The Day She Died (23 page)

“You are looking for my sister to answer questions?” said Eva. “Not to make sure she is safe and okay?”

“Where did Kazek get the money?” I asked her.

“What money?” she said.

“Ask him.” I passed the phone over and listened to them. I was beginning to think I could understand Polish by now. I could get the gist of the intonation anyway, and I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I grabbed the phone back.

“Well?” I said.

“He doesn't know what money you mean,” Eva said.

“He bloody does,” I said. “God, if we had Skype, I could show you.” Except of course I didn't know where he'd stashed it this time. “Okay, listen. Can you think of anyone Ros would go to? Any town she's got friends in, any particular reason she'd have to go somewhere instead of somewhere else?”

“I think I don't trust you,” she said. “I don't know how you know all these dead people. Or why you are looking for Ros. What is the real true reason you want to find her, eh?”

“Oh, great,” I said.

“I think I will call the police,” she said.

“Yes, good! I agree,” I told her.

“Let me speak to Kazek,” she demanded.

“To tell him not to trust me? Why should I?” But I handed the phone over anyway, because she could just as easy call back after I'd gone. I gave him the hard stare with my arms folded all the time he was talking.
Policja
was the only thing I understood out of the whole endless stream of it. He talked her round too. “
Nie dzwon po policja
. No police. Okay,” was the last thing he said before
Czesc
and hanging up. He raised his hands, surrendering. Hung his head too.

“Sorry, Jessie-Pleasie,” he said.

“Okay,” I said. “I will find something, either in the cottage or at Gizzy's, in Ros's old gaff or in the office or something somehow, or something she said to Gizzy or Gus or Ruby or
something
for God's sake that'll help us work out where she's gone—and then we can find her.”

He nodded. He walked over to the kettle and held it up, questioning, for all the world like we were just two pals hanging out in my flat, like you do.

“Only what's that going to change?” I said, sort of to him but more to myself, really. “She might be able to tell me why Becky killed herself, but how can she get Gary the Gangster off your back?”

“
Jaroslawa jest prawnikiem
,” said Kazek. “
Prawnikiem
, Jessie-
Pleasie.”

“Write it down,” I said. I gave him a scrap of paper from beside my phone and once he had scribbled on it, I put it in my pocket and sat back. I was exhausted. Then I hauled myself to my feet, opened the fridge, and showed him the shopping.

“Stay here,” I told him. “Don't answer the door.”

Nineteen

I stayed exhausted too.
Four o'clock came crawling round, and I had to drive back to the cottage with the car windows open to keep myself awake. One good thing about living down a farm track and through a caravan site, though—especially when you had to take it at five miles an hour behind the bin lorry—was I could be sure Gary or one of his minions wasn't following me. I stepped out onto the turf and let the sea breeze blow my hair back. Minions! Could someone be a friend of Dot and have minions? Henchmen, heavies, muscle. A week ago I thought I knew what my worries were, and they were bad enough. I turned and looked towards the cottage. Then, in the time-honoured way, it all went tits up because I met a guy.

I could see him through the living room window. He was sitting at the table, bent over something. Reading, maybe, or writing. And I could hear the sound of the kids, squealing and thrashing about with something. Would I go back? Undo it if I could? I pushed my sleeve up and looked at the red mark where Gary had grabbed me. Thought about Kazek in my flat and Ros's sister. Gus lifted his head and waved. I waved back and trotted up the path.

“Hiya!” I shouted.

“Jessieeeeee!” squealed Ruby.

“Mummmeeeeee,” said Dillon coming along at her heels. He put his head against my legs and hugged me.

“He doesn't mean it,” Ruby told me. “He calls everybody that babysits Mummy.”

“I know,” I said, playing it cool, but my heart had filled my chest until I thought my coat would pop open. “So what are you doing?”

“Playing at funerals,” said Ruby. “Come on, Dill. You be the dead body and I'll be the angel.”

I took off my coat and scarf and fluffed my hair in the mirror, stopped just short of biting my lips and pinching my cheeks. Got close though.

“Did you hear that?” I asked Gus. He
was
writing—a proper letter on a pad of writing paper with a lined sheet underneath to keep it straight.

“Yeah,” he said, laughing. “Wee toe rags. I told them about Becky's funeral, and Ruby took to it. Hey, guess what?”

“Who're you writing to? Relations?” I said. “What?”

“What relations?” he said. “I thought I'd told you. I'm writing to that hill walker. See if he wants to come to the funeral maybe.” I couldn't keep the frown off my face. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking.

“Ohhhh, I don't know,” I said. “Just. Okay, that's a nice idea. He might. Best to give him the choice. But what about your mum and your dad? And why not try to reach your brother? And surely Becky must have some family. Why not let them all know on the off-chance some of them might want to come too? That's all. I'll butt out. That's all I'm going to say.”

“Guess who phoned today,” he answered. I think it was an answer anyway.

“Your brother,” I tried. “Becky's mum? Who?”

“Try again, Jess,” he said. “Who have we been waiting to hear from?”

“Who?” I said. “Oh! Ros's sister?”
Shit!
Did she phone here after we spoke to her at the flat? Had she dropped me in it? Can't have, the way he was smiling at me.

“Close but no banana,” he said. “Ros called.”

I flumped down into one of the armchairs. I could feel my mouth hanging open but couldn't close it.

“Seriously?” I said. “She called here?”

“It's not that much of a shocker, is it?” he said. “She doesn't want her job back, if that's what's worrying you. Yeah, she phoned and said she'd just decided to make a clean break. She met someone else, got a chance of a job up north, took it.”

“Someone else as opposed to who?” I said.

“Becky,” said Gus. “You were right about that. Don't know why I didn't see it for myself. Years ago.”

I nodded. “What did she say when you told her Becky died?” I asked. Gus whistled and shook his head again. A big reaction, he seemed to be saying. But what a weird way to signal it, far too light-hearted for how it must have been.

“She took it pretty hard,” he said. “Obviously. I told her she wasn't responsible. If she didn't know Becky was feeling that bad, how could she have guessed? But Ros is one of those people, you know. Takes care of everyone. Really—what's the word?—conscientious.”

I nodded slowly. The sort of person who wouldn't leave a friend from home stranded in an empty caravan when she knew he was in trouble. None of this made sense to me.

“Well,” I said. “That's that then. That's one mystery solved.”

He had bent his head to carry on writing, but he looked up at me now.

“That's all the mysteries solved,” he corrected. “Unless you're talking about the thing you've still got to tell me.” I tried not to let my eyes grow wide. “Did you ever think, Jessie, that if you let it all go, tell me everything, the whole pteronophobia might just blow away like a … ”

“Feather?” I said. Just like that. I was amazed at how much easier it was than even a week ago.

“I was going to say puff of smoke, but okay. Come here,” he said. I hauled myself to my feet and went to sit on his knee. He squeezed me so hard my bra squeaked. “I heard what Dill called you. And Ruby's talking rubbish, you know. He doesn't call babysitters that. Just you.”

I stood up, stretching—he really had squeezed me quite tight—and he ran his hands up and down my body. Big strong hands. Safe hands. I remembered Kazek catching the camera before it hit the floor.

“It's not called rubbish now,” I said. “Ruby's talking
recycling
.”

He laughed again even though it wasn't really funny. “So, what do you fancy for tea?” he said. “T-bone steak or Lobster Thermidor.”

“Oh, I don't know,” I said. “Not sure I'm hungry enough to do justice to a T-bone. And I had lobster for lunch … ”

“In that case, then, maybe I can interest you in some tuna, pasta, and sweet corn?”

“Perfect!” I said. “As served in The Ivy. I think I'll just take a wee stroll along the beach first, mind you. Cooped up all day, you know.”

“Want company?” said Gus.

“You finish your letter,” I said. “But can I ask you a question?” He nodded. “Why aren't you typing it? Is it to make it more personal?” To me, letters on writing paper were so unusual that they seemed kind of weird now. Like only stalkers would send them.

“Haven't got a word processor,” said Gus.

“You haven't got Word on your computer?” I said.

“What makes you think I've got a computer?” said Gus, looking around as if he expected to see one magically appear. Right enough, I hadn't seen it around, but I knew he had one.

“You said you looked stuff up,” I reminded him.

“It's in the workshop,” he told me. “I use it for graphics. No need for Word.”

“Right,” I said. I thought Ruby would feel left out if she was the only one at nursery who didn't use a computer, but then maybe she got a shot when she chummed him to work—when he
was
working, that is, when he didn't have sculptor's block. I thought of what Steve had said and put it out of my mind again as quickly as it had come in there. I said no more. Dill might be calling me Mummy, but they were Gus's kids and if he didn't think they needed a computer yet, I wasn't going to argue.

It was nearly completely dark outside, too dark to walk on the track with its tufts and potholes, but okay down on the beach with the long sweep of empty sand. I put my hands deep in the pockets of the coat I'd borrowed—it had looked so much warmer than mine—and with my head down against the wind, I took off along the bay.

So Ros had phoned. If no one else had called since and I went back now and dialled 1471, I could probably get right on to her. Tell her to call her sister, ask her what she was planning to do to help Kazek. How could I explain it to Gus, though? Say I wanted to get some cleaning tips? But she wasn't really much of a cleaner, was she? Gizzy had said as much. What was that word Kazek had used—the magic word that described her powers? It was written down on the scrap of paper tucked in my jeans, but too dark to read it now.

Well, I'd try the phone later if I got the chance, when Gus was out of the way. And even if I never got through to her, I could tell her sister she was okay. I'd as good as told her anyway—that she had packed her stuff and taken it with her—but it wouldn't hurt to follow up with some actual news. Via Gus. Like the news about her taking her things had come via Gus.

And that's why I was out on this walk, even if I didn't want to think the thoughts out loud. Maybe Ros had phoned Gizzy too, and I could ask her. I could check that the cops had really been on to Gizzy about Ros's things. I was just making sure. As I turned up the rise towards the office and shop, I was glad to see a light still shining. I knocked on the door and tried the handle.

“We're closed,” she bawled. “Ring the emergency number and leave a message.”

“It's Jessie,” I bawled back. I could hear her sigh right along the passageway and through the closed door.

“What do you want?” she said, opening up on the chain.

“Has Ros called you?” I asked. “Oh, gonny let me in, Giz. I'm freezing.”

“Ros?” she said. “What makes you think that?”

“She phoned Becky's house,” I said. “Got the bad news.” Gizzy sat back down at the computer and pushed her hair back with her hands. Whatever she was trying to do, it wasn't going well by the look of her. “Do you think we should tell the police?” I went on. “I know they weren't going to pursue it but … ”

“Eh?” said Gizzy. She was only half-listening, looking between a manual cracked open flat by her keyboard and whatever mysteries were on the screen. “Tell them what?”

“Since they took the trouble to phone,” I said.

“Did they? What did you tell them? Oh bloody hell, I
have
! I
did
! I just did that!” She stuck her middle finger up at the screen and picked up the manual to give it a closer look. I was glad she wasn't looking at me. I'm sure my face fell.

“The police didn't call here to ask about Ros disappearing?” I said.

“Who told you that?” she said. “They'll say anything to shut you up.”

The strict truth was that no one had told me that. Gus had told me that police had said Ros took her things, and when I asked him if they'd heard it from Gizzy, he said they must have. Maybe they were “just saying anything” to shut Gus up too.

“I tell you what,” said Gizzy. She pushed her glasses up onto her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “If she'd phoned here today, I'd have reached down the line and dragged back by her scrawny wee Polish neck. She's left me in total bleeding chaos.”

“Can I have a go on the computer, Giz?” I said. I was feeling in the pocket of my jeans for the scrap of paper.

“Can you do spreadsheets?”

“No,” I said. “I just want to Google something.”

Gizzy rolled backwards in her chair. “Be my guest. See if you can pick up a virus that'll melt the whole thing down so I'll never have to look at it again.”

I Googled translation devices, picked the first one, hit Polish to English and copied in
prawnikiem
from the note.
Lawyer
, it told me. Ros was a lawyer? Working as cleaner in a caravan site? Jesus, Kazek might be a brain surgeon working as a … it occurred to me then that I didn't know what Kazek and Wojtek had come here to do.

“Cheers,” I said. “See you Friday.”

“Get ready for Armageddon,” said Gizzy. “After the October half-term break's the worst clean of the year. Site's full and the weather's so crap that they're all in their vans mucking them up. I'm just warning you.”

“In your own special way,” I said, but she was back to the manual again and didn't hear me.

Ros was a lawyer. I could sort of see how that would help Kazek, although if Gary the Gangster was the sort to cut someone's throat, he didn't seem to have much respect for the law. And if Ros
did
respect the law, then how did she square the wads of fifties away? And why did she leave? Why didn't Gus ask her? Nothing he had told me made any kind of sense at all.

But I had to trust Gus. He had turned my life around, made me hope that it was going to be something worth living. Damn Steve for making me doubt him! I shoved my hands even deeper into the coat's pockets, and that's when I felt something I hadn't noticed before. Right deep down in the lining, there was the unmistakable cold jagged shape of a bunch of keys.

My heart beat harder at the very thought of it. He was so secretive. He'd been so weird that night when he took me there. But I just wanted to see the pram again, maybe take a look at the replica house in the workshop next door, just to set my mind at rest. I wasn't checking to see if there really was a computer in there. Why would he lie to me about that anyway?

I hunched into the collar of the coat as I passed the cottage, sure that if he looked out the window he would see me and know where I was going. Know that I was spying on him. Then he'd ask me to leave and I'd be back to my lonely wee flat—with Kazek, of course. I shouldn't be snooping round after Gus. I should be 1471-ing Ros and telling her to get her arse in gear and help her friend. But since I was here …

Which side would I look in? Pram was in one and House was in the other. I'd seen Pram. I hunched over the padlock on the other door and started searching for the right key. It took a while, and then once the door was open, it took me a while to find the string that pulled the light on too. At last my fingers fastened round it and I tugged. Blinked, stepped back, nearly stumbling. The wall was right in front of my face, less than two feet away. A breezeblock wall right to the ceiling and all the way to both sides. It filled the space completely. How would he ever get it out? And where were the windows? The door? It was supposed to be a copy of the cottage, but it was just a block. It made me think of a tumor, sitting there inside the byre. Solid and ugly. No wonder he didn't want me to see. And no bloody wonder he couldn't face coming here and working on it. It was monstrous. It made me feel queasy. Or it and the smell of the cattle drain combined. I wanted to lock the door again and run away.