Living in the Shadows Read online

  ‘Don’t you recognise anywhere, Summer?’

  ‘Summer?’ Victoria looked up.

  ‘That’s what I’ve decided you should be called from now on. Don’t you like it, babe?’ His hazel eyes locked on hers through the rear view mirror.

  Did he look … sound annoyed?

  Victoria didn’t know what to say. ‘Fab,’ she managed in the end, forcing an enthusiastic tone into her words. She was almost reassured when he laughed but then realised how artificial it sounded.

  ‘So … know where you are?’ This time his eyes smiled. But it was as though he was laughing at a joke only he understood.

  The scenery had changed from when she was last awake. The winding roads – that followed the lines of hills covered in a sea of yellow gorse and purple heather that bordered rolling fields, were now angular streets of stone, terraced houses and thin sentinels of lampposts. As she gazed through the windscreen the lights flickered on, one by one, orange and red flashes through the steady drizzle. The tarmac and pavements glistened dark with rain. The colours of the doors of the houses were dull as if drained away, she thought. And as yet there were only a few windows lit to show the family life carrying on inside. Most of the houses were dark shadows.

  She managed to keep the shock concealed. They were in Ashford. Why were they in Ashford?

  ‘Remember that time we met up here, the week after the fest? We walked along the canal and I asked you what those buildings were. You told me about the place, said it was empty … don’t you remember?’

  ‘I’d forgotten. But it’s derelict.’ It had been a ruin for as long as she’d been coming to Ashford with Mum and Dad. ‘I don’t understand. How did you…? You didn’t tell me you’d moved,’ she said, in the end.

  ‘Well, after you’d said it was empty it seemed the obvious choice, given we got kicked out of that dump in Manchester.’ He slowed the camper van down to negotiate some potholes.

  Was he laughing at her? He knew she had family here. She wouldn’t be able to go into Ashford on her own.

  ‘Problem?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing.

  ‘I was just thinking I’d have to be careful going into town, in case I see someone I know.’ Where was the freedom? Ashford she thought, incredulous. She’d thought she’d be escaping from the lot of them.

  He didn’t answer for a moment and then he glanced at her again. ‘Guy from the council came round after we’d got in. Made noises at first about getting us out but nothing’s happened so guess they don’t care. The girls have made it a home from home,’ he said. ‘Didn’t take long after we all pitched in. You’ll be surprised.’

  She would … horrible place. She caught a glimpse of the iron gates that led to the park she’d been to with Linda a few times in the past.

  She remembered her cousin once saying she hated this time of day, just before it was properly dark. She’d said it frightened her. And, for the first time, Victoria understood; dusk here was depressing. Or was it just that she was unexpectedly depressed?

  The sadness took her by surprise. She wondered how her parents were, how hurt they would be by what she had done. The return of the guilt was unexpected.

  And yet, for the first time in years, it was Nain Gwyneth she suddenly missed. Not really their grandmother but as good as, with her lovely warm brown eyes that always seemed to twinkle in a special way just for Victoria. She wished she was still alive. It was impossible, of course; she was already ancient when she and Richard were small kids. Her eyes prickled with tears. She knew the old woman would have managed to talk her out of this, just as she had talked her out of many an escapade when she was younger.

  She closed her eyes against the burn of tears. She didn’t want Seth to see the doubt she was feeling. The fear.

  The two girls shifted against her as they swung around another corner. Amber flopped forward and Victoria caught her before she fell against Seth’s seat, dislodging Jasmine. They both stretched, leaning away from her and yawning.

  She wondered if they had families, parents. Grandparents. If they had ever felt as isolated, as lonely, as she did right now.

  Except for Nain Gwyneth, there’d been no other grandparents. None on Dad’s side; she presumed they’d died in the war. And she’d never known Mum’s mum. There was a small, old, funny coloured photograph of Grandma Howarth with Uncle Tom, Mum’s brother, tucked into the corner of the frame of the family one on the back wall of the living room at home. They were standing arm-in-arm in the garden, in wellingtons and overcoats.

  Both dead long before she was born.

  Thinking about it, none of her cousins had grandparents. Not Jacqueline, not Linda and William. Well, perhaps Linda, she corrected herself; Linda had that woman she called a grandma; Grandma Nelly. Nelly Shuttleworth – not a relative at all as far as she could tell but they’d often been made to visit her because she was supposedly Mum’s friend as well. She wrinkled her nose. The house smelled and was crammed with really old scruffy furniture. And a stinky lavatory in a back yard.

  She was better off having no grandma than one like Nelly Shuttleworth, she thought, as Seth swung the camper van off the road towards the two large gates and switched off the engine.

  Chapter 10: Victoria Schormann

  Ashford, evening: Wednesday, September 17th

  ‘Enjoy supper?’ Seth leaned back in an old armchair in the corner of the small room.

  Victoria nodded. She hadn’t; the thick green soup had tasted odd and the doughy brown bread was lying like a lump in her stomach.

  ‘Great. I’ll just run things past you so you’ll know the ropes and then you’ll show me what you’ve brought with you?’

  Although his words ended as a question, she had the feeling it wasn’t a choice. Perched on the edge of the wooden chair by the door, she clutched the rucksack closer to her.

  If he noticed, he said nothing. ‘It’s late, so you’ll want to get to bed.’

  ‘Whenever you do,’ she said. It was exciting to know that they would be sleeping together just like a proper couple. His next words shocked her.

  ‘You’ll be in the dorm with all the other single girls—’

  ‘What? I thought—’

  He carried on as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘There’s only a few things to remember, Summer. They’re not rules … just stuff to show we care for one another.’

  A tremor of anxiety ran through Victoria. ‘I thought you said there were no rules.’

  ‘I’ve just said, Summer, they’re not rules.’ He laughed but it sounded a bit forced to Victoria. ‘If there weren’t some guidelines there’d be bloody chaos. No, it’s easier if we all stick to what we’ve agreed.’

  ‘Who’s “we”, Seth?’ Victoria didn’t like the sound of anything he’d said so far. He hadn’t told her she’d be sleeping in a room with any other girls. Or that there’d be any rules – however he dressed it up. Guidelines – how stupid is that, she thought.

  He passed his hand over his forehead, shielding his eyes. When he spoke his voice was weary. ‘Me. The members of the group, Summer… They agreed I should lead long ago.’ He looked at her. ‘It’s cool if you’re having second thoughts about being with us. If it’s not your bag—’

  ‘No…’ Victoria swallowed against the tension in her throat. She was being daft. It would be great once she settled. ‘No, of course not.’ It was all strange, she thought; she had to give her new life a chance. ‘I think you’re right, I am tired.’

  ‘Sure you are.’ His smile was such a relief to Victoria. When he stood up and walked across the room to her she held up her hand and let him tug her to her feet. ‘Let’s go find your bed.’ He took her rucksack from her. ‘Leave this here for now.’

  He made love to her gently. Afterwards, when she felt him move off the bed she protested, softly.

  ‘Sshh, I’ve got things to do,’ he murmured. ‘You get some kip. Okay? I’ll be back.’

  She was almost asleep when she heard a rustling at the side of her be
d. ‘Seth?’

  ‘No, it’s Amber.’ She was a tall, slender shadow in the gloom of the dorm. She’d changed from jeans and top into a long flowing dress. ‘I’ve unpacked your things. And here’s your nightwear.’ The annoyance was quick in Victoria; what bloody cheek, going through her stuff. Before she could say anything, Amber had gone.

  Victoria turned on her back and opened her eyes wide, trying to see her surroundings. There was only the one wide doorway at the far end of the room. No door. The ceiling was a long way above her head. The window behind her was a long, un-curtained rectangle divided into two panes of grimy glass. A half-moon slipped in and out from behind thin streaks of pale grey clouds.

  When she heard the chatter of girls coming up the stairs to the dorm she closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep, even when three of them came to her bedside.

  ‘New girl.’

  The voice was soft. Scottish?

  ‘Looks nice.’

  No accent as far as she could make out.

  ‘Pretty.’

  Victoria almost giggled. Almost. She changed it into a quiet snore.

  ‘Leave her alone and come to bed.’

  That sounded like the older woman, Chrystal. Victoria didn’t know how she felt about the air of authority held in the tone of her voice.

  In the end, despite the unusual sounds around her and the shadows of the clouds playing on the wall opposite her bed, Victoria slept.

  It wasn’t until a couple of days later that she discovered her family photos were missing.

  Chapter 11: Nelly Shuttleworth

  Ashford, morning: Thursday, September 18th

  Nelly Shuttleworth yawned and dragged the bed-covers further over her shoulders, reluctant to wake, unwilling to let go of the image that was so often in her dreams these days. The memory of when she was Nelly Bentley. Hair thick, Greta Garbo-style. Nothing like the thin wire wool that covered her scalp these days. Marlene Dietrich eyes. Slender figure, not the mounds of flesh she sometimes didn’t recognise as hers. Young. So young. Making the most of life after that first World War.

  ‘Throwing herself at all and sundry,’ her mother had called it. And what a time she’d had. Nelly chuckled, which turned into a prolonged phlegmy cough. She pushed herself up off the pillow and thumped her chest. Eventually lying down again she smirked, not chancing another laugh.

  Nobody could take that away from her. Prettiest girl on the street, she was known as, before that old bugger forced himself on her and got her pregnant. Then her mother couldn’t wait to get her out of the house and married. Nelly refused to give her husband the dignity of his name, even in her thoughts; she hadn’t spoken it since the day he’d walked out on her and their sons. Her sons. One dead and one gone God knows where for almost twenty years. One thing for sure, she didn’t want to know where.

  She yawned, pushing her face into the pillow. Downstairs the letterbox clanged as the postman pushed at it. Bet it’s only more bloody bills, she thought, scratching the vast expanse of her stomach. It was no use; she couldn’t chase after sleep all day. And the sun was so bright through the thin curtains they might as well not be there. She turned onto her back and opened one eye. There was a long strand of a silver cobweb swaying from the light shade to the far corner of the room that hadn’t been there yesterday. Or had it? She pursed her lips. So what? Nobody came into her bedroom, only her. Except for young Linda, of course. But she didn’t judge her old gran. It gave Nelly a lovely warm feeling when she thought of Linda. Best thing that had happened in her life, finding out all those years ago, that she had a granddaughter. The one and only thing her elder son had produced in his life that was worth anything.

  Nelly pulled the covers under her chin and determinedly closed her eyes. She’d just have five more minutes.

  Chapter 12: Linda Booth

  Ashford, morning: Thursday, September 18th

  Linda could hear the snores as soon as she closed the front door on the noise of the street outside. She smiled, picked a brown envelope off the floor, and made her way to the kitchen. She covered the tripe she’d bought for Nelly’s tea with a plate and put it on the cold slab in the pantry. Filling the kettle, she switched it on and went to open the back door, at the same time pushing her little finger under the flap of the envelope. Another reminder for the electricity – red this time. And for an amount that it must almost have cost them to send the bills. Bit of an exaggeration, she knew, but it was for a piffling little amount.

  She folded it up and shoved it into her pocket before taking off the short blue-checked box jacket of her suit and hanging it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. She’d call into the Electricity Showroom on her way home and pay the damn thing.

  The kettle boiled. She poured her own tea before waiting five minutes to let it brew for Nelly who hated what she called ‘piss-shacks’: weak tea. Linda watched the sun creep into the yard. Only the old lavvy, now used to store coal, was in the shade. She shivered; the place had always given her the creeps and, for years, she’d wriggled and held onto herself before admitting she needed to wee. Mum sometimes had carried her kicking and screaming, promising to keep the door open. Of course, by then, she’d wet herself anyway.

  Carefully holding the tea well away from her white blouse, Linda climbed the narrow dark stairs and went into Nelly’s bedroom. Her gran was still asleep, her lips loosely quivering with each snore.

  ‘Gran?’ she whispered. Then, louder, ‘Gran.’

  Nelly squinted. ‘Linda, pet.’ Her eyes moved to the mug of tea. ‘Ah, a welcome sight, that.’ She heaved herself up on the pillows and, reaching over, grabbed her teeth off the bedside table and crammed them into her mouth, working them around until they felt settled on her gums. ‘That’s better.’ She took the tea. ‘I were up late, last night, watching the telly,’ she said, as a way of explaining why she was still in bed. ‘I fell asleep watching that daft woman Fanny Craddock bossing her poor husband around and wearing a ball-gown, of all things, while she cooked. Why they call it a dinner party when it’s at night, lord only knows.’

  Linda smiled; her gran had a strong dislike for the television cookery presenter and a soft spot for Johnny, the bullied husband.

  Nelly blew noisily on the surface of the tea. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘what’s what?’

  ‘Richard’s arrived.’

  ‘He’s here?’ Nelly slurped her tea, winced as it scalded her mouth.

  ‘Yes, last night. Bit of a mix up at the station. William was late meeting him and Richard decided to catch the bus to Ashford. He got in a bit of bother with some bikers. He’s okay, though,’ Linda added, seeing Nelly’s eyes widen in concern. ‘I checked him out when I got home from work this morning.

  ‘Poor bairn, as though he hasn’t had enough to put up with these last few months.’

  ‘He’s fine. Apparently they just chased him and he was helped by some girl who brought him to our house.’

  ‘Your mum didn’t tell your Auntie Mary, did she?’

  ‘No. Dad rang them to say Richard had arrived here but I don’t think he mentioned anything about him being late. Anyway, Mum wasn’t too good, so she didn’t speak to Auntie Mary.’ Linda felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. She could tell from Nelly’s face that she understood what not being ‘too good’ really meant, and was grateful when she didn’t comment.

  ‘Better not to tell Mary.’ Nelly nodded her approval. ‘You know how she is about those two.’

  ‘She’s always worried about them, Gran.’

  ‘Only because of Peter. Some folks never let the past stay where it should … in the past.’

  ‘I know.’ Linda couldn’t help thinking about her Uncle Patrick and his nasty jibes. She often wondered how Jackie was such a lovely person with him as a father. ‘Anyway Richard’s okay.’

  Nelly didn’t miss the emphasis. Her fingers clenched the handle of the cup. ‘What’s that mean, love? Richard’s okay? What else is wrong? Mary—?’

  ‘Is fine.’ Li
nda knew her gran thought the world of her aunt. In the same way that, without anything being said, she’d always understood that Nelly had no time for her own mother. ‘It’s Victoria.’

  Nelly heaved a sigh that shook the whole of her unfettered bosom. ‘Much as I love both Mary’s kids, that girl will be the death of us all. What’s she done this time?’

  ‘Run away.’

  ‘My God. Where to?’ Nelly’s mouth dropped open, her teeth shifted on her gums. She pushed them back with her thumb.

  ‘They don’t know. Auntie Mary told Dad and Richard on the phone last night.’

  Nelly plucked at the eiderdown, her fingers trembling. ‘Her mother must be going mad with worry. Oh, poor Mary!’

  ‘Don’t upset yourself, Gran.’ Linda put her drink down and, kneeling by the side of the bed, folded the old woman’s hand in hers. ‘They found a note yesterday morning, after they’d seen Richard off on the train. Anyway, she – they are eighteen now. And I’m sure Victoria is more than capable of looking after herself.’

  ‘But where will she have gone?’

  ‘She didn’t say. With friends perhaps.’ Linda saw the way Nelly’s breathing quickened, heard the mucus rattling in her chest. There was a tinge of blue around her lips. ‘But I’m sure she’ll be fine, Gran. There’s nothing we can do anyway. And I bet she’ll be back as soon as she runs out of money, knowing Victoria.’ She forced a smile, patted Nelly’s hand. ‘Lie still for a bit. I’ll go and see if the pot’s still warm.’

  Downstairs, she found Nelly’s angina tablets and quickly poured another cup of tea before hurrying back upstairs. ‘Here we are.’

  ‘I don’t fancy another drink now, love. Sorry.’

  ‘That’s fine. I’ll just put it here until I go down.’ She sat next to the bed again. The colour in her grandmother’s face had returned to normal and she relaxed.

  ‘And I don’t need those, either. Bloody tablets.’ Nelly settled back on her pillow. She clasped her hands over her stomach, rolling her thumbs around one another. ‘I’ve ’ad a thought. I know why Victoria’s done this. Same old thing; she’s thinking Richard’s getting all the attention.’ She’s pulled some stunt every time he’s had one of his operations. Now what with this last one in July and him going for this special university, she’ll be jealous.’