Tarnished (26 page)

‘Oh,
she’s
been in of course.’ Jean gave a dismissive shrug. ‘But no one else.’

Without acknowledging Loz, who was standing right beside Peg and clearly trying very hard not to stare, Jean looked back over at the TV, where a woman sat weeping, mascara coursing down her cheeks, while a man wielding a microphone on a long stick like a lion-tamer’s whip appeared to be telling her off.

‘She’s a dreadful mother, that one,’ Jean said, waving her cigarette at the larger of the two women. ‘She had three children by this lovely kind fella, then walked out and left them all while she shacked up with some fat lezzer.’

‘Perhaps she wasn’t happy with her family,’ Loz said.

Jean looked at Loz as if she were some sort of escaped animal. ‘Family comes first. Always. I dropped my book, Meggy. Pick it up, will you? There’s a dear.’

Peg reached down and picked up the copy of
Take a Break
that had slid to the floor by Jean’s bed. ‘This is Loz, Aunty Jean. My friend. She’s come to stay and help me out a bit.’

‘Hello.’ Loz stepped forward and held out her hand.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Jean said, through pursed lips, keeping both hands firmly on her magazine. ‘I hope there’s enough space for you both through there in Mummy’s home.’

‘It’s fine, Aunty Jean.’

Jean looked gloomily at the TV where a bigger woman was being ushered in. She embraced the crying woman, then turned to have a few bleeped-out words with the microphone man. The audience howled.

‘That’s the filthy fat dyke,’ Jean muttered, her eyes on the screen. ‘Disgusting.’

Peg shot a glance at Loz, who stood out of Jean’s sightline, watching.

‘Would you like a cup of tea, Aunty Jean?’ Peg said.

‘Yes please, dear. And some of that walnut cake the girl bought from the supermarket today. I prefer home-made, but as no one’s making cakes round here any more . . .’

‘I can make a cake for you if you like,’ Loz said.

‘What do you know about it?’ Jean said, shooting her a look.

‘Loz is a chef, Aunty Jean.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that, I’m sure,’ Jean said, settling down into her chins and returning her attention to the TV.

‘Loz, do you want to come and give me a hand?’ Peg said, gesturing with her eyes towards the kitchen.

‘It’s OK, Peg.’ Loz drew up a chair at the side of Jean’s bed. ‘I’ll stay here with Jean. I love this show.’

Jean looked at Loz sideways as she settled down beside her.

Peg was just putting a big slice of the shop-bought cake on a plate when she heard Jean yelling forcefully in the bedroom.

‘
Where in the name of God did you find this?
’

She dashed through and found Jean holding Loz by the wrist. On the bed in front of them lay the photo of Raymond and the blonde.

‘She’s poking her nose into our family affairs,’ Jean snarled to Peg. ‘You’ve let her root and nose about in our private business.’

‘I was just showing Jean what we found next door,’ Loz said, her eyes wide.

‘It’s Miss Thwaites to you,’ Jean snarled.

‘I’m sorry if I offended.’

Peg sighed. Loz
knew
Jean had torn up the other photos of the girl. She
knew
she had some sort of issue with her. What was she playing at?

‘Where did she find this?’ Jean grabbed the photo and pushed Loz away.

‘In some boxes on top of Nan’s wardrobe,’ Peg said.

Jean’s eyes bulged and a vein throbbed on her forehead. ‘I told you not to go nosing around in Mummy’s stuff,’ she said to Peg.

‘I just wondered who that girl might be,’ Loz said again.

‘Get her out of here,’ Jean said, her voice suddenly low and hoarse. ‘Get that filthy pervert out of here.’

Peg gasped.

‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to in there,’ Jean said, pointing at the wall between Doll’s part of the bungalow and her own. ‘Don’t think I was born yesterday.’

‘But Aunty Jean—’ Peg said. This was all going so horribly wrong.

‘Do you want to kill your nan? Is that it, Meggy? What do you think she’d do if she found out?’

Loz stepped forward. ‘I can assure you, Miss Thwaites, that nothing whatsoever is “going on” next door except a lot of clearing up and cleaning for Doll’s return. We’re working really hard.’

Peg looked at Loz, who remained inscrutable. Jean’s mouth opened and closed, opened and closed like that of a big old carp.

After a long, painful pause, Jean finally turned and faced Peg.

‘I thought I said I wanted that out of here,’ she said, pointing at Loz.

‘I’ll be glad to go,’ Loz said. ‘See you next door, Peg.’ She put her hand on the back of her head and kissed her full on the lips.

‘Well!’ Jean said when Loz had left. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. What on earth were you thinking, bringing that into our house?’

‘She’s my friend, Aunty Jean.’ Peg felt an unaccustomed whorl of anger threading in her belly. She wanted nothing but the best for Doll – she structured her whole life around her. To be accused of purposefully setting out to harm her was too much. ‘I wish you wouldn’t be so rude to her.’

‘It was her doing the upsetting, if I remember rightly,’ Jean said, wobbling her head on her shoulders so that her cheeks quivered. ‘Showing me this.’ She picked up the photograph and tore it down the middle.

‘Don’t!’ Peg snatched it from Jean’s grasp.

‘What are you doing?’ Jean said, reaching for the photo with surprising force and yanking herself to a sitting position – the first time Peg had seen her do so for years. Peg leaped back, the two parts of the picture between her fingers.

‘I – I want to keep this,’ she said to Jean.

‘Give it here!’ Jean tried to reach out again for the photograph.

‘No. I want to keep it. It’s a picture of my dad.’

Peg was surprising herself. This was the first time she had ever, ever, openly defied her aunt. But, if she wanted to find out more about why both Loz and Jean had reacted to the photograph in the ways they had, she needed to hold on to it.

‘You don’t know what you’re getting into with all this,’ Jean snarled. Then, unable to hold herself up any longer, she thumped back against her pillows, blasting up a cloud of fetid air and making the whole room shudder.

‘Oh. Oh,’ she moaned, closing her eyes. ‘Meggy. What’s happening to you?’

She stayed like that for a few uncomfortably silent moments, shaking, until Peg noticed that there were tears in her eyes.

‘What is it?’ Peg carefully put the two pieces of the photograph down on top of Jean’s medical supplies cabinet, well out of her reach.

She suddenly felt a wave of pity for her aunt. Loz had, typically, dive-bombed from her wide world into Jean’s stagnant pool. What had she been thinking, showing her the picture? But Peg knew it wasn’t Loz’s fault. It was her own, for even thinking that these two parts of her life could meet without friction.

‘What is it, Aunty Jean?’ she asked, drawing up beside her and curling her fingers over her hand.

‘It’s just,’ Jean said, catching her breath between sobs. ‘Could you get me my mask, lovey?’ She patted Peg’s hand with her fat, soft palm and smiled at her between sobs.

Peg reached over for the plastic contraption and fitted it over Jean’s mouth and nose. Holding tight on to Peg’s hand, Jean breathed in and out until she could do so normally and her chest stopped shuddering. Then, at last, she spoke, the mask still clamped over her face, muffling her words and accompanying them with the sound of the oxygen tank hissing on every in-breath.

‘It’s just I don’t want your daddy to get into any more trouble,’ she said, looking at Peg.

‘But you said he was evil, though, that you don’t get on,’ Peg said, reaching for a tissue and dabbing Jean’s face, trying to smooth out the mascara that had run down her cheeks and round the edge of the mask like a child’s felt-tip outline. ‘Why would you protect him if you don’t even like him?’

‘Oh Meggy. It’s him doesn’t like me. I embarrass him. Even before I was big. I don’t know why. Perhaps because I know about what really happened with Keith. But he’s my little brother, Meggy, and what can I do? I’ve got to look out for him. Because his going to prison for your mum – well, that nearly killed Mummy. The shame. What I told the police and the court turned him into a hero, and that’s what saved it all. And
she’s
what’s important here: Mummy. She is a saint. She’s lived through so much, put up with so much, looked after me all these years.’ Jean took hold of Peg’s hand and looked at her with fire in her eyes. ‘I would do anything to save Mummy.’

‘And that’s why you tore the photographs up?’

Jean took her hand from Peg, closed her eyes, crossed her arms as best she could in front of her and nodded her head slowly.

Peg watched her aunt. It had been an impressive performance, but she didn’t believe a word. She had no idea what it was, but Jean was clearly still hiding something.

The only sound in the room was the oxygen hissing and stopping, hissing and stopping as she lay there like a resting corpse.

A worryingly long time passed.

Then, just as Peg was wondering if she had fallen asleep, Jean opened her eyes. As if nothing had happened, she lifted her mask from her face, lit up a Marlboro, inhaled and exhaled, and turned to Peg.

‘Where’s that walnut cake, then?’ she said.

‘What the hell were you doing back there?’ Peg asked, storming into Doll’s bedroom.

‘Sorry,’ Loz said. ‘It’s just something’s not right about that blonde girl.’

Peg was unable to disagree about that, but before she had a chance to compose her thoughts, she noticed the cleared state of the room.

‘Where’s all Nan’s boxes?’ she said, looking around. Loz had somehow unearthed a scented candle, which was burning on the dressing table, and there were fresh sheets and blankets on the bed.

‘I put them in the shed. I didn’t nose in all the precious stuff, or anything,’ she said quickly. ‘But look. Before you carry on being cross with me, look at this.’ She handed Peg a key. ‘I found it when I was scraping the dust off the top of the wardrobes. It must’ve been tucked underneath the boxes. Does it mean anything to you?’

Peg looked at the key. Attached to it was a label with
Heyworth Court
written on it. ‘Nope. No idea what or where that is.’

‘Your nan must, though. That’s her writing, isn’t it?’

‘We’re not going to start on her, Loz.’

Loz held up her hands.

‘And that was out of order, sneaking that photo on Jean,’ Peg said.

‘Makes you wonder, though, eh? The way she reacted.’

‘Why though? Why did you do it?’

Loz narrowed her eyes at Peg. ‘I’ve seen that girl before.’

‘What do you mean?’ Peg pulled the two rescued pieces of the photograph out of her back pocket and pieced them both together.

‘I think she might be this girl who went missing,’ Loz said, pointing at the blonde’s face.

‘What?’

‘I think there’s a bit about her in one of me books.’

‘That’s just ridiculous.’

‘It might be. But it might not be. I’ve got a pretty good memory for faces. And that coat’s pretty distinctive, too. And if it
is
the same girl, then perhaps Raymond has an idea what might have happened to her. Or Jean might. Why did she tear it up if she doesn’t know anything?’

‘Jesus, Loz,’ Peg said, rubbing her eyes. She didn’t like the way Loz was trying to turn her family into a chapter of one of her idiotic books. ‘Aren’t you just getting everything out of proportion?’

‘Possibly. But what if I’m not? Wouldn’t it be great if we could find out the truth?’

Peg didn’t know. She thought she preferred it when she hadn’t known anything. ‘Look,’ she said, attempting to change the subject. ‘I’ve got to go and see Doll soon. Do you want to come?’

‘Do you think she’ll want to have a pervert like me in the same hospital as her?’ Loz said.

‘I’m sorry about Aunty Jean,’ Peg said.

‘It’s all right,’ Loz said. ‘She’s quite a handful though, eh? And what is it she’s hiding, then?’

‘I really haven’t the faintest idea,’ Peg said.

She did, but she wasn’t going to admit it, not even to herself.

Twenty-Five

‘Do you think it’s a bad or a good sign that Doll’s not only recognising people she knows but also people she’s never met before?’ Peg asked, as she and Loz rode the train back from the hospital to Whitstable.

Although still a little confused about where she was, Doll had been in fine spirits in her more comfortable, sectioned-off private room – so fine that she greeted Loz as if she were an old friend.

‘That was a nasty turn you had, dear, wasn’t it? I thought we’d lost you,’ she had said, grasping Loz’s hand. ‘I’m so glad to see you’re all better now.’

‘Oh yes, I’m all good,’ Loz had replied, smiling.

‘It’s a good approach to life, though,’ Peg said as they slipped past the charmless Kentish bungalows that lined the railway track. ‘You’d never run the risk of offending anyone.’

‘You’d fuck with their minds though, making them wonder when they actually met you before,’ Loz said. ‘Though it’s nice to be welcomed by one branch of your family. Even if it is the la-la one.’

‘I’m just worried that she’s doing so well they’ll have her out before we’ve got the place clear for her.’

‘Glass half full as ever,’ Loz said, tapping Peg on the thigh.

‘Can we go into town and pick up some ingredients for supper?’ Loz asked as they stepped from the train onto the chilly platform at Whitstable. ‘And something for that cake I said I’d bake for Jean.’

‘What, like rusty razor blades and rat poison?’

‘Oh don’t. The poor woman needs feeding up.’

Peg kissed Loz on the nose, grateful that she’d taken Jean’s rudeness so lightly. ‘We can stop off at the library on the way. I need to see if Daddy’s got back to my crawling message.’

It was a cold, late afternoon, further sharpened by a bitter wind whistling down the deserted street. The library, a functional 1960s building, was tucked off the road behind an unlovely concrete forecourt. But inside it was festooned with Christmas decorations and brimming with people – young mothers curled up on beanbags, reading to fractious, teatime toddlers; elderlies looking at books and escaping heating bills and loneliness. A deskful of younger secondary schoolchildren struggling with their homework brought a clear memory to Peg of coming to this same library to work on a school project during the holidays, escaping the bungalow’s TV noise, cigarette smoke and medical smells.