Angel Kiss (20 page)

‘He’s in the office, darling. He’s closing off a very important deal tomorrow, so he’ll be working late.’

‘Well, could you remind him to leave my allowance here? I’m going to watch TV in my room.’

David sat at the breakfast bar in the middle of the kitchen, watching videos on his laptop. He beckoned me over. I sat on the stool beside him, my toast in my hand.

‘Check this out,’ he said, pointing to the video of a skateboarding dog.

‘Aww, that’s so cute,’ I said.

‘Wait till I tell the guys you’re staying here,’ said David. ‘They’re going to be ragin’. Here, pose for a picture with me.’

David put his arm round me and the computer’s camera clicked.

‘Somebody has a new profile picture!’ he said with a grin.

‘Did you see the picture of Nick kissing that skanky girl?’ I said.

‘What girl?’

I logged into my account and found the picture.

David looked at it closely. ‘That’s not Nick.’

‘Yes, it is,’ I said. ‘That’s his hoodie.’

‘That is definitely not Nick. That guy is drinking cider. Nick never drinks cider. And I don’t think he was wearing that hoodie at the gig. That’s not him, Jacki.’

I couldn’t believe it. This changed everything. So this wasn’t a photo from the night he went to Sligo. I had jumped to the wrong conclusion and now I had no reason to hate Nick. Not that I’d ever really let myself hate him …

‘You’re sure?’ I said.

‘I’m positive,’ said David, closing the window. ‘Ooh, my album is downloaded. Wait … what the hell …’

‘What?’

‘Look at this …’

‘Oh my God …’

‘Mum!’

‘Yes, David?’

‘Look what Carla has been looking up.’

Anne walked over to David, put her hand on his shoulder and peered at the screen. She jumped with shock when she saw the picture.

‘Oh my God …’

‘
How to slit your wrists
. She must have deleted the search history because it’s empty, but she forgot to delete this picture from the downloads.’

Peter came into the room. ‘Time for a coffee break,’ he announced.

‘Dad come here and see what Carla has been looking at,’ said David, turning the computer towards his father. He maximized the picture of the hand, blood dripping from the slit cut into the wrist and staining the fingers.

Peter took one look at the stomach-turning image and then shouted ‘Carla!’ so loudly that it hurt my ears.

‘What!’ she said, coming back into the kitchen. ‘Do you have to
shout
like that?’

‘Explain to me what this is,’ fumed Peter, pointing at the computer screen.

Mum and I looked at each other. Both of us felt uncomfortable about being here for such a personal conversation, but felt kind of trapped.

‘Gross. Why are you showing me this?’

‘Your brother found it on the computer,’ Anne interjected sharply. ‘And it’s nothing to do with either of us.’

‘Well, that goes for me too. You know I hate the sight of blood.’

‘Carla,’ said Peter, clearly calming down. ‘If there’s something wrong –’

‘Dad, I swear it wasn’t me. I swear!’ shouted Carla.

‘Well, it wasn’t David, and it certainly wasn’t your mother!’

‘It wasn’t me!’ she said, and stormed off, slamming the kitchen door behind her.

‘Sorry you had to see that,’ said Anne. ‘We’ve been having some problems with Carla lately. Perhaps we should make an appointment for her to see someone, Peter?’

‘Yes,’ said Peter. ‘Maybe we should.’

I lay on the very comfy bed in the spare bedroom at the end of the hall, trying my best to get the image of the slit wrist out of my head. I couldn’t believe that Carla was contemplating doing that. Maybe she was just curious to see what it looked like. I had presumed the grungy clothing and heavy eye make-up were
just a fashion statement, not an expression of her inner feelings. I really hoped she wasn’t planning on doing herself any harm.

A beautiful lamp stood on the bedside table to my right. It had a cream base with a blue butterfly design. Everything in the Mulveys’ house seemed glitzy and expensive. I began to imagine that if I was as rich as the Mulveys I’d build my own recording studio in the house. It was fun just to lie there and fantasize about something silly for a change. I turned off the light and tried to sleep, but I kept thinking about Carla. I considered asking her if she was OK, but I didn’t want to upset her. I didn’t want to upset any of the Mulveys. They were the one reason I was still in Avarna and not on my gran’s couch in Dublin. I needed to be in Avarna. I needed to help Jane. And I needed to fix things with Nick. I knew my chances were slim, but that didn’t stop me formulating a plan to get him back. How would I explain what had happened to me at the party? How would I convince him I wasn’t crazy?

I took my notebook out from my patchwork bag and put it inside the white bedside locker. I wanted to keep it safe. Safe like Mum and I were now, under the solid roof of a house with an electric gate, CCTV and an alarm system.

The next morning I put on my Joy Division T-shirt, denim cut-offs and pink Converse, and unpacked the rest of the stuff from my suitcase. I figured we were going to be here for at least a week, so I might as well unpack everything. The house was supposed to be finished in a week, but it had been delayed before, so I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I put my clothes in the wardrobe and the rest of my things in the bedside locker. Then I saw that Mum had put a note under my door – she had gone to the big hardware store in Carrick. David’s door was closed. Downstairs, Anne was reading the paper in the kitchen.

‘Help yourself to some cereal,’ she said with a smile.

I ate quickly and told her I was going to meet a friend. I unwound my earphones and headed straight for the village. The air was sticky with heat, but a huge grey cloud threatened rain. As I passed Nick’s house I turned up the volume on my iPod to distract myself from the pain in my chest that came whenever I thought about him. I wondered if he was in there, but I couldn’t bear to face him. Not yet, not until I’d figured out a way to fix things. I dreaded having to see him at Mary’s party, but at least I wouldn’t have to stay for long. I’d just go, sing my song and leave.

I went to the Cupcake Café to use a computer. Colin and Emily and the others were busy with work and family stuff, but I didn’t mind. I wanted some time to myself. I treated myself to a strawberry smoothie and enjoyed a quiet hour chatting online to some of my Dublin friends, then I decided to go for a walk. I needed to think about Jane. I knew the clues had to be connected somehow. Mum had made me promise not to go anywhere near the forest or the mines, so I was confined to the village. I went down to the communal garden, but there were lots of kids there enjoying the last of their summer holidays. I scrolled through the music on my iPod, put on some Thin Lizzy and just walked around the village.

My mind kept wandering back to Nick. Everything on my route reminded me: Clancy’s pub, the garden and of course the shop, which I couldn’t even bear to look at. Part of me wished that Nick
had
been with some other girl. Then I might have had some chance of forgetting him. I wouldn’t be thinking about him every second of the day. Now it was even harder than before. There was so much damage to repair – the major freak-out and the fact that I’d completely ignored him for a whole week. I hoped I’d get a chance to fix things. I took my phone from my pocket and checked the screen. There was no coverage. Typical. I really needed to talk to Hannah. She was an expert on boy problems – she’d know what to do.

And, as if I didn’t have enough to worry about, I had absolutely nothing to wear to Mary’s party. I hadn’t packed any fancy clothes and had already worn everything in my suitcase about ten times. I was in desperate need of some company, so I headed for Lydia’s shop.

I flopped down on the stool in Lydia’s workshop. It was the messiest I’d ever seen it. I wondered how she was able to work in such chaos, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She finished steaming a lilac dress, then turned to me.

‘Right,’ she said, ‘my next project is a midnight blue bubble dress. So, The Clash or Bowie?’ Lydia held one CD in each hand.

I wasn’t really paying attention.

‘Well …?’ she said.

‘Sorry, I’m a bit distracted.’

‘What’s up?’ she asked.

‘Everything. I’m supposed to help someone and I’m doing a terrible job, the guy I like hates me and I have nothing to wear to Mary’s party tonight. Mum was supposed to bring me shopping but she didn’t have time.’

‘Well,’ said Lydia, putting down the CDs, ‘I can only help you with one of those things. But luckily it happens to be the most important one.’

‘Thanks, Lydia, but I can’t really afford one of your dresses. I’ll just –’

‘You can borrow one,’ said Lydia. She bounced out of the workshop and weaved through the racks.

‘Oh … no, it’s OK.’

‘Jacki, we’re friends, right? Friends borrow each other’s clothes. Now stop whining and pick something out!’

I smiled for the first time all day. ‘Wow, are you sure? Thanks, you’re a life-saver.’ I liked that I could just be myself with Lydia. The big age difference didn’t seem to matter.

‘I think this short black one would look gorgeous on you,’ said Lydia, taking it off the rack.

‘I suppose I could have borrowed something of Carla’s,’ I said. ‘But we’re not really the same size.’

‘Carla Mulvey? I didn’t realize you were close with her.’

‘I’m not really. But we’re staying in the Mulveys’ house.’

‘How come? Is there something up?’ she asked.

She slipped the black dress off the beaded hanger and gave it to me.

‘Mum is worried about Des. She’s a little bit scared of him ever since she found out he was a suspect in Beth Cullen’s murder.’

‘I don’t think it’s Des she should be worried about,’ said Lydia.

‘What do you mean?’ I said.

‘Nothing … I just have a feeling that Des didn’t kill Beth. I don’t think Rachel should be worried about him.’

‘How can you be sure?’ I said, unbuttoning the back of the dress.

‘Trust me. I’m sure,’ said Lydia.

‘But how?’

‘I just know he didn’t do it.’

Lydia showed me the zip in the side of the dress. I stepped behind the folding screen and took off my T-shirt and shorts.

‘Do you have any idea who did it?’ I said, putting the black dress on over my head.

‘Not a clue,’ said Lydia.

‘You know how you talked with her the afternoon she went missing?’ I said. ‘Do you remember anything strange? Did she mention she was fighting with Des?’ Standing behind the screen seemed to give me a false sense of courage. It was easier to ask Lydia these questions when I didn’t have to see her face. I felt
bad. It was probably upsetting for her to talk about Beth, but I needed more information to piece together.

‘How do you know I talked with her? Where did you hear that? Did the Mulveys say something to you?’

‘No. I just overheard you talking to Mary in the pub the other night … I heard you mention something about having a fight. Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was sitting nearby and I’d only just heard the story about Beth so I couldn’t help listening …’

‘We did have a fight, yes.’

I stepped out from behind the screen, adjusting the dress’s straps.

‘That looks gorgeous on you,’ said Lydia, her voice sounded a little deflated now.

‘Thanks,’ I said, feeling guilty.

Lydia sat down on her chair. I knew she didn’t want to talk about this, but time was running out. I needed to find out what had happened.

‘Did you know a girl called Jane?’ I asked. ‘Do you remember … her name was on that note Colin found in the attic … and guess what …’ I reached into my patchwork bag to show Lydia the porcelain doll.

‘… it’s a coincidence but I named this doll ‘Jane’ and then won her at the fête.’

I’ve never seen anyone look so shocked.

‘Oh my goodness. I can’t believe it. This looks exactly like Beth’s doll,’ she said, taking it from me. ‘Where did you get it?’

‘This was Beth’s?’

‘Yes, or one exactly the same. She called it Jane,’ said Lydia,
stroking the doll’s black hair. This was Beth’s favourite doll. She called her Jane because that was her birth name.’

‘Birth name …?’

‘Yes, she was adopted. She found out her real name when she was nine. She was rooting in her parents’ room and came across the adoption papers.’

The clues started to slot together in my mind. Things started to make much more sense. Beth and Jane were the same person! I’d been right in thinking they were connected, but I’d never have guessed this. I could hardly believe it. It was a relief to know that there hadn’t been two murders.

‘She didn’t tell anyone but me,’ Lydia continued. ‘Whenever we played games she’d use Jane as her make-believe name. She carried it on into her teens. Whenever we wrote notes in class to each other we’d use our play names. She’d use Jane and I’d use –’

‘Audrey.’

‘Yes. Audrey Hepburn was my idol. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that was my note you found. I just hate being reminded all the time … It’s so hard for me to talk about her. I feel so guilty.’

‘Because of your fight?’

‘I didn’t mean to fight with her, you know,’ said Lydia. ‘I was just upset. When Beth got a boyfriend she didn’t hang around with me as much as she used to. Obviously, she had to spend time with her boyfriend, but I didn’t take it very well. I was used to doing everything with her. We’d been best friends since we were babies. The Cullens used to live two doors down, where the café is now. But when Ali was born they moved to a bigger house up by the mines, but we still saw each other every day. We even took violin lessons together.

When Des came along, instead of hanging out with me every night, she’d just call to visit me one or two nights a week. And some weeks I wouldn’t see her at all. I was jealous. Then one day, it was coming up to Christmas, Beth cycled down to my house and knocked on my door. She was just back from a trip to England with her parents, visiting relatives. She took out this little egg-shaped thing from her pocket, wrapped in tissue paper, and gave it to me. It was the porcelain egg. She’d brought it back from England for me.