Don't Turn Around Read online

  ‘Oh, my babies,’ I cry as I share a bounty of hugs and kisses between two giggling girls. There’s a warmth bubbling inside me that makes my heart quicken. It’s so much easier to resist the pull of my granddaughters when they’re out of sight. The girls are at one end of a tug of war between the present and the past, with my darling Meg at the other, and I’m the ever-tightening knot in the middle.

  ‘Nana, Nana, Nana,’ the girls repeat in unison as they attempt to wriggle free from their parents’ clutches.

  ‘Let’s get inside before one of them escapes,’ Sean says.

  I’m about to follow when I hear the rustle of shopping bags behind me. I’m smiling as I turn to face Geoff and there’s no pretence this time. Happiness is always the most difficult emotion to fake and in the last few weeks I haven’t tried. It feels good to feel good, and I don’t think about the phone I’ve left in the car until hours later.

  16

  Jen

  As I step into the brightly lit lobby of the Crowne Plaza, the sparkle of sequins on my black dress is let down slightly by the dirt splatters on the hem I trailed through puddles during my dash from the taxi. The dress is new, or at least it’s new to me. I’d bought it on eBay but when it had arrived on Thursday, I’d been in no mood to try it on and realised too late that it wasn’t made for my five foot four frame.

  Normally, I’d be looking forward to one of Selina’s fundraisers but after the week I’ve had, I’m surprised I’m here at all. I don’t relish the prospect of spending an evening talking about domestic violence and sharing success stories when failure is fresh on my mind.

  Ruth is the first to spot me, and weaves her way through shoals of women in evening gowns and men in black ties to reach my side. ‘Is Charlie parking the car?’

  ‘I’m really sorry but he’s not coming. He wasn’t feeling too good, whereas you look like a million dollars,’ I add quickly before Ruth has the chance to catch me out on my lie.

  ‘Thanks to a good layer of concealer,’ she admits. ‘I didn’t sleep a wink last night.’

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘I need to talk to you about Gemma.’

  Now I wish I had stayed at home. It had been excruciating when Ruth had questioned my vague account of the calls I’d received on Wednesday evening. I had considered coming clean about putting Gemma on hold but if I did that, I’d have to explain about Ellie, and then Lewis. Geoff doesn’t want Ruth to know he’s back in town and I’m deferring to his better judgement. If Gemma is giving her sleepless nights, Ellie will give her waking nightmares.

  ‘Has she phoned back?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes, she spoke to Gill. Why didn’t you tell me you left Gemma on hold the other day?’

  As I cringe, I glance over Ruth’s shoulder. Gill has her back to me, but Janet and Alison, our other volunteers, are in my eye line. It could be my imagination but I’d say it’s deliberate that they’re not looking in my direction. ‘I didn’t mean to, but another call came through.’

  ‘We never put someone on hold, especially if they’re using a pay phone. She ran out of money.’

  The disappointment in Ruth’s voice makes me shrink with shame. ‘I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to do. And I promise, I didn’t put Gemma on hold for long.’

  ‘Was the other call worth it?’ she asks, but I look away. ‘It was another put-down call, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Gemma would have run out of money anyway,’ I reply weakly.

  ‘But maybe she wouldn’t have felt so abandoned.’

  My stomach twists. ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘She’s still with Ryan, so I’d say not.’

  ‘I was hoping her mum would have persuaded her to come back home by now.’

  ‘I was hoping we would have persuaded her,’ Ruth says. ‘Gemma is refusing to speak to her mum at all. She claims she’s happy where she is. Let’s hope it stays that way.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I repeat. ‘It was a stupid thing to do.’

  She rests a hand on my arm. ‘No, it’s my fault,’ Ruth tells me, releasing her frustrations with a sigh. ‘It’s the risk we take having only one volunteer on duty but we can only work with what we have. We’re still not getting enough calls to tempt new volunteers to sign up. So much for a relaunch, I’ve let the helpline stall again.’

  ‘We gave out lots of information packs at Fresher’s Week. More calls could come in.’

  ‘Let’s not worry about that tonight,’ Ruth says straightening her back. ‘We’re here to celebrate our small contribution to another good cause. Selina’s really pleased with the designs to extend the refuge, and now that she has a funding target to reach, we’re in for a busy night. Come on, there’s someone here who’s looking forward to seeing you.’

  We grab drinks from a waiter on our way to join Geoff and the others, and I’m taking a much-needed gulp of wine when a man turns to greet me.

  ‘Sean, what are you doing here?’ I ask, almost choking in surprise.

  ‘The girls have hit the terrible twos, so we thought we’d descend on Mum and Dad and share the pain.’

  ‘They turned up as a surprise last night,’ explains Ruth. She nods to her husband, her eyes shining. ‘It was Geoff’s idea.’

  ‘Ruth put a lot of effort into doing up their room, it’s about time they made use of it,’ he replies.

  There’s a collective smile as we all imagine new life being breathed into what was Meg’s bedroom. Ruth had it redecorated shortly after becoming a grandmother, and although I’ve never had the courage to go in there, I’ve seen pictures. The duck-egg blue walls that trapped a troubled teenager have been painted a pale shade of pink, her single bed with its fairy lights has been replaced by two miniature princess beds, and her dressing table cleared of its teenage clutter. Ruth didn’t completely paper over the past, however. She kept a collection of her daughter’s favourite knick-knacks on the bookshelves, along with photos that Meg would have been too embarrassed to have on display if she were alive.

  ‘It’s good to see the room being used again,’ says Ruth with evident satisfaction.

  ‘Except my little terrors didn’t stay put for long,’ Sean adds with a grin.

  ‘They ended up in my bed,’ Ruth explains. ‘Hence the need for matchsticks to keep my eyes open.’

  ‘I take it you’ve left Alice at home with the kids this evening?’ I ask Sean.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ he says without a hint of remorse. ‘Dad put aside seats at the table for us, but the girls would have been too much of a handful for an uninitiated babysitter.’

  I’m laughing before he’s finished. ‘It’s not to us you need to justify yourself.’

  ‘I know, Alice is bearing the brunt of it at the moment, and there’s only so many times we can ask her parents to give us some respite,’ Sean replies. His eyes remain on me but I know he’s watching for his mum’s response. So am I.

  ‘We’ve promised her a lie in tomorrow while we take the girls for a ride on the ferry,’ Ruth says.

  ‘The ferry?’ I ask, checking the half-empty pint glass in Sean’s hand. ‘I’d love to see you manage a trip across the Mersey with a hangover.’

  ‘If he can’t manage it, I’m sure we can,’ Ruth says to Geoff.

  ‘Like that isn’t Sean’s plan all along,’ I reply as the maître d’ announces that the dining room is open and asks us to make our way to our tables.

  Sean offers me the crook of his arm and I accept. Meg wasn’t the only one who adored him and although it feels good being close to my second favourite cousin, our looped arms can’t quite bridge the gap Meg left.

  The dinner, the speeches and the charity auction are over, the lights are up and guests are table hopping. I’m supposed to be circulating but I’m cradling a glass of wine in one hand and my phone in the other. I want to send a message to Charlie but I can’t find the words.

  I still haven’t worked out how I should feel about our argument but Sean has been the perfect distraction. We spent most
of the evening sharing memories. At first it was in hushed whispers but Ruth’s ears pricked at the sound of her daughter’s name and soon we were all recounting stories. Some of my recollections, and I’m guessing Sean’s too, had to be sanitised. We concentrated on the happier times and laughter had eased the tension constricting my chest – until the stories ran out, leaving me feeling maudlin.

  I miss Meg more than I have for a very long time, and not because Sean is raking up memories, but because Charlie isn’t here to do the same.

  ‘So what is this mystery illness of your husband’s?’ asks Sean. He’s the only one left at the table and has been watching me type and retype a text message for the last five minutes.

  ‘A guilty conscience,’ I say. ‘And you know full well he’s not my husband.’

  ‘Ah, is that the problem?’

  Charlie was simply one of Meg’s annoying friends to Sean, or more recently, my plus one at the occasional family do, and he still doesn’t know him especially well. Ruth isn’t a gossip so my cousin hasn’t heard about my marriage refusals over the years. I try to laugh. ‘Only if you ask your Auntie Eve.’

  ‘But something’s troubling you,’ he continues. ‘Not all our memories of Meg are happy ones, are they?’

  Despite our shared past, I doubt Sean appreciates how bad the bad times were. He was never there for the tears and tantrums because the dark clouds always lifted when he appeared. I pick up a wine bottle to refill my glass as another memory surfaces.

  ‘Are you going to stare out that window all day?’ I’d asked Meg, in an attempt to draw her back into the room.

  I hadn’t liked the way her eyes had glazed over as if her mind was taking her to some faraway place and besides, we both had AS Level coursework to finish over the Easter holidays. I was ahead of schedule, never one to miss a deadline, but Meg was struggling to make a start.

  She was only studying with me now because she’d used me as her alibi one too many times to skive off to see Lewis. Ruth and Geoff had called around to Mum’s one Sunday to drop off gifts for her first grandchild, my nephew, James, who had been born the day before, and had been surprised to find me at home and not at the library with Meg. Mum had jumped at the chance to brag about how I’d stayed at home and studied all weekend. I could have warned Meg that she’d been rumbled, but I didn’t.

  Once my aunt and uncle knew that Meg had a boyfriend, they had found their explanation for their daughter’s sliding grades and had grounded her.

  ‘I hate this room, it’s like a prison cell,’ Meg said.

  ‘At least you’re allowed visitors.’

  Meg gave a laugh. ‘And you’re not the only one.’

  Her reply made me uneasy. ‘Do you sneak Lewis into the house?’

  ‘Maybe …’

  She returned her gaze to the window but before she could float off into her own world again, I gave a loud sigh. ‘I appreciate I’m not Lewis but at least I’m here. Unless you carry on ignoring me, that is.’

  Meg came back from wherever she had been. ‘Sorry, I’m a rubbish friend, aren’t I?’ she said. ‘I’m a rubbish everything.’

  ‘You’re a rubbish student,’ I told her, tapping my pen against the notepad she had left open on the bed. She had managed to write her name and the title of her essay, but nothing more. ‘But you’re still my favourite cousin and my best friend.’

  Dragging her feet across the floor, Meg slumped down next to me so it looked as if we were kneeling in prayer before bedtime. She was quiet as the sheet of yellow lined paper in front of her began to fill with words but after only a few minutes, the pen stilled in her hand. I knew she was waiting for me to offer help but what did I know about English poets? Meg didn’t like being the one who was ignored and when I eventually looked up, she had scored two lines through her work and, in between those lines, was writing the word FAIL.

  ‘Meg, you can’t do that!’ I said, attempting to grab the pen from her.

  ‘Why not? It’s all a waste of time.’

  As Meg tore the page from her notepad, I heard the click of the door opening behind us. I turned to find Sean creeping across the room. He pressed his finger to his lips. Home for the holidays, my cousin still had his backpack slung over his shoulder. He was the reason Meg had been looking out of the window and she’d missed his arrival.

  ‘Fail?’ he asked as he peered over Meg’s head to look at the sheet of paper in her hand.

  Meg’s books fell to the floor as she scrambled to her feet. ‘You’re back!’ she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  ‘I was supposed to meet Mum and Dad at the office but what’s a student loan for if not wasting on taxis?’

  ‘I’ve missed you!’

  ‘Have the old fogies been giving you a hard time?’

  Meg’s features darkened and it was left to me to explain. ‘She’s under house arrest.’

  ‘I’m not surprised if your grades are bombing.’

  ‘Forget that,’ Meg said, quickly grabbing the offending page and slipping it beneath her notepad. ‘What do you want to do? I can help you spend more of your loan if you’d like?’

  Sean took several steps back, shaking his head. ‘Oh no, I don’t associate with losers. You need to stay here and finish your homework. I’m going to luxuriate in a shower that won’t leave my feet dirtier than when I stepped in it and then I’m going to make myself some beans on toast with bread that hasn’t gone mouldy.’

  Meg scowled at her brother but it was different to the ones I’d come to recognise whenever anyone else upset her. The sparkle had returned to her eyes and she picked up her pen with every intention of proving she was not a loser.

  Sean was, and is, the reason I have so many good memories of Meg. He was why she scraped through her first year at sixth form, and if he’d been home more in that second year, she might have passed her A Levels. If he hadn’t gone to Camp America that last summer, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did …

  Guilt makes my ruddy cheeks burn. What about the role I played? ‘I wish I could go back and do things differently,’ I admit. ‘If I’d been a better friend.’

  ‘Or I a better brother,’ Sean adds as he drains the pint he’s been nursing. He’s knocked back quite a few tonight.

  In the silence that follows, I consider telling Sean about what’s been happening, but he beats me to it.

  ‘I heard about you squaring up to Lewis.’

  My brain is sluggish with alcohol and it takes a second to process what he’s saying. ‘Geoff’s told you he’s back in Liverpool?’

  ‘It was me who told him. The sister of one of my old school mates was in your year and she found out from a friend of a friend. With you and Mum gearing up to raise publicity for the helpline, I had to warn someone. It’s not exactly gone to plan, has it?’

  ‘No, not exactly,’ I say, fighting the urge to cry.

  ‘I should have warned you too,’ he adds.

  ‘It was Charlie who told me, eventually. He doesn’t see Lewis in the same way I do and I’m starting to wonder if I’m overreacting,’ I admit.

  I’ve had time to process what Ellie has told me. She didn’t exactly say Lewis hurt her and it could simply be that she’s upset because he calls her by Meg’s name when they have sex. And however shitty that is, it’s not abuse.

  Am I obsessed? Am I looking for answers that aren’t there?

  ‘We had a huge row over it,’ I continue. ‘Charlie claims part of the problem was that Meg was self-destructive.’

  Sean tips his head back to stare at the chandeliers above our heads. ‘He’s got a point.’ When I don’t reply, he straightens up to find me staring at him. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I still think Lewis was the bad blood injected in her veins. You and Meg might not have told me much, but I had my contacts and I kept tabs on who my little sis with knocking around with. Lewis was the problem but Meg …’ He pauses as he searches for the right words. ‘I don’t want to say she enjoyed what they did together, b
ut she might have been an active participant, at least in the beginning.’

  ‘She wanted Lewis to hurt her?’ I ask. It feels uncomfortably like the argument I had with Charlie.

  Sean reaches for his drink but it’s empty. ‘I found stuff on her computer once. I was snooping and Meg had a fit when I asked her about it. She claimed it was a dodgy site she’d been on that had automatically opened up more sites. I didn’t believe her, but I was nineteen and I did not want to be having that kind of conversation with my sister. Her internet history was routinely cleared after that – I know, because I checked.’

  ‘What did you find, Sean?’

  ‘Stuff that Meg wouldn’t want anyone knowing about, which is why I’m not going to repeat what it was. Let’s just say she was into sexual experimentation and my guess is Lewis took it too far.’

  ‘But why didn’t you say any of this to the police after she died?’

  ‘Meg said in her note that she wanted her shame burying with her.’

  ‘The part of the note that wasn’t destroyed,’ I correct him.

  ‘If there was another half, I don’t think Meg would have mentioned the bits I know about, and what would it have proved if I had spoken up? That whatever they had been doing had been consensual? How was that going to bring Lewis to justice?’

  I splay out my fingers on the tablecloth, my fingertips brushing against my mobile. Had I reacted so badly to what Charlie had said because his words chimed with what I’d witnessed myself? I’d seen how confusing Meg could be. She hated Lewis one minute and loved him in the next. If Sean can’t make sense of his sister’s behaviour, how can I, or Charlie? Have I been too harsh?

  Sean waits for me to look back up at him. ‘But it doesn’t matter whether Meg agreed to what they did or not, Lewis is still responsible for her death,’ he continues, derailing my thoughts. ‘He trapped her somehow and she thought there was only one way out. Maybe he took videos of what they did together and tried to use them to keep her in check.’ He releases a sigh, letting that thought go. ‘I don’t know. It’s just one of many theories I’ve thought up in the last ten years to explain what happened.’