Living in the Shadows (25 page)

Llamroth, afternoon: Friday, October 3rd

‘I know this will sound stupid, Linda, but I’m going to give the house a good clean before we go up north. I haven’t had much of a chance this last two weeks and the whole place needs a good bottoming.’ Mary looked around the living room. ‘I could write my name in the dust.’

‘Bit of an exaggeration, but I do understand. You’ll need to leave the house clean in case you’re burgled,’ Linda teased.

‘Don’t say that.’ Mary shuddered yet smiled. ‘I just like to see the place tidy and clean before we go.’

‘Okay. And I’ll help.’

‘Thanks. And no time like the present. With Richard off seeing his mates before he leaves and Peter having the day out to some garden place near Cardiff with Alun and Alwyn, it’s a good time to start.’

‘Upstairs first?’

‘Yes, I like to do top to bottom.’

‘Right, where should I start?’

‘If you don’t mind tackling the bathroom, I’ll do our bedroom.’

Mary stopped on the landing. She could hear Linda humming behind the swish of water in the bath and the squeak of a cloth on the tiles. She touched the top of the old desk. It was dusty. She undid the tin of polish and wiped the cloth over the surface. It would seem old-fashioned to Linda, but she still liked the smell of her Johnson’s Lavender. As she smeared it over the desk she absentmindedly pulled open the drawer. She frowned, everything looked different. Tom’s glasses-case was open; the broken lens was on top of an untidy jumble of papers. Putting it safely away again she riffled through the papers, looking for the small envelope of old photos. It wasn’t there. Photos spilled from a large paper bag. Perhaps, without thinking, she’d put them all together? She sat on the top tread of the stairs and slid them back in, lingering over each one. When she’d finished she frowned and went through them again. There were definitely snaps missing. She rummaged through the drawer again, with no luck. Closing it with a sigh she buffed the desk to a gleam. She must remember to ask Peter about the photographs sometime.

By the time she’d finished the bedrooms, Linda had swept the stair-carpet and wiped down the wood of the treads on either side.

‘Brew before we start down here?’ Mary said, making her way into the kitchen.

‘Just water for me, please, the smell of that Stardrops made me feel a bit sick.’

‘It is a bit strong, but a good cleaner. You should have left it for me to do.’ Mary called over the sound of filling the kettle with water. ‘Oh, by the way, I just did ours and Richard’s rooms. I left yours; I thought you might want to do it yourself.’ She’d actually seen an open letter on the bed. One sheet had fallen to the floor and, as she picked it up, she’d seen Martin’s signature.

‘Cheers, that’s okay.’ Linda followed her into the kitchen. ‘Did you notice the letter?’

‘I didn’t read it.’ Mary was quick to reply.

‘No. No, I know, I didn’t mean that. I was just saying,’ Linda said. ‘It was from Martin. We’ve split up. My choice,’ she said hastily. ‘He wanted to get married. I don’t.’

Even though … especially because, Linda surprised herself by the thought, especially because of what she would have to face in the future.

‘You don’t have to tell me, love. It’s none of my business.’

‘Not much to say beyond that, really.’ Not yet, Linda thought, reaching for a glass from the wall cupboard and let the cold-water tap run for a few seconds before filling it. ‘It’s just that he’s not giving up so easily. He was really angry about it; I think it’s his pride more than anything that’s hurt. But he’s decided he’ll forgive me.’ She quoted the last two words, caustically. ‘He thinks I’m panicking about being married.’

‘Is that true?’

‘Not at all. I don’t want to be married.’ She turned the tap off. ‘And I certainly don’t want to be married to him. Mug or cup?’

‘Mug, please.’ Mary put the cosy over the teapot. ‘I’ll let it brew for a minute.’ She leaned against the sink. ‘You’re sure it’s over?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Well then, that’s all that matters. Just stick to your guns and get on with your life.’ She turned around and poured the tea. ‘Let’s take these through. We can drink as we clean.’

They put the mug and glass on the windowsill in the living room.

‘If we move everything to the back of the room and do around the fireplace and then shift everything the other way?’ Mary said. ‘All right with you?’

‘Fine.’

‘Okay then, let’s start with the settee.’ They positioned themselves at the front. ‘It’s on casters but it’s a bit awkward.’

They pushed the settee backwards with their knees until it wouldn’t go any further.

‘Oh, my goodness, I’m ashamed,’ Mary said. ‘Look at all the fluff and bits under here.’

Linda kneeled down and peered underneath. ‘There’s something stuck on one of the casters,’ she said. ‘Looks like some paper.’ She felt around. ‘It’s an envelope.’ Handing it to Mary she waited while her aunt studied it.

‘It’s addressed to Victoria. And it’s postmarked Manchester but I don’t recognise the writing.’

‘Is it empty?’

‘I think so.’ Mary poked her finger and thumb inside, opening the envelope wider. ‘Oh. No, there’s a note.’ She read the words out loud: ‘“your group now, your new family … an exciting new world will be yours
”.
What does it mean? And who is this,’ she peered at the note again, ‘this Seth? I’ve no idea. Have you, Linda?’

‘Not a clue. To be honest, Auntie Mary, Vicky and me, we don’t keep in touch, really. It’s usually Richard I write to. And he’s never mentioned the name as far as I can remember.’

‘Well, reading this, it’s clear he has something to do with Victoria going.’ Excitement mixed with the worry on Mary’s face. She chewed on her lower lip before saying, ‘There’s only one thing we can do. We’ll take Richard up to Ashford sooner than planned and then we’ll… have to start looking for her around Manchester.’

Linda hoped that meant that her aunt would forget about going to see George Shuttleworth, but her next words dispelled that.

‘And I’ll make sure George Shuttleworth knows exactly what will happen if he tries to harm Richard. Or any other member of our family!’

Chapter 50: Jacqueline Howarth, Mary & Peter Schormann

Manchester: Tuesday, October 7th

‘I’ve made a list of places where Vicky could be, from all the info I’ve got from the other stations.’ Jackie helped Mary to take her coat off and hung it on the coat-stand before taking Peter’s off him and doing the same. ‘Sit down and get your breath back while I make a coffee.’

Mary raised her voice above the music on the turntable of the record-player.

‘We’re grateful for this, Jacqueline. Aren’t we, Peter?’

He nodded.

She put her hand on his shoulder. ‘You okay?’

He touched her fingers and nodded again, leaning back on the orange Ercol settee.

‘The lift’s out of order.’ Mary watched Peter, anxious. ‘It’s taken us ages to climb all those stairs.’

‘Again?’ Jackie called from the kitchen. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know – I haven’t been out today. I’d have said we should meet somewhere else if I’d known.’

‘It’s all right, we took our time.’ Mary looked around the flat. She thought the orange shag-pile carpet and orange curtains clashed with the purple-painted walls.

She caught Peter’s eye.

‘Very – er – modern,’ he muttered.

‘Shush, she’ll hear.’ Mary walked over to the window. The restless impatience she’d felt since they arrived threatened to boil over. She suppressed the urge to rush Jacqueline, to grab the list and leave. There was no point; from what she’d seen so far, Manchester had changed almost beyond recognition from when she was last here. She and Peter wouldn’t have a clue where to start. ‘Nicki not home?’

‘Working. She said she’ll catch up later.’

‘You two all right?’ Mary asked.

From four floors up the view of Manchester stretched for miles. She let her eyes wander across the view. Streets crisscrossed like rows of dominos, tower blocks of flats stood alongside terraced houses and church spires. In the distance she could just make out a canal. Movement on the skyline caught her attention; a tiny train crossing a viaduct, etched against the pale grey October sky. She moved closer to the window and looked down. Streams of people were going in and out of the brightly-lit stores or moving in jumbled lines along the pavements, lines of cars and double-decker buses edged along the crowded streets. It seems strange that with this going on there is nothing to hear, she thought, except the low drone of the wind. She was startled by a pigeon alighting on the ledge outside and taking off again just as suddenly.

She swung around, anxious to talk, when Jackie came back into the room with a tray that she put onto a small kidney-shaped coffee table.

‘We’re great,’ her niece said. ‘Couldn’t be better.’ She smiled at Mary. ‘Where’s Richard, by the way?’

‘We dropped him off to catch a bus into Manchester. He was meeting someone… some friend.’ Mary glanced at Peter and then at Jackie. Linda had told her she’d passed on the message that he didn’t yet know about Karen. And the girl wasn’t in the flat. But there was always the danger Jackie would say something about the situation.

She needn’t have worried. Jackie reached towards the record cabinet and flicked a switch so the arm came off the record. ‘Neither of you have sugar. I’m right aren’t I?’ Without waiting for an answer she closed the drop-down front and picked up two cups and saucers and handed them over. ‘It’s hot,’ she warned.

‘The list?’ Mary sat next to Peter.

‘Oh, yes.’ Jackie opened a drawer in a low sideboard by the kitchen door and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. She knelt on the rug by them and held it out. ‘There’s eight possibles where Vicky could be. There are more but—’

‘But?’ Mary took the list from Jackie and scanned it.

‘Well…’ Jackie pulled a face. ‘From what you said about the note you found, I don’t think she’ll be in any of those. It sounds to me as though she’s gone to one of the hippie groups, if anywhere—’

‘Why? How would she have met any hippies?’

‘College? She could have met someone there. What are her friends like? Has she met any new friends?’ Without being conscious of it, Jackie moved into questioning mode. ‘Has she been talking about anyone new? Anything she didn’t talk about before? For instance, how political is she?’

‘Political?’ Mary gazed at Jackie then at Peter. ‘She’s not, not as far as we know.’ Mary stopped; how much did they know about Victoria these days?

‘I think there is a lot we don’t know about our daughter.’ Peter’s voice was soft. Mary felt his hand on her knee. ‘She does not talk with us, these days.’

‘We should have made her talk,’ Mary said. ‘We should have shown more interest in what she did at college.’ She met Peter’s gaze. ‘Have we neglected her? Concentrated on Richard so much that she felt left out.’

‘That’s rubbish, Auntie Mary, and you know it. From what I’ve always seen, you’ve always treated them equally—’

‘I don’t know.’ Mary felt overwhelmed. She fumbled for her handkerchief from her cardigan sleeve.

‘Well, I do,’ Jackie said, taking the paper back and pointing to the first three addresses. ‘These are all empty properties, or should be. There’s been a rise in squatters taking some of them over in Manchester—’

‘Why should she want to go somewhere like that?’ Mary was bewildered. ‘Why leave home to go with people she doesn’t know—’

‘We don’t know who she knows,
Leibling
.’

‘But going into a squat? I’ve read in the newspapers about what happens in places like that—’

‘I’m not saying she has, Auntie Mary, but there’s something called the Family Squatting Movement. They get people to take over empty places and use them to house homeless families from the Council Housing Waiting List. That’s why I asked if Victoria had got involved in politics … if she felt strongly about social injustice.’

‘Like I said, not that we know.’ Which actually meant nothing, Mary realised, because, when she thought about it, the only interaction between her and their daughter over the last few months had been rows and arguments.

‘Okay,’ Jackie said. She pointed to the first two on the list. ‘Let’s just try these first. I’ve put them in a kind of order. We might as well start there as anywhere.’

‘You’ll come with us, then?’

‘Yes, of course. I’ve got a couple of days leave coming to me. You didn’t think I’d let you do this all on your own, did you?’

‘Thanks, Jacqueline.’ Mary sniffed, blew her nose and sat straighter. Now there was prospect of doing something, the relief and hope inside her was the first she’d felt in a month.

Chapter 51: Victoria Schormann

Ashford: Tuesday, October 7th

‘Seth set up the community in 1960. He gave us somewhere to belong, to escape from the path of sin.’

Amber had appointed herself as Victoria’s best friend and had barely left her side for the last week. Victoria suspected it was Seth’s doing, that he’d decided she needed watching. And she resented it. She tried to block out the whine of the woman’s voice by watching the faces of the six other girls and the only man in the group. But then Amber spoke louder and Victoria, startled, looked back at her. Her face was an unattractive scarlet and her eyes were wild. ‘I was wicked … evil … once; Seth redeemed me.’

The girl sitting next to Victoria in the circle made a scoffing sound. ‘Huh.’

A chill silence settled instantly over the group.

When the girl spoke her voice was harsh. ‘You … we … I was taken in by him. It’s like we’ve been hypnotised to follow his …’ she gave emphasis to her next words, ‘
so-called
teachings. We’ve all given up our lives, rejected our families because of him.’

Victoria’s heart gave a few rapid beats. She realised that she hadn’t kept her promise to her parents; she hadn’t written to them since she’d left. When she looked up, the man opposite and one or two of the girls were watching her. Had she let her thoughts show? She forced the settled expression back onto her face: the wide-open eyes, the slight smile. She saw the man relax and he smiled back before turning his attention to the girl next to her.