Come Back For Me Page 15

  ‘He used to draw her a lot,’ I admit. ‘But then he drew everyone,’ I quickly add. ‘He had a skill for it, his drawings were so detailed and accurate.’

  ‘But he drew Iona more than anyone else?’

  On the pages I had seen, he had. They started on the night of the sleep-out. Iona and Bonnie were depicted in the centre of the page; the small circle of kids gathered around the fire behind were only a blur. He must have spent ages watching her, copying her. ‘I suppose,’ I say weakly. ‘I can’t be sure.’

  Harwood nods as if this is good enough and my earlier desire to be useful has been replaced by a heavy guilt. He flips over a page in his pad and asks if my family knew Iona before she moved to the island.

  ‘No, of course not.’

  He looks up, waits a moment.

  ‘We met her the day she arrived,’ I say. ‘I remember it.’

  Again there is an uncomfortable pause and I mirror his questioning expression. ‘Why do you ask?’

  The detective shakes his head as if his question isn’t relevant, but I can tell it is. For some reason he thinks we might have met her before. ‘Tell me about the last few days of your time on the island,’ he says. ‘Can you recall anything at all that’s in any way unusual?’

  Apart from the fact we were hauled away in the middle of a storm?

  Apart from the fact I saw Iona again when everyone else thought she was gone?

  I shake my head, knowing my lie will eat away at me, but I don’t know what good can come of the truth. There is nothing useful in telling the detective I believe my father was having an affair with her. Not when Danny has already told them he killed her.

  I sink back, drained, as Harwood checks the time on his watch. Hopefully we are done because I have nothing left to give.

  But he has another question for me and asks it with his head cocked, his eyebrows furrowed. ‘Was Danny ever violent?’

  ‘No,’ I say emphatically. I feel the prick of threatening tears. ‘Never. He was the gentlest person I know.’ My mind skims past the image of the bird, the way he said he’d wrapped it tightly so he didn’t drop her. I so wanted to believe him. ‘That’s why none of this makes sense,’ I say.

  Harwood nods and sits back in his own sofa. He chews on his bottom lip as he considers whatever it is he wants to tell me. Eventually he says, ‘Your brother says he and Miss Byrnes argued the night of September the eighth.’

  I try not to react at the date. It was our last whole night, the one before we left.

  ‘He says he pushed her backwards and she fell over a cliff. Is there anything about his story you recall?’

  I stare at him in utter shock, shaking my head.

  ‘And Danny tells us this was the last he saw of her,’ Harwood says.

  I frown. ‘But – she was buried in the woods,’ I say.

  ‘She was.’ He doesn’t add any more as this information hangs in the air.

  ‘How is my brother?’ I ask. ‘Is he doing okay?’

  ‘He seems to be holding up alright.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about—’ I break off. ‘I don’t know where he’s been living or anything really,’ I add, a little more quietly, ashamed for my part in our distance.

  ‘He’s been living in Scotland,’ the detective tells me as I raise my eyes. ‘Quite a solitary lifestyle. He walked into a police station in Girvan yesterday afternoon.’

  I nod though I’ve never heard of the place.

  ‘He paints and makes sculptures, sells them on his website. He’s a talented man.’

  ‘He always was,’ I say. ‘Detective, one of the other policemen asked me about my friendship bracelets …?’

  ‘Yes. We found one near the body.’

  ‘Oh. I see,’ I say, shuddering.

  Iona wasn’t on my list. She had never bought one and I wonder if this means it was Bonnie’s. But Harwood isn’t interested and instead he’s saying, ‘Ms Harvey, your brother has asked to see you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘If you would be willing—’

  ‘Yes, God, yes, of course.’

  ‘Good. Good.’ He nods as he watches me carefully and I wonder if he is truly happy about this scenario or whether he’s still making his mind up about it. ‘We can arrange for you to be taken to the station from here if you like.’

  Evergreen Island

  18 August 1993

  After the incident of Danny falling out of the tree, Maria had been torn between putting some distance between her family and Iona, and having the girl sit around her table just so she could watch her more closely. In the end she had settled on the latter. As it would turn out, Maria soon realised the girl’s motives were not as they’d first seemed. But, as would also be evident by then, it was far too late to do anything about it. Iona’s claws were already firmly hooked into Maria’s family.

  Bonnie kept her eye on the garden ten minutes before dinner time. Her stomach bubbled with what was no longer a pleasant sensation. She hoped Iona wouldn’t turn up. She had prayed her mum wouldn’t invite her again and all the muscles in her body felt like they had turned to stone when the invite had been tossed at Iona that morning. Why couldn’t her mum see she didn’t want her any more? Weren’t mums supposed to know when something wasn’t right?

  Bonnie had had to go along with it, smiling, pretending that Iona’s words the day before hadn’t knifed into her. If she admitted to anyone, including herself, that they had, she feared her world would blow up.

  Shit, she thought, as she saw Iona waltzing in through the side gate. She thought she might throw up. The only thing she could do was forget what Iona said. Push it out of her head. And besides, if she didn’t, she might end up losing the only friend she had.

  By the time Bonnie got downstairs Iona was already engrossed in another of her dad’s stories. Later, during their meal, she would continue to laugh along with something else he was telling them. Bonnie hadn’t heard a word of it. She didn’t think her mum had either; her attention was elsewhere. It seemed to be on Iona because her eyes kept drifting to her, watching behind her sunglasses.

  Suddenly her mum interrupted the story and said, ‘We know so little about you, Iona, tell us more about yourself.’

  Bonnie could feel her friend stiffen. Iona had told her many things about her life before Evergreen but there was no way she’d bring them up at the dinner table. If she ever did she would deal them out slowly, one card at a time, like she had with Bonnie.

  That was how it felt. Iona had a whole stack of gems and she kept them close to her chest, but then every so often, when Bonnie least expected it, she would drop one on her and sit back, waiting for her reaction, like she’d just lit a firework.

  Bonnie didn’t like that. It wasn’t like the beginning of summer any more when she’d felt excited to be part of Iona’s world. Now it somehow felt wrong. Like for every card Iona played, Bonnie was supposed to play one too. And every time Iona would point out the differences, how lucky Bonnie was, how grateful she should be.

  The day before Iona had been in Bonnie’s bedroom, her eyes sweeping around it until she found a snow globe Bonnie had been given a few years ago. Iona cradled it in her hands, releasing her fingers so the globe slid to the edge of her palm. Bonnie’s heart fluttered nervously and she wanted to reach out and take it back. Her mum had bought it for her but she knew how stupid she’d sound if she told Iona to be careful, so she did nothing as she watched it roll from side to side.

  Iona grinned. ‘You know, you really do have too many things,’ she said as she stopped rolling it.

  Bonnie glanced around her room. She wanted to protest but didn’t know what to say when it was probably true. She had always got most things she’d asked for. When she was young, birthdays and Christmases had been stacked with presents. After one of the Stay and Play sessions when she’d shown an interest in one of the toys, her mum had bought her one the very next day.

  ‘Our lives couldn’t be more different, could they?’ I
ona was saying sweetly. ‘How did we ever become friends?’ she joked before pulling Bonnie into a tight embrace. ‘You know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.’

  Bonnie could never have predicted what was about to spill out. If she had, she’d have held a hand over her friend’s mouth to stop her from uttering the lies.

  Maria was sure Iona looked uncomfortable. All she’d asked was for the girl to tell them about herself, but she was brushing it off with, ‘Oh, there’s really very little to tell.’

  Bonnie had stopped eating, she noticed. Her fork hovered midway to her mouth and now she had put it down on her plate, a piece of pork still speared on the end of it.

  All she wanted was to learn more about the girl. Maria felt at a disadvantage not even knowing Iona’s background story.

  But David had moved the conversation on. Maybe he’d noticed their guest didn’t want to talk or maybe he was oblivious. Whatever it was, she finished dinner frustrated.

  Helping David stack the plates, she followed him to the kitchen when he started telling her he’d seen Graham that morning. She was biting her lip, ready to interrupt and say that wasn’t important when he announced, ‘Did you know their house is on the market?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Susan’s idea,’ David said as they stopped by the sink. ‘You don’t know anything about it?’

  ‘No.’ Maria shook her head, shocked. ‘She hasn’t said a word.’

  ‘That’s strange.’

  It was. She couldn’t imagine why her friend hadn’t confided in her, but then she’d also noticed Susan wasn’t herself of late. ‘I’ll have to speak to her,’ she said as David pulled her in for a hug.

  ‘You’re happy here, aren’t you?’ he asked. ‘You wouldn’t want to leave?’

  ‘The island?’ she gasped. ‘No! Never. Why would I?’

  ‘Just checking.’ He smiled as he kissed her on the head. ‘You seem a little – anxious at the moment.’

  Maria shrugged and let her shoulders relax. Suddenly the idea of telling him she needed to know more about her daughter’s friend seemed trivial. She watched him go outside and heard him call goodbye to Iona who was strolling out the side gate, then turned to the sink and started scrubbing a pan.

  When she caught sight of Bonnie hovering in the doorway Maria laughed. ‘You made me jump,’ she said, her face falling as Bonnie glared back at her. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Why did we move here?’ Bonnie said suddenly.

  ‘Sorry? What?’

  ‘I said, why did we move here? Why did we come to this island in the first place?’

  Maria smiled despite herself. ‘I’ve told you the story before,’ she said. ‘We wanted to move away from Birmingham and have a different life. Your dad saw the ferry for sale and it was a perfect opportunity—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I know that story, but what’s the real one?’

  ‘That is the real one,’ Maria replied slowly. She glanced quickly at David, who’d appeared behind their daughter, a stack of plates laden in his hands.

  ‘You can both save the rehearsed speech. I’d hoped one of you might be honest with me,’ Bonnie snapped before storming out the room.

  ‘What was that about?’ David whispered to her. ‘You’re shaking.’

  ‘I just …’ She looked behind her to the door that Bonnie had just disappeared through. ‘I just have this feeling, David, that it’s going to come out.’

  She had been right. It wouldn’t be long before it did come out. What she hadn’t been prepared for was the extent to which she would be betrayed.

  PRESENT

  Chapter Nineteen

  I am in the police station waiting room by five to four. My stomach churns as I unsuccessfully try to focus on an old black-and-white film playing on a TV, my insides twisting themselves into knots which pull tighter with every breath.

  By the time I am called through to see my brother, I feel like I will throw up, but I grab my bag and coat and follow Harwood down a corridor to a closed door at the far end. I wish I had someone else by my side, but the only person who should be here would never show even if I asked her. Besides, I couldn’t bring myself to even tell Bonnie I had willingly agreed to see our brother.

  After eighteen years, I only have the pictures in my head of what Danny might look like and most of those, I realise, are simply a version of the twenty-two-year-old I last saw.

  ‘Ms Harvey? Are you okay?’ Harwood’s voice snaps me back to the present.

  ‘I don’t know what to expect,’ I admit. ‘I haven’t seen him in so long. Is he already in there?’ I gesture to the room that sits behind the door.

  ‘He is.’

  ‘Will you be with me?’

  ‘No, it’ll just be you and Danny. Are you still happy to do this?’

  I nod faintly. For all the denials that plague me, the fact is my brother has told the police he pushed Iona over a cliff and potentially I have to accept this.

  Harwood pushes the door open and I step inside. There is a man seated at the table, though he isn’t anything like the one I imagined. This one is thirty-nine, forty next month. He has short dark hair that is trimmed neatly around his ears and the front sticks up in a small quiff, with only a faint appearance of grey. His wide eyes, a deep chestnut brown, hide behind thin silver frames and I mouth his name like I expect him to shake his head and tell me I have the wrong room.

  Danny stands as the door closes behind me. Tears spring to my eyes as I slowly walk over and, by the time I reach the table, he has sat down again. All the time he doesn’t take his eyes off me.

  I sit silently. My mouth opens but no words come out. I want to tell Danny he looks good. That despite what he says he has done, he looks handsome and smart. His mouth twitches as if he too is searching for the right words and it seems like an eternity before I speak.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ I say. The words splinter into the air and he raises his eyes above my head as if he’s trying to catch them. Really I know he’s struggling to hold his emotions, because it’s what Danny always did: looked over our heads when he didn’t want to cry.

  Immediately we are kids again. I am back with my brother in our treehouse, curled up on the cushions, silently doing our own things. Tears roll down my cheeks and I fumble in my bag for a tissue I know I don’t have, resorting to wiping them away with my sleeve.

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me,’ he says finally, in a deep, gravelly voice that doesn’t sound right. It isn’t the one I’ve had in my head, but then maybe the years have replaced my memories with false ones.

  ‘Of course. I’ve wanted to see you for years.’

  ‘I mean for coming now. Now you know what I’ve done.’

  ‘Oh Danny,’ I say, letting out a deep breath. ‘You’re my brother.’

  He looks further away, staring at a point in the corner of the room. I want to reach for his hands but they are out of sight and we fall into another silence that weighs down on me.

  I search his face until the boy behind it peeks through. I see him now behind the lines under his eyes, the light stubble on his cheeks.

  ‘I hear you’ve been living in Scotland?’ I ask.

  He nods.

  ‘The police mentioned a place called Girvan. I’ve no idea where that is.’

  ‘It’s on the west coast,’ Danny tells me. ‘I live outside of it.’

  I nod, though still none the wiser. ‘He said you sell your art online?’

  ‘A little. I make things; paint. I have a website.’ He pulls his hands out and lays them on the table. They give him something else to look at as he dips his eyes and studies them.

  I must have looked my brother up on the internet hundreds of times, yet never once did I find him.

  ‘I don’t use my name,’ he says as if reading my thoughts. ‘I go by D. Smith.’

  ‘I’ll have a look,’ I say, unsurprised he’s chosen something unrelated. ‘It’s good to see you, Danny,’ I add, ‘even with what’s
happening.’ I bow my head, cheeks flushing. ‘I always hoped you’d come back, you know.’

  Danny breathes in deeply through his nostrils as he sits back and I watch him for a moment, waiting for him to say whatever is clearly on his mind.

  ‘You never wanted to?’ I ask.

  He shakes his head. ‘I couldn’t.’

  ‘I hated not knowing where you’d gone. I couldn’t bear imagining what had happened to you.’ Tears start trickling down my cheeks again and as Danny looks up I notice his hand flinch. His eyes drift to my cheeks, wide with pain, and it looks as if my tears may break him. I quickly wipe them away again. ‘Did Mum know where you were?’

  ‘Yes,’ he says quietly.

  ‘How come she never said anything to me?’ I ask, shocked.

  ‘Don’t blame her. She knew I wanted to be on my own. You know I was never very good at living among people.’ He gives a small smile. ‘She was trying to do right by all of us,’ he says. ‘Bonnie hated the island, I hated the city …’ he drifts off. ‘How is Bonnie?’

  ‘She’s fine.’ I smile. ‘You have two gorgeous nephews. Ben and Harry, they’re twelve and ten.’

  ‘I don’t expect she’s handling any of this …’ He floats a hand off the table and waves it slightly.

  ‘Bonnie’s fine,’ I say again.

  He breathes in deeply and when he releases his breath says, ‘They don’t believe me.’

  ‘The police?’

  ‘I know they don’t.’ His eyes search mine imploringly as he drops his voice and adds, ‘But I’m telling the truth.’

  I edge forward, staring at him intently. His eyes don’t flick away; they look at nothing but mine. His gestures imply that he’s telling the truth.

  ‘So why do you think they don’t believe you?’ I ask.

  ‘They’re asking me things.’ He screws his eyes up now, his forehead creasing. ‘Saying she was buried in our garden.’

  ‘It wasn’t in it,’ I say. ‘It was in the woods.’ I shuffle on the hard chair. ‘It was pretty near our garden. Are you saying you didn’t know that?’