had finished reading it. Kate looked back to Lucy. She was fiddling with a bracelet. She looked underweight, as though it was only her clothes that were giving her shape.

“Lucy, I only recently heard about your brother Joe and what happened to him. I’m so sorry.”

Lucy pulled at the front of her hair. She pushed the can of Coke away to the furthest edge of the table. It looked like it might topple off.

“Did you read it in the newspapers?” she said, a hint of anger in her voice. “They used a terrible headline. YOUNG MAN FOUND HANGING IN RAILWAY SIDINGS. And then just a couple of sentences. Really brief. It should have had more.”

Her eyes glistened. Kate was dismayed. She put her hand out and covered Lucy’s. It felt small and fragile. She thought of what Sara Wright had said about the press hounding the Bussell brothers after Berwick Waters, portraying them as oddballs. Then they had been happy to print lots of stuff about them. She wondered if Lucy had seen any of that. She doubted it. She had only been eight, living with foster carers; they wouldn’t have let her see the newspapers.

“I’m so sorry for you and your mum and your brother.”

Lucy took her hand away and pulled a wad of tissues from the pocket of her denim jacket.

Kate had never known Joe, always seen him as weird. Was his suicide just a random thing or did it have roots in the things that happened at Berwick? This thought had weighed on her since she had spoken to Sara Wright. Could it be that she, in some way, was responsible for
that
as well? Joe had gone to college though and after that had got an apprenticeship. Had he changed from that strange boy in combats? Had he become a regular guy? And if so, why had he taken his own life? These were things Kate wanted to ask Lucy but didn’t feel she could.

“Did you get your GCSE results?” she said, changing the subject.

“One A, two Bs and five Cs,” Lucy said, blowing her nose.

“That’s really good. What was the A?”

“Art. The results mean I can do A levels and maybe go to university. I mean, I’m not sure if I
want
to go to university, but at least I’ve got the choice now. Stevie says it’s a waste but I don’t listen to him. My boyfriend, Donny – I think I mentioned him in the letter I sent – he says you absolutely have to go to university. Especially for art.”

“I thought you’d broken up with Donny?”

“That was all a misunderstanding. There was a girl at school who just spread gossip and it wasn’t true but I believed it like an absolute idiot!”

“Well, that’s good!”

“You got a boyfriend?”

“Sort of. In Exmouth.”

Kate had her mouth open as if she might say more, explain about moving to London, but she made a quick decision to keep that information to herself. Lucy knew she lived in Exmouth and knew her name was Kate. It didn’t hurt to talk about her Exmouth life.

“What’s his name? How long have you been seeing him?”

“Jimmy, his name’s Jimmy. I’ve not been seeing him long but he’s a nice guy. He’s big into crime films and box sets…”

Kate faltered on those words, sensing an irony she hadn’t picked up on before. Jimmy loved his crime. What would he say if he knew who he’d been spending time with? But then crime series and movies were not real life, nothing like it.

“Do you think it might be serious?”

“I don’t know. I do like him… What about you and Donny?”

“Oh, definitely. He’s the one. I’ve liked him for years and years. Even when he used to go out with a girl called Jude. She was in my class and it seemed like they were never apart. But then he split up with her and now it’s me and him. Stevie doesn’t like him much, but it’s not his choice, is it?”

“No. It’s your choice.”

The door opened then and two women came in, one fanning herself with a magazine, the other getting her purse out and heading for the counter. Kate noticed some nice-looking cakes and pastries on the counter.

“Would you like a slice of cake?” she asked.

Lucy shook her head. “Thing is, since Joe’s death, Stevie looks out for me. I think, maybe, he feels that he should have been around more for Joe? So now he’s always asking me what I’m doing, where I’m going, who I’m seeing….”

“You didn’t tell him you were seeing me?” Kate said, alarmed.

“Oh no, he just thinks I’m meeting a friend from school. But that’s the problem. He feels he has to know everything about my life. Donny says I should tell him to mind his own business but…you know…he’s my brother.”

“Where does he work?”

“He’s a security guard. In a shopping centre.”

Kate pictured Stevie immediately. In a uniform. His muscular arms covered up, a peaked cap on his head. Not a soldier but someone who sensed a bit of status, if only guarding clothes shops and restaurants.

“Oh, one other thing,” Kate said, reaching into her bag. “This was sent to me a few weeks ago by a journalist. I think she may have spoken to your mother a while ago? Well, the book’s out now…”

“I’ve seen it. She sent a copy to my mum.”

“Have you read it?”

Lucy shook her head. “Have you?”

“No. The journalist said it was a serious piece of work but the title…”

The book lay on the table.
CHILDREN WHO KILL.

“It’s like that headline about my brother,” Lucy said, after a moment. “It’s what sells papers and books.”

“I know.”

Lucy frowned, her face clouding over. Kate waited, sure she had something she wanted to say. She’d pulled Sara Wright’s book towards her and was staring at the cover.

“Joe was making a go of things. He’d done all right in college and the apprenticeship was going well. That’s what my mum said. He used to work lots of overtime, said he really wanted to learn the job, be successful. Then he came home from work one Friday and seemed a bit fed up. He said he was going out for a drink with his mates and we never saw him again. They found him a couple of days later hanging behind Kings Cross station. The policeman said he probably did it like that because he didn’t want someone in his family to find him. He was thinking of us…”

“Oh, Lucy…”

“Donny says that that maybe Joe was depressed, like, you know, the illness.
Depression
. And none of us knew. Donny has a friend whose sister tried to kill herself and then they gave her these tablets.”

“Antidepressants,” Kate said, thinking of the slim packet she had in her rucksack, the tablet she took every day, the way it had cleared some of the fog out of her life.

“Yeah, but no one knew. He just kept it all inside.”

Kate didn’t know what to say. Lucy finished her Coke.

“Anyway, I should go,” she said. “I said I’d meet Donny at Wood Green. He’s got this summer job in Argos.”

They both stood up. Kate, who was small anyway, looked down on Lucy.

“I’ll walk you to the bus stop,” she said, “It’s close to my B&B.”

They left the café and walked through Finsbury Park. There were groups of people sitting and lying on the grass and a dog scampering round trying to get hold of a frisbee that was skittering along in the breeze. Out of the park the traffic reared up in front of them. They crossed the road and headed for the bus stop. Kate could see a bus further up in the stationary traffic. It was the one that stopped at Wood Green. It would take a few moments for it to edge towards them.

“We should stay in touch, Kate. You could write me another letter and I’ll reply. I’ve never had letters from anyone! You’ve got my address.”

“Sure I will. And I’m sorry I upset you by talking about Joe.”

“I
like
talking about Joe. No one else does. Mum never mentions him, neither does Stevie. If he hadn’t died he might be working for himself now, in a proper job.”

“What was his apprenticeship?”

“Photography. He was working for my uncle? Kenny Cottis. You knew him, didn’t you? I think your mum did some work for him. Oh, I remember now, he took those photographs of your mum and you got really upset.”

“Mr Cottis?” Kate said, taken aback.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it. He’s not really my uncle though, he’s my mum’s friend, but he’s always been there to help out and when Joe wanted to do photography he’d said he’d teach him the job. He lives near us. Alexandra Palace. Well, it’s not
that
near, but it’s close enough.”

The bus was coming closer but Kate was suddenly back at Berwick Waters, eight years before. Little Lucy Bussell was standing by the side of the lake holding a photograph of her mother, Carol Jones, fashion model, naked. It had been amid the Bussell brothers’ belongings, the stuff that they’d buried in a box and kept up at the reservoir so that they could carry out night-time hunting games. The photograph had disgusted her; had sent her into an ugly rage.

“I’m sorry, I’ve upset you now!” Lucy said, her face screwed up.

But Kate wasn’t thinking about her mother now. “Your brother worked for
Mr Cottis
? Learning to take photographs?”

“Yes. Kenny was his boss and tried to help him but… But I don’t think he does any of that glamour stuff any more.”

The bus arrived.

“Have I upset you?” Lucy said, looking concerned.

“No, you get your bus,” Kate said with a weak smile.

“You’ll write to me again? And I’ll reply.”

“I will. And remember no one has to know about me seeing you.”

“I know.”

Lucy got on the bus. It shunted out again into the traffic.

Mr Cottis had given up taking glamour photographs. What about the other types of photographs he liked to take? Those of a young girl dressed up in a school uniform. Had he given up taking those as well?

Twenty-seven

After Lucy’s bus disappeared Kate walked around in an aimless way. A while later she found herself on the parade of shops by the underground station. She saw the internet café she’d used before and stopped abruptly so that a woman behind her bumped into her saying
Sorry, sorry!
She went in and bought a coffee and saw that one of the computers by the window was free. She sat down and felt the heat from the sun. It was like a greenhouse but she paid for an hour anyway and went onto her Hotmail page. Outside, on the street, people walked past the café but she hardly noticed them as she focused on the screen. There was a message from Petra.

Hi, Becky! Greg says why don’t you come and meet people tomorrow night. He’s cooking. We eat at seven. You could bring the deposit then to save you coming on Thursday but it’s up to you.
Petra xx

She read it over a couple of times and felt the tension ease.

She would go over there the next evening, meet the people from the house. Maybe she would begin to feel that she really was
Becky Andrews
and that her life was now in Archway, north London.

She wrote an answer and then sat for a moment gazing at the street outside. There were numbers of people passing, probably heading, she thought, for the underground station. Some girls were walking more slowly linking arms, causing annoyance to people in a rush. They seemed deep in conversation and hardly noticed. Behind them, walking with his head down, was a young man wearing shorts but with heavy Dr Marten boots. He headed for a bus stop some metres along. On his back was a rucksack and when he stopped he took it off in a lumbering way, moving his shoulders as if they ached. His gait was slumped and he had a frown on his face as if he was puzzling something out. He looked unhappy.

She pulled the keyboard towards her and typed the words YOUNG MAN FOUND HANGING IN RAILWAY SIDING into the search engine. She saw it immediately. Underneath were a few sentences.

The body of a young man was found yesterday by staff at Kings Cross Station in central London. It was discovered in a largely unused area and had possibly been there for a number of days. A Network Rail spokesman said that the area had recently been fenced off but access had been gained with wire cutters. The spokesman said that it was a tragedy for the young man and his family.

There were a couple of other mentions of what had happened but none of them gave any more details. Kate wondered why the press hadn’t picked the story up more widely. According to Sara Wright they had written enough about the Bussells after Berwick Waters. Maybe the name change had hidden the link or maybe Joe Bussell’s suicide was not quite such a sensational scoop for them. The article that was there was brief and could easily have been missed. Lucy was right to say that it deserved more than that. She typed in
Joe Alexander.
Several things came up: a member of a boy band, a scientist, a journalist. Then she saw a small local paper article from just eighteen months before.

INQUEST VERDICT OF SUICIDE FOR YOUNG PHOTOGRAPHER

A coroner determined that the death of twenty-year-old Joe Alexander was that of suicide, even though there was no note. His family said that although he was depressed they cannot understand why he took his own life. The coroner felt that the chosen means of death, by hanging, in a particularly inaccessible place, showed a decisive intent on the part of the young man. “This was no spur-of-the moment decision,” the coroner said.