Shallow Be Thy Grave (2 page)

Out on the landing, she knocked again on Jo’s door - then barged her way in without waiting for an answer.  In the dark she only just managed to locate the lump of Jo, wrapped in bedclothes on the futon. “Fiona’s missing.”

Jo raised a sleepy head off the pillow and squinted at Lily. “Again?”

“Stuart’s downstairs.” Lily felt sick again as she said the words.

She left Jo’s room and ran back down the stairs and into the front room before the thought occurred to her to give her reflection a quick once over in the mirror in the bathroom. She glanced down at her T-shirt. Jo had bought it for her for her birthday last year. It said 'Bring back Capital Punishment - Hang Thatcher', and apart from the grease stain on the front, seemed pretty presentable. Stuart sat on the settee nearest the window, a glimpse of tanned knee protruding through a rip in his jeans. She took a breath, tried to use the solemnity of the situation to ground herself. “Poor Arthur. How’s Alice taking it?”

“Your dad’s been trying to ring you.”

 Lily’s hands shook as she reached for the tin of Golden Virginia that sat on the mantelpiece.

“He’s taking it badly,” said Stuart.

She picked a ready rolled cigarette out of the tin and put it between her lips. “Well, I know it must be sad, when your dad dies.” She picked up one of the pots on the mantelpiece and plucked out a pink disposable lighter, holding the smooth plastic in her hands. “But then, at least he had one, for what, fifty years?”

“True.” There was no argument in Stuart’s tone.

“I mean,” she stared at a spot at the coving above the fire and wondered why she’d never noticed the enormous cobweb before. “He should be grateful his dad didn’t fuck off the day he was born.”

 Stuart stood up. He paced round the coffee table in the centre of the room. It was still full of the beer cans from last night. “I was really hoping Fiona’d rung you.”

“Well, she hasn’t.”

The door opened and Jo burst into the front room with a cigarette between her lips and her pink mohican still thick with last night’s gel. Her eyes were screwed up against the smoke. She glowered at Stuart and removed her cigarette. “Stuart, long time. What’s up?”

“Arthur’s died,” said Stuart.

“Oh,” said Jo. 

“And Fiona’s gone inter-railing,” added Lily. “She doesn’t know. No one’s heard from her since...” Lily sought out Stuart for confirmation.

“Nearly a week.”

“Well, that’s hardly missing,” said Jo, sitting down on the settee and tucking her legs under her bum. “I’m sure she’ll turn up sooner or later. Sorry about Arthur though, Lil. You ok?”

Lily nodded, as if to try to convince herself. She’d made a decision. Clean breaks were best. “My da… David’s not though. He’s taken it bad.”

Jo nodded, like the news was of mild interest, but didn’t cause her any discomfort.

“You’ve got to feel sorry for him,” said Stuart.

Jo’s arm was on the way up to her mouth, to inhale on her cigarette. She stopped, her fingers frozen mid-air and frowned at Stuart. “Why?”

“Well, you know,” said Stuart. “His dad’s died. He’s on his own. The divorce turned really nasty. He came out of it with nothing.”

Lily winced but Stuart didn’t seem to notice.

“Hardly surprising when your ex wife’s a lawyer,” he added.

“And you’ve spent the whole of your married life lying to her,” said Jo.

“He deserves to have someone with him at his father’s funeral.” Stuart’s voice was gentle but firm.

Jo spoke to Lily, “Will you go?”

Lily’s jaw slackened. “To the funeral? I can’t. I…”

“I’ll come with you,” said Jo, “if you wanted, I mean.”

“Do you guys ever check your messages?” asked Stuart. “I’ve been trying to ring you for the past two days. Maybe Fiona has too.”

There was silence in the room. Lily took a drag on her roll up before realising she hadn’t got round to lighting it. The telephone, with its state-of-the-art, built-in answer machine - courtesy of Jo’s brother Ste, was out on a table in the hall.

“She hasn’t rung in ages,” said Lily, as Jo hauled herself up out of the settee and went to retrieve the phone.  Lily took Jo’s seat on the settee. She could feel the imprint and warmth of Jo’s bum. “Can’t the police track her down?”

“Your dad’s rung them,” said Stuart.

“Let’s call him David,” said Lily. It was all she could do to keep breathing under Stuart’s gaze.

Stuart shrugged. “The French police went round to her flat but there was no one in. And no one seems to know where she was headed. There’s not much they can do. It’s not like a crime has taken place.”

Jo came back into the room carrying the phone, its white extension lead trailing behind.

 “It’s my fault she went to France in the first place,” said Lily.

 “No, it’s not,” said Stuart. “It’s mine.”

“I agree,” said Jo. “You’re the one that cheated, not Lily.” She set the white plastic phone down on the small coffee table, and pressed a button. “You have sixteen messages,” came the electronic voice as Lily’s stomach flipped over. She wanted to go and make herself vomit in the bathroom - only the thought that Stuart might hear her stopped her.

“I can’t believe you don’t check your messages,” he said as he flopped down next to Lily on the soft, grey settee.

“No one ever rings, ‘cept my mum,” said Jo.

Lily took one of Jo’s cigarettes from the packet on the table as the mini cassette inside the machine rewound.

“What’s David going to do?” asked Lily.

“Give her a couple of days. I think he’s upset with her – I’m guessing she’s not been great at keeping in touch.”

Jo was busy deleting messages, mainly from her mother, although Lily had also heard Aunt Edie’s voice, talking like the answer machine was not only deaf, but it had to write down what she was saying. “It’s. Auntie. Edie. Just. Ringing. To. See. How. You. Are.”

Lily steeled herself to ask Stuart the question she didn’t really want to know the answer to. “So, how is he, David. I mean, generally?”

But she was saved from listening to the answer, because Fiona’s voice filled the room. As soon as she heard the first word, Lily knew her half-sister was crying. “Lily? Are you there? Please, pick up if you are. Oh God, it’s all a big, fat mess. I really need to talk to you.” Each sentence was punctuated by a pause as Fiona had obviously waited to see if Lily would pick up the call. “I know it’s late.” Fiona’s sobs intensified. “I really need you.”

Lily cursed herself. Why the fuck hadn’t she picked up the call?

“Please. Lily. Are you there? Oh, God.”

Fiona’s last words were drowned out by her sobbing and then the connection was cut.

“When was that?” asked Stuart.

Jo replayed the message. The electronic voice droned out the date. “Message. Received. Thursday, May 3rd, at eleven, forty, five pm.”

“Where the fuck were we?” asked Lily.

“Thursday? That was The Wedding Present gig-”

Jo stopped speaking as Lily flapped her hands to listen to Fiona repeat the same words. The last sentence sounded like, ‘I’ve got no one.’ Lily leaned forward, her head almost touching the answer machine. Fiona sounded about twelve years old.  The guilt tasted like vinegar. “What’s that about?”

No one answered.

“What’s today?” asked Lily, standing up.

“The 9
th
,” said Stuart.

“Wednesday,” said Jo, as Lily flashed Stuart a look of confusion. “That was six days ago.”

“Why the fuck haven’t we listened to the messages?” Lily asked no one in particular.

The machine continued to play. A message from Lily’s boss  at the Fenton asking if she could work an extra shift. Another from Jo’s mum. Then Lily heard her father’s voice, curt and clipped. “This is a message for Lily. Lily Appleyard. Could she please ring as soon as she gets this message? Thank you. It’s her father. David.”

Like she had a plethora of fathers ringing her.

His next two messages were the same, only more urgent, resorting on the final one to the second person, “Can you please ring.”

 Then Stuart’s voice, “Hi Lily.” Jo hit delete before the message even played, staring at Stuart as she did so. Five times. It sounded like a loop. “Hi Lily. Beep. Message deleted. Hi Lily. Beep. Message deleted.”

Soon the only message left was Fiona’s. Jo played it again, as the three of them each wrestled their own personal demon. “I’ve got no one else.”

“Fuck,” said Lily. The nicotine hit combined with the guilt and the remnants of last night’s tequilas made her head rush. “I’ve got to find her. Now.”

Lily crossed the room to the wooden set of drawers in the corner and yanked the top one open. It often stuck, but Lily tugged it so hard it flew out of its housing, spilling most of its contents on the floor. Lily dropped to her knees, rummaging through the pile of unopened envelopes, handwritten lecture notes and take-away menus.

 “I could come with you,” said Stuart, “only-”

“No, you won’t.” Jo interrupted. “I’ll go.”

“Neither of you are coming. You’ve both got degrees to finish,” said Lily.

“I finished mine last year,” said Stuart.

“Oh,” said Lily, slightly taken aback by this marker of time. She didn’t look up from her task. “Well, you’re still not coming. I’ve got to do this on my own.”

“I’ve got an interview at,” Stuart continued, “well, I’ve got an interview, on Friday. I really should go to it. But after that…”

Jo lowered her voice and spoke directly to him. “If you think you’re going to use this as a way of getting into my best mate’s knickers...”

Stuart scowled. “Don’t be stupid. I’m worried about Fiona.”

“If you hadn’t have got off with her sister, she’d probably still be at school doing her A levels right about now.”

“If you hadn’t  kidnapped her...”

“Here it is. My passport,” said Lily turning to them both. Her cheeks were flushed.  After her awful experiences on the Costa del Sol last year, she’d thought she’d never need it again. She opened the cover, turned to the first page with the photograph and flinched. Short, cropped hair, a fuller face. She’d been a different person last year.

“Mine’s upstairs,” said Jo.

“We can go to the travel agent in the Union,” said Lily.

“Give me ten minutes to get dressed,” Jo stood up.

Lily didn’t even glance at Stuart. Her eyes were fixed on Jo. “What about Poly?”

Jo crossed the room to the door, paused with her hand resting on the door handle. She turned to face Lily. “It’s pretty much finished apart from the small matter of finals. And we’ll be back before then. Besides, it’s shit anyway.”

It took Jo more than ten minutes. Lily ended up banging on her bedroom door impatiently, having flung a handful of her own clothes into a small rucksack in less than half the time. As they walked down through Hyde Park in the weak May sunshine, Lily was aware of a feeling of inappropriate excitement. Her brain told her off. Told her that she should be racked with guilt and worry about her younger half sibling and how she was going to break the news of her grandfather’s death to her - she knew how much Fiona thought of him. But, for the first time in a long time, over a year, she had a reason to be up, to be doing something. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t woken up wondering how she was going to get through the day.

“There are two seats on a flight from Manchester, leaving at four o’clock this afternoon,” the spotty assistant at the Union travel agency was flushed with pride at his coup. “£20 quid each, one way. Reckon you can make it?”

“We can if we run,” said Jo.

Lily paid cash, having drawn a chunk of money out of the Union’s branch of Barclays. She still flinched at the discomfort of being a trust fund kid. In fact, apart from the month’s deposit they’d had to pay when they rented the flat, this was the first time she’d ever touched any of the allowance she received from her maternal grandfather’s trust - preferring instead to get by on the wages she received from her job at The Fenton. Solidarity in student poverty, even though technically she wasn’t a student any more.

Twenty minutes later, the three of them were down at the train station, south of the city. “Are you sure you’ll be ok?” Stuart asked. “What will you do?”

“She must have told someone where they were going,” said Jo. “We’ll start with the Beaumonts. They’ve got to know something.”

“David said they weren’t much help. You know she quit her job?”

“No,” said Lily. She knew Fiona wasn’t much enjoying being an au pair, but she didn’t know she’d quit. She was suddenly aware of how little she knew about her half sister’s life. “When?”

“They’ll know who her friends are. We’ll find out where she’s gone,” said Jo, with more confidence than Lily felt.

“Ring me if you need anything,” said Stuart. “I mean it, anything. I can come over if you need me.”

Stuart bought a platform ticket while Lily and Jo bought tickets for the Manchester train and they made their way to platform twelve together.

“We’ve got five minutes. I’m just going to try Andy again,” said Jo, gesturing towards the line of red telephone boxes.

Without Jo, Lily and Stuart faced each other in silence. Lily dropped her small rucksack to the floor. The platform was full of students and travellers and Lily felt safer for being in a crowd. She was aware, as the train lumbered into the station, of a feeling like she didn’t want to leave him. She picked at the skin on the side of her thumb. “Do you think she’s alright?”

“I don’t know.” Stuart exhaled heavily. “I wish I hadn’t heard that message. I mean, she could just have been having a bad moment.”

“She’s never rung me like that before.” Lily cursed herself again for not being there to take her half-sister’s call. “God, I wish-”

“David said she said she was looking forward to getting a tan.”

Lily nodded, unsure of what he was saying.

“So she’ll probably have headed south.”

“Right,” said Lily. South. She committed the word ‘south’ to memory, like it was the name of a hotel or something. She couldn’t help feeling she was the least qualified person to undertake this kind of search. Her grasp of world geography was limited - she wasn’t even sure she knew what was south of France. Was it Africa?