Shell House (15 page)

       
“Somewhere rural, please. Right now, I don’t want to be near people.”

       
“It is rural. I’ve just got to wait for confirmation of the location.”

       
“Not too far from my Dad is it?” Gabrielle suddenly felt anxious about being any further away than she already was.

       
“No it’s not. Far more rural but probably slightly closer than here. Rightly or wrongly we think people will be looking out for you in other counties. The media certainly will. They won’t think for one minute that we’ll have moved you within the same county. We can rectify that anyway by giving them an anonymous, false tip off. Lead them to think you’ve moved west or something and hopefully they’ll print it and no one will be any the wiser. It’s important you’re rural though. You’ll have to reinvent yourself as much as possible, forget about your old life completely. You do understand that don’t you?”

       
Gabrielle hesitated. “Of course I do. I did it before didn’t I?”

       
“Yes, but this is different to all the other times because you’ve been revealed as a well known writer.”

       
“But I’ve survived that way for many years and I can do it again. I can write under a new name...”

       
Rosa looked away. It suddenly dawned on Gabrielle that she may no longer have a contract with her publisher after this and Rosa didn’t have the heart to tell her. She wanted her to read between the lines of what she was saying because she felt sorry for her and didn’t want to hurt her further than she had been already.

       
She took a few deep breaths, trying desperately to keep herself calm; comforting herself with positive ideas, something to fill the gaping black hole that was opening up inside her. All the little notions dissipated like raindrops in the dark and suddenly everything felt pointless. It didn’t go unnoticed by Rosa; she knew her so well.

       
“You’re right, you can do this. You’ve done it before on many occasions and you’ll have the support of your father this time. When we feel it’s the right time for you to see him again,” she added quickly.

       
“That was years ago, Rosa and I was a lot younger. And as much as it’s been wonderful having my father in my life again, he’s far too old to be supporting me.”

       
“But he’ll support you emotionally if nothing else.”

       
“He couldn’t support me when I was ten so what makes you think he’ll do it now.”  Gabrielle put her head in her hands, despair pricking her skin like heavy damp dew.

       
She didn’t hear any of Rosa’s comforting words, as she was ten again and sat in the back of a police car with the fag burnt covers and the strange perfume smell emanating from the policewoman next to her. She could still recall those smells all these years later and it reminded her of a feeling of everything coming to an end. They were scents that clung to the back of her nose and throat and had felt like they hadn’t ever left her. And she remembered every moment being filled with the expectation of her father turning up to take her home.

       
Gabrielle realised looking back, how she must have come across to everyone who encountered her, at the police station, temporary foster homes and maybe even in court at her trial; as cocky and cold. She overheard a few of them saying as much. But her fear had been masked with the anticipation of her father turning up to collect her. She knew he would sort everything out and take her home. But he didn’t. And she had never forgotten the last few times he came to visit her; how cold he was towards her, as though she were a stranger. He had given her some hard advice, guidance more befitting to one of his older clients. It had filled Gabrielle with dread and she’d become hysterical when she’d realised he wasn’t taking her home with him.

       
The heavy sick feeling she’d felt all that time ago descended on her now as though it had only just happened. It was always remarkable to her that memories of smells and feelings were crystal clear to her but images of events were always blurred or forgotten altogether.

       
He’d left that day and she barely saw him until she appeared in court for her trial. She’d been told he had attended some of the trial but that did little to comfort her. He visited her for a few months at Hellesdown, the secure unit where she had been sent but it all stopped when she was fourteen. She received the odd birthday card over the years but there were no more visits. Some of the teachers at Hellesdown, had kindly helped her write a letter to him, usually after an occasion where she received a card, but he never replied. They had all been heartbroken for her. She’d wait expectantly as she had done in the early days after being arrested, hoping beyond hope for some kind of response from him. The staff had been amazed at the optimism of this small child after what she’d been through. Most children, in their experience, gave up on the notion of hearing from anyone quite quickly; they were more hardened to the way things were. Once, when she was eighteen, she’d been allowed to telephone him from the prison she’d been allocated to, and he’d told her it was best if she never contacted him again. She felt as though she were suffocating when she’d hung up the phone.

       
She could reflect now and see everything how it really had been. She’d not understood as a child and had felt swamped underneath it all.

       
She shrugged and sighed, being very aware that she wasn’t in a dissimilar place to then; not really understanding what she was supposed to do.

       
Having come back into the present day she was vaguely aware of Rosa having said something about fetching them both some food and hearing the door click behind her. She loved that about Rosa, she knew when to stay and comfort and the right time to leave her alone to think.

       
She sat now in the silence and hoped beyond all hope that wherever she was going, it would give her a sense of purpose to live because she could feel herself sliding slowly beyond melancholy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

        Nancy listened carefully as Harry explained to her why he felt Gabrielle was innocent, and about his intentions to set up an appeal case. He had contacted his old friend Bill, who was now a retired Barrister, but had enough contacts to give him the advice he needed. He’d agreed to visit Harry and “advise him accordingly”.

       
“You know and I know Gramps that you’ve got to have some sort of evidence to be able to appeal. What if Gabrielle doesn’t want you to?”

       
Harry looked surprised, the thought having not occurred to him. “Of course she will! Who wouldn’t under the circumstances?”

       
“But you don’t know that for sure. What if...what if she actually did do it?”

       
Harry stared into the fire as Gabrielle’s harsh words rang in his head, “face it Father, I killed those children”.     He conjured up the sea in his head and mentally watched the words wash away with the tide.

       
“But she didn’t. She couldn’t have.”

       
“You keep saying that but you have yet to explain to me why? You can’t just tell people you’ve met her after all these years, formed a bond and you really feel she’s innocent.”

       
“I know that you silly girl!” Harry banged his hands on the arm of his chair. “I know the law and how it works − you don’t need to tell me.”

       
“It’s no good getting irate about it because you’re going to be asked all these questions when Bill arrives. He’s coming to give you some professional advice − not necessarily to tell you what you want to hear.” Nancy glanced at the clock on the mantle. “Where is he anyway? I thought you said he’d be here at one?”

       
“Nothing new there, dear heart. He’s always late.”

       
“You really need to try and cast your mind back, Granddad, and see if you can remember what happened when those children went missing and the events thereafter.”

       
“It’s just so hazy.” Harry stood up slowly, his knees creaking, and wandered over to his desk and looked out of the window. His eyes squinted at the stark brightness of the sun peaking from behind a cloud.

       
“Have you been down to the sea lately?”

       
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. “No.”

       
She waited for him to continue but he didn’t.  There were too many emotions running through him; too many excuses not to go out of the house.

       
“The reporters have more or less gone now, Granddad. You need to go out. You know how important it is for you to get exercise and fresh air. And I know how much it means to you to talk to the sea.”

       
“I know. I just don’t want anyone I know to question me...or...I don’t know. I’m just not ready.”

       
“What did you used to tell me when I was being bullied? Ignore them or tell them to bugger off.”

       
He turned from the window to look at her and chuckled at her ability to simplify everything, something the young always seemed to be able to do.

       
“Don’t laugh, Gramps, its easy! If anyone stops to talk to you just tell them you don’t want to discuss it.”

       
He sighed and turned back to the window. She was right in a way but there was a huge part of him that felt ashamed. No one knew Gabrielle like he did. They’d judge them all on the facts they had in front of them and he guessed it would be none too kindly. He was desperate to go for a walk though and talk to the sea, which always seemed to make sense of everything, clarify it all for him.

         
The bell for the front door chimed startling them both; they were still so used to it being someone from the press.

       
‘Bill,’ they both said together and laughed.

       
“Will Catherine get it, Granddad?” Nancy got up from her chair in preparation to answer the door.

       
As he responded to her question he heard Catherine’s footsteps across the hall floor, clearly on her way to the front door. She’d been round to do a spot of cleaning having not been able to for a few weeks due to the press being camped outside the bottom of the track, and she had wanted to check if he needed anything too.

       
Nancy wandered over to Harry and put her arm through his. “Listen, I’ve had to put up some armour, you’re not the only one who’s been questioned. Everyone knows Dad and are quite aware of who he’s related to. Toughen up, Gramps!”

       
He laughed and turned to embrace her, tears stinging his eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

       
“And I without you. So, do as I tell you and get some fresh air. I’ll come with you if you like? I can hang around and have a coffee with Catherine while I wait.”

       
There was a knock at the sitting room door and Catherine’s face appeared, Bill followed closely behind her.

       
“Late as usual, Bill. Some things never change.”

       
“I got waylaid with my wife over lunch and then I was just talking to the lovely Catherine here.” Bill winked at Catherine and Nancy rolled her eyes. “The women can’t get enough of me Harry even though I’m an old duffer like you!”

       
The two women left them to banter with one another and wandered into the kitchen for a catch up of their own.

       
Nancy pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down, her body shivering due to the shock of moving from the warm fire-lit sitting room.

       
“Is the stove on, Catherine? Nancy rubbed her hands together and pulled her cardigan sleeves down to cover them.

       
“Well, the kettle’s coming to the boil on it so it must be doing something, love. That sitting room is so warm.” Catherine moved round the table and lifted the back of Nancy’s top and cardigan up. “You got a vest on?”

       
“Oh, Catherine your hands are freezing!”

       
“No wonder you’re cold, my girl!”

       
“I’m only cold when I come here.” Nancy laughed. She adored Catherine; she was like a grandmother to her. She was always there to listen when needed and gave the most honest advice. She was very different to Nancy’s French grandmother, who was cold and snappy on the rare occasions she had visited her in France.

       
“You were around when all that stuff happened with Aunty Gabrielle? Can you remember anything about it?”

       
Catherine busied herself making a pot of tea, clearly thinking carefully about what she’d been asked. She was quiet for some time while she emptied a tin full of pastries she’d brought with her onto a baking tray and put them in the hot stove. Nancy wondered if she’d ever respond.

       
She eventually sat down, having poured them both a cup of tea.