Now I feel awful. I have my nose buried in that page more often than ever. I have changed its settings to secret, which feels even more deceitful. If he’s tempted to set up an account to check on me, it won’t be there.
‘I’ve been thinking about that.’
He pulls away and his stare meets mine. He’s worried that I’ve let him down so I need to reassure him somehow. ‘You know you said I need to find closure, with Jess.’ My voice crackles a little as I say her name.
‘Yes.’ He scratches his stubble.
‘I want to go there, to Looe, to say goodbye once and for all. We never have to go again after that. It’s been twenty-five years and I want to say a final goodbye.’
He leans on the door frame and I stare out of the kitchen window, focusing on the barely used playhouse that looks like it’s seen better days.
‘Don’t you think that would be too painful? Won’t it just bring everything up again?’
‘I have to be there to say my final goodbye. It will be painful but it will also help me. I need this and I need you there with me. We can tell the girls about Jessica, too. I know we said we never would but I want them to know about my little sister. She’s a part of who I am and it feels wrong to never mention her, even if it might upset them and me. Maybe we can all say some lovely words and throw some petals in the water to remember her by.’
He pours a glass of water from the filter jug and drinks half of it down. ‘If you think it would help.’
My heart is thrumming. I throw my arms around his neck, kissing him on his cheek, nose and mouth. ‘Thank you.’
‘It’s half-term soon, why don’t you see if you can find us a cottage to rent? Book the week off work and I’ll rearrange the jobs I have on that week. Let’s do this, then we can finally start looking to the future.’
‘I love you.’
‘Now, go and have that lie-down. We’ll tell the girls later.’
I hurry up to the bedroom and check my messages again but there’s nothing more. Adrenaline surges through me. I pull the photos out from under the bed and I look at the photo of me, Mum and Jess again. Not only do I need to go back to Looe, I need to go back to that cottage and stay there. The name plaque is prominent. Sea View Cottage. I search the net and find that it has its own website and it’s also my lucky day. It’s available for that week. I quickly put all my details into the booking form and then I pay the balance.
Losing my sister like that has left a huge hole in my heart. Too many people have said I should move on but growing up was painful. The loss she left behind hung in the air. Every birthday party I had was a reminder to us all that Jess never had one party. We’d gone from having a cooing and crying baby in the house to this deafening emptiness. My mother would lie in bed for days on end around Jess’s birthday. No one saw any of that. And, of course, my dad would drink even more as he’d sink into a guilt-ridden stupor.
Going back might all be for nothing but I have to know that for sure. I’m going back to where it all started and I’m going to find out the full truth of that day. That article has led Will to contact me and I’m not letting this lead go.
TEN
KATE
That message –I will only speak to you in person. Come to Looe and message me when you arrive. If you talk to anyone about me, I’ll vanish and you’ll never know the truth.It won’t leave my mind however hard I try. I wanted a reply, I badgered Will for a reply and, now I have one, I don’t know how I feel.
All this might be a lure, maybe whoever took Jess wants me now. I shake those thoughts away. It’s probably someone who’s burdened by the guilt of what they know. Guilt works like that. It never stops reminding you that the course of tragedy could have been averted if it wasn’t for you. Again, guilt gnaws at me. It’s easy for people to say that it was a long time ago and that I was only a child, but that doesn’t stop me thinking about my part in Jess’s disappearance. My mother was never the same with me after and her coldness continued up until her death. That was another reason I had to leave home as soon as possible. Every day was a reminder of what had happened to Jess. I could never match up to the baby girl that had died and I tried so hard to be loveable, but my mother’s grief won in the end.
The way everyone saw it was my father was so drunk that he shouldn’t have been left in charge of himself by the harbour’s edge, let alone a baby. Although my mother stayed with him, she could never forgive him for losing Jess, so he drank even more to blot out the memories. I couldn’t forgive him and I know Mum couldn’t forgive me.
A rush of panic chokes my lungs and I let out a yelp. The hurt I felt growing up is still there. It never leaves. Quickly, I place my hand over my mouth to muffle the sounds of the sobs that I’m trying to suppress. I never want to go back to that house again. It’s a sad house, full of sorrow, full of past memories that I can’t get past.
I don’t want to think back to that day, but I can’t help it.
When my mother left Jess and Dad to take me for an ice cream, there was a man in the shop. I don’t remember what he looked like but I do remember his necklace as I said loudly that I could see the boobies on the female figure pendant that dangled from his neck. The memories are vague and I think had mostly been filled in by my mother, who went over what happened that day with me many times. She says that she told me to shush before she apologised, but the man said something about a pixie called Joan. I read up about her, hoping for a clue. Joan the Wad is the queen of the pixies or piskies, which is how it’s said there. Joan carries a torch, which is the wad so she can light the way. He must have seen something. The necklace wasn’t the only thing about him, he wore a silly pirate hat and held his elasticated eye patch in his hand. I think he may have been skipper on our boat but I’m not sure. He was there that day and he left the shop before we did. Maybe he is Will.
Damien has given his full blessing for us to go to Looe. I will speak to whoever is calling themselves Will and I will finally get the truth. This can’t be a hoax. It has to be real.
Can I trust Will? I ask that question again. What if over the years I’ve got a little closer to the truth and someone is luring me there to finally shut me up. I shake my head. Even I don’t think anyone could be that cruel. I have to have some faith that Will is trying to help me or what’s the point. A part of me is shouting, don’t go, but I will. I have to.
It’s getting chilly in the bedroom so I pull the quilt over my body and reach down under the bed. I push the box of photos that my dad gave me aside and I reach for my jewelled memory box. My nan gave it to me when she was alive. As I open it, it releases a musty smell that takes me back to Nan’s living room. Photos of her and Gramps when they were younger spill out. They provided such a loving home for my dad. I feel around the bottom and pull out an old brooch and an odd pearl earring. Then, I feel the cardboard surround at the bottom, the photo of Jess. Pulling it out, I hold it up. Then I grab the family photo. Some time ago, it must have got damp. The edge of the photo is tainted and my mum’s face is almost blurred out. I hate this photo as I look miserable. I’d been crying. My mother is gripping baby Jess in her arms and I am pulling her hard, like I want her to hold me too.
‘I’m sorry for being miserable, Jess.’ I don’t know why I said that. It’s not like she can hear me.
My dad looks distant, his pupils dilated and his nose a veiny red. I hope he’s finally faced his demons and changed.
I shove that photo back under the others and I stare at the one of Jess. She’s positioned on her front, knees tucked under her tummy with her sleeping head gently placed on her doll-sized hands. Her flower headband and frilly nappy cover make her look like a tiny cherub and I just want to hold her and take in her baby smell. Instead I smell the photo and all I get is Nan’s cigarette smoke-filled lounge.
