‘Look over there,’ said Fiona, pointing at a long bridge that crossed what looked like two cliffs. ‘That’s thesuspension bridge. It’s famous, and at night it’s all lit up. You’ll be able to see it every night from your new house.’ And then she pulled up in front of one of the grandest houses Katy had ever seen. It was the colour of candyfloss and had a balcony on the third floor with a black-and-white-striped awning stretched over it that reminded her of humbug sweets.
She had just stepped out of the car and onto the pavement when the front door of the candyfloss house was flung open to reveal a beaming Elspeth. Her blonde hair was held back in a banana clip so that when she turned her head the curls fell past her shoulders. She was wearing a smart jacket with padded shoulders and a matching knee-length fitted skirt. Katy couldn’t believe this elegant lady was going to be her new mum. She looked like the mum out of the filmE.T.
Elspeth came rushing towards them, her husband, Huw, close behind. He was older than Elspeth by nearly fifteen years. Katy knew this because Elspeth had told her over a cream tea when she last visited. Huw certainly looked older, with his receding hairline and his bushy grey beard. He was something to do with hedge funds, so Elspeth had said, sitting up straighter and looking proud when she revealed this nugget of information. Katy didn’t know what hedge funds were but she thought it had something to do with gardens. And judging by the box hedging in the McKenzies’ front garden she could imagine Huw out there trimming them into the perfect right-angles.
Elspeth darted out of the front gate to greet her. ‘Darling girl,’ she said, holding her shoulders. ‘Let me look at you. Just as pretty as I remembered.’ Katy blushed. Shedidn’t feel pretty. She wasn’t like Isla at the home with her silky black hair, pert nose and skinny limbs. Elspeth placed an arm around Katy’s shoulders, guiding her down the pathway and into the house. Huw was hovering, grinning manically but not saying anything, as though he didn’t really know what to do. Katy understood how he felt. Fiona followed with Katy’s battered old suitcase. ‘This is our new home,’ trilled Elspeth. ‘We only moved in here recently. Oh, I do hope you like it.’
Katy stared at the hallway in awe. The staircase was like something out ofDynasty, and a huge crystal chandelier hung above their heads, the droplets catching the sunlight that streamed through the stained-glass window above the door, casting rainbow colours onto the pale walls. Even Fiona couldn’t help but gawp at the interiors, exclaiming over a portrait of a man in old-fashioned dress on the wall, which Katy thought was ugly.
‘Where’s Viola? She’s desperate to meet you,’ said Elspeth, looking around with a frown on her face. Viola, that was it! Such an unusual name. ‘Oh, the naughty girl, I bet she’s out in the garden again. She’ll get her dress mucky.’
Katy stared down at her own velvet knickerbocker jumpsuit. It was her very best outfit, reserved for special church services and Christmas Day, but now she felt under-dressed and not quite right for this posh house and the posh people within it.
‘I’ll go and find her,’ said Huw, treating Katy to a reassuring wink and then setting off through a room with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Katy wondered how she’d ever be able to find her way around this house. The children’s home was quite big, but she’d been living there forthree years now and she was used to every nook and cranny. It still wasn’t as big as this house, though, and definitely not as grand. There, she’d had to share a room with two other girls, the carpets were worn and the place needed decorating. She’d had posters of Spandau Ballet on her walls just to cover the cracks and the dirty handprints.
Elspeth ushered Katy into another room, with a view of the famous bridge, and she and Fiona perched on the velvet sofa that was the colour of ink, Katy’s old brown suitcase at their feet. Elspeth stood by the fireplace. She seemed on edge, jiggling about as though she needed the loo. On the coffee-table there was a tray of little cakes and a jug of lemonade. Katy still had the annoying butterflies flapping around in her stomach but she could really eat one of those French Fancies. The yellow ones were her favourite. She didn’t dare ask, though, and Elspeth didn’t offer. Instead she stood there wringing her hands and fidgeting, her beautiful face crumpled with concern. ‘I don’t know where they’ve got to,’ she said, to nobody in particular. ‘I wanted Viola to come here to greet you.’
Katy heard Viola before she saw her. A screech and a high posh voice shouted, ‘Get off me! I said I’m coming!’ And then there she was, standing in the doorway, resplendent in a pink gingham dress with long white socks that wrinkled around her ankles. There were grass stains on her knees. She was pretty, like Isla at the home, with long white-blonde hair and a perfect oval face. Katy had already been told that Viola was eighteen months older than her, although two school years above, which would make her nearly thirteen. She didn’t look it, though. Shelooked young and innocent in that dress. It was more like something an eight-year-old would wear. She had a matching Alice band atop her long fine hair that she’d pushed forward too much so it made her ears stick out. She scowled at Katy and Katy’s heart plummeted. She’d really hoped they would become best friends as well as sisters. Elspeth moved so that she was standing behind Katy, her arms around her. She liked being in Elspeth’s arms. It made her feel wanted and she smelt sweet, like Love Hearts. ‘This is your new sister,’ she said, to Viola. ‘I hope you’ll make her welcome.’ Then Elspeth turned to Fiona, not bothering to lower her voice: ‘It will do Viola good to share. She’s becoming a little spoilt. I couldn’t have any more children, sadly.’
‘I. Am. Not. Spoilt,’ cried Viola, stamping her foot.
‘Now then, Viola, that’s not polite, is it?’ said Huw, who was standing beside Viola in the doorway. She stuck out her tongue at him and ran off. They all stood in silence as her shiny patent sandals clomped across the tiles in the hallway.
Elspeth sighed theatrically. ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do with that girl.’ She turned to Katy. ‘But it’s not something you need to worry about. I’ve been told you’re a good girl.’
Fiona stood up, looking concerned. ‘Is Viola going to come around to having Katy here? I don’t really want to leave Katy in a hostile environment.’ She glanced at Katy worriedly. As far as social workers went, Katy knew she was lucky. Fiona genuinely seemed to care about her welfare, which wasn’t the case with her last one, Derek, who had told her to put up and shut up when she was placedwith a foster family who used her as an unpaid skivvy. Luckily he was sacked and Fiona replaced him, with her freckled face and warm smile. She could see how unhappy Katy had been at the Morgans and had whisked her out of there and back into the children’s home within the day.
‘Why don’t you go and find her in the garden? I’ll show you. Come on.’ Elspeth held out her hand to Katy and led her through the library, then outside and down a few steps onto a terrace. ‘She’ll be in that tree house, I expect.’ Elspeth made an encouraging face and Katy tentatively walked across the huge garden, wanting to please her new mother. When she got to the back of the garden where the tree house was a hand pulled her to the ground. It was Viola’s.
‘You’re not wanted here,’ she hissed at her, surprisingly strong for such a slight girl. ‘I’m going to make your life hell and then you’ll be begging to go back to that puky home like hideous Tommy.’
Katy stared into the girl’s perfect face in shock. How could something so pretty be so … somean? She felt her eyes fill with tears.
‘Oh, great. Another weakling,’ said Viola, getting to her feet and dusting off her dress. ‘No wonder your real parents didn’t want you. I’ll break you within a week.’
Katy watched Viola stomp off, anger rising in her throat.
Katy had spent years wishing for a new family. And now here was her chance and she wasn’t going to let that brat Viola spoil things for her.
12
Una
I laugh at something Elspeth is saying as we walk through the arcade on Friday morning. She’s on good form today, as though getting out of the house has lifted her spirits. We’ve just come from the wool shop because Elspeth said she’d like to take up crocheting again. She was surprised when I told her I also liked to crochet and that my mum had taught me. We used to sit and make blankets for the NSPCC while she was recovering from chemo, chatting about travelling to an exotic destination. When I relayed this to Elspeth in front of a triangular display of blue-hued wools she went quiet and gripped my arm, her fingers surprisingly strong. ‘What a wonderful thing to do,’ she’d said. ‘I’d love to make a blanket for charity. Will you help me?’ I’d agreed eagerly and we spent a pleasant half-hour picking out the colours we would use. She refused to let me pay for any of the bundles and as we left the shop I felt relief that we’d found something we have in common – tinged with sadness that I can no longer do it with my mum.
Afterwards, she shows me her antiques shop, Viola’s, and the jewellery store, Kat’s. I like that she’s named them both after her daughters. I want to ask about Viola but Mum’s voice pops into my head:Curiosity killed the cat, Una.And I know she’s right. Particularly about this.
Elspeth’s arm is linked through mine and she’s telling me how she used to drive to the markets in northern France to pick up bargains for the antiques shop back in the early 1990s, when I notice Kathryn ducking into a card shop. I’m sure she saw us. I don’t mention it to Elspeth but let her talk as she steers me down the corridor and towards the art gallery. It’s called simply McKenzie’s.
‘Kathryn runs this one for me,’ she says, as I push open the door. The bell tinkles. Inside, the space is quite big, with some beautiful paintings on the wall – not that I know anything about art – but there are no customers milling about. ‘Oh,’ says Elspeth, looking around her. ‘I thought Kathryn would be here now.’ She checks her watch. ‘It’s ten o’clock.’
A girl younger than me emerges from the back, clearly surprised to see us – it’s as though she was expecting someone else. Elspeth introduces her to me as Daisy, Kathryn’s assistant. ‘Do you know where my daughter is?’
Daisy is wearing bright red lipstick and her caramel-streaked hair is gathered on top of her head in a mass of curls, held back by a floral headband. She’s attractive with a wide, smiling face and a 1940s vintage look about her. ‘She went out to check the other shops.’
Elspeth looks puzzled. ‘We’ve just come from the other shops. We didn’t see her.’
‘Oh.’ Daisy shrugs. ‘She might have gone to get a coffee. She doesn’t really like the instant stuff,’ she says, pointing vaguely towards the back of the shop, presumably where the ‘instant stuff’ is kept.
