Читать книгу The Flood - Rachel Bennett - Страница 11

‘I need money.’

Daniela’s father didn’t look up from whatever the hell he was reading. An old newspaper, folded and refolded, the printed columns of stocks and shares marked with fingerprints and pencil scribbles. Whenever Daniela came up to the study, her dad was poring over financial papers. It was all he seemed to care about these days.

Absently, her father reached for his wallet. Daniela watched his hands as he thumbed through the notes. The hands and wallet looked like they were made of the same leather. The wallet always contained money. Once a week, her dad went into Hackett and withdrew his pension from the post office, plus anything additional he needed from his savings. Daniela didn’t know how much was in the savings, but it had to be substantial, left over from when her dad had co-owned the antiques shop in Stonecrop.

Her father counted off twenty pounds and laid it on the desk. It was far more than Daniela needed but she wasn’t complaining. She scooped up the notes.

‘Thanks,’ she muttered.

Her dad turned over the newspaper and didn’t look up.

In the past twelve months, there’d been a scattering, as if a sudden wind had driven everyone from the old house, although in truth it’d started years earlier, when their mum left. When she’d walked out it was like she left the front door open, and let the cold wind in.

Over time, the atmosphere became fragile, friable. Dad refused to let them speak of their mother, until she was nothing but a ghost in their memories.

Franklyn, twenty-six years old and the eldest of the four sisters, was next to move out permanently, but her absence was less jarring, because over the years she’d become an erratic presence. Likewise, it was no surprise when Stephanie started to talk about moving out. She’d completed her probationary period with the constabulary, and was anxious to live closer to the station in Hackett. Plus, Stephanie and their father were too similar. They’d always butted heads.

The real sign of the end was when Auryn announced she was leaving. She was the easy-going one, who rarely reacted to the shouted voices in the house. If the atmosphere became too toxic, she would hide away with her books in the spare room that was now hers. She was due to leave for university at the end of the summer. They’d planned a party and everything. So, it took everyone by surprise when she said – in her quiet, non-confrontational way – that she’d be leaving early, at the end of June, now her exams were finished.

‘We wanna get moved in and acclimatise to Newcastle before term starts,’ was her excuse.

Stephanie said it was presumptuous, going there before the exam results were in. ‘What’s your back-up plan if you don’t get the grades you need?’ she’d asked.

Auryn had shrugged. ‘We’re still leaving.’

It was understandable. Moving into her own place with her boyfriend had to be better than remaining at home. But the real reason for leaving early was obvious: if the sisters stayed under the same roof much longer, they’d go crazy. There was too much bad feeling in the house.

Now Daniela faced the probability that by autumn she’d be alone with their father.

She was aware of a change; aware of the increased tension when her father was home, conscious of her sisters spending as much time as possible away from the house, but she had her own problems. For years she’d been desperate to leave Stonecrop. The perfect time to do so would’ve been after her A levels last year. She’d got a conditional offer for Sheffield university, so long as her results were good enough. It turned out they weren’t. Then laziness or apathy had stopped her going through clearing. She’d told herself that taking a year out was a smart move. She could work, save up some money, then apply to university the following summer.

And yet, somehow she hadn’t got around to that either. Summer was almost there, she’d wasted a year scratching around doing odd jobs, and she still didn’t know what she wanted from her life. She only knew she didn’t want to live it in Stonecrop.

It was far past time to get out. All her friends had already gone. Auryn would be the last of them. Auryn and Leo, of course.

Those were the thoughts that bounced through Daniela’s brain as she trudged along the footpath away from the old house. She was sick of having no plan. Today her father had been fine, albeit uncommunicative, but Daniela’s right shoulder still tingled from the slap she hadn’t quite avoided the day before. It’d been aimed at her face, the culmination of some petty argument that’d escalated out of proportion, but she was faster than her old man now, and it’d caught her a glancing blow on the tip of the shoulder instead. It shouldn’t have hurt, but still she felt it, like a phantom echo.

Even on a summer day, Stonecrop was grey and sheltered, the clouds close enough to touch. The few shadows below the trees were broad and fuzzy-edged. Headache weather; like a storm that refused to break. It’d been like that for weeks. Daniela walked quickly with hands in pockets. Her leather jacket – a hand-me-down from Franklyn, which was too wide in the shoulders and always smelled like smoke – kept out the intermittent breeze.

She knew every inch of the woodlands. Whenever the atmosphere in the house became too oppressive, she’d take to the outdoors, walking for hours, crossing and recrossing her path, trying to lose herself. Sometimes she’d bring her MP3 player with her; other times she let the white noise of nature fill her head instead.

The woods enfolded the village like protective arms. To the south there was nothing but trees as far as Briarsfield, while to the north, the forest petered out into farmland, bisected by the Clynebade, which diverged around Stonecrop as if around an inconvenient stone. A break in the trees allowed a partial view to the north over low-lying fields and hedgerows. If Daniela had been minded to climb a tree, she could’ve seen Winterbridge Farm in the distance.

Some people found the trees eerie, especially when the light was poor, and Daniela sort of understood that. The woods were rife with half heard noises and flickering movements. But the trees were the one part of Stonecrop Daniela liked, because, if she put her head down, she could pretend her world wasn’t limited to this tiny village, hemmed in by rivers. She could imagine walking in any direction for miles and seeing nothing but trees.

The path led her in a sweeping loop to the banks of the Bade. Flowering garlic perfumed the air. At this time of the year, the woods and the riverbanks were carpeted with wild garlic and fading bluebells, unfurling ferns and bramble tangles. The well-worn paths were trampled streaks of brown through the green.

In a muddy hollow beside the river stood a ruined building. It’d once been the home of a wealthy businessman, back in the early twentieth century, but was now little more than a brick shell, the rotted timbers of its first floor having collapsed, the slates of the roof missing, likely adorning the roof of some other property by now. Above the door a carved stone lintel read, Kirk Cottage.

Daniela went down the bank and circled the building. The area never drained properly and, even months after the last flood, the earth was still sodden, the mud churned by footprints from dog-walkers, ramblers or people looking for a fishing spot. Daniela stepped around puddles of stagnant water.

She was annoyed to find someone had replaced the broken board across the side window. She’d smashed the board herself, a few months earlier, to allow access to the interior. Not that anything was inside – more mud, more standing water, a tangle of nettles, corroded and discoloured litter – but that wasn’t the point. There was precious little to do in Stonecrop, and kids made their own entertainment.

Now a new sheet of plyboard had been nailed up, along with a notice that the structure was unsafe and trespassing was forbidden.

Daniela glanced around to make sure no one was about. Then she climbed on the windowsill, gripped either side of the stone window for support, and kicked the board.

The hollow boom rolled across the river and back. Daniela drove her foot into the board several more times until the wood split.

She was breathing hard as she climbed down. She worked her fingers into the split and, with some pushing and shoving, loosened the nails on one side. With a final effort and a satisfying splintering, part of the plyboard came loose. It’d been nailed onto a wooden frame fixed inside the window, but not well enough. Daniela tossed the broken piece of wood aside.

The hole she’d made was just wide enough to let a person climb into the building. Daniela wiped her hands on her jacket. She had no interest in going into the ruin today. She just didn’t want anybody keeping her out.

She left the ruined house and followed the path until she reached the Hackett road. There she hesitated. Turning left would take her into the centre of Stonecrop, where she could maybe try her luck at the Crossed Swords. The landlord liked her well enough, but his wife really didn’t. Daniela had worked there for a few months the previous year, collecting glasses, but there’d been a falling out – a discrepancy in the till one night – which Daniela had got the blame for, and the landlady had never allowed her in the bar since.

If Daniela turned right at the road, she’d eventually reach the town of Hackett. The road wound between fields and crossed the River Bade via the old bridge, which hadn’t been designed for anything more strenuous than horse-drawn traffic, and which had been verging on collapse for twenty years.

It was a fair distance to walk, although she’d done it before, and there might be a bus or someone she could thumb a lift off. When she got to Hackett, she could catch a train to the next town, and the next, and the next …

With an angry shake of her head, Daniela turned left, towards Stonecrop. Who was she fooling? Several times a week she made these long, aimless walks, and fantasised about leaving forever, and every goddamn time she made an excuse not to take the first step. She could circle around and around, and sometimes look wistfully towards other places, but always she was drawn back in, like to a magnet.

The time wasn’t right, of course. She was saving up money from her odd jobs, along with the hand-outs from her dad – plus anything else she came across – to raise an escape fund. The savings were squirrelled beneath the loose floorboard in her bedroom. Once she had enough money, she’d be gone.

She heard a car approaching, and crossed to the opposite side of the road so the car would see her when it rounded the corner. Daniela had lost count of how many times some idiot driving too fast along those country roads had almost wiped her out.

When a car appeared, it was indeed driving too fast, and being driven by an idiot.

The car screeched to a halt next to where Daniela had hastily stepped onto the verge. A woman leaned out of the driver’s window.

‘Been looking for you all over,’ Stephanie said. ‘Want a lift?’

Auryn was in the passenger seat, one foot propped on the dashboard, so Daniela climbed in the back, sliding across the leather seat.

‘What’s going on?’ Daniela asked. ‘Family outing?’

Auryn flashed a grin. ‘We’re gonna pick up Franklyn.’

‘Frankie’s back? She only just left.’

‘Apparently she missed us.’

Stephanie made an indelicate noise. ‘I can think of a number of reasons why she’s back,’ she said, ‘and precisely none of them are to do with missing us.’

Auryn shrugged. ‘Just a suggestion. Anyways.’ She twisted in her seat to face Daniela. The round glasses she’d taken to wearing made her look young and owlish. Auryn’s fair hair was tidy, worn in a neat, trendy style. The blonde mistake of the family, she would joke. ‘Apparently Franklyn came in on the bus this morning and wants to meet up. Seriously, I think she misses us.’

Daniela and Franklyn had always been close – perhaps because they were so similar in appearance and temperament – but now Franklyn had moved away from Stonecrop, the times they spent together felt strained and awkward, like they both knew they were growing apart, and neither had the ability or the inclination to prevent it.

‘She’ll be in trouble,’ Stephanie said. ‘You mark my words.’

Stephanie drove too fast through the country lanes. Her Subaru was only three years old and the interior was immaculate, but the exhaust had suffered an incident with a cattle-grid and roared like a tank when the car accelerated. Stephanie had completed an advanced driving course for her job, which she reckoned made her a safe driver, no matter her speed. Daniela disagreed. She fastened her seatbelt and braced against the front seat.

‘Where’re we meeting Franklyn?’ she asked.

‘She’s having a word with Henry McKearney,’ Stephanie said. Her tone indicated her feelings.

Roughly seven years ago, the relationship between their dad and Henry McKearney had gone irreparably sour. Their dad had opted to be bought out of the antiques emporium they’d founded together. Things might’ve been all right if one family or the other had moved away from Stonecrop and let tempers settle, but everyone involved was way too stubborn. The Cain and McKearney families continued to coexist, relations between them becoming increasingly strained as the years went by.

Stephanie sped into the village, through the square, only slowing as they approached the junction next to the Corner Shoppe. She bumped the car onto the pavement without indicating. Auryn popped open the door.

‘Are we picking up Leo as well?’ Daniela asked.

Auryn’s ears went pink, and she mumbled something. That was another complicating factor – Auryn had been dating Leo McKearney for almost a year. Everyone had realised they were serious when they applied to the same university and made plans to move in together. In idle moments, Daniela wondered what Henry thought about that. She knew her own thoughts well enough.

Daniela followed Auryn out of the car and across the street. The antiques shop was bolted onto the Corner Shoppe, which the McKearney family also owned, and to the house at the back where the McKearney family lived. It was a wide, low-slung shop, a holdover of Seventies’ architecture, with broad windows and a constant air of neglect. When Henry took sole ownership, he renovated the façade and commissioned a posh new painted board above the front windows, reading McKearney Antiques. But since then the woodwork had faded and never been repainted. Daniela didn’t know how the place ever turned a profit, since she rarely saw any customers. At a cursory glance it looked like it’d shut down months ago. The Open sign was dusty.

The Corner Shoppe next door was run by Henry’s wife Margaret and was therefore in a much better state. Daniela had heard village gossip that the difficulties between Henry and Margaret didn’t just extend to their businesses.

Auryn shouldered the already-open door to the antiques shop wider and stepped inside, Daniela following after her.

The interior smelled of wood polish and air fresheners, intended to disguise the lingering odour of stale tobacco. To Daniela, it was so familiar it always gave her a jolt. As a kid, back when their dad had co-owned the shop, she had spent hours in the overcrowded maze of wardrobes and bookcases, burrowing beneath desks and climbing in and out of cupboards, until either Dad or ‘Uncle’ Henry got sick of her scuffling presence and sent her outside to play. Now, with so much residual bitterness between the two families, Daniela hated the stink of the place.

Although the stock sometimes changed, the feel of the shop remained the same. Henry had made a big deal of getting rid of the ‘ugly, unfashionable’ stock and replacing it with ‘proper antiques’, but it was a cosmetic change at best. Its rotten heart was unaltered. Daniela dragged her fingers over the bubbled veneer of a Georgian dining table. Unpleasant memories overlaid every surface, heavy as the greasy sheen of beeswax. She shoved her hands into her pockets.

Near the front, Leo McKearney was perched on a side table, reading a paperback. He was lucky enough to have inherited his mother’s looks, although his hair was the same brick-red as Henry’s. A smile brightened his face as he spotted Auryn. He waved at Daniela; a friendly, everyday wave, not nearly so full of meaning as his smile.

Daniela felt a tug at her insides and let herself imagine the smile was for her.

The more time Daniela spent in Leo’s company – and it was difficult to do otherwise, since Leo and Auryn were joined at the hip – the more aware she became of him. What had started off as curiosity on Daniela’s part had grown over the years to a weird, unrequited longing. She noticed things about him: the way his hair curled around his ears, the dusting of freckles across his nose, the fleck of brown in his green eyes.

She’d long ago convinced herself she was in love with him.

And that was why Daniela dropped her gaze. She was certain Auryn must’ve noticed her infatuation.

Leo put down his book to give Auryn a quick, one-armed hug. He smiled at Daniela over Auryn’s shoulder. ‘Hey, Daniela.’ He sang her name – Dan-ee-el-laaa – like he’d done since they were little kids. It gave her a warm feeling every time he did it. No one else bothered with her full name. And it was cute, because Auryn was the one with the pretty, lyrical name, which their mother had insisted on after their dad had named the first three girls after his distant relatives. Daniela liked how Leo made her name pretty too.

‘Everything okay?’ Auryn asked.

Leo’s smile scrunched up. ‘They’re arguing. Can we go? I’d rather not hang around to listen.’

Daniela was already moving off through the furniture maze. A murmur of voices filtered from the back of the shop. Henry’s was harsh from years of chain-smoking, edged with a London accent. She recognised the opposing notes of her sister Franklyn’s lighter tone, which always sounded like she was mocking you, even when she wasn’t.

‘Should I get Steph?’ Auryn asked.

As if in response, something heavy crashed to the floor at the other end of the shop. Daniela sped up. The layout of the shop meant she could hear Franklyn and Henry but couldn’t see them yet.

‘It’s only money!’ she heard Franklyn shout. ‘You want to lose everything for this?’

Another crash, which sounded like a chair going over. ‘You owe me,’ Henry said. ‘After everything I’ve done for your family—’

Daniela at last found her way around a bulky Welsh dresser that blocked the direct route to the cleared area at the back of the shop that doubled as Henry’s office. A huge polished rosewood desk the colour of venous blood took up most of the space, with a wicker chair wedged behind it. The desk and two nearby tables were submerged below a sea of paperwork. At the back of the room, the fire exit was propped open with a metal urn, allowing a sluggish breeze to flow in from the walled courtyard behind the building.

Franklyn had been sat in a ladder-backed chair, which she’d knocked over as she stood up too fast. A box of papers had fallen from the desk, but it was unclear who’d done that. Franklyn was thin and wiry like Daniela, with a fringe of black hair that was always in her eyes. Henry was six inches taller and at least five stone heavier. His shirt didn’t fit well, the material stretched and strained across his chest. His reddish hair was combed flat.

‘Hey …’ Daniela said.

When he saw her, Henry smiled and shook his head. ‘How come you invited these guys?’ he asked Franklyn. ‘I thought you wanted to keep this private.’

Franklyn took a moment to shove her temper back into whatever compartment she usually stored it in. To Daniela she said, ‘I’ll be done in a minute, Dani. Just wait for me outside, yeah?’

Daniela looked from her to Henry. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing. Nothing.’

‘How about you tell her?’ Henry suggested with a smile.

‘Is that really what you want?’ Franklyn asked. ‘Seriously, I would’ve thought you’ve got more to lose than me right now.’

Henry settled down into a chair and rested his arm on the rosewood desk. He was still smiling, like he was entertained by Franklyn’s words. Daniela had learned at a young age that Henry had a pretty good poker face, but all his tells were in his hands. She glanced at his fingers. The table was littered with papers and boxes and trinkets from the shop. Not far from Henry’s hand was a stack of post and a knife he’d been using to open the envelopes.

‘This isn’t a great reflection of your character,’ Henry said. ‘Coming in here to threaten me. I’m sure your little sister doesn’t want to see that.’

Daniela couldn’t look away from the knife on the table. It was a flick-knife, a patina of age across the opened blade. On the handle was an inlaid design in the shape of a snake, black on red. It looked like part of the stock from the antiques shop. The handle was less than two inches from Henry’s hand.

‘Frankie, maybe we should go,’ Daniela said, nervous.

‘Listen to your sister,’ Henry suggested. ‘It’s good to hear someone in your family talk sense. That’s been sorely lacking since your dear mother walked out.’

Franklyn took a couple of steps towards Henry. Wherever she’d put her anger, it hadn’t been boxed away securely, because the colour rose back to her face. ‘Listen—’ she said.

Henry started to his feet. His hand moved over the knife.

Darting forwards, Daniela snatched up a double-handful of papers from the desk and flung them at Henry’s face. He flinched in surprise. At the same moment, Franklyn made a grab for him.

Everything happened too fast after that. Daniela lunged for the knife. She succeeded in knocking it off the table, but lost her balance and stumbled. Someone shoved her to get her away – either Henry or Franklyn, she couldn’t be sure – and she fell, striking her chin on the table on the way down.

For a second, Daniela lay dazed on the rough carpet. Feet scuffled next to her head. The papers she’d thrown were still fluttering to the ground.

Someone yelled, ‘Stop it! What’re you doing?’

Leo had run into the shop, with Auryn right behind him, and behind her, Stephanie.

Stephanie pushed to the front. She got both hands on Franklyn’s shoulders and yanked her away like a dog on a leash.

‘All right, what the hell’s going on?’ Stephanie demanded. ‘Franklyn, cut it out.’

Franklyn lifted her hands contritely. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she said, with a shrug that implied she wasn’t doing anything worth shouting about.

Stephanie shoved Franklyn away, not gently.

Daniela was still on the floor, dazed, unwilling to get up. Her hands shook from the brief confrontation, and there was a dull ache where she’d banged her chin. It took her several moments to work out why her mouth tasted coppery. Her tongue probed a split on the inside of her cheek.

Light glinted off something metal nearby. The flick-knife, which had bounced under the table after Daniela knocked it off the top. Careful to keep her movements hidden, Daniela closed her hand around it.

‘It’s my fault,’ Franklyn told Stephanie. ‘We were just having a discussion. Here, let me help you up.’ She reached down to grab Daniela’s hand.

Stephanie didn’t look even slightly convinced. ‘What were you discussing?’

‘Just passing the time of day. Daniela tripped and fell, right?’

Henry smirked. ‘Tripped right over her own feet.’

Daniela felt heat flush her cheeks. She let Franklyn haul her upright. Her head swam. She stayed half-turned away so no one would see she’d picked up the flick-knife. The handle felt warm.

Leo had pushed past so he was between Stephanie and Henry. ‘Franklyn started it,’ he said. ‘You all heard her shouting at my dad.’

‘That’s not what I heard,’ Stephanie said.

Franklyn laughed. But whatever comment she was planning to make, Stephanie silenced her with a glare.

‘Go wait in the car, Franklyn,’ she said. ‘You too, Dani.’

Daniela hesitated. It rankled that no one had bothered to check whether she was hurt, or to get her side of the story. Her fingers tightened around the knife.

‘C’mon, kid,’ Franklyn said, taking hold of Daniela’s elbow. ‘Let’s give the grown-ups some space.’

Making her expression neutral, Daniela nodded, while she slipped the knife into the sleeve of her jacket, hidden.