‘Why don’t you sit down, Mum. I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
She nods, knowing she relies on Harry far too much. One minute, she’s up, another, she’s down. Her mood is all over the place because she feels impotent. However much she draws and writes, nothing makes sense or flows anymore, not since Dorette’s death. The only thing that flows is the wine. Ernest Hemingway once said, ‘write drunk, edit sober’. Dorette said she swore by that advice. They’d spent nights feeling the burn of brandy slipping down their throats before following that by swilling down some absinthe. For Dorette, she came up with ideas like she had a superpower. Quinn had been envious. Nothing is as good as what she once had with Mika’s Magical Bike except Klara and her dragon, Mindy. She swallows her shame down. Dorette had come up with Mika especially for Quinn. She gifted Mika to her, but she’d never gifted Klara and Mindy to her.
Harry places a cup of mint tea on the table.
She had to preserve her secrets forever. If she didn’t, her life and career would blow up and it would be the end. She had done a terrible thing – a big, terrible thing and she was dicing with danger now. No other option existed but to preserve her deepest, darkest secrets and there was no going back. The cogs were in motion. She had to see this to the end, whatever the cost.
Thirty-Seven
Morgan
I hate the neighbours so much. They were so mean to Mum and I couldn’t do a thing because I’m meant to be inside. I’m shaking with anger after hearing all that and I’m worried for her. She sounds a little better now that Zoe is talking to her. I enter the house for real this time. Jasmine was mentioned again and I really think this is all about her. Mum knew her. Quinn knew her. I’m going to get to the bottom of all this.
As I kick my snowy boots off in the hallway, I hear Robbie and Jake talking in the main family room, but I can’t hear Dad. He must be in the apartment with Cora. I glance through the letterbox. Mum is still out there with Zoe, so I creep upstairs and head towards Dorette’s office using the torch on my phone to light the way. We’re all missing something big. Mum hasn’t really been in there, and Dad wasn’t going to touch the room until Mum had cleared it out. I need to work out why Dorette’s notebook was in Quinn’s bag.
I hurry along the landing towards the office. With each step, I listen carefully, just in case anyone is lurking around. On the way, I open each door as I pass. Most are filled with boxes that Dad has packed, and there’s lots of really big old furniture that smells damp and woody. The smell from the old family bathroom makes me recoil as I pass it. With all that’s been happening, people in our house, the dog, the general madness, I’ve learned to expect anything. The people around here are crazy.
The last door off the hall is the one to Dorette’s office. I glance to my right at the balcony door. It’s closed this time. I press the handle down to check that Dad locked it. At the very least, if it wasn’t locked, I could fess up to Dad that I’d been looking around the house and discovered that the door was open. He could then lock it before Mum found out. Phew, the balcony room door is locked.
I open the office door and step in. Robbie and Jake have been using Dad’s generator for power. I continue using the torch on my phone to light the way and I sit at the desk. The chair lets a poof sound out as the air escapes it and blasts up a cloud of dust. I catch a sneeze in my elbow crevice. There are loads of notebooks, the same as the one Quinn had in her bag. The spines are labelled with names. I open one of them and see that the name on the spine is the same as the main character in the notebook. These are Great-Aunt Dorette’s character bibles. All illustrations are described using Dorette’s black pen capital letter writing, but her notes are written normally.
The notebook in Quinn’s bag definitely came from this pile. This is something I need to tell Mum about, but not tonight. She’s upset about the letters and I worry for the baby. I feel a twinge of guilt because I really don’t want another sibling. I don’t think Mum and Dad will be able to cope at the moment. But, I don’t want the alternative either. Mum is really happy about the baby and I want to try to be grown up about it and support her.
I read the spines on the notebooks again and there aren’t any names that stand out. There aren’t any more books labelled up with the name Klara on them either, so maybe Quinn has the only one.
I leave the desk and wander over to the large bookcase opposite, where I poke my fingers between the old encyclopaedias, thick dictionaries and books of quotes. That’s when I spot another notebook right in the corner of the bottom shelf, only this one doesn’t have a label on the spine. On my hands and knees, I open it and flash my phone at the first page. It’s marked up Jasmine.
That name again. The missing girl. There’s only half a book here. The rest has been torn out. I go to flick the pages, but instead, I almost jump out of my skin as I feel a hand as cold as an iceberg touch my neck.
Thirty-Eight
Morgan
‘Mog.’ Cora giggles as she grabs my arm. ‘Mog.’
My heart races again like when Harry and I heard that bang coming from the outside of the den. ‘Cora, you scared me.’ I stand, pull my little sis towards me and hug her.
Dad must be close by. I need to keep hold of this notebook, so I nudge what’s left of it into the back of my waistband and hope that I don’t have to sit down or I’ll be busted for snooping in the dangerous part of the house. ‘Dad,’ I call out but he doesn’t reply, thank goodness.
‘Drink.’
‘Come on then. Let’s go and get you one.’
I stand and pick her up. I don’t know how she got out of the apartment. The door is meant to be locked at all times, but Cora is getting to be quite the wanderer now. She’s getting faster on her feet every day. Mum is still outside as far as I know, so where is Dad? I’m suddenly overwhelmed and I can’t hear a sound. I’m overwhelmed because I worry about Cora. Why is no one looking out for her? It has to be me again and for that I’m totally peed off. As I carry her back along the hallway I see that the apartment door is wide open, and all I hear are the loud sounds of a children’s programme and it’s one I recognise from when I was little. It’s the theme tune to Mika’s Magical Bicycle. ‘Dad.’ Again, no reply.
My hands shake with anger. Cora could have tumbled down the hard wooden stairs to her death. I hurry through the apartment door. Dad is nowhere to be seen. After slamming it closed and making sure it’s locked, I scan the room. ‘Dad.’ I’m yelling now. I grab the remote and turn the TV down, and I hear the shower raining down from behind the bathroom door. Banging as hard as I can, I wait for Dad to reply.
The shower goes off and Dad opens the door with a towel wrapped around his waist. ‘Squidge. I was taking a shower. Can this wait for five?’
‘No, Dad.’ I’m so upset, I’m shaking. It has been a horrible night and Dad has no idea what’s been happening downstairs either and, to top it off, he took his eye off the game with Cora. She half wriggles out of my arms, so I place her down so she can dance to the Mika songs.
He steps out of the bathroom. ‘Brr,’ he says as he grabs his jumper and pulls it over his head.
Even though he’s looking at me, it’s like he can’t read what’s on my face, that he doesn’t see a problem. ‘You left the door open and Cora wandered out.’
‘She was asleep. I needed a shower. The door was closed when I got in.’
‘Was it locked?’ Even I know I’m meant to lock the door. I wouldn’t be happy in this house with that door left open, not after everything that has happened.
