Finding Alison Read online

  ‘Just ringin’ to let ye know we got back safe and sound and to thank ye again. Delighted with the buy.’

  ‘Good. Great!’ she beamed, relief flooding through her. ‘And Daniel got over the journey okay?’

  ‘Slept for the most of it,’ Tom laughed. ‘Still talkin’ about yer dogs.’

  ‘Aw,’ Alison felt awkward, couldn’t think what else she might say.

  ‘Well, I’ll go now and thanks again. We might call on ye sometime if ever we’re passin’ that way.’

  ‘That’d be nice, sure. Anytime. Goodbye then.’

  Sean replaced the extension phone in the hall and walked into the kitchen.

  ‘Well, there ye have it.’ Tom looked at the young man, at the emotions that tensed and shadowed his blanched face. Sean didn’t answer, didn’t even look in Tom’s direction as he took his jacket from the back of the chair and shrugging into it, walked out the back door in silence.

  Ten

  Early the following morning Alison unlocked the camper door, running through a mental list of William’s medication, clothes and whatever other bits and pieces he might need. The stifling heat hit her as she stepped inside. The place was like a hothouse, the air stale and oppressive. Leaving the door ajar she threw open the tiny windows. So, this is William’s world, she thought, surveying the cramped interior and feeling a little awkward at entering his private space when he wasn’t there. A narrow bed ran along one side, the covers discarded on the floor. It doubled as a seat, a small table fixed to the floor in front of it. Some overhead presses, a sink, a portable breakfast cooker and a tiny fridge occupied the other side. A miniature wardrobe and shower closet made up the rear. An open pill bottle lay on the floor, its contents scattered beneath the table, a plastic tumbler nearby. Bending to retrieve them, Alison’s eyes were drawn to the loose pages on the table top. She lifted the top page and from beneath two huge eyes stared pleadingly at her from the most delicate, most beautiful face Alison had ever seen. The thickly shaded hair clung to the sharp contours of the elfin face. ‘Helene,’ Alison’s lips mouthed the name, breathing in the love that had gone into every stroke. A shiver rippled through her. The eyes were almost lifelike and seemed to stare deep into Alison’s, as if questioning her presence in William’s intimate space. She placed the blank sheet back on top of the drawing and moved swiftly to collect William’s things. She didn’t belong here. Didn’t want to be here. Could feel the hurt and loneliness expanding, groaning in the tiny space. And yet William always seemed so contented, she thought, locking the door behind her, so easy-going, so accepting of life. It was as if his home had let her steal a look inside the hidden places of the man she presumed to know so well.

  She pulled in at the beach and set the dogs loose for a run. The sea was an angry grey, the high wave tops like diving mermaids. So much for today’s sunshine and heat; the rain and wind were on their way again, the sea never lied. Better for William, she thought, remembering the stifling heat in the camper. She shuffled out of her shoes and walked barefoot along the water’s edge. It was hard to believe that a chest infection could knock so much out of someone so quickly, and it seemed to have worsened his hip as well. A few weeks ago he could walk without a stick, but yesterday his left leg could bear no weight at all. Poor old William, she smiled. It hadn’t suited him at all to be taken in charge by her. She could see how it hurt his male pride. But she couldn’t have left him back to the camper on his own, not in that state. He needed some comfort and what if he were to fall again? Imagine if he’d knocked himself unconscious and she hadn’t known he was in there. She shivered and cast the thought out of her mind. She had become so fond of him and there was a real and deep trust between them. She knew he’d be leaving soon for some new place and part of her envied his freedom. But she also knew that no matter how far away he’d travel, they would always have that bond, that friendship. She’d make sure that they kept in touch. She sat on the sand, buried her toes in its warmth. If only she and Sean could have parted like that. It would have been so much easier to accept. To get over. She would never forget her parting words to him. Would always feel the chill of his silent response.

  She watched two surfers battle to conquer the rising waves, their long yellow boards like magic carpets shooting the tunnels before the waves upended them and then burst in frothy laughter to the shore. Then they’d rise again, the two young men, their wetsuits glistening like sealskin, their laughter rising with the roar of the tide.

  ‘Hi, Alison.’

  Alison jerked her head sideways, shaded her eyes with her hand. ‘Oh, May, hello.’ Alison didn’t bother with the polite smile. She still hadn’t forgiven May for her outburst in the pub that night – what was it she’d called her, a half lunatic? And lucky to be a widow?

  ‘Suppose you’ve heard the news on O’Neill?’ May hunkered down beside her.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘That young O’Neill. Hannah’s good friend, I believe? Caught red-handed breaking into Phil’s last night.’

  ‘That’s terrible.’ Alison held May’s stare while her hand searched out her shoes. She pushed herself up from the sand. ‘But at least they caught him, that’s something.’ Head bent, she shoved her feet into her shoes, all the time feeling May’s eyes drilling through her.

  May’s smile was tight, her narrowed eyes registering every tiny movement on Alison’s face. ‘How is Hannah these days? And poor Maryanne – any improvement?’

  Alison lifted her head again, a wide smile planted across her face. ‘Hannah is wonderful, May, she’s loving London. And Maryanne’s doing well, she’s strong.’ She held May’s eye, daring her, almost wishing her to go one step further. ‘Now’ – Alison fought to keep the shake from her voice – ‘I must be getting home, William will be wondering where I’ve got to. Give my love to the girls.’ She whistled for the dogs, then turned her head back towards May, an extra sweetness to her smile: ‘Oh, and Paul of course.’ Head high, she marched back across the beach, her anger rising with every step.

  She closed the hall door behind her, leaned against it and took three deep breaths. Hannah could never. She wouldn’t. A cold finger walked her spine. Jesus! She had told Hannah about the money Maryanne kept, wrapped in newspaper and hidden in the freezer. The two of them had laughed at it! Maryanne had referred to it as her insurance against burglars – when they’d see that sum, she said, they’d be quick to run. Oh Hannah, she sighed, closing her eyes and drawing a hand down over her face. No wonder she had refused to visit Maryanne at the home. It was all so obvious now: the mood swings, the anger. Hannah’s guilt.

  She grabbed the phone from the bedroom and stepped across the hall to check on William. He lay curled on his side, facing the door, his hair spread like a silver mist on the pillow. He was sleeping soundly.

  Back in the garden, Alison tapped the phone to her chin. Maybe she should leave it for an hour, give herself time to cool down, to think straight. She paced the garden, her heart pounding, the heat of her temper making her itch. She’d explode if she waited one more minute. She pressed in the number.

  ‘Hannah?’

  ‘Mum, hi, I was ju—’

  ‘Now you listen to me, lady. I want the truth or so help— ’

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘I said listen, Hannah!’ She bit down on her lip, took a deep breath. ‘Peter O’Neill was caught breaking and entering last night.’ She kept her voice calm, level. ‘Now, I want you to tell me— ’

  ‘But Mum, I have nothing to do with Pe—’

  ‘Your nan, Hannah. Was it him? Did you know all along?’

  ‘Mum, please, I— ’

  ‘The truth, Hannah!’ Alison closed her eyes, gripped her hair in her fist.

  ‘No.’ Hannah’s voice was almost a whisper.

  ‘No what?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t him.’

  ‘Don’t be such a bloody fool, Hannah! Why are you shielding that—’

  ‘I’m not.’ Alison could hear the tremble of tears in h
er daughter’s voice. ‘I know he didn’t do it. He was with me, remember?’

  ‘Remember? Remember what?’

  ‘Remember I’d told you that I was in Aoife’s, but you rang and I was— ’

  ‘At the bonfire, oh Jesus, oh yes!’ Alison words tumbled out on a tide of relief.

  ‘And you thought,’ Hannah paused, ‘you thought I . . . you thought me and him? My own nan?’

  ‘Oh, Hannah, I just panicked. I . . . ’ But Hannah was gone.

  ‘Shit!’ She punched in the number again, waited. ‘Come on, Hannah.’ But it went straight to answer phone.

  Alison slumped down on the yellowed grass. She didn’t know where the tears came from, had thought she had cried herself dry. But she let them come, let them wash through her. And when they stopped she rose to her feet, collected a pen and pad from her desk in the kitchen and settled herself at the table under the hawthorn tree in the garden. Just like her tears, the words came slowly at first, then faster, faster, pouring out onto the page before she had even thought them. It was as if something, someone else inside or beyond her had taken control and she was just the vessel through which the words tumbled. It was almost four o’clock when she stepped back into the house.

  ‘William?’ She knocked and opened the door, a tray of tea, scrambled egg and toast balanced in her other hand. She turned on the bedside light. ‘William?’

  ‘Alison, what time is it?’ He turned towards her, squinted at the light.

  ‘Just after six – I’ve fixed you something light to eat.’

  ‘Six? I’ve slept all day?’

  ‘Pretty much,’ she smiled. ‘How are you feeling? Any better?’ His face had lost some of its grey, but his eyes were still heavy and dark.

  ‘Tired. That jab yesterday really knocked me for six. I’m sorry to be such a nuisance.’

  ‘And I’m not listening to any more of that. Now, do you think you can sit up a little?’ She fixed the pillows behind his head and helped him sit up against them. ‘I’ll leave you to eat, I need to make a few calls.’ She stepped from the room, conscious of his embarrassment at needing her assistance.

  * * *

  Alison wound the cord of the kitchen phone round her finger. With Hannah still refusing to answer her mobile phone, she had decided to try Claire on the landline. She sighed again. ‘It was the way May said it, Claire, the look in her eyes, you know, she was clearly hinting that Hannah’d been involved.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Alison, surely you know your own daughter better than that.’ Claire threw her eyes to heaven. She could do without this. First Hannah in a state of high hysterics all evening and now Alison. Honestly, she was exhausted and had planned a nice relaxing evening: a few glasses of wine and her feet up in front of the television.

  ‘I just panicked. I mean, with all that stuff that went on before she left, well, what else was I to think?’

  ‘Mmm.’ Claire held her hand up to the light, studied her nails. She could do with a fresh manicure.

  ‘Maybe if you asked her again?’ Alison felt suddenly tired. And she felt such a fool. Why did she have to jump in every time with her two big feet? No wonder Hannah wouldn’t speak to her. In Alison’s book there was nothing worse than finding yourself accused of something you had absolutely no part in.

  ‘She’s in her room, Alison, she’s upset, there’s really no point.’ Claire looked at her watch. Her programme was about to start in five minutes. ‘Leave it for tonight, I’ll have a good chat with her tomorrow, things will look different then.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Come on, don’t make this bigger than it is.’ Alison’s dramatics could drive you to drink, Claire often thought, but there was always that niggle of sisterly guilt when she thought of all that Alison had been through. ‘It’ll all be fine, you’ll see. Talk tomorrow then?’

  ‘Okay,’ Alison sighed. ‘And thanks again, Claire, for everything.’

  ‘No worries, take care.’

  Alison replaced the receiver. Of course Claire was right. Why make this into another big production and ruin all the headway that herself and Hannah had made over the summer. She tried to picture her daughter, alone in her strange bedroom. ‘I love you,’ she whispered.

  * * *

  William had eaten little and sat against the pillows, his eyes half closed. Alison removed the tray, helped him to the bathroom and back into bed. ‘Call me in the night if you need anything.’ She stroked his cheek and felt his forehead. At least his temperature seemed to have gone.

  ‘Alison?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Will you read to me, something of your own?’

  She hesitated, her old awkwardness returning. Then she thought of Claire, of her determination, her self-belief. She took a deep breath, smiled. ‘Sure. Just a minute.’

  She returned to the room, a small notebook in her hand. She sat on the side of the bed and began to read, her voice low and soothing:

  To the Sea

  Will you miss me, rock and sea

  And purple grey and yellow stone

  Will you remember how you lifted

  And dropped your white lace petticoat

  And teased me to your depths

  Will you keep the secrets

  Your lonely love-roar drew from me

  And mourn my morning visits

  With my notebook and my wishes

  And all those frantic moonlights

  When I smuggled stones of sorrow

  And hid them round your bed

  Will you smile when you remember

  The water-spirit child

  Shaped in your womb-sand

  Roar in your recalling

  How I left you all those years

  Returning with the heavy foot

  Of life upon your bed

  Your salt and mine

  Together

  Washing out my wounds

  Will the sea pinks bloom

  And wonder am I coming

  Will this rock pray the sun

  To warm my seat

  Will you stretch your frothy fingers

  Up the beach to reach me

  And throw yourself upon the wind to follow

  Will you miss me, friend

  When I am gone forever.

  William listened, the melancholy music of her words washing over him, the last two lines replaying in his head.

  ‘Promise me, Alison.’ His voice was a whisper as he reached out and caught her hand. ‘Promise me you’ll get your work out there.’

  ‘I promise I’ll try,’ she smiled, bending to kiss his cheek. His eyes were closed, sleep seducing him once more.

  ‘Goodnight, Will,’ she whispered and felt his hand squeeze hers. She lingered a moment in the doorway and caught herself talking to someone she had long ago sworn did not exist: ‘Please God, let him be well.’

  * * *

  A suit and tie! Kathleen nearly fell down where she was when Jamie led Rob into the kitchen. She straightened her T-shirt, wiped her hands on the seat of her jeans.

  ‘Rob? I thought we were just going somewhere casual?’

  ‘Cork,’ Rob grinned, patting the lapels of his jacket. ‘No time to change.’ He swivelled on his heel to face Jamie. ‘So, all set?’ He winked and Jamie almost ate his lips in his attempt at seriousness.

  ‘Rob, it’s almost ten o’clock – the babysitter’s here, he was just going to bed.’

  ‘I promised you a spin, didn’t I, Monster?’ He took Jamie’s hand and moved to the door, calling, ‘You might need a jacket,’ over his shoulder.

  ‘But Rob, hold on a sec—’

  ‘We’ll wait in the car.’

  ‘Rob, wait!’ He was going to do it in front of the child! That man was a bigger fool than she had given him credit for. He was banking on poor Jamie’s presence to dampen down her hysterics. Well, he wasn’t getting away with this one!

  ‘Rebecca,’ she called to the babysitter as she grabbed a jacket from the cloakroom, ‘can
you hold on for half an hour?’ She could feel her face positively beam with temper.

  Jamie sat forward in the back of the car, his head between the two front seats and his full attention focused on Rob. Kathleen swore under her breath as she tugged open the passenger door. Wasn’t one heart enough for him to break?

  Jamie’s eyes widened. He threw off his seat belt and stuck his head forward, his hands grasping the headrests of the seats each side of him. A bright orange glow filled the sky above the harbour. The car rounded the last bend and there it was, right in front of them, like something straight out of a story book. ‘WOW!’ His eyes stole up and over the storm wall, right up the whole height of the red and blue balloon, then down again, slowly, to the mighty lash of the bright orange flame hissing hot air into its belly. The basket sat on the pier, weighted by sandbags and two men dressed in the same reds and blues as the balloon. ‘WOW!’

  ‘What the . . . ’ Kathleen’s mouth stood open, ready for more words to follow, but none came.

  ‘I told you I’d promised to take him for a spin.’ Rob’s whole face hung on his grin, his hand stealing across to cover Kathleen’s. ‘You going to join us then?’

  Kathleen turned her face, looked at him through watery eyes, her tongue touching the groove on her lip. It seemed so long ago now, that very first date, when she had told him how she had always dreamed of taking a hot air balloon flight – by moonlight. Rob had remembered.

  ‘Come on, Mum, hurry!’ Jamie was out of the car, opening her door.

  The whole of Carniskey below was like a magical toy village, the house and street lights glowing like tiny searching eyes. The cars, mere ants, lit head and tail, moved in slow motion along the roads while the moon silvered the sea where it broke in absolute silence along the curve of the cliff.

  ‘Sorry I was late.’ Rob’s hand stole around her waist. ‘I wanted it to be perfect, dark enough for the moon’s magic.’

  ‘Oh, Rob.’ She raised her face to him, the light from the flame catching her smile.