‘Sorry to hear that,’ Marcus said. She reckoned he meant it.
Rain felt the tears again, so she sucked hard on the second cigarette. ‘So,’ she continued, composing herself. ‘This kid-sister-aunty of yours, why’s she got a boy’s name?’ Rain wanted all the details, though she’d already planned on googling the story later.
‘Lenni is short for Eleanor. It’s a bit weird.’
Rain laughed. ‘I’m queen of weird names. Maggie must have been high when she chose mine.’
‘Your mum’s cool.’ Marcus scuffed the ground as he walked. ‘Why don’t you call her “Mum”?’
Rain shrugged. ‘To piss her off, I guess.’ Maggie was always trying to sling a rope between them, connect with her in some way. But she never quite reached her, and Rain wasn’t sure she’d grab it even if she did.
Up ahead there was a cluster of barns and houses. They were nearly back at the farm and she hadn’t got half as much of this dead kid story out of Marcus as she wanted. ‘Let’s stop here and watch the sheep for a bit,’ she said, going into a gateway and leaning on the wooden bars. The skinny shorn creatures stared at them, chewing, looking dumb. ‘Baa-aaaa,’ she called out. They just carried on chewing.
Marcus leant next to her, glancing at her. She looked back – making sure she lingered on his eyes, moving her gaze slowly down to his lips. A snog would delay their return, but she didn’t want to make the first move. What if he backed off? Besides, she had the whole week. Then her heart sank at the thought of seven days in this place. She needed some excitement.
Her phone vibrated in her back pocket, breaking the moment. ‘Katie,’ she said. ‘I can’t hear you, the signal’s crap.’ She stepped away from the gateway, staring at her phone. ‘Can you hear me now?’ she asked. ‘Good. No, I haven’t yet,’ she whispered, unable to help the giggle. ‘How’s France? Oh great. That’s just what I want to hear while I’m stuck here. Guess what I can see right now?’ She stole a look at Marcus. She knew he was listening. ‘Fucking sheep. All I can see is a hundred dozy fucking sheep.’
Marcus spread his arms wide, making a clown-like face. ‘Yeah, and don’t ask what else I can see,’ she continued. He had an OK body, but he was still an idiot. ‘Message ya soon, babe. Love you too.’ She went back to the gate. ‘My best friend is in Cannes for the weekend.’ She rested her head on the gate, letting out a long, low moan. One of the sheep bleated a reply.
‘So, this Lenni kid,’ Rain said. ‘They didn’t find anything like a limb or a head washed up on the beach, then?’
‘You’re sick.’ Marcus stared at her. ‘Mum said the only things found were her ice cream cone, some silver charm thing and a pair of shorts.’
‘Her shorts?’
Marcus nodded.
‘Were they all ripped and bloody?’
‘Fuck’s sake, Rain, I didn’t ask. Mum gets upset.’
‘If I had some amazing family secret like this, everyone would know about it.’ Rain felt the blush swoop from her cheeks down to her chest.
‘And your mum shagging a famous married politician isn’t an amazing secret?’ He laughed. ‘Anyway, Mum prefers we don’t talk about it. She says that we can discuss it with her and Dad but no one else.’
‘So why are you telling me?’ She waited but he didn’t reply. ‘That smacks of guilt, if you ask me.’ A few months ago, she’d had a fascination with stuff like this. Maggie had left a book lying around about old murder cases, detailing how the killers were caught decades later because of forensic advances. She had no idea why her mum was reading it, but Rain had picked it up, hooked from the first page, and gone on to read others like it. ‘Maybe that’s why your mum doesn’t want you telling anyone.’
‘You’re mental, do you know that?’
‘No, I’m serious. Think about it, Marcus.’ She brushed her hair slowly off her face. ‘A hot summer’s day, a bunch of teenagers hanging out and probably getting up to no good, then the little kid they’re supposed to be looking after just vanishes. I bet they’re all in cahoots to keep quiet.’ Rain tipped her head sideways. ‘Did the police question them all?’
‘I guess,’ Marcus said. ‘You’d have to ask Mum.’ He frowned. ‘But don’t, OK?’
Rain gave him a look.
‘It’s why Mum’s not happy about Nan selling the farm,’ Marcus went on. Rain knew she had a knack of getting people to open up, say or do whatever she wanted. It was something she’d learnt as a little girl, a bonus of Maggie’s guilt. ‘They once made a pact that someone would always be at the farm in case she came back.’
‘I once read something about a mother who made a shrine to her missing son. She lit candles every day, bought him presents and toys, just like he was still there. She became so obsessed, she didn’t have a life of her own. She went all weird and twisted until it was like she was dead too.’
‘Mum’s not like that. She’s pretty normal.’ He laughed. ‘As normal as mums can be.’
‘You say that.’
‘It’s true. She’s got a good job, she loves Dad, and Nan and Granddad are just regular old folk.’
Rain had to admit that she quite envied Marcus living near his grandparents. She’d never known hers – they’d long since died – and of course access to her father’s family was strictly forbidden.
‘Anyway, I reckon that’s what all this shit’s about,’ Rain said. ‘This reunion.’ She folded her arms across her chest, drawing Marcus’s eyes to it.
‘C’mon, let’s get back,’ he said, walking off down the lane, this time at a much brisker pace.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sweet Sixteen
When it’s my birthday, I’m brought cake. I blow out the candles and make a wish.
‘You’re a big girl now,’ I’m told, as if it’s time to fly the nest.
‘I won’t ever leave you,’ I say, because I get smiles for that. Anyway, how can I?
We eat the cake and my lips get sticky and my teeth ache.
‘I’ve got you a present.’
I smile and close my eyes, holding out my hands, feeling something cool and smooth in my palms. Then I’m told to look and when I do, I can’t help the gasp. ‘It’s beautiful.’ I can hardly speak. ‘Is it dead?’ I turn the jam-jar around and around, holding it up to the light, letting my eyes soak it up while my brain works it all out.
‘Of course it’s dead. It’s a peacock butterfly. I trapped it myself.’
I place it carefully next to my bed, so it will be the first thing I see when I wake up. Catching things is clever, I think.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Claire had a few minutes alone with Jason before Greta came back into the kitchen. ‘So, will you come?’
He glanced up from scrubbing his hands. Wherever Callum had sped off to in the car a couple of hours ago had given him a puncture. The recovery service was going to be hours, so Jason had gone out to help.
‘For Mum?’
Jason nodded but didn’t say anything.
Relieved, Claire handed him a towel, forcing herself not to hug him. He’d hate that. He and their father may have been in proximity on the beach earlier but there was something more intimate about dinner at the farm, something symbolic about setting foot inside the house that Jason had resisted for years.
‘I’ve been wondering if we should tell the police about that message,’ she said, but Amy came skipping into the kitchen.
‘Mummy, Mummy, will you untangle it?’ She held up a Barbie doll with elastic bands knitted into its hair. Claire took it from her daughter and started picking at the tangle.
‘Just leave it, will you, Claire?’ Jason said, giving her a look before walking out of the room.
* * *