The Grip Lit Collection: The Sisters, Mother, Mother and Dark Rooms. Koren Zailckas
telling her that nobody could ever find out, that she had to promise not to say anything to “her”. I’ve no idea who the “her” was. He alluded to some crime, something from their past. I was scared, Ben sounded out of his mind with worry. And Beatrice … Well, she just sat there, almost teasing him, as if she enjoyed having this secret with him. I got the sense that he was a lot more worried about it getting out than she was.’ Jodie pauses, making sure she’s got my undivided attention. She has. ‘But the weirdest thing was, I’m sure he called her Daisy. If it wasn’t for the fact I recognized her voice, saw those legs and that tattoo around her ankle, I would have assumed he was talking to someone else.’
‘Daisy?’ I frown, remembering. ‘That was their mother’s name.’
Jodie shrugs. ‘I dunno. Anyway, I must have made a noise on the stairs because Ben threw the door open and caught me listening, his face …’ She gives a theatrical shudder. ‘He was furious. He snarled at me, insisting I tell him what I’d overheard. He didn’t believe me when I played the innocent. After that, Beatrice made it difficult for me to stay.’
‘In what way?’
‘Oh, I expect you’ve had the cold-shoulder treatment. I imagine you know what that’s like.’
I smile tightly, suddenly feeling an affinity with Jodie because she’s right: I know exactly what that’s like.
When I get back the house is empty. I run up to my room and start up my laptop, logging on to Facebook and go straight to Lucy’s page.
There are no new words on her timeline but there is a link to a photograph. I click on to it and gasp as her face comes into focus, filling up the screen. It’s the black-and-white, head-and-shoulders shot of Beatrice wearing her own jewellery. The photo that Cass took for the website. I remember the words from yesterday, I’ve been replaced. I never knew what that meant before but now, alongside the photograph, I understand. I laugh, relieved. I’m not going mad. My illness hasn’t returned.
Somebody has been playing with my mind on and off since I moved in. Now I know who.
It’s always the quiet ones.
Beatrice swears under her breath as the garnet she’s trying to set into a silver ring clatters on to the oak desk. Her fingers are too thick, ungainly. She flexes them, clicking her knuckles and causing Cass, who is lying on the leather sofa with her legs draped over the arm, to look up from her book. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I keep dropping this bloody stone,’ she snaps, picking it up and trying again. Her stomach aches with the beginnings of PMT. She’s got more work than she can handle now that her website has gone live, and it is overwhelming her.
‘Do you want me to help?’ asks Cass. Beatrice shakes her head, wishing she would go away. Cass has become very clingy of late, and she suspects it has something to do with her new relationship with Niall. Not that she can actually call it a relationship. Even though he’s ludicrously good looking she’s beginning to find him boring; they haven’t got much of a connection. She knows he’s dead wood, that she’s going to have to cast him adrift.
The sky turns grey, darkening the room. Without taking her eyes from her book, Cass automatically reaches behind her to switch on the lamp. She is beautiful, Beatrice thinks as she surveys her friend, with her small button nose, her elongated, intense dark eyes, her platinum blonde crop. And she would do anything for me.
She places the ring on to her desk with the stone next to it where it glints red and orange in the lamplight. She’s not in the right frame of mind to concentrate on this today. Ben is back. She hasn’t seen him for nearly two weeks and she was out with Niall when he returned last night. She had rushed home but was surprised to hear from Pam that he was in bed. She had gone to his bedroom, pushing his door ajar gently to see if he was still awake, and had been shocked to see Abi sleeping next to him, her head on his chest.
He might tell her otherwise, but she can sense it. Her grip on him is loosening.
She’s really missed Ben. It’s the longest they have spent apart in years. She understands why he had to rush off and why he had to stay there as long as he did, but it irks her that he hasn’t come to see her yet, that he went straight to Abi first. This is all her fault. She was distracted by Niall, had allowed herself to believe that she might have actually found someone worth losing Ben for. But she has now seen past Niall’s pretty insubstantial face to the nothingness beneath it. How can she ever begin to connect with someone else when she’s always comparing every relationship she has to the one with her twin? How can she ever better their bond?
‘Hi.’
She turns to see Ben standing in the doorway, his hair stuck up in peaks, a tired smile on his face.
She rushes over to him and throws her arms around him. ‘I’ve missed you. Are you okay?’
‘I’m exhausted, it’s been an emotional ten days,’ he says. Then he notices Cass on the sofa. She’s sitting up now, book on her lap, eyeing them inquisitively. He doesn’t have to say it, she knows what he’s thinking, that they can’t talk here in front of Cass. She gently pushes him out the door, calling to Cass that they will see her later.
‘Let’s go for a walk,’ she mouths once they are in the hallway. He nods. They pull on raincoats and Beatrice grabs an umbrella as they hurry out the door and head towards Alexandra Park.
‘Where’s Abi?’ she asks, linking her arm through his. A weak sun filters through the clouds and she wishes she was wearing trousers instead of a dress. Her feet are cold in her leopard-print pumps.
He shrugs. ‘I haven’t seen her yet this morning.’
Beatrice is tempted to tell him she knows Abi is sharing his bed, but she doesn’t want it to escalate into an argument. He’s a man who has needs. Could she prevent him from having sex, from getting close to someone else? It was naïve of her to think she could. Since Abi’s birthday, Beatrice has tried to make an effort to keep things on an even keel, for Ben’s sake.
Instead she listens as he tells her about London, how strange it was for him, being there after all these years. That tiny house, so dark and dingy, smelling of boiled cabbage and Paul’s dirty socks. The life he was so desperate to escape from. She squeezes his hand in sympathy when he describes all that went on there.
‘So Paul still lives there?’ she asks when he’s finished.
He nods. ‘Yep, and he still hates me. But he’s jealous. I’ve got the life he wants.’
They fall silent. The only sounds to be heard are the squeak of their footsteps on wet tarmac and the faraway yap of a dog. It begins to rain again and Beatrice stops to put up her blue spotty umbrella. Ben takes it from her as he usually does, just as she knew he would, and holds it up over the both of them.
‘Have you told Abi about London?’ she asks.
‘She thinks I went to Scotland for work. I can’t tell her, Bea, you know that.’
She chews the inside of her mouth as they reach the top of the street, turning left into the park. So many lies, she thinks.
Due to the cold, wet day, it’s deserted; it’s how Beatrice prefers it. She shivers in her thin scarlet mackintosh and Ben stops to put his arm around her.
‘Are you cold? Do you want to go home?’
She shakes her head, she wants to keep him talking, she wants to hear about Abi, because it’s obvious to her that their relationship can never work, not when he’s keeping so much from her. I know all your secrets Ben. I know them