The Drowning Page 13

  As if she were furious that Benjie deliberately stood between her and her other half.

  Jenna walked back into the gallery. Her lips tasted of mould.

  Alan Kernow stretched up to hang another photo on the wall. He glanced over his shoulder. “Did you find what you wanted?”

  “I suppose I did,” Jenna said. “If you could call it that.”

  She tapped on Meryn’s door. The top half of it had been flung open, as usual, as if to welcome her, but she could not find the courage to step inside.

  Meryn called, “Jenna? Is that you?”

  He pattered out of the living room, wearing the grey-and-white tracksuit she’d seen him in when she’d been up a ladder that morning outside the Cockleshell.

  “Hi, Jenn! Don’t stand on the pavement. I’ve just made us some tea. Come in.”

  “Thanks, but I won’t.”

  Meryn stared in disbelief “But you must! We agreed we’d—”

  “I want you to do something for me.”

  “What’s wrong, Jenna? Something’s happened. You’re white as a sheet . . . Quick, come inside. Let me look after you.”

  Jenna almost sobbed. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

  “Then why—”

  “Because I need you to find your sisters.”

  “Phil and Gaby?” Meryn blinked. “What on earth for?”

  “I must talk to them.”

  “Why? What have they done?”

  Jenna gripped the door. She found it almost impossible to say the words. “They were at school with Benjie. They knew him. There was bad stuff going on. Really bad.” She looked Meryn in the eyes. “Phil and Gaby were leaders of a gang. They bullied Benjie. They forced him to steal money for them.”

  Her head seemed to fizz with dread.

  “And I think they might know how he died.”

  Revelations

  Meryn’s eyes flashed with astonishment and anger. “What are you saying?”

  “I have to talk to them. Alone.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because . . .” Meryn was floundering. “I need to be there.”

  “I knew this would happen. You’re on their side!”

  “Of course I am.” Meryn opened the bottom half of the door. “This is crazy. I’ve no idea what you’re on about. You can’t just stand there and accuse my sisters of all sorts.” He stood aside for her. “Are you coming in or what?”

  Jenna stepped across the threshold.

  “Right.” Meryn slammed both halves of the door and stalked up the stairs to the living room. “Take a seat.”

  Jenna crumpled on to a chair in the corner.

  “Now.” He stood looking down at her, his hands on his hips. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

  “No, I am not.” Jenna dug her hand into her bag. “But Benjie is.” She took out the small, red, battered notebook. “I promised myself I’d never show this to anyone again. But maybe you should sit down and read this.”

  Meryn closed the diary and gave it back to Jenna. He looked pale and shocked.

  “I can’t believe it.”

  “No. I didn’t want to either. But it’s there in black and white.” Jenna stuffed the pathetic notebook into her bag, pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her trembling hands. “For weeks, I’d no idea who ‘the twins’ were. I went to see the Head at Benjie’s school. She knew who I was talking about, but she refused to give me any names . . . Everyone’s moved on to different schools since last term. Benjie’s dead. I thought, This is crazy, I don’t even know what I’m trying to prove. I’ll just have to forget the whole thing.” She clasped her hands over her knees. “Then, yesterday, out of the blue, I—”

  “Saw my little sisters. Dressed as butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-their-mouths bridesmaids!” Meryn’s eyes burnt into hers. “So that’s why you rushed off.”

  “Yes. ”A wave of nausea hit Jenna’s stomach. I can’t go on with this. I’m going to be sick. “I’m sorry. This is gross. I’ve put you in an impossible position. I’d better go.”

  “Don’t be daft. We can’t leave this hanging in the air.”

  “So what do we do?”

  Meryn stood up. “Tomorrow I’ll take the day off,” he said decisively. “Ring my mum, tell her I want to spend some time with the twins. I’ll collect them from school, bring them back here for tea.”

  “Will they tell you anything?”

  “Give me an hour with them on my own. I’ll sound them out.”

  “And then what?”

  “Come round at five o’clock. We’ll take it from there.”

  Jenna’s eyes stung with tears. “I didn’t want any of this—”

  “Hey, course you didn’t. We can sort this out.” He held out his arms. “Come here.”

  She stood, comforted by the warmth of his body, muffled in his arms. “I’m sorry, Meryn. I wish it could all go away.”

  “You and me both, Jenna.” He rocked her to and fro. “You and me both.”

  It’s been the longest ever day at the Cockleshell.

  Jenna struggled down the Digey under an umbrella. Rain snaked in gurgling rivers over the black cobblestones. She hadn’t done any barre exercises since Friday and her body felt stiff and heavy. That afternoon, she’d kept getting people’s orders muddled up and she’d dropped a tray of crockery. When Hester had come to fill in for her, she couldn’t even find a smile.

  Meryn took her coat and umbrella, led her down to the kitchen.

  “I’d like you to meet my sisters.” He threw an arm round her shoulder. “This is Philippa . . . and this is Gabriella.”

  The girls were clearing the table. Phil was slightly taller, her pale-gold hair drawn back in a ponytail, her eyes dark and resentful. Gaby’s loose hair flowed untidily over her shoulders.

  “And this is Jenna,” Meryn went on, filling the uncomfortable silence.

  With a terrific effort, she shook their hands.

  I’m going to cut to the chase before I lose my nerve.

  “Do you know why I’m here?” She looked up at Meryn. “Have you—”

  “Yes. We had tea. We talked about Benjie.” His grasp on her shoulder tightened. “Phil and Gaby say they know nothing about the bullying.”

  Jenna’s heart froze. She looked directly at Phil. “Can you honestly tell me you never bullied my brother?”

  Phil shrugged. “I’ve got better things to do with my time.” Her voice was high and strident. “Boys are a waste of space.”

  Meryn said, “That’s a daft thing to say. You’ll think differently when—”

  “When what?”His sister flushed. “I’m older and wiser?” She gave a bitter little laugh. “No chance. Dad left us. You left us . . . What’s the point in loving people like you? You’ll only get up and leave. You’re all the same.”

  Meryn gave Jenna a worried smile. “I think we should go upstairs, sit down and have a proper talk.”

  “In your dreams!”Phil backed away from the table. “I’ve got homework to do. I’m off . . . Coming,Gaby?” She spat out the words. “Let’s leave our so-called brother to Miss I’m So Perfect Pascoe.”

  “Now look here, Phil!” Meryn’s voice shook with anger. “There’s no need to be so rude.”

  But she had leapt up the stairs. The front door slammed.

  Jenna looked at Meryn. Meryn looked at Gaby. Gaby bit her lip and stared fixedly at the floor.

  Meryn said, “You don’t really think I deserted you, do you, Gabs? I’m only round the corner. Any time you need me, I’d be with you in a flash. I’d never leave St Ives. Not in a million years.”

  Gaby looked up at him, her lips pale and quivering. “Don’t take any notice of Phil.” Her eyes filled with tears. “She’s a liar.”

  “What?”

  “She’s winding you up.”

  “This isn’t a joke. Why do you think Jenna’s here? She’s lost her brother. She—”

  “I know she
has.” Gaby scrunched a fist at her wet cheeks. “Benjamin was my best friend . . . for a whole term . . . until—”

  Jenna moved swiftly round the table. “Until what, Gaby? You have to tell us. This is so important.”

  “Philippa will kill me.”

  Meryn said firmly, “Oh, no, she won’t.”

  Gaby pulled away from Jenna. “You don’t know what she’s like, Meryn. It’s been three years since you left. You can’t imagine how she’s changed . . . How she can ruin everything.” Her voice sank. “Especially for me.” She sat abruptly at the table and looked up at Jenna. “I want him to go.”

  Jenna looked pleadingly at Meryn. “Do you mind? Give us half an hour together. This isn’t about you. It’s about Benjie and Gaby. Please?”

  Meryn said, “OK. I’ll make sure Phil gets home safely. Mum will be wondering where Gaby is.” He darted up the stairs. “But I’ll be back.”

  The front door slammed again.

  “Here, wipe your eyes.”

  Gaby mopped her face.

  “Let’s sit upstairs. I want you to tell me what happened, from the beginning.”

  The living room felt chilly. Rain, driven by winds from the sea, hammered against the black sheet of harbour window.

  Jenna drew the curtains. She put a match to logs in the grate, sat in a chair next to Gaby and held her hand.

  “It all started,” Gaby said slowly, “when Benjamin and I were asked to work as a pair in class. Mr Robinson thought Phil and I would do better with other kids . . . He was right.

  “Phil’s prettier than me – and she’s always been the brainy one. She can read a book overnight that’ll take me a fortnight. She’s brilliant at maths. She helps me with homework. I used to depend on her. Then Benjamin started to help me too. Phil was jealous as hell.

  “Just before the Easter holidays, Benjamin gave me a bracelet. It was only a cheap one, with lots of little charms on it. I thought it was wonderful, I wore it all the time.” Gaby had started to cry again. “Mum took us to stay with Gran in Exeter . . . I went to have a shower one morning. When I got back to my room, I found the bracelet in pieces under my pillow. Philippa had smashed it up.

  “I asked her why she’d done it. She said if I told Mum, if I ever had anything to do with Benjamin again, she’d stop helping me with my work, and she’d get all the other kids in the class to stop talking to me.”

  “Could she really do that?”

  “Oh, yes. When Phil sets her mind to something . . . She had the whole class eating out of her hand. It’s different now. We’re at a school where some of the other kids are just as bright as she is. But at the Junior School, Phil and Benjamin were rivals at the top of the class.” Gaby’s voice darkened into bitterness. “But she was older than he was – and taller and stronger.

  “The summer term was horrible. I had to pretend to Benjamin that I didn’t want to be his friend. I told Mr Robinson I didn’t want to be a pair with him and he put me with someone else. Benjamin was shattered. He asked me where the bracelet was. Phil told him I’d thrown it away because it was cheap and nasty. He believed her. He just kind of seemed to give in – and give up. I wanted him to fight for me, to make a stand. To hit back at Phil when she cornered him. But he never did.”

  Jenna said softly, “Benjie didn’t have a violent bone in his body.”

  Gaby gripped her hand. “I never wanted this. Last term was so awful I just wanted it to end, so Benjamin could get some peace. On the Friday, when he actually gave Phil that £20 note, I hated her for taking it, it was like the last straw. I nearly told Mum. I’d decided I was going to tell Mr Robinson, but by that time . . .” Gaby rolled Jenna’s handkerchief into a soggy ball. “It was too late.”

  Jenna took a deep breath. In spite of the fire, the room felt very cold. “I have to ask you this. I know how hard it is, going over the past, but I have to know. Were you with Benjie on the beach the afternoon he drowned?”

  The front door opened and closed.

  Meryn ran into the room, bringing with him the chill of the dark November night. His face and hair glistened with rain.

  He looked at Jenna. “Well?”

  Jenna released Gaby’s hands, got shakily to her feet. “The story has been told. Thank you, Gaby. Thank you so much.”

  Gaby looked up at her. “What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing. Hasn’t it all been done? Benjie’s dead. Nothing will bring him back.”

  Meryn put his arm round his sister. “I’ll take you home . . . Will you stay, Jenna? I need to talk to you.”

  “Tomorrow.” Jenna forced her lips to smile. “Tomorrow is another day. And maybe the sun will shine.”

  “Yes.” Meryn frowned, his eyes anxious, his face pale. “Yes, maybe it will.”

  Jenna walked slowly into the rain.

  She waved at Meryn and Gaby.

  They waved back.

  They went one way.

  She another.

  If Jenna had been awake on the beach that afternoon, this is what she might have seen.

  Benjie all alone, sitting on the sand, poring over his crossword puzzles, sweating with concentration, his glasses slipping down his nose in the heat.

  Gaby running up to him, calling him Benjamin. She’d spotted him in the crowd. She was supposed to be with a group of their neighbour’s friends, celebrating a birthday. She’d given Phil the slip. Phil had a summer cold. Mum had kept her at home.

  Benjie blushing with shyness and relief and happiness.

  Gaby spilling out the words, fast as they’d come, faster than a torrent of rain, telling him everything. About the bracelet. How much she’d treasured it, worn it, even slept in it. Phil’s jealousy, her foul-minded resentment. Plotting against Benjamin. Unforgivable. How sorry Gaby was and how ashamed. How she still wanted to be his friend – how she would always want to be his friend.

  Benjie crouching in the sand, scarcely able to conceal his joy.

  The group of other kids, Gaby’s friends, none of whom Benjie knew, racing up to them, saying, “Let’s all go to the rocks. Come on, we’ll try to catch some crabs in the pools. Who can catch the most? We’ll race you there.”

  And Benjie standing up, unsteady on his feet, what with the sun and the crowds and his overwhelming joy, holding Gaby’s hand.

  For a moment in time, for the first and very last time, holding his beloved Gabriella’s hand.

  They’d been fishing, mucking about, among the rock pools.

  Benjie caught a crab. Everyone cheered. He squealed as it nearly slipped from his fingers. Just in time, he managed to plop it into one of the other kids’ jam jars.

  “More!” everyone cried. “What did you say your name was? Benjamin Pascoe? Go catch us some more, Pascoe. Go catch some more.”

  Sun-struck, dumb-struck and love-struck, amazed at his new prowess, drenched in sea-water and joy, Benjie held his glasses to his nose and floundered on: over the rocks, round the vast craggy corner of the Island and then further still, into the deepest pools.

  Trying to catch more crabs for Gabriella, trying to prove his worth.

  “And then?” Jenna had asked, as the flames crackled and spat in the grate. “For God’s sake, what happened then?”

  “Someone pulled me away . . .” Gaby had choked. “One of the other kids said we’d gone too far into the sea, his dad was shouting for us, we had to go back to the beach immediately. Two of the boys picked me up and carried me to the shore, shoulder high, over the rocks, screaming with laughter. I kept trying to look round for Benjamin, but I couldn’t see him. He’d disappeared behind the corner of the rocks . . . Five minutes later, we all went home. To light the candles on the birthday cake.”

  Jenna felt blood draining from her face. “But afterwards, the following week, at school. When Mr Robinson asked you, when the police asked you. You said that none of you were on the beach that afternoon.”

  “I lied. I had to. Phil knew I’d been to the party. But that’s all she knew. She d
idn’t know anything about us going to the beach. I was terrified of telling her I’d seen Benjamin, that I’d talked to him behind her back . . . She’d have been furious. I don’t know what she’d have done to me . . . I know that sounds pathetic, cowardly. But I have to live with her . . . She’s supposed to be my twin.”

  Jenna walked through the darkness of the wet streets, down to the harbour. Exhausted and starving, she bought fish and chips, huddled in a doorway to eat them.

  Nothing’s changed. Yet everything feels different.

  I can see the last moments of Benjie’s life.

  A hungry seagull perched on a railing opposite her, eyeing her chips. She threw him some food. In a flurry of dark wings, a flock of birds arrived to demolish it. Jenna remembered the whirring blades of the helicopter hovering over the sea, their patient, insistent drone.

  She flung the remainder of her meal into the air.

  Slowly she stumbled back through the Digey, towards home. Lights flickered in the living room.

  I can’t face Dad. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I’ll go in through the tea room.

  She unlocked the door of the Cockleshell and locked it carefully behind her.

  The tea room lay in darkness, the corners black, the tables bare, the floor swept, its windows waiting for the dawn.

  From beyond the inner courtyard she could hear the television in the living room, Dad and Hester together, talking and laughing.

  I can’t bear to go up to my room.

  I’m so wound up I feel I’ll never sleep again.

  No point in going to the studio either – I’m much too tired to dance!

  She dropped her coat and umbrella by the till, kicked off her boots, pattered into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, carried it through to one of the corner tables of the Cockleshell.