She took a deep breath. ‘Sorry, okay. I think we’re all at breaking point. I won’t allow what’s happening to split our family up. Please could you take the kids in the kitchen and make them a drink?’
‘Of course. Right, Harrison. What you doing on the floor, little man?’
‘Don’t want to go to bed.’
‘Okay, do you want a nice hot chocolate, then we read a story and then we go to bed.’
Harrison yawned and nodded. The tantrum had ended. Rory’s sobs calmed to nothing. ‘Gandad,’ as he called Howard, ‘I want chocolate too.’
‘Come on then. Let’s go and make it.’
The boys got up and followed Howard to the kitchen.
Mary closed the door on them. ‘Talk to me, darling,’ she said as she sat back down.
‘I know I’ve let you down. I’m not successful like Susan, in fact, I’m an outright failure. I have a child who hates me. You only have to look at him to know.’
‘First of all, he doesn’t hate you. He has behavioural problems, we know that, and you’re doing a brilliant job. You are a great mother and you love him. I know it’s not easy…’
Clare gripped her mother’s arm as tears streamed down her face. ‘I wish he was like Rory, like a normal kid. Sometimes I just want to close myself in a cupboard and never come out. Sometimes I wish I was dead. I know you hate my smoking but it’s the only thing that keeps me sane.’
Mary had gone on a lot about the smoking. She held her daughter closer, wondering if she was contributing to pushing Clare over the edge. Maybe she had been too full on with Susan with her overbearing nature. Since she and Ryan had separated, she’d gone around all the time, fussed over the kids too much, to Susan’s annoyance. Had she neglected Clare in the process? ‘Come on, let it all out.’
As Clare’s gasps and sobs turned more into nose-blowing, Mary placed a box of tissues in her lap. The clues were there all the time. Clare was heading for a breakdown. Her clothes were scruffy, she had no interest in life or going out and Mary was sure she hadn’t been looking for a job. Clare too had lost everything, including her home.
‘I keep thinking about Susan, that she knew the man who was killed. Why would she vanish and his body turn up? It doesn’t make sense.’ Mary couldn’t deny that that had been on her mind all day.
‘What if she’s done something, Mum? She’s always acted a bit strange.’
Mary stood, putting that distance back between her and Clare. ‘Don’t talk such nonsense. Had you and Susan been arguing? You’re having a hard time at the moment. I know you haven’t had it easy.’
‘Easy! You blamed me when she ran away back then. It was all my fault that she disappeared, that I didn’t look after her well enough. She was your child and I was always looking after her. I did everything I could. I’m not taking the blame for this one. It’s true that we argued a lot but it wasn’t my fault she ran away before and it’s not my fault she ran away now. I’m sick of carrying the blame. I never did anything bad when I was a kid and I’ve always been made out to be naughty.’
‘When have I ever said you were naughty?’
‘You wouldn’t speak to me when Susan ran away back then. All you gave me was a sour look, it’s the same look you’ve given me the past few days. I can see the blame. It’s written all over your face. We were never the same after the first time. Secretive Susan. You always thought she left because of something I did or said. Poor frail little Susan, with the cute curls and the big eyes. You never believed a word I said.’
‘Do you not think for a moment, this isn’t all about you? And, you dare ever say that Susan could have been involved in this man’s murder and there will be trouble.’
Clare sobbed again. ‘See, you’re doing it again. It’s my fault as it always is.’
Mary grabbed the cushion and squeezed it. Clare was right. She easily looked for blame in other people. She had to turn some of that blame back onto herself. Clare and Susie’s father had died and she’d instantly made Clare the second parent in their family, always leaving her to do everything while she went to work all those long shifts. Clare had no freedom and took her father’s death badly. Susan simply went off the rails and became the teen from hell. Did it all start with Mary not spending enough time with them while they grieved? She didn’t want to grieve for their father; she’d dismissed the impact it had on them a little too quickly and to her shame, thoughtlessly. ‘Come here. I love you and we’re going to sort this out, okay? I’m here for you and Harrison, you know that.’
As Mary held Clare she wondered if she knew her at all. All she’d known was this hard exterior. A shell of a person who gave nothing away. A person with deeply buried secrets.
Clare’s phone beeped. She pulled it from her pocket and stared at the message as the display lit her face up.
‘Was that Ryan again?’
‘No.’ She wedged her phone into her pocket, scooped Harrison up and scurried up to her room.
Thirty-Eight
I stand across the street where the path cuts through to the shops, just outside the ring of orange light casting down on me from the streetlamp, just close enough to observe you without anyone seeing me. I’ve missed you, Stephanie. I tried to dismantle your front door lock and that set off your alarm – dammit. I should’ve hurried away when your lamp flickered on but I need to see you. I need to work out how to get to you. You’re not like the others.
You open your bedroom window and gaze out, your hair falling over your shoulders, just like it always has done.You haven’t changed one bit.I remember the smell of roses from your shampoo, the smell of vodka on your breath – I smile as I reminisce back to that summer, twenty years ago. Your alarm wails louder and snaps me out of it.
‘Shut that bloody thing up!’ The miserable man across the road slams his window before you have the chance to reply. He doesn’t think for one minute you might actually have an intruder, no one ever does. Alarms are seen as a nuisance which is why I’m not worried. You run from the window and seconds later, the alarm stops.
