The Truth About Celia Frost (18 page)

“Where are you going?” Celia shouted back.

“None of your business – see how you like it.”

Celia snorted with contempt. “Well, it’s not difficult to work out. It’s not like you can go round to a mate’s house, because you haven’t got any mates. So sitting
on your own in the Bluebell it is, then. Yeah, Mum, go and have another drink. See if it makes you feel any saner.”

The front door slammed, the music stopped and all Frankie could hear was the sound of inconsolable weeping. Suddenly Frankie had a brainwave. What was the point of listening to Celia crying all
night when he had the chance to make some real progress, face-to-face? He jumped out of the car, sprinted to the precinct and into the Bluebell pub.

Great,
he thought, looking around the grotty interior.
She’s not here yet. Let’s just hope she turns up.

He went to freshen up in the men’s toilets. He wanted to look half-decent for the job in hand.

When Janice arrived at the pub, she was pleasantly surprised to spot Frankie in the corner. In desperate need of a friendly face, she was immediately drawn to him.

“Hello.” She smiled, her eyes slightly glazed. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Frankie rose to greet her. “Ms. Frost, isn’t it? Lovely to see you again,” he said with impeccable politeness.

“For goodness’ sake, call me Janice – and you’re Paul, aren’t you? I remember,” she said rather coyly.

“Can I get you a drink, Janice?” he asked.

“A gin and tonic would be lovely,” she answered, trying to sound as ladylike as possible.

“Should I make it a double?” he tempted.

“I wouldn’t usually, but go on then, you’ve twisted my arm,” she trilled.

While he was at the bar, Janice took the opportunity to straighten her clothes and tidy her hair. She caught sight of her nicotine-stained fingers and bitten nails and decided to keep her hands
under the table as much as possible.

“Do you live round here?” she asked, as he returned with the drinks.

“No. I’m just here to do this heating job. I’ve been at it all day. I really needed a drink,” he replied.

“Yeah. Sometimes I feel like that,” she said, staring at the glass longingly.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with the odd drink now and then, is there?” he said encouragingly.

“You’re right,” replied Janice, sinking the entire contents of the glass in one go.

“Wow! You must have had a tough day,” Frankie said.

“I’ve had a tough life,” Janice sniggered.

“Well, it must be hard bringing up a kid on your own. Do you have anyone to help you?”

“No. It’s just me and Celia. It’s only ever been the two of us.”

“At least Megan’s mum knows that I’ll always come round if she needs help, but for you to have no one to turn to, well...it must be lonely.”

“You have no idea how lonely. Celia’s all I’ve got and now even she hates me.” Tears burgeoned in her eyes. “All we do these days is argue; we used to be so close.
She was always such a good girl, even though I’ve put her through so much. But now...well...sorry, you don’t want to hear all my problems.”

“No, go on, Janice. What’s happened to change things between you?” Frankie looked attentively into her eyes.

“She doesn’t trust me any more,” Janice blurted out. “She won’t let me protect her. Every day I go through hell until she comes home and I know things are
okay.”

“We all worry about our kids, especially when they’re girls, but maybe you’ve got to give her some space, a bit of independence,” he said.

“You don’t understand.” She shook her head. “Celia isn’t the same as other kids. She needs to keep safe.”

“Why? Is she ill?”

“I can’t talk about it,” she said, suddenly clamming up. “I can never talk about it. It’s my responsibility, my burden.”

“Well it might help to share that burden with someone. Sometimes things aren’t quite as bad as they seem,” he said softly.

Janice laughed bitterly. “You seem a lovely man, Paul, but you haven’t got a clue. I haven’t even told Celia. For years I’ve lied to her and she didn’t put a foot
wrong. I’m meant to be her mother, she trusted me completely, did whatever I said. But now she just thinks I’m mad.” Janice stared at him with a crazed look in her eyes.

“Maybe it’d be best to tell her this secret if it concerns her. Maybe she has a right to know. Kids are a lot more resilient than we give them credit for,” he said.

She leaned in towards him. “I can’t tell her. It would make her life unbearable. So I carry it around in here.” She thumped her chest. “And every day it eats away at me.
I’ve had a permanent sick feeling in my stomach ever since I’ve had her, but now that she’s running around doing God knows what, I’m completely helpless; holding my breath
every day, waiting for it to happen – and when it does, I won’t know how to stop it.” Distress consumed her face.

“Whatever it is, I wish you’d let me help you, Janice,” he said earnestly.

“I couldn’t let you. It’s dangerous,” her hot breath whispered in his ear. “She’s probably been looking for us all these years. Right now, there’s
probably someone out there trying to track us down.”

Frankie shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Who’s ‘she’?” he asked.

The faint voice in Janice’s head that was telling her to shut up was drowned out by the effects of all the gin, which was lubricating her usually careful tongue.

“I was so stupid. I thought that if we kept on the move, kept our heads down and didn’t tell a soul, I thought she might forget about Celia. But who was I kidding? How could she ever
forget about Celia? And now, after all these years, there she was; everyone saying how wonderful she is. But I know the truth.”

“God, Janice. This sounds like serious stuff. Why haven’t you been to the police?” Frankie knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he needed to probe further.

“I can’t. They’d take my girl away from me. God knows what would happen to her.”

Frankie reached out and rubbed her arm sympathetically. “Don’t get upset.”

“You’re such a nice man, Paul, so easy to talk to. I don’t know why I told you all that.” She gave a silly grin. “It’s weird, but I feel much better
now.”

“Anytime, Janice. Listen...I’ll be working around here for a few days yet. If you ever feel like having another chat, here’s my number.” He wrote out his mobile
number. “Now how about another drink? You could do with it.”

Celia woke up with a stiff neck. She’d fallen asleep on her bed, fully clothed, exhausted from crying and worry. She checked her watch; it was nearly eleven p.m.
Wandering into Janice’s room, she saw that the bed was empty.

Celia scanned the flat. “Mum?” she called out. Janice was nowhere to be seen. “She’s not even back yet,” she said in disgust. Still half asleep, she ran her fingers
through her bed-flattened hair; it sprang out as an idea sprang into her head.

I shouldn’t be here when she gets back. She’ll get the fright of her life. I’ll show her that I can disappear if I want to... It’s what she needs; a really big
fright. Maybe she’ll take me seriously then – make an effort to get her act together.

She phoned Sol, pleased with her plan. His phone was off, but she was undeterred.

Half an hour later, Celia was nervously picking her way through the estate, only too aware that The Sovereign Crew could be round any corner. All was quiet outside Sol’s,
the whole house in darkness.

She called up to his window in a hushed shout: “Sol. Sol. Are you there? Wake up!”

Nothing stirred. She gathered up little bits of stone from the ground and threw them, one by one, up at the glass, hoping it wouldn’t shatter.

A sleepy head poked out of the narrow window. “Celia?” He peered at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” she whispered.

“Hang on a minute.”

Sol opened the front door with his finger to his lip, but Celia couldn’t help smirking when she saw his Superman T-shirt and shorts. “Like the pyjamas.”

“Shut up,” he whispered. “Mum’s asleep and Abs and Yac will be home soon. You’d better come up to my room.”

They crept up the creaking stairs and into Sol’s tiny bedroom. The recent liberal spraying of body scent for men just about masked the classic boy odours.

“I thought my room was small!” Celia said, standing centimetres from Sol in the narrow floor space.

“At least I
get
my own room. Abs and Yac have to share. You can imagine how impressed girls are with that.” Sol suddenly became his brothers. “Yeah, darlin’, you
can come back to my place – as long as you don’t mind my mum being in the next room and my brother farting in the next bed.” Celia burst out laughing as Sol frantically shushed
her. “If my mum found you in here she’d have me down the church to be exorcized.”

“Don’t worry, we can pretend we’re revising.” She grinned.

“Well, we can’t stand here all night. If you want to sit down, you’re going to have to go up there.” Sol pointed up to his high bed, which housed a desk and wardrobe
beneath it.

Celia climbed the short vertical ladder and shuffled along the mattress to make room for Sol. They sat crossed-legged as Celia picked at the plump blue duvet.

“Why are you here, Celia? What’s happened at home?”

“Mum’s gone out, and I want her to get back to the flat and have a heart attack when she sees I’m not there. I need to give her a fright, teach her a lesson. Tonight she
started talking about us leaving here.”

Sol looked alarmed. “You’re not going to, are you?”

“No! I’m not letting her drag me anywhere. She’s insane. She’s still saying those mad things. I can’t stand it any more.” Her face suddenly looked
world-weary. “I don’t know what I expected. Did I really think she’d get better just because I rumbled her?”

“Maybe it’s time to get her help. It’s too much for you to handle on your own,” Sol said.

“And how do I do that without social workers getting involved? They wouldn’t leave me with her – not when they find out what she’s done. They’d take me away; I
could end up anywhere.”

“
Anywhere
anywhere?” Sol asked.

“Yeah, of course! They could put me in care anywhere in the country. They wouldn’t want her near me.”

“Then you can’t!” Sol said urgently.

“What? Make up your mind, Sol. Now are you saying
don’t
get her help?”

“Yeah. Don’t get her help.”

She searched his anxious eyes. “Okay,” she said quietly.

Janice looked at her watch. “Oh my God! I had no idea it was that time. I’d better get back – check on Celia. Please forget what I’ve said. I’ve
been talking rubbish all night. I think I might be a bit tipsy.”

“Let me walk you back.”

“You’ve no need to do that,” Janice protested weakly.

“You shouldn’t be walking around here on your own at this time of night,” Frankie said chivalrously.

He put her arm through his to steady her and escorted Janice out of the pub. They looked an odd sight wandering through the estate, like a wrestler and his tiny wife.

At the entrance to Bluebell Tower Two, she strained her neck looking up at the big man. “Thanks for seeing me home,” she slurred.

“What are friends for?” he replied.

Janice looked taken aback. Her face lit up. “Are we friends?” she asked shyly. “I’ve never had a friend before.”

“Well, you have now,” Frankie said gently, squeezing her rough red hands, before turning and walking into the night.

Five minutes later, Celia’s phone started vibrating.

Celia listened to Janice’s frantic message. “She’s back at the flat, running round like a headless chicken. She hasn’t got a clue where I am,” Celia said with a
satisfied smile.

“You should let her know you’re okay. Say she phones the police?” Sol said.

“She won’t do that. She’s not going to want the police asking questions, is she?” Celia answered.

“I still think you should text her or something. You don’t want her doing anything stupid.”

“Okay,” Celia sighed. “But I wanted to make her really sweat. She’s getting off too lightly.”

“Then why don’t you stay here the night?”

Celia’s eyes widened.

“I’d sleep on the floor,” Sol added hurriedly.

“Could I?!”

“Yeah, why not?” he said shyly. “But Mum gets up for work at seven. You’d have to be gone by then.”

Celia gave an enormous toothy smile. “Thanks.” She texted Janice,
Staying wiv a friend. Back in morning
, and turned off her phone.

Sol climbed down from the bed.

“What are you doing?” Celia asked.

“What I said. I’m sleeping down here.” He pulled an array of clothes out of the wardrobe.

“No! I’m not kicking you out of your own bed,” Celia said.

He ignored her and lay down in the sliver of space, draping the clothes over his prostrate body.

Celia leaned over the side of the bed, looking down on her friend. “Sol,” she whispered. “I mean it. I’ll go home unless you let me sleep on the floor.”

He lay perfectly still, eyes closed, ignoring her.

“Sol,” she said in a sing-song voice, “are you asleep?”

Still, he didn’t move.

She leaned further over the side, pillow in hand, and when she had him in range, she whacked him with it.