Читать книгу Her Turn to Cry: A gripping psychological thriller with twists you won’t see coming - Chris Curran - Страница 15

Joycie arrived home exhausted. Cecil Beaton had been kindly and old-school courteous, his voice reminding her of actors in pre-war films. It had been clear however that he didn’t think much of her looks, and he had spent ages rooting through boxes of scarves, fur hats, and wigs, obviously trying to find some way to disguise her flaws. Then he’d posed and reposed her until she could hardly stand.

After they finished he made her a gin and It, served without ice in a champagne bowl that made her think of the glasses Irene had let her drink Babycham from when she was sixteen.

She made herself some tea, slipped off her shoes and sat with her feet curled under her in front of the telly. There was nothing worth watching this early in the evening, just a boring programme showing bits of news too dull or silly for the main bulletin. But at least it distracted her enough to calm her thoughts.

Marcus was seeing Cora right now. He’d called Joycie at Beaton’s house, much to the old gent’s annoyance. ‘I rang her office, and when I told the secretary it was a private matter she put me straight through. I asked Cora if we could meet and that I’d prefer if she didn’t mention it to Sid.’

‘I can imagine what she thought.’

‘Well, let’s just say she agreed pretty smartish, and we’re meeting at a pub where she says Sid never goes. I’ll see you about eight. If not send out the search parties.’

It was ten past eight when the Morgan pulled up outside, and she had to force herself not to rush to the door. But he wasn’t alone. She heard him talking loudly as he rattled his key in the door, obviously trying to warn her. ‘As I said, Cora, I’m not sure if Joycie will be in.’

She jumped up, pushing her feet back into her shoes and was in the kitchen with the door closed before they came into the hall. Feeling ridiculous to be hiding like this she listened as Marcus got Cora settled on the sofa with a sherry: ‘Make yourself at home. I’ll just check if Joycie’s upstairs.’

When he came into the kitchen he pulled a face and whispered, ‘Sorry I had no choice. She says she’ll only speak to you.’

Joycie didn’t bother to pretend she’d been upstairs, just walked into the sitting room and plonked herself on the armchair opposite Cora. She was looking even more tarted up than usual: for Marcus’s benefit Joycie guessed. Her legs were surprisingly slender for such a well-upholstered woman, and she stretched them in front of her, glancing down with a tiny smile at her sheer black nylons and patent stilettos.

‘Hello Joyce, darling, I’m sorry to crash in on you two lovebirds like this, but Marcus tells me you have questions you want answering about your mum, and I thought it was only right to come and see you.’

‘Thank you.’ Joycie knew it was probably just an excuse to nose into their lives.

Cora opened her handbag and brought out a gold lighter and a pack of cigarettes. They waited as she lit up and took a long drag and a dainty sip of sherry, leaving a smear of lipstick on the rim of the glass. Joycie guessed she would have preferred a port and lemon.

When Cora spoke it was in an exaggerated whisper. ‘Joyce, dear, I’m wondering if you wouldn’t rather we talked on our own.’ She turned to Marcus with a brilliant smile and a flutter of lashes. ‘No offence, sweetheart.’

Before he could speak, Joycie said, ‘It’s fine, Cora, Marcus and I don’t have secrets.’ If only that were true. She kept secrets even from herself. Marcus moved back to the window seat, making it clear he was giving them space.

‘You were wondering about the chap your mum ran off with, were you?’

‘If there was one. I’ve spoken to my aunt.’ Cora raised her eyebrows at that, but said nothing. ‘She’s sure Mum was coming to them on her own and bringing me with her. My aunt is convinced there was no other man. But Deirdre says you seemed sure about it and that you knew the bloke.’

Cora picked a tiny fleck of something from her tight black skirt, inspecting it as she spoke. ‘You have been busy, haven’t you?’

Joycie leaned forward. ‘I need to know.’

‘Well I’m sure it’s no news to you that your mum usually had a boyfriend somewhere on the scene, so when Charlie said she’d run off with the latest we didn’t question it.’

‘But Deirdre said it was you who told everyone.’

A shrug. ‘My darling, Sid and I just wanted to make things as easy as possible for you and your dad so we were happy to spread the word.’

Her heart was drumming so hard she could barely speak. ‘So who was he?’

Cora leaned back on the sofa with a shrug. ‘Search me.’

A fierce spurt of rage. ‘If you don’t know anything, why the hell did you insist on seeing me?’

‘I must say, Joyce, I never expected gratitude from you, but there’s no need to be rude. Your young man,’ she gestured towards Marcus, ‘said you were tearing yourself apart about it, and I thought I might be able to help.’

Marcus coughed in the background, but Joycie didn’t look at him, just stood and said. ‘I need help to find out what happened to my mum and if you can’t do that then there’s no point in us talking.’

She walked to the door, but Cora didn’t move, just raised her empty glass to Marcus. ‘Wouldn’t mind a fill-up, darling. And then, if you don’t mind, me and Joyce need a minute alone.’

He poured her another drink, squeezed Joycie’s shoulder, saying, ‘I’ll be in the darkroom. Give me a shout when you’re finished,’ and went out, closing the door behind him.

Cora eased off one of her shoes and rubbed her foot, then did the same with the other and looked up at Joycie still standing by the door, her hands clenched. ‘Look, darling, I can see what it must be like, not knowing, but sometimes it’s best to leave things be.’ She waved her hand to take in the room. ‘You’ve got a good life now, and there’s no call to go upsetting yourself by raking up the past.’

‘Please, Cora, just tell me everything you know.’

Cora patted the sofa, and Joycie sat next to her, breathing in a fog of Chanel No. 5. ‘All right, you win.’ Cora didn’t quite say the words, you asked for it, but her expression did. ‘Don’t get me wrong, no one could blame your mum for wanting some male company.’ A little pat on Joycie’s knee. ‘Your dad obviously wasn’t interested any more, if you know what I mean.’

Joycie moved away from her touch. ‘Not really, Cora.’ Why make it easy for her?

Cora pressed her fingers to her lips and gave a delicate cough. ‘You know why they put Charlie in prison, don’t you?’

‘I’ve worked it out over the years, yes. They found love letters from another man.’

‘Sid has always said it was the army that did for Charlie. You know, turned him queer, if you’ll pardon my French. When he came back after the war he was different somehow, and I don’t think things were ever the same with your mum. So, like I said, who could blame her?’

She took a sip of her sherry, dabbing her mouth with a hanky she pulled from her sleeve, then gestured with her head towards the hallway. ‘Does Marcus know about Charlie?’

‘I told you, we don’t have secrets.’

‘That’s nice.’ Cora was gazing towards the dark window, her eyes misty. ‘Me and Sid now, I can’t deny we’ve both strayed, but our marriage has always had that special something.’

Joycie waited, gritting her teeth.

‘Anyway, the day your mum disappeared Sid tried to cheer Charlie up. Took him out for a drink after the show. You were staying with Irene if I remember right.’

‘Yes, I expect Sid had a couple of girls lined up as usual.’

It was unkind, but if Cora was upset she didn’t show it, just gave a small chuckle and another of those annoying pats on Joycie’s knee. ‘See, you probably know more than I do. I used to tell Sid to watch out for you: little vessels, big ears, I used to say. Sure you didn’t hear anything the night your mum disappeared?’

If she wanted Cora to tell her everything she had to be as honest as she could. ‘I woke up thinking something was wrong, or not normal anyway. There were voices and bumping sounds, and I was scared, but then the wireless came on again, and I fell asleep. Mum always had music playing.’

Cora took her hand, the red talons scraping lightly on her palm, and seemed to think for a moment. Then she took a deep breath. ‘OK, here’s what I know. Sid brought Charlie back to ours very late. Charlie was absolutely paralytic. I’ve never seen him like that, and he was crying and raving on about your mum.’

Joycie swallowed, feeling sick. ‘Is that all?’ Cora was staring into space, or maybe at the sherry bottle. ‘I’m going to find out anyway,’ Joycie said. ‘There’s plenty of other people I can ask if you won’t tell me.’ It wasn’t true, but she had to push for everything now.

Cora seemed to shake herself then spread her hands on her knees. ‘Next morning, your dad was still not fit to get out of bed, and Sid asked me to go round to your lodgings. He was worried about some of the things Charlie had said. We got his keys from his jacket and I went.’

Was it possible not to breathe for this long and still be conscious? ‘And?’

‘Everything seemed all right. I checked the wardrobe, and she had taken most of her clothes, like Charlie said. But Sid had told me to have a good nose.’

‘And?’

‘Well I looked under the bed.’

Please don’t say it.

Cora took both her hands, squeezing hard, and Joycie made herself endure the touch. ‘Darling, this might be nothing, but I found a mat with some stains that looked to me like blood.’

She could only whisper, but somehow she got the words out. ‘What did you do?’

‘It wasn’t a big mat so I just rolled it up and walked out with it. Dropped it on a bit of waste ground on my way home.’

‘And said nothing about it?’

‘That’s right. I reckoned that was best. Didn’t even tell Sid.’ She dropped Joycie’s hands and leaned back. ‘Wouldn’t have told you except you seemed so sure you needed to know everything. And that is everything. So if I was you I’d leave it now. Your dad’s dead and gone, and I wouldn’t be surprised if your mum was too.’

It felt as if a chunk of rock was lodged deep inside her. She wanted to scream at Cora to tell her more, but she knew there was no point. Not yet anyway. She managed to stand and say, ‘Thank you.’

This time Cora brushed ash from her skirt, put away her lighter and cigarettes, clicked her bag shut, and followed her to the front door.

Marcus bounded along the hall. ‘I’ll drop you, shall I?’

‘Just take me to the tube station, please love.’ Cora leaned forward and kissed the air beside Joycie’s cheek. ‘All right, darling? Hope I haven’t upset you.’

‘I’m OK, and you’re right; I need to put it behind me.’ Marcus glanced at her, but she avoided his eye.

When she closed the door she leaned against it, her jaw clenched. So that bloodstained mat was a real memory. There one day and gone the next. And Cora got rid of it. It all fitted. But she was certain of one thing. What Cora had told her wasn’t the whole truth, and she couldn’t rest until she found out what that was.

She had been bluffing when she said there were other people she could ask, but, of course, there must be. People who had no reason to hide the truth. Joycie just had to do what she’d avoided all these years: to allow herself to remember.