The Hidden Girl (19 page)

Will dropped down. The damage was visible, even from here. Dented sleeve covers, and scratches on precious black grooves.

She knelt beside him, knowing what this collection meant to him. ‘How could that happen? How could they fall over like that?’

‘Why were the shelves even up?’ Will exclaimed. ‘I thought you’d just carried the shelves and boxes through here and left them for me to sort out.’

‘No,’ she said weakly. ‘Dax put them up. I just was trying to get on.’

‘Did he secure them to the wall?’

‘No, was he supposed to?’

Will threw a broken record down on the ground. ‘For fuck’s sake, Han!’

‘I don’t understand,’ she said miserably. ‘They were standing upright for days. Why would they all just fall over like this? Don’t you think that’s weird?’

Will didn’t even look at her. She stood there, feeling terrible. The four brown patches of wallpaper had reappeared, and for some reason her clever shortcut now made her feel ashamed.

‘Sorry,’ she tried. ‘But listen, it’ll be insured.’

Will remained silent.

They both knew it wasn’t just about the insurance.

He’d been collecting vinyl since he was thirteen, and she knew why. When she’d first visited his mother’s oppressive, smoke-filled flat in Salford, she’d soon worked out for herself that music had been a teenage Will’s only escape.

When he spoke she could hear the distress in his voice. ‘Why didn’t you wait till I was back?’

‘I don’t know! I didn’t even ask Dax, OK? He just did it. I think he was trying to help because you weren’t here. I wanted to get on. Sorry.’

‘But, Jesus, you know that—’

A shriek cut across him. ‘Yoo-hoo!’

There was a rap on the door, then the bell rang.

They looked at each other.

‘Well, for goodness’ sake!’

A very short, very round woman stood on the doorstep. She had vivacious eyes and wide cheekbones and was carrying a huge bunch of flowers. Her hair was dyed an expensive raven shade, and was professionally set in a bouffant crown. She was flapping a chubby manicured hand in the air.

‘For goodness’ sake, we go to Spain for a week and get new next-door neighbours! How lovely. Welcome to Tornley!’

She grabbed Hannah and gave her a hearty kiss on the cheek. There was a waft of expensive perfume.

‘Now . . . Tiggy!’ she said, clutching her chest. ‘And that’s Frank.’ A mild-looking grey-haired man came up behind her, a hand lifted in greeting. Without warning the woman reached up, took Will’s face and kissed him, too.

‘Hello.’ Hannah laughed nervously, relieved to see Will attempt a smile.

Frank shook hands. ‘Frank Mortren.’

‘Hi. I’m Hannah . . .’ She pointed. ‘Will.’

‘Oh, we know that!’ Tiggy giggled. ‘We grilled your poor estate agent every time we saw him.’ She grabbed Hannah’s hand. ‘See, Hannah, we had Olive and Peter here for forty years, so when Tornley Hall was up for sale, I’ll admit we were in a bit of a tizzy that someone might turn it into a hotel or flats, or something. There was a developer. Very keen for a while. So we were very glad.’ She stood back to admire them. ‘A young couple – just like we were, when we came here, forty years ago!’ Her eyes grew wider. ‘And a music studio?’ Her expression changed dramatically to ‘serious’, as if she were listening to an opera. ‘Uh-huh? Wonderful. We love music.’

Hannah wondered if they would like Will’s music.

‘So here we are,’ Tiggy continued. ‘And here’s a little something to say “Welcome to Tornley”.’

‘Oh, that’s so kind, thanks,’ Hannah said, taking the flowers.

‘Thanks very much,’ Will said.

Hannah smiled. Grown-up Will was back. ‘Would you like to come in?’

She felt Will’s hand arrive firmly on her waist.

‘No, no,’ Tiggy said, the smile boomeranging back onto her face. ‘We won’t disturb you. We just wanted to say we’re here, and that if you need anything –
anything
,’ she trilled, as if about to burst into song.

‘Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m just sorting out, um . . .’ Will started, pointing behind him.

‘No, you go!’ Tiggy said. ‘We’ve caught you in the middle of things.’

‘OK, well – see you again.’ Will disappeared back into the study.

‘So you’ve been in Spain?’ asked Hannah politely, glaring at Will’s back.

‘We have, Hannah! We have a flat there. Pop over from Stansted – lucky we missed that snow.’ She swiped the air. ‘For goodness’ sake, who knew we were coming back to that, eh?’

‘And you grow the flowers, is that right? These are beautiful.’

‘Yes, that’s right. Me and Frank, and our Elvie . . . We don’t do as much as we used to, mind you. We’re taking it easy now, huh, Frank?’ She winked comically at her husband, as if they were doing the opposite.

Frank appeared to be pondering something serious, rocking on the doorstep, hands in his pockets. ‘How are you getting on with this grass?’

‘Hmm, that’s a sore point,’ Hannah said, pointing to weeds. ‘I think the estate agent must have paid someone to cut it whenever we came to see the house.’

Tiggy made an embarrassed face. ‘Frank!’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Uh-huh. He used to ring, didn’t he, Frank? Ask you to get it looking spruce for viewings the next day!’

‘Really?’

‘That’s right – Frank offered, and Brian was delighted to take him up on it.’

Frank pursed his lips. ‘Now, do you have a sit-on mower?’

‘No, just a normal one,’ Hannah replied.

‘Well, I tell you what. Let’s give this snow another day or two, and I’ll come and do it for you.’

‘Really? That would be amazing,’ Hannah replied.

‘How does Monday suit you?’ Frank asked.

Tiggy’s mouth dropped open as if she’d just won the lottery. She put her hand onto Frank’s chest. ‘Frank – Elvie.’

Frank nodded. ‘Good idea, love. We’ll send Elvie over.’

‘Now listen, you’ll see Elvie around, probably feeding that donkey.’ Tiggy dropped her voice. ‘Just to warn you. Very shy.’

‘Elvie?’ Hannah repeated. ‘That’s so weird. I was just reading a list of Victorian girls’ names before we came to Suffolk, and I saw “Elvie”. I’d never heard it before. It’s beautiful.’

Tiggy glanced at Hannah’s stomach briefly.

‘What’s it short for?’ Hannah said, to distract her.

‘Oh, Elvie’s always just been just Elvie!’

‘Right,’ Frank said, clapping his hands together. ‘Let’s leave these good people.’

But now that she’d heard the donkey mentioned, Hannah couldn’t help herself. ‘Actually, can I just ask you something, Tiggy, about the donkey? Do you know who owns it – I was a bit worried about it in the snow . . .’

Tiggy shot Hannah a conspiratorial look, grabbed her arm and pulled her close.

‘Madeleine,’ she said in a stage whisper, her eye roving dramatically towards the farm. ‘Husband, Charlie. Shotgun accident. 1998. Took a piece of his head off shooting rabbits – never the same afterwards.’ She pointed to the side of her head and twirled her finger. ‘Then he disappears. Never seen again. So it’s been a tough time for our Madeleine. Her boys do their best, but it’s not easy. Last year she gets herself talked into taking the donkey off a family from London, like yourselves—’

‘Second home, up in Thurrup,’ interjected Frank.

‘That’s right, Frank, they had a weekend home in Thurrup, with a donkey in the field for the kids.’ Tiggy shook her head. ‘He lost his job. Sold up. Asked Madeleine to take the donkey – because they couldn’t take it to London, could they?’ A look of mock-horror crossed her face, then melted back into a smile. ‘Gives her some money for the keep. But Madeleine’s not keen. So Elvie helps her out with it. So that’s nice that you’ve been concerned, Hannah. I know Madeleine will appreciate that.’

‘Oh, I’m not sure she—’ Hannah started.

‘Now,’ Tiggy interjected, ‘you enjoy those flowers. And remember, we’re just delighted to have you here. Anything you need, just ask!’

Then, with a flurry of goodbyes, she and Frank walked past the sitting room. To Hannah’s confusion, they didn’t continue down the driveway, but turned right onto the side-lawn and vanished. Hannah peeked around the corner a second later, to see Frank and Tiggy disappearing behind a bush into the wall.

There was a gate!

As she returned to the house to tell Will, she spotted the donkey in the far field, grazing on grass.

Oh well. At least now the snow was gone she wouldn’t have to worry about it for a little while.

She thought about what Tiggy had said about Madeleine’s husband and her struggling to cope. Maybe she needed to find out more about what was going on.

Over the following weekend, after four days by herself, Tornley Hall felt like Piccadilly Circus to Hannah. As they cleared up Will’s records and started to paint the upstairs hall, people came and went. After Jim the plumber, and Tiggy and Frank, a friendly post woman called Gemma knocked to introduce herself and bring them their first post. On Saturday afternoon Bill appeared with his golden retriever to check – in his slightly unnerving, monosyllabic manner – that they’d managed to get hold of Jim. On Sunday morning a dark-haired woman of about forty, whom Hannah guessed was Tiggy’s daughter Elvie, gave her a shy nod from the lane as Hannah fetched something from the car. Then on Sunday afternoon Laurie, Ian and the kids came over, as planned.

Hannah steeled herself when she saw their blue people-carrier pull up outside.

Laurie had been her one reservation about moving to Suffolk. Her manner had aggravated Hannah from the moment they met, but up till now at least that had only been once or twice a year. Her mind flew back to the number of times she’d sat, rubbing a finger along the squares on the plastic tablecloth in Nan Riley’s kitchen, sipping her tea, while Laurie took centre-stage. If Laurie wasn’t updating Will in tedious detail about the lives of people he’d once hung around with in Thurrup, she was recounting their wild youth together, with peels of hysterical laughter at Nan’s horrified expression, and shorthand references that appeared specifically designed to leave Hannah out of the conversation.

And then there were Laurie’s children. They were lovely kids, but there had been too many painful conversations about how much Daniel looked like ‘Uncle Will’. How Sam had Will’s musical talent and was already a whizz on the piano. Hannah had caught Nan Riley watching her a couple of times and, with gratitude, saw concern in her eyes. Nan was too sharp an old bird to be convinced by Will’s mumbling about Hannah and himself being ‘too involved in their careers at the moment’ to start a family.

The door slammed down below. A child yelled with excitement.

Hannah told herself to pull it together. She and Will were here now, in Suffolk, in Laurie’s territory. She was their chosen ‘family support’ for a future adopted child, and would therefore need to meet and impress Barbara next week.

Hannah headed downstairs, reminding herself to be polite.

By the time she made it down there the kids were running across the lawn and Will was at the front door.

‘Hello!’ Laurie called as she walked in and hugged Will. As usual Hannah waved from a distance, recalling the one time she’d kissed Laurie hello, causing her to jerk back, declaring: ‘Oh God, I never know what to do with you London types – what is it: one cheek or two?’

‘The kids all right out there, Hannah?’ Laurie asked.

‘Course they are,’ Ian cut in, making at face at Hannah. ‘Why wouldn’t they be?’

‘It’s Hannah’s garden. I’m just asking.’ Laurie glared at him, her implication painfully clear to Hannah.

Laurie, of course, now knew the truth about Hannah’s infertility, and with that had come a new patronizing approach to her cousin’s wife.

Do you mind, as a childless woman, if my children play in your garden? Will it be too painful for you to see that?

‘They’re absolutely fine, it’s wonderful to see it being used,’ Hannah said, overcompensating. ‘Do they want juice or something?’

‘You can just ask them, Hannah,’ Laurie said. ‘They’ll tell you themselves.’

Hannah flushed.

An awkward silence filled in the hall.

‘Well, look at this,’ Ian said, wandering into the decorated study to see Will’s re-erected – and secured – record shelves, the damaged vinyl now sitting in a woeful pile by the fireplace, ready for the call to the insurance company.

‘So, did you find that toilet then?’ Laurie asked Will. She shot him one of her meaningful looks.

Of course – the meaningful looks. Hannah had forgotten about them.

The meaningful looks were always used, along with Laurie’s shorthand stories, to show Hannah how close she and Will were. Hannah might be Will’s wife now, but she’d never break the special bond that he had with Laurie. Hannah would never understand a relationship built on the teenage escapades of so many wild, hot summers, and the shared genes of two useless dads.

‘What toilet?’ Hannah asked.

‘The old Victorian one with blue flowers. Will? Did you not tell her?’

She could see the likeness between the cousins today. They both had their fathers’ deep-brown eyes and dark hair, though Will’s was curly, like Laurie’s eldest, Daniel.

He glanced at her. ‘Laurie’s convinced we came here when we were kids.’

‘We did, Will! With Nan, when we were about six or seven! I’m not imagining it,’ Laurie said, pointing at the peacock window. ‘I definitely remember that. And you wet yourself in there . . .’ She pointed at the kitchen floor.

‘Here she goes . . .’ Will said.

Hannah smiled, pretending to enjoy their sibling-style jousting, when in truth, inside, she felt a stab of pain for six-year-old Will, far from home, wetting his pants, without his mother there to help.

‘No, there’s no toilet with flowers on – they were both put in recently,’ Hannah said.

To her irritation Laurie stuck her head in the downstairs cloakroom anyway, then came out, frowning.

‘It was definitely this house. Because I remember the yellow wee running over those tiles and—’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Will muttered.

Hannah forced a laugh.

‘Will, you got the latest ZZ Top album?’ Ian shouted from the study. Hannah liked Ian. He made her laugh. It was a point of great hilarity within the family that the only time the stocky nature-reserve warden ever went south of Ipswich was to see ZZ Top on tour.