Hannah Emery - Secrets in the Shadows

‘I’m so happy for you girls. It’s about time something good happened for you both, after everything you’ve been through.’

Elsie returns with three potently scented coffees and puts them down on the counter. ‘I hope it works out. We just kind of went for it without thinking it through in too much detail,’ she says, taking a sip of coffee and wincing when she realises it’s far too hot.

‘Well, that’s exactly what you have to do. People get far too wrapped up in what they think they should do, rather than what they want.’

Grace stares at Mags for a moment, thinking of her own mother. There’s a short silence, peppered with blows on coffees to cool them. After a few moments, Mags takes her oversized handbag from where she dropped it behind the counter and swoops out a bunch of roses wrapped in bright pink paper.

‘I brought you these. But I’ve just realised that you probably don’t have a vase here. I’ll pop and get you one later. Or I might send someone in my place.’

Just as Mags says this, the bell above the door tinkles again and two elderly women enter, cooing over The Wizard of Oz window display, which Grace assembled late last night after stumbling upon a 1960 edition of the book amongst their stock. Dorothy is a doll borrowed from the toyshop next door, and the yellow brick road is gathered crepe paper. Paper poppies surround the road, and in them nestles The Wonderful Wizard of Oz .

It’s October, the last week of the illuminations, which always means that Blackpool and the surrounding towns are swelled with families who are there to see the flashing show of lights that dangles along the whole length of the promenade before the end of the season in November. The till is constantly beeping and at 2 p.m. they run out of paper bags. It’s the silly things that are sold first: the extras that Grace bought on a whim and Elsie didn’t think would match the shop of their imagination. Teddy bears wearing Ash Books hoodies; bundles of marshmallows in cellophane tied with curling ribbon; cheap children’s books with gaudy covers are all grabbed without much thought, paid for, probably forgotten soon after.

Towards the end of the day, when the buzz of new customers has died down, Grace is in the small office at the back counting through the money they have taken when she hears Elsie call her.

‘Somebody has brought us a vase for our flowers,’ Elsie shouts from the front.

Grace smiles as she piles the notes neatly on the desk and stands up, expecting to see Mags in the shop again, brandishing a vase. But when she turns around and sees who has just come through the door, Grace feels all the blood in her body rush to her head.

‘My mum said something about you needing a vase?’ Noel says, smiling at the twins and setting the vase on the counter.

‘When did you get back here?’ Grace asks, trying to dismiss the instant confusion that swarms around her mind, the warmth that blasts through her body at the sight of him.

‘Just now. I had a couple of days’ holiday to take, and I couldn’t miss the grand opening, could I?’

Elsie beams. ‘Grace, why don’t you show Noel all our stuff?’

‘I think he’s capable of looking himself,’ Grace says, suddenly sullen. Elsie shouldn’t try to pair her with Noel. Elsie has no idea. It’s just not that easy.

Noel touches Grace’s arm. ‘Come on, Grace. Give me a tour.’

Grace softens. ‘Okay.’

They wander around the shop, arm in arm to the back, where there are more boxes piled like bricks, two old office chairs and a small desk. The desk is crammed with the notes that Grace was counting when Noel arrived, piles of books and magazines, cups, a jar of cheap coffee, some powdered milk and a kettle.

‘So you came all the way from London just to see our shop on its opening day?’ Grace asks.

‘Yeah. I’ve heard how hard you’ve both been working, and I wanted to come and see how your first day was going.’

Grace flicks the little kettle on the desk on. ‘That’s really nice of you. Has Bea come here with you?’

‘No. She’s had to stay and work.’

There’s a silence, which is softened by the bubbling kettle. Grace glances across at Noel. He has been a part of Grace’s life for as long as she can remember, since those early, bright days that seem so out of reach.

‘How is Bea?’ Grace asks him, busying herself with cups, not really wanting to think about Bea at all, cursing herself for asking.

‘She’s okay.’

And then, because she has had a big day, and because it’s been so long since she has seen him, and just because she wants to, Grace puts the cups down, moves forward and hugs Noel.

A long time ago, the worst time in Grace’s life, a time filled with screams and horror and nightmares and loneliness, Noel made things slightly more bearable for Grace. She was only sixteen then, and full of jagged emotions that made her feel as though she might tear open at any moment. Grace hasn’t hugged Noel for a long time, but now his solid, strong arms are around her again, his clean, musky scent transporting her back in time, she remembers that when she did hug him all those years ago, she felt safe and still for that moment, as though nothing was moving.

With Eliot, everything is moving, all the time.

Grace sighs, and breaks away from Noel. ‘Come on. It’s almost time to close.’

Louisa, 1960

Louisa was in her bedroom when it happened.

She hadn’t been thinking about her mother to start with. She’d been lying on her bed with her feet up on the wall reading Bunty , when the strips on the pages before her became fuzzy as though they were hot.

This had happened before: it always happened before a vision. Louisa’s sight became silver around the edges and her head ached, as though what was in it was too big for her mind. And then she would see something that was about to happen. Louisa was the only girl she knew who had such premonitions. She delighted her friends by telling them what would be for school dinner before it had even been served, or what colour Miss Kirk’s dress would be before she came into the classroom.

So now, as Louisa’s head began to pulse with pain, she knew that she was about to see something that would happen shortly. It won’t be anything of interest , Louisa thought, for it never was. She shook her head, wanting to continue reading her strip about The Four Marys , but a stubborn image floated before her eyes, as though she was watching television. She scratched her leg idly as the vision began, but her body stiffened when, in her mind, she saw her mother wander out of their tall house, across the cool sand and into the roaring sea beyond. Louisa felt a suffocating pain in her chest as the sharp picture in her mind showed her mother’s skirt billowing out with water, as she moved further and further out to sea until she had vanished completely. The image disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. Louisa tasted salt and fear, and then nothing.

She flung her magazine onto the floor and sped downstairs to the kitchen, where she had heard her mother clattering about a few minutes before. Her mother had been more and more distracted lately, and Louisa had felt as though something might be the matter with her. There had been more of the nightmares than ever before. Twice in the night, Louisa had heard her mother moaning and crying. Those blue, anxious hours came back to her now, as she stood alone in the kitchen.

‘She’s fine . What I just imagined meant nothing,’ Louisa said to herself, her voice too loud in the empty room. She tried to make herself calm down a little, but her breaths had become short and sharp, and her heart was light and trembling.