I wouldn’t put it together. Mum would be back for me, and that was that. Even when Carolyn sat me down a few days (a few weeks? I don’t know; time had lost all meaning for me) later and said that although police hadn’t found my mother, they didn’t think she was coming home, I still wouldn’t believe it. Even when Caroline and Rob held a private memorial service on the beach one windswept morning in autumn, I clung on. The marker on my mother’s empty grave on the hill became weathered, but I held out. The rosebush my aunt had planted in memory of my mum grew and grew, sprouting more heady-smelling blossoms each summer. And still I thought my mother would come back for me. I was certain of it.
Mum wouldn’t break those ten words. And more than that, if she really was going to leave me for ever, she would have left one thing behind: the necklace with the heart pendant that she always wore. It hadn’t been in the plastic bag I’d seen that morning. She’d promised it to me when I grew up . . . when I was old enough to have a love – a life – of my own. Her eyes always looked sad when she said that, and I’d throw my arms around her and say that I’d never leave her.
My eyes widened at the memory. I’d forgotten about that necklace. I strained to recall when I’d first seen it around my mother’s neck, but of course I couldn’t remember. It was just always there, a flash of gold against my mother’s creamy skin. I’d loved the heavy heart, always begging my mum to take it off and let me prance in front of the mirror, playing princess. I’d hung on to the fact that she hadn’t left me the necklace as proof she was going to return.
But gradually, like those ten little words, I’d realised it was just another promise my mother wasn’t going to keep. I’d shoved the memory and her empty words to the back of my mind; to the back of my soul . . . until now. Why hadn’t she left the necklace? I wondered. Why hadn’t she left a note, something – anything – or me, her only child? Anger darted through me, but I managed to block it quickly, a quiet confidence seeping through me as the rogue emotion faded away. I could do this. I could face the past and walk away unscathed.
I took a deep breath and headed to Carolyn’s door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ELLA
I pressed the doorbell, shifting back and forth as I waited for my aunt (it was always Carolyn who answered, pushing past Rob if he ever tried). It was like she was living in a permanent state of expectation, waiting for me to come home again.
‘Ella!’ Her eyebrows flew up. ‘Come in, come in!’
I paused for second, wondering if she was going to try to hug me, but thankfully, she’d stopped trying. She opened the door wide and I stepped inside, struggling to remember the last time I’d been here – in December, probably, for Christmas lunch. I’d dragged myself out of bed as late as possible then thrown on my clothes and headed over. It was the one day I didn’t have to tuck my chin down to avoid passers-by; the city was quiet and still, like I was the only person in the world.
‘I’m so sorry, but we’ve finished all the fish pie,’ Carolyn was saying. ‘I can knock you up a nice grilled cheese, if you like?’
I shook my head. ‘No, thanks.’
Carolyn didn’t look surprised by my rejection. ‘Come in, then. Rob’s in the lounge, struggling with sudoku.’ She rolled her eyes and I couldn’t help smiling. Every night, Carolyn and Rob competed to complete the day’s puzzle. And every night, Carolyn won. They used to ask me to join in, and I’d pretend I wasn’t playing, even though I was trying to figure it out, too. I loved puzzles: a simple problem contained within a nice, neat box that could always be solved.
‘Look who’s here!’ Carolyn ushered me into the stuffy room. Even though it was summer, a fire blazed in the hearth. Carolyn always kept the place on jungle-setting, as if heat could banish the house’s emptiness. Warmth seeped into me and I could feel my cheeks flush.
‘Well, well.’ Rob glanced up with a grin. ‘It’s good to see you. Come and sit down and let me know what you’ve been up to. Thank God you came – I was about to lose it with this puzzle!’
I sat down beside him. I never felt the same discomfort around Rob that I did with Carolyn. Maybe it was because I’d never had a father in my life; someone whose place he’d tried to fill. My dad had died shortly before I was born, but even if he’d lived, I sensed he wouldn’t have been on the scene. Mum had always said I was hers and hers alone. She hadn’t even named my father on my birth certificate, showing just how superfluous he was.
I blinked, remembering the time Carolyn applied for my passport. I must have been around ten, and even though my mum had been gone for five years, I still believed she’d be back. I’d picked up a document on the table, noticing it was my birth certificate, my eyes tearing as I ran my fingers over my mother’s name. The box for my father’s name was blank, but that didn’t faze me. He’d always been just that: a blank, and I’d never felt the urge to fill it in. Seeing the document had made my mother’s words even clearer: I was hers. She would come back.
When she didn’t, I realised I was no one’s but my own. Only I could protect myself, keep myself safe.
That’s exactly why I was here.
I bit my lip. Now that I was ready to face the past, I wasn’t sure how to start. I shifted in the chair, drawing a cushion into my arms. Much to Rob’s dismay, Carolyn had a habit of cluttering every sofa and chair with cushions. She claimed to love the contrast of colours and I’m sure she thought she was making everyone as comfortable as possible, but to me it felt like she was smothering every surface. Now, though, I was happy for their presence. I held it against me like a shield.
‘So’ – Carolyn cocked her head and smiled – ‘how are things at the museum? I’ve been meaning to see their new exhibition . . . songs of seabirds, isn’t it? Did you help put it together?’
I nodded, my mind flying through the hours upon hours I’d spent combing through the sound archives, pulling the right files for the exhibition. Others might see it as a tedious task but, for me, there was something hypnotic about listening to the sharp cry of birds above the rolling sea. If that was the last thing my mother had heard before the water took her under, then she was lucky. In a way, I almost longed to duck under the salty, cold water myself.
I cleared my throat, shaking myself from my reverie. I wasn’t here to talk about the exhibition. The sooner I got this over with, the better.
‘Look . . .’ I clutched the cushion tighter. ‘I just, well . . . I’ve been thinking of my mother a lot lately.’ That much was true. Ever since seeing that advert, I’d barely thought of anything else. Carolyn shot Rob a questioning glance before her face returned to a careful neutral expression I knew very well. ‘I guess I just . . . well, I was wondering why she took her life. Was she really that unhappy with me?’ The last question slipped out before I could stop it, and I wanted to kick myself. I sounded like the five-year-old I once was. It was more than obvious she hadn’t been happy with me – with being my mother – wasn’t it?
‘Oh, Ella.’ Firelight flickered on my aunt’s face, the glow highlighting her sympathetic features. Annoyance and irritation darted through me. I didn’t need sympathy. For a second, I regretted opening up this Pandora’s box. But I had to. I couldn’t turn around now. Not if I ever wanted to be at peace again.