Killing Rachel (8 page)

‘That’s it!’ she said. ‘She’s dead. Found in the boating lake.’

She leant on the table, her hand next to
The Butterfly Project
.

‘That’s terrible. I mean, I know you didn’t like the girl much but . . .’

‘How come you didn’t like her?’ Skeggsie said, pulling a blue inhaler from his shirt pocket and sucking on it.

‘She bullied her,’ Joshua said.

‘No,’ Rose said. ‘Not exactly . . .’

‘Violence?’

‘No.’

‘Intimidation?’

‘No, not really . . .’

‘What then?’

‘I can’t really explain.’

Skeggsie tutted, rolling his eyes.

‘What?’ she demanded.

‘Girl’s stuff,
hurt feelings
.’

‘What do you know about it?’ she said, instantly irked.

‘I know about being bullied,’ Skeggsie said slowly, moving towards the table, tidying up some of the printed pages there.

‘Just because you had a hard time, that doesn’t mean you’re some kind of expert on it!’

‘I didn’t say I was . . .’

‘You’ve got no idea what it was like,’ Rose said.

‘I had some horrible experiences . . .’

‘But not like mine!’

‘’Course. I was in a boys’ school.’

‘Don’t say you had a harder time than me. Don’t say it.’

‘Rosie . . .’ Joshua said. ‘You know Skeggsie had a bad time.’

‘But he shouldn’t talk like he is in some sort of competition.’

‘I’m not.’

‘People can get hurt in different ways.’

‘I know that.’

‘You don’t have the monopoly in getting hurt!’ she said, her voice loud and scratchy.

Skeggsie turned away and began fiddling with Joshua’s keyboard. Rose closed her eyes as a tear slid out.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I know you got hurt. Joshua told me. I’m upset about my friend. I was just taking it out on you. I didn’t mean that kind of bullying. I’m sorry. It’s hard to explain.’

‘Let’s make some tea,’ Joshua said, taking Rose’s elbow and leading her out of the room.

The kitchen table was also full of stuff. Rose sat down and pushed away piles of printouts. The name Viktor Baranski was highlighted on a nearby page but she didn’t look at it. Her throat was cracked and she was on the brink of crying. Why had she exploded at Skeggsie? Of all people? Skeggsie who had been picked on at school. Then, while at university, he’d had his flat broken into by students who had once been lodgers there. Skeggsie did know about people’s cruelty – it was just that he seemed to carry that knowledge with such smugness.

Why did she find it so hard to like him?

Joshua placed a mug of tea in front of her.

‘Don’t get upset. You know what Skeggsie’s like. In any case, his asthma’s playing up and it makes him tetchy.’

‘I shouldn’t have shouted at him . . .’

‘It was my fault. I mentioned the dreaded “B” word.’

‘He thinks I’m stupid.’

‘He likes you. Believe me, I’d know if he didn’t. Now do you want to talk about it? Pardon me for saying it but do you think all that emotion was really meant for someone else – not Skeggsie. Is it for this girl who you say you “hated”?’

Joshua made the quotation signs with his fingers.

‘You’re psychoanalysing me now.’

‘Someone has to.’

‘Do you charge?’

‘A hundred pounds an hour.’

She mustered a smile and drank her tea.

‘But there are some cases that are so fascinating I will do them for free.’

‘You know what? It’s simple. I didn’t like her and now she’s dead. The complicated bit is that she reached out for me to help her and I ignored it.’

He didn’t speak.

‘You know if she had been in the water and cried out to me I would have raced over to help her. No matter how she had hurt my feelings. But, because her cries were from a distance, in letters and phone calls, I could just ignore it. God! It was only weeks ago that I stood round while another girl got killed! What sort of person am I?’

‘Hey, you’re a really good person.’

The door opened behind her and she could feel Skeggsie come in.

‘Sorry, Skeggs, again,’ she said, without looking round.

‘’S OK. Any tea going?’

They sat drinking tea and Joshua got out a packet of breadsticks, which they all nibbled their way through. After a while, when she felt better, Rose focused on the printouts on the table. The name Viktor Baranski was highlighted in most of them.

‘What’s going on with all this stuff? You and Skeggsie look as though you’re up to something.’

‘Yeah, well, after . . . Well, I thought it was time to get on with the practical side of things. Tell her what we’ve found out, Skeggs.’

Skeggsie took a deep breath and pulled the pages on the table together.

‘We’ve been looking at the guy whose photo we’ve got in the notebook. Viktor Baranski. Ex navy. Might have given information to British secret services.’

Rose tried to look interested.

‘Baranski was murdered in 2006 and there was a hint of the Russian secret police’s involvement, blah, blah. His company fell apart although his son is still in London. Lev Baranski. Thirty-one years old. He runs a restaurant in South Kensington.’

‘So,’ said Joshua dramatically, ‘Skeggsie and I are going there tomorrow.’

‘What for?’

‘To see Lev Baranski.’

‘Oh.’

‘He’s the only link we’ve got to Frank Richards and then to Dad and Kathy. His dad’s photograph is in the notebook.’

‘What are you going to say to him?’

‘Not sure. We’ll work out some story when we get there.’

‘You’re going
undercover
?’ Rose said, smiling.

‘Sort of,’ Joshua said. ‘But that’s not all we’re doing. We’re driving up to Norfolk at the weekend. We’re going to look for the places marked on Dad’s map.’

‘You two?’ Rose said, looking at each of them.

‘Yeah. Skeggs is driving.’

Rose didn’t say anything. She hadn’t been asked to go along either to the restaurant or to Norfolk. She hadn’t been included in these adventures. She should have felt hurt by it but she didn’t. She just felt weary.

‘You could come!’ Joshua said, as if reading her mind.

She shook her head. ‘I’ve got stuff to sort out. Work that’s overdue at college. I need, maybe, to spend a bit of time on my own.’

‘OK,’ Joshua said. ‘I’ll have my laptop with me and phone, so plenty of ways to stay in touch.’

‘Right, you can send me updates of your escapade!’

‘It’s not an
escapade
, Rosie. This is serious stuff,’ Joshua said, looking mildly hurt.

‘’Course it is,’ Rose said.

‘And,’ Skeggsie said, ‘we’ve started to try and fathom the secret code in the book.’

Rose stood up. Secret codes and escapades. It was like something out of an old-fashioned adventure story. While they were playing around with all this she had the weight of knowledge that someone had asked for her help and she had done nothing. Even if that someone was Rachel Bliss.

She went out into the hall and got her coat and bag.

‘See you, guys,’ she shouted and headed for the stairs.

On Thursday morning, before getting ready for college, she rang Martha Harewood. Her next phone call was to Joshua. He answered immediately.

‘When are you going to Norfolk?’ she asked bluntly.

‘Tomorrow morning. But there’s a slight change of plan. Skeggsie can’t come. His asthma’s flared up. Temperature, wheezing. He’s in bed sucking on his nebuliser.’

‘Oh! Is it serious?’

‘He’s like this every now and again. He just has to drop everything, take the steroids and antibiotics and wait till his peak flow gets better. He should be OK in a few days.’

‘Peak flow?’ Rose said.

‘It’s an asthma thing. Not known to us regular people with working lungs.’

‘Right.’

‘I’ve seen him like this a lot. Believe me, he’ll bounce back.’

‘So what about Norfolk?’

‘I’m going on my own.’

‘How will you get there?’

‘Skeggsie says I can take his car.’

‘You can drive?’

‘Yes, Rosie, I can drive.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘There’s lots you don’t know about me.’

‘Can I come? I want to go to my old school. I’ve looked on Google Maps. It’s about twelve miles from Stiffkey. That’s where you’re going, isn’t it? You could drop me off. I’ve spoken to my old housemistress and she says that I can stay there for a couple of nights. You can come back for me on Sunday.’

‘What about your gran?’

‘She’s going away for the weekend.’

‘Why are you going to your old school?’

‘I want to find out what happened to Rachel. Also I want to give the police some letters that she wrote me. I feel I want to be there, where it happened, even just for a short time.’

‘To get it out of your system?’

‘Maybe.’

‘OK, I’ll pick you up tomorrow about nine.’

‘Thanks.’

She sat back on her bed, Rachel’s letters beside her. The trip would mean missing college the next day but it couldn’t be helped. She was finally going back to Mary Linton.

Even though it was too late to do any good.

NINE

Rose sat in the front of Skeggsie’s Mini. Her rucksack was on the back seat. She’d packed the minimum of things that she would need: a change of clothes and her laptop. Her mobile was on her knee.

They went at a steady pace, Rose watching Joshua drive the car competently. How could she not have known that he drove? She must have had amazement written all over her face because he glanced at her and started to explain.

‘My Uncle Stu taught me to drive,’ he said, ‘when I was sixteen. He used to take me to this disused airfield that he knew. And he let me drive the car round and round. He sat back and got his tin of tobacco out and made ten roll-ups while I drove. Then, when I was seventeen, he put in for my theory and my test and I passed first time.’

Rose pictured Joshua sitting nervously at the wheel of his uncle’s car, driving in circles around an airfield.

‘He’s mad about cars. He’s got this MG Roadster in his garage that he’s been renovating for years.’

‘Has he been in touch lately?’

‘Yes, he’s got a girlfriend at long last. Her name’s Susie. I think it’s
love
. He mentions her in his emails a lot.’

They were heading off the M25 towards the M11 and Joshua swore under his breath when he saw the traffic queuing.

Rose had seen a couple of photos of Stuart in Joshua’s study. He didn’t look much like his brother, Brendan. He was thinner in the face and had short cropped hair.

‘Does he know you’re looking for your dad?’

‘No.’

‘How come?’

‘He doesn’t really like to talk about Dad much. When I first went to live with him he was all sympathetic and tried to cheer me up but as time went on it was difficult to keep the conversation going. There’s only so many times you can ask someone what their childhood memories of their brother are. I’d say something like,
When you and Dad were teenagers did you go out together?
And he’d say,
Me and Bren went out a few times
. Or I might say,
What was Dad like when he was my age?
and he’d say.
Our Bren was all right
. Stu isn’t talkative. He’s the silent type. The truth is, if I’d stayed living with him, I wouldn’t be looking for Dad. It’s being with Skeggsie that made me properly look for Dad.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m at a distance. Nothing I can do can hurt Stu’s feelings. And then there’s all the web stuff that I could never have done without Skeggs.’

‘How is he today?’

‘So, so. Coughing a lot. He’s taking the steroids. It’ll take a couple of days for those to kick in.’

‘Don’t. You’re making me feel sorry for Skeggsie and I don’t want to do that.’

‘You still don’t like him?’

‘Making my mind up.’

‘Maybe he’s a bit like you? Maybe that’s why you find it hard to get along with him.’

‘No!’ she said. ‘He’s nothing like me. Nothing at all!’

‘OK.’

They drove on, the conversation stalling, following the signs for Cambridge. Joshua tried the radio, flicking between stations. Rose pulled a pile of CDs from the door pocket and began to look through them. She was pleasantly surprised. Skeggsie’s taste in music wasn’t as bad as she feared.