The Truth About Celia Frost (10 page)

“Oh yeah and who’s put all this into your head? Who have you been talking to?”

“Who I talk to is none of your business. You’ve done your best to make sure that I never had anyone to talk to. Everywhere we’ve ever been you made people think that I was
untouchable. The girl with the freaky illness, the girl no one wants to hang out with in case I bleed to death on them! You’ve never let me stay anywhere. Always dragging me from one place to
the next. But now I know why: it’s when people start to get suspicious, isn’t it? It’s when they start to think you might be lying.”

“Celia, love, you’ve got to believe me. Everything I do is for you,” Janice implored.

“Shut up! Just shut up! The lies have got to stop right now. Either you show me proof or I’m going to the police.”

“I can’t give you proof but I’m begging you to trust me. If you bleed it could be disastrous – it’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous!” Celia shouted. “The only danger I’m in is from you.”

“I’d never do anything to hurt you!”

“I think the evidence contradicts that, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t put you through all this for no reason.”

“I know, but there is a reason and it’s that you’re a total nutcase who’s used me and an imaginary illness to get attention from people; to make yourself feel important,
because you’re nothing, you’re no one. Isn’t that right?” Celia bawled at her.

“No, Celia. I’ve just been trying to keep you safe. Even if I can’t explain it, I need you to trust me.”

“No way! I’ve trusted you for fourteen years because you’re my mother so I believed what you told me, like any kid would. But not any more.”

“Celia, I love you. Don’t do this to us,” Janice pleaded.

“Shut up. Just looking at you makes me feel sick.”

Janice’s voice hardened. “You need to stop and think about this. What will happen if they take you away from me? Do you really want to end up in care like I did? People being paid to
look after you. Paid to pretend to like you. Surrounded by kids who’ve been so screwed up that they’ll do anything to drag you down with them.”

“I’ll get fostered. Some lovely,
normal
family will take me in,” Celia answered.

“Don’t kid yourself,” Janice laughed bitterly. “No one wants to foster teenagers. You’d be dumped, left to rot in some kids’ home until they chucked you out
at sixteen with nothing and no one. You know there’s no one else to look after you. It’s always been just you and me.”

Celia knew she was right. Janice never spoke of her parents. She’d only ever say that she didn’t know or care where they were. There had never been any mention of grandparents or
aunties and uncles. Janice was all Celia had.

“I love you so much, Celia,” Janice began to crumble. Tears welled up in her eyes as she buckled at Celia’s feet. “You’re all I live for. I would die for
you.”

“Stop! Just stop with all the acting. Emotional blackmail is one of your specialities, isn’t it? You’ve always been able to make me do what you say because I felt so guilty, so
frightened; thinking I was causing you a life of pure stress with my ‘disorder’; thinking I could bleed to death. How could you do that to me?”

Janice sobbed. “You mustn’t do anything stupid. We’ve got to stick together. I’m the only one who can look after you.”

At that moment Celia wanted to feel such hatred for Janice, but she found she couldn’t: it would go against everything that she’d ever felt for this woman – this sickly-looking
wretch who had devoted her life to Celia, lavished love on her, worked to provide for her until her hands were raw and her frail body ached.

“You keep out of my way,” Celia hissed. “No more telling people that I’m ill. No more telling me what I can and can’t do. You don’t ask me where I’m
going or what I’m doing. These are my conditions. You stick to them, otherwise I swear that I’ll go to the police and social services and have you sectioned! Do you
understand?”

“Yes. I understand. Anything, Celia, anything you want. Just stay with me.” Janice clung to her legs, a quivering, sobbing bag of bones. Celia looked down on the pathetic sight and
knew that Janice wouldn’t survive without her. She felt overwhelmed by a mixture of pity and disgust, for this, the only person in the world who loved her.

Frankie’s Oscar-winning performance at the coach station paid off. He’d been back in his office for a couple of hours when he’d received a call from one of
the drivers telling him that he’d picked up the woman in the photograph and an orange-haired girl on that Friday. He remembered them among the coachload of passengers because the girl had
been crying.

“I knew it,” Frankie said to him. “She didn’t want to go with her mother. She wanted to stay here with me. So where did they get off?”

Frankie was hoping it would be a town small enough to have a chance of tracking them down, but when the driver replied that they’d disembarked in one of the biggest cities in England, his
heart sank.

“Did anyone meet them off the coach?” Frankie asked.

“No one that I saw. I handed them their luggage and they disappeared into the crowd. I really hope you find them, mate.”

“So do I,” Frankie replied with genuine feeling.

Frankie had immediately posted a report and the hair-enmeshed brush to his client. He’d tried to get on with his other cases while he awaited instructions. However, as each day passed he
knew that the Frost trail would be getting colder and his job harder. He decided to contact Julian, who was less than pleased to hear from him.

Julian had been Frankie’s best investment. They’d met back in Frankie’s police days, when he’d dealt with allegations that the nineteen-year-old IT student had been
hacking into his own bank account and changing his overdraft to a healthy credit. Frankie had made the allegations go away in return for Julian’s help “now and then”. It had
sounded like a good deal at the time, but now Julian was thirty and held a senior position in one of the biggest telecommunications firms on the planet, and the crooked ex-cop was still demanding
information that only a skilled hacker like him could provide.

“Just a little favour, Julian,” Frankie had said to the protesting man. “Here’s a couple of names. See what you can find out.”

A few days later Frankie’s mobile rang.

“Hello,” Frankie said. He never answered his phone by announcing his name. He always waited to hear who the caller would ask for as, in the course of his numerous investigations,
Frankie used several pseudonyms to protect his identity. He, of all people, knew what powerful information it was to know someone’s real name.

“Hello,” a cultured female voice replied. “Is that Mr. Byrne?”

“Who’s calling, please?” he asked in his most polite voice.

“This is Nemo.”

Frankie was taken aback. “Yes, this is Frankie Byrne. Did you get my package?”

“Yes and I’m very satisfied with your progress, Mr. Byrne. I now have the results from the hair you provided and its DNA proves beyond doubt that this is the girl I am looking for.
This, together with the fact that people recognized the photograph as Janice Frost, means that I am confident that we have positive identifications for these two people.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got more information for you.” Frankie was pleased with himself. “I got a contact of mine to fish around on a few databases and he found out that this
Janice Frost was brought up in care. There’s no mention of any contact with relatives; she doesn’t seem to have any roots. Also, she spent a few months in a young offender institution
in her late teens for persistent shoplifting. After that, there’s nothing on her. From the data on her National Insurance contributions it would be fair to say that she must work for cash in
hand, never claims benefits and doesn’t use credit cards. She’s obviously a lady who isn’t keen on people having information on her.”

“I hope this information wasn’t obtained using any official channels. You have understood that there must be no police involvement in this case whatsoever, no matter what
happens,” Nemo said curtly.

“Of course – that goes without saying.” Frankie’s pride was hurt. “I am used to dealing with cases of a ‘delicate’ nature. Anyway, I’ve found out
more from the searches, something really odd.”

“Go on.”

“Well, it looks like Celia Frost’s birth was never registered, not using that name anyway. Janice Frost has never registered any child’s birth or claimed child benefit or
anything else for her.”

“Mr. Byrne.” The client’s tone was stern. “I appreciate that as part of your investigation you may well unearth certain information that is, perhaps, perplexing, but you
must remember that, for now, your only concern is to locate these people. Whatever else you find out can be passed on to me and then any evidence of it destroyed and forgotten about. You must not
get involved in areas which do not concern you. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Frankie answered.

“I came to you because you have a certain reputation. I hope that you’re not going to disappoint me.”

“No, madam, you won’t be disappointed.”

“From now on you can contact me on this mobile number. I need you to put all your efforts into finding these people. I need regular updates. They mustn’t know that they are being
looked for. We can’t afford for them to run away again.”

“Yes, madam, but you’ve got to appreciate that it may take some time. Even though we know what city they travelled to, that was three weeks ago and we have very little else to go on.
All I’ve got is an old photo of Janice Frost and no photo of Celia – nothing to show around.”

“I know that this will be time consuming, but the quicker you find them the more I’m prepared to pay,” Nemo said.

“But I have other ongoing cases. I have other clients depending on me too.”

“I need you to work exclusively on my case. Put the other cases on hold and I guarantee that I will compensate you.”

“You must want to find these people pretty badly,” said Frankie.

“Mr. Byrne, I’ve been looking for them for a long, long time. If I was only at liberty to explain to you how important it is to find them, I guarantee that you wouldn’t eat or
sleep until you did.”

Sol looked at his watch again: quarter past twelve. She wasn’t coming. Why did he feel so lousy? She was only some stupid girl, who’d nearly got herself killed by
running off a cliff. It’s not like he needed her here, invading his space. And all that stuff about her mum and the blood disorder – it was all too weird; he was best off out of it. He
started to pack up his rucksack; he’d suddenly gone off the idea of spending the day here. Just then, Celia emerged from the trees and stood next to him on the top slab. She was breathless
and flustered.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” Sol said, unaware that a beaming smile had spread across his face.

“I’m sorry. I’ve had a nightmare getting here. The closest bus stop is nowhere near and then it’s taken me ages to find the way back to the lake. I lost track of where
the hole under the fence is,” Celia said, plopping herself down on the warm, smooth stone and feeling immediately calmed by the scene that surrounded her.

“Are you sure that you’ve got enough suncream on?” asked Sol as he looked at the white goo smeared on every inch of Celia’s exposed skin.

“Factor 50. It’s impossible to rub in, but I thought it was best to be on the safe side. This skin isn’t used to sunshine,” she said, waving her squelching arms and legs
about. “Mum’s always made me wear long sleeves and trousers in case I fell over,” she sneered. “But not any more. I’m going to wear what I like from now on.”

“How did it go with your mum?”

“Well, you were right. She’s definitely got that mental thing – she’s a complete and utter nutter,” Celia answered, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

“What?! So she
really
has been lying about the blood clotting thing!”

“Yep, I gave her the chance to prove it but she couldn’t. She just kept spouting a pack of lies about needing to keep me safe,” Celia snorted in disgust. “She even
admitted that if social services investigated, I’d be taken off her.”

“So what are you going to do?” Sol asked anxiously.