Finding Jennifer Jones (21 page)

Kate sat back, frowning. Joe Bussell made a decision to take his own life. He’d found a place behind a railway station where he could do it. He’d bought wire cutters and gone there to die on his own, knowing that his own family wouldn’t be the ones to find him. She remembered him as such an odd boy although she had never once thought about him without his brother at his side. In her mind the two were inextricably joined and loathsome for it. But after what happened at Berwick he had gone into foster care alone and then gone back to live with his mother and sister and Stevie joined them
now and then.
Then he’d gone to college. This all seemed like an improvement.

And yet something made him end his life.

Outside, in the street, the traffic was moving smoothly for once. A woman with a pushchair was pausing by the café window, leaning down to speak her baby.

She thought of Mr Cottis. He was always standing straight and stiff, as though his body couldn’t bend if he wanted it to. She typed his name into the computer and afterwards the words
photographer
and
Alexandra Palace.
A listings website came up and halfway down the page was the name
Kenneth Cottis, Portraits and Weddings: Station Road, Alexandra Palace
. There was no website for her to click on, just an address and phone number.

Eight years before, when he visited her mother, he had no office. He had a case full of photographs and equipment that he brought to the house. He came with props and clothes for ten-year-old Jennifer to wear. They had sat in a bag in the corner of her room and she’d looked anxiously at them for hours.

There was a squirming feeling in her stomach and she logged off from the computer and sat motionless, staring out of the window, her face rigid and her thoughts heavy. Hadn’t she wanted to get away from all this? Hadn’t the plan been to see Lucy and say sorry face to face and sympathise with her about the loss of her brother, then move on? A proper new start with no probation officer looking over her shoulder, no local police notified about her presence, no one who knew anything about her. She’d felt the ties that those people had on her, holding her in one place, keeping her on the straight and narrow.
Don’t drink too much, Kate. Don’t let your grades go down. Make sure you take your antidepressants. Don’t think that you deserve any special treatment by the police. Be grateful for the help you’ve been given. You’re luckier than you know.
Kate had wanted to break out of all of these.

But she couldn’t be free of the
memories
. She felt them all the time, a thin web that had spun and spun around her. Sometimes they tightened, chafing and squeezing the breath out of her.

She closed her eyes; she
had
to put this stuff behind her.

When she opened them again she focused on the café window and saw a face there. She squinted into the sun and made out a man flat up against the glass looking into the café, his hands cupping the sides of his eyes. A young man who looked familiar. He grinned.

It was Stevie Bussell.

She sat very still, not making any acknowledgement of him. After a few moments he turned his back on her and stood against the glass as though he was waiting for something. She glanced along the street at the bus stop. Could it be a bus? Had he happened to notice the girl who had come calling for his sister the day before? Or could he be just acting stupidly, making faces at people in the café while he was hanging round killing time until his bus came? He had been unpleasant and – yes – he had been stupid when she’d known him before.

She tried to ignore his presence.

She sat for a while glancing at the screen, moving the mouse, clicking on websites. All the time she kept looking up at the window and seeing Stevie Bussell’s back solidly between her and the street. Buses came and went and still he stood there. He never looked round once. Was she being oversensitive? He was there for some reason, but not necessarily her. His shoulders moved and she saw that he had taken out his mobile phone and was looking down at it. She relaxed a little. He was making a call. Maybe he was waiting for someone and they hadn’t turned up; his girlfriend, Terri, perhaps. The fact that she was in the café and he had seen her there, smiled at her, was nothing more than playfulness with someone he thought he knew.

She was being ridiculous.

A beep sounded. It came from her pocket. She pulled out her mobile phone and looked at the screen. She had a message from an unknown number.

Jennifer, I’m waiting outside to talk to you. You know who I am. Don’t make me hang around here too long. Stevie.

Her heart seemed to shrivel. She deleted the message swiftly, as if in doing so she was shoving him away from the café, out of her sight. She stared at the computer screen. She typed a new website into Google, her fingers moving like lead pistons. She read the words on the home page, her mind racing.
Jennifer
. He knew who she was. Had he recognised her yesterday when she was outside his house? Had he known her the moment he set eyes on her?

She slumped back. Her hands were trembling. His back was still squarely against the glass. He wasn’t moving. He was waiting for her.

Had Lucy told him?

She got up and pushed the keyboard away. There were people hanging round the counter waiting for space on the computer and she saw one of them move in her direction and pass her. She went out of the door of the café and walked with a straight back, her eyes looking into the distance, ignoring the things and people nearby. She felt him move along with her.

“Jennifer, slow up! You’re walking too fast.”

She ignored him and quickened her step. She darted out into the traffic and crossed the road between slow-moving cars. He followed her. She felt his hand on her arm and she shook it off. She speeded up but he was still there. When she reached the corner of Finsbury Park she stopped. She did not want him to see her go into the B&B.

“Jennifer, I only want to talk to you!”

“What?” she said.

“Why did you meet with my sister today?”

“I wanted to see her…To…I had things to say to her.”

“About what?”

“None of your business!”

She’d raised her voice and some passers-by looked round.

“Calm down. I’m just curious.”

“Did Lucy tell you I was here?” she demanded.

He shook his head and got something out of his back pocket. He handed it to her. She saw an envelope with her handwriting on the front, the name
Lucy Alexander
and her address. She pulled out the page inside it even though she knew what it was. She looked at her own words, written some weeks before.

Dear Lucy,

You will be surprised to receive a letter from me. You may even be alarmed. Please don’t be…

“I found this in Lucy’s room. I was having a nose around. I worry about my sister, especially as she’s hooked up with some no-good guy. I read it and I wondered if you’d come to see her. I waited and yesterday there you were outside my door.”

Kate didn’t speak. He snatched the letter back from her.

“How did you know I was meeting her? Did she tell you?”

“You sent her a message on her phone. Easy for me to find it.”

Kate felt instantly ashamed. She thought that Lucy had told her brother about her. But Lucy had been true to her word. She was decent and nice and yet Kate had immediately suspected her.

“I recognised you as soon as I saw you,” Stevie said. “Little Jennifer. You have changed. You look so much like your mum now.”

She glared at him. The comment was laced with something. She remembered him from years ago licking his lips.

“What do you want?”

“I just wanted to say hello. What’s wrong with that? It’s not like we don’t have a shared history. You, me and the stuff that happened up at the lake.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you…” she said and then faltered. “Except, of course, that I’m sorry for your loss… Your brother…”

His face dropped. The swagger was gone. He looked uncomfortable.

“Look after yourself, Miss Jennifer Jones. Or whatever your name is now.”

He turned and walked away and she stared after him until he went across the road and towards the tube station. She watched as he disappeared among the crowds. She didn’t move, waiting to see if he came back out. After a few minutes, when he didn’t reappear, she walked on, past the entrance of the park and towards the B&B. She felt dazed by the encounter. It was too much, too many ghosts from the past crowding around her. It wouldn’t surprise her to see the skeletal Mrs Livingstone turn the corner and walk towards her, her piercing eyes seeking her out, pinning her to the spot, looking for atonement.

“Sorry!”

She’d bumped into someone. A man wearing a suit had dropped some files and papers on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she said, bending down to pick them up.

“I should have a briefcase for these,” he apologised. “In any case, I think it was me who bumped into you!”

“No problem,” she said, walking away, taking one last glance over at the tube station.

When she saw that there was no sign of Stevie Bussell she headed for the B&B and went inside. She went upstairs and when she got into her room she locked the door tightly and stood against it.

Twenty-eight

Kate got to the house at Archway just after seven. She was carrying three large plastic boxes that she’d bought in a shop near to the tube station. They were different colours, red, white and yellow. It was a special offer; three for the price of two. She was hoping Petra wouldn’t mind her storing them in her room. She had enough stuff to carry with her on Saturday.

She was feeling better. She’d had a day answering telephones and while it wasn’t the most interesting work she’d ever done, she’d been left on her own to do it and no one had bothered her. She’d got through her calls, one after the other, in a mindless way. Her desk was like a carrel and she was facing a screen on which a script came up every time a phone call was answered. She didn’t have to talk to anyone else and say who she was or make any polite conversation. She left her desk to go to the toilet a few times and to have lunch. At five she left.

After the events of the day before she needed the monotony. She needed normal, boring things to happen. She was desperate for time to pass until she could move into the house in Archway. She pressed the doorbell and waited. A window on the first floor was wide open and a head popped out. A young man looked down at her.

“Coming!” a voice shouted from inside the house.

The front door opened and an older man stood there. He was large, chunky and was wearing an Arsenal T-shirt. He pointed a finger at her.

“You must be Becky,” he said.

She nodded.

“People usually bring wine to a meal, not packing boxes!”

He laughed at his own joke.

“I’m Greg,” he said, holding the front door open.

She walked in, a feeling of embarrassment flooding through her. There was the noise of footsteps coming down the stairs and she saw Petra skip along the hallway.

“You’ve met Greg, then?”

Greg had walked off into the kitchen, still chuckling to himself.

“I wondered if I could leave these boxes here, as long as you don’t mind. I’ve got quite a lot to carry on Saturday.”

“Sure. Come upstairs.”

“I’ve also brought the deposit.”

“Great.”

“Should I have brought wine?”

“No, take no notice of Greg. He’s a comedian.”

She placed the plastic boxes in the corner of Petra’s room. The window was open and a light breeze was coming in. In the bay, on the floor, was a suitcase which was half packed, and a rucksack beside it.

“What time are you going?”

“Got the early flight on Saturday morning. Can’t wait.”

“Oh, here’s the deposit.”

“Thanks.”

Kate gave her an envelope. “It’s cash. That’s all right, is it?”

“That’s brilliant. Now, why don’t we go and eat. Greg can only cook two things. Thai green curry or risotto, but they’re both pretty good.”

Kate looked back at the plastic boxes before she left the room. The sight of them made her feel good, as if a part of her was already there. Plus she had paid the deposit so things were definitely settled. All she had to do was get through Thursday and Friday in the B&B.

“I love green curry,” Kate said, when Greg ladled out a spoonful.

There were five other people at the table. Greg, Petra and three young men, two of whom had headphones on. Peter, the third, was quietly talking to Greg about football.
The Emirates Stadium was the worst decision they ever made!
Greg talked over him,
No, no no! It’ll rejuvenate the club.

The conversation went on and Petra rolled her eyes.

“It is a bit mad here,” she said. “But you get used to it.”

“Does everyone cook?” Kate said, feeling a moment’s sadness, remembering the meals she cooked for Sally and Ruth.

“No. Greg cooks every Wednesday and there’s an open invite for anyone who wants to come. The rest of the week we get our own meals. More people usually come but the couple in the back bedroom are on holiday and Suzie, the girl in the next room to me, is going to a work hen party so she couldn’t be here.”

Kate ate the food. She was hungry.

“So, Kate, what do you do?” Greg said.

The three young men looked up at her, a couple of them frowning as if they hadn’t registered her presence.

“I’ve got a job in telephone sales. It’s just temporary.”

“So, what do you want to do? With your life, I mean?”

“That’s Greg. Skip over the small talk, why don’t you?” Petra said.

“I don’t know. Maybe something… Something in… I’m not sure yet.”

Greg nodded, his attention straying towards the sound of a television from another room.

“How is your thesis on Beckett?” Kate said, hoping she had remembered it right.

“Coming along. Coming along,” he said.

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the last five years,” Petra said, taking a spoonful more of the green curry.