Hannah Emery - Secrets in the Shadows

Louisa called her mother, but there was no answer. She looked all around the kitchen for a note, a sign that her mother might be back any moment, but all she found was a half-finished cup of tea and an uncooked blackberry pie. She thudded upstairs, into all the empty rooms, and then fled back downstairs to the kitchen, knocking the pie from the kitchen table as she flew past it and out of the back door into the whipping, salty air.

‘Mum,’ she tried to call. Her limbs dragged along as though they were being pulled back, and her shout for her mother was sucked back into her mouth. She could not speak. She could not yell. Come and find me , she pleaded silently.

Louisa searched and searched and searched; she waited until her voice returned and bellowed for her mother over and over again; she wandered up and down the beach until her feet were numb and prickled with sand. Eventually she gave up and walked from the beach to Dr Barker’s house.

Dr Barker lived a few streets down from Louisa and her mother. Dr Barker tells me what to do too much , her mother used to say. But Louisa liked him. Something about him made her feel safe.

Louisa rapped on the blue front door. There was an immediate fumbling coming from within: a shift in sound and movement. Louisa tensed as Dr Barker loomed towards the glass window. She had never visited him alone before.

‘Louisa, what can I do to help you?’ Dr Barker said as he appeared in the doorway. A single white crumb of bread, or perhaps cake, dangled from his beard like a charm from a necklace and Louisa wondered how long it had been there. She didn’t imagine Dr Barker was the type of man who looked in the mirror very often so the crumb could have been there for hours, perhaps even days. For a very short moment, this thought eclipsed Louisa’s day so far. But as soon as it passed, the bright, burning memory reappeared.

‘I’m sorry to bother you. I didn’t know who else to go to. It’s my mother. I think she might be in trouble. I think she might have gone into the sea,’ Louisa said, noticing when she had finished speaking that her face was wet and that she was crying.

It was as though Dr Barker knew exactly what had happened. He didn’t make an urgent attempt to reach for his big leather bag that he kept by the door. He didn’t swoop his big brown cloak over his gigantic shoulders. He just held out an old, papery hand and stroked Louisa’s head kindly, and gave her a grey handkerchief to dry away her seawater tears.

Louisa stayed in Dr Barker’s living room whilst he went out to try and find her mother. She sat alone with his half-eaten cheese sandwich (that explained the crumb, then), his ticking clock and his scratchy carpet. She kicked her heels against his fuzzy green chair, and realised that whenever she saw a cheese sandwich from now on, she would think of her lost mother wading into the sea.

She lifted a leg and kicked the plate from the table so that the sandwich split and fell to the ground.

Had her mother seen that from wherever she was now?

Louisa sprang to her feet and reassembled the soft spongy bread and waxy cheese. She put it on its plate and back onto the table, muttering something about kicking it by accident.

Just in case.

When Dr Barker returned, his face was puckered into a strange, sympathetic bundle of features. He took Louisa’s hand in his.

‘Louisa, my dear.’ Louisa waited for him to say more, for more words to come out from the depths of his beard. But none came. He shook his head and his eyes filled with grey water and turned pink around the edges. She looked down at his paper hands and at hers inside them.

‘You shall sleep here tonight,’ Dr Barker eventually said. ‘I’ll find you a blanket.’

So Dr Barker found Louisa a blanket and she found herself thinking about how much her mother would have liked the blanket because her mother loved colours and the blanket was made of hundreds of different colours, all wrapped around each other.

Louisa’s mother used to speak in colours. She used to ask what Louisa’s mood was, and Louisa would answer in a colour. It was a game Louisa liked and was good at. ‘Red’, she might say, if her day had made her angry; ‘blue!’ she would shout if she was cold; ‘yellow!’ she would holler if she felt happy and the sun was shining.

As Louisa lay wrapped in all the colours of the blanket on Dr Barker’s couch, she tried to think of a colour to describe how she felt now. But no colour came. Her mind and her thoughts were clear, like ice.

The next day, Dr Barker took Louisa back to her house. As they walked towards the front door, Louisa looked up at the grey building. It seemed different somehow: taller and more intimidating. Louisa could hear the sounds that she had always heard from the Pleasure Beach, but the squeals of joy now sounded more like screams of terror. They came in waves, like the waves of the sea.

The pie that Louisa had knocked over the day before was the only thing out of place. Its purple innards spewed out over the grey stone floor in a bloody mess and its sour scent drifted up around Louisa like a ghost.

‘Get together anything you want to bring with you, dear Louisa.’ The way Dr Barker spoke made Louisa want to cry. A lump of pain appeared in her throat. She tried to swallow it down as she climbed upstairs to her bedroom. The summer holidays had filled the small, square room with shells and books and socks, and Louisa had planned to tidy it up before she returned to school. Her copy of Bunty lay on the floor where she had dropped it after the vision of her mother the day before, making her feel sick and hot.

‘I don’t know what I’ll need.’

Dr Barker didn’t seem to know what a twelve-year-old girl with a missing mother might need either. But that didn’t matter. He knew to take Louisa’s hand, and to offer her his handkerchief and to walk beside her as she left her house behind.

Louisa stayed with Dr Barker for a time. She couldn’t remember how long. Those days were misshapen and blurry in her memory, as though they had been left outside and rained on. One day, while she was sitting in Dr Barker’s lounge, there finally came a moment when suddenly she felt a tiny crack of space opening between that terrible day when she had lost her mother and her life now. Dr Barker’s eyes twinkled when Louisa told him that she felt a little better and that she might be hungry. He slipped out of the room, leaving his newspaper and his reading glasses to peep at Louisa from the little table next to his chair. When he returned, he handed Louisa a plate with daisies around the rim and a ham sandwich stacked together in the centre. Louisa took a bite and focused on the daisies.

It was soon after the sandwich that Louisa found herself in Dr Barker’s car, which smelt faintly of leather and fish. Dr Barker was very quiet for most of the journey. It was after almost an hour when he turned to Louisa, his big hands settled on the steering wheel, and said:

‘Louisa, today is a very special day. Because today, you’re going to live with your father.’

Grace, 2008

‘A toast is definitely in order!’ Grace says as she struggles with the cork of a champagne bottle.

It’s the evening of the opening of Ash Books and the twins and Eliot are at Rose House, the old guest house that Elsie lives in by herself. The three of them ate at the pub across the road from the shop for dinner, Elsie warning them that they wouldn’t be able to eat away their profits every night and Grace rolling her eyes and pointing out that they deserved a treat.

‘Was it a huge success then?’ Eliot asks.

Grace avoids eye contact with Eliot. Tonight needs to be simple. She nods and allows herself a congratulatory ‘whoop!’ as she finally manages to pop out the stubborn cork.