season when Elena felt she couldn’t go on? She’d crept out of school in the middle of the night (how easy was that these days? In all honesty, Alex’s experience of boarding schools was Enid Blyton’s Malory Towers books with their jolly midnight feasts and Harry Potter and magic goings-on – not exactly an in-depth knowledge), found her way to the end of the road that ended abruptly, falling away to the beach. Then she’d apparently thrown herself off the cliff road and down onto the rocks below before the tide had come in and dragged her poor broken body out, then in again; leaving it on the shoreline waiting to be found. What a waste.
According to the newspaper article about the inquest, it was an open-and-shut case. And, of course, her mother couldn’t believe her beloved daughter would do such a thing, would reach such a deep and dark place that she could see no other way out.
Yet Cat’s absolute conviction that it wasn’t so open-and-shut had begun to chip away at Alex. Who had Elena spoken to in those last days, hours? Had the school noticed anything amiss? Had she become depressed and anorexic again, or was that just a convenient excuse trotted out by the school, the police, the authorities? The inquest seemed to exonerate the school of all blame. But still. Wouldn’t they have noticed something about her behaviour in the days leading up to her death? Shouldn’t they have noticed? Would you pay the thirty-odd thousand pounds to the school if you didn’t expect some modicum of pastoral care? And she knew how much Cat regretted sending Elena to the boarding school. ‘It was because I was away so much,’ she’d told Alex, as if wanting Alex to absolve her from some mortal sin. ‘I – we – thought it was best. And I had just got married.’ She’d looked shamefaced. ‘So selfish. Now I wish I could have all that time back with her, all the growing up I missed. All the worries she must have had going to a new school. And what did I do? Texted her. Some mother I am.’
Through Thetford and after – the tall conifers at either side of the road reaching up to the sky, and David Bowie changed for Lou Reed. She ought to try and get into some of the new music, but she liked the old rockers. Always had since hearing them on her father’s old record player as a child.
The road stretched on as the sun became even higher in the sky. Skirting round Norwich – a city she loved and had missed – then up to the flat of The Broads, passing farm shops, bed and breakfast places, garden centres, a huge solar farm that went on for miles, and churches, always churches, some with the unusual round tower. Then on to the busy town of Wroxham, teeming with early summer visitors who spilled from the paths onto the narrow roads. As she went over the little bridge she glanced at where the boats were moored and thought about how she had never taken a boat out on The Broads. Maybe, she mused, she would rectify that this summer. Perhaps take … who? With a lurch she realized there was no one she could take. Gus would be away for the whole summer, and Sasha? Well, Sasha wasn’t likely to be out on day release or whatever they called it anytime soon.
Her mind drifted back to her friend.
‘Would you like to see Elena’s bedroom?’ Cat had asked.
Alex nodded. Of course she would; it might give her a bit of an insight into the teenager she had never known.
She followed Cat upstairs, and stood for a moment on the threshold of the room. She wanted to get a sense of her daughter, a feel for her. What sort of girl had she been? She knew how difficult it was being a teenager in this day and age – Gus proved it – so she had sympathy with both Elena and Cat as far as that was concerned. It was hard growing up in a world that expected you to be perfect, expected you to either succeed well or fail badly; there seemed to be no middle ground.
It was obvious Cat had changed nothing since Elena had left for the start of the Christmas term the year before. Alex had a sudden flashback to Sasha who hadn’t been able to give away Harry and Millie’s clothes and toys for years. Eventually Alex had stepped in and taken all the stuff to the Red Cross shop in Sole Bay. It had broken Sasha even more.
Elena’s room was that of a typical teenager, though maybe less messy, as she hadn’t been there the whole time. Posters of bands Alex hadn’t heard of were Blu-tacked on the walls. A flowery vintage cover on her bed. Poetry books, Harry Potter, The Twilight series, Judy Blume books were lined up on the shelves. Adult books too: Belinda Bauer, Lee Child, Antonia Honeywell, Jojo Moyes. An expensive iPod dock and computer sat on a sleek glass desk. A laptop made up the triumvirate.
‘I presume she had a computer at school? And phone?’ asked Alex.
‘Oh yes,’ said Cat, sitting on the bed, her hands absent-mindedly brushing the duvet cover, tears not far from her eyes. ‘The laptop on her desk there, that’s what she used. The police took it away but couldn’t find anything. The phone’s in her drawer. I didn’t want to look through it.’ She swallowed. ‘It seemed too much like prying.’
‘Hmm.’ Alex knew that if there was no suspicion of foul play the police would have had only a cursory look at Elena’s electronic stuff; they didn’t have the resources to do a thorough job unless it was absolutely necessary.
‘I come and sleep in here sometimes,’ Cat’s voice was faint. Unbearably sad. ‘To be near her. I won’t let anyone wash the sheets. I can still smell her, just. I don’t want to lose that smell. Sometimes, if I don’t look at a photograph of her I feel as though I might lose what she looked like. Forget her face. The scar on her knee from where she fell off her bike trying to ride it without stabilizers for the first time. The birthmark on the inside of her wrist. The way one ear sticks out more than the other. Stuck out more than the other. Then I can’t stop crying.’ She looked up at Alex. ‘That’s the trouble. I can’t stop crying.’
‘I know. I understand.’ Alex nodded.
‘I know you do. You had to help Sasha through everything, despite what happened at the end. And you’ve got Gus. I know you would do anything to keep him safe. I couldn’t keep Elena safe, that’s why I’m begging you to help me. Please.’
There was no way, Alex knew, she was not going to help Cat now.
‘Would you mind if I took the laptop and phone away with me? To have a look, see what she was doing at school?’
For a moment her friend looked panicked. ‘I don’t know … I’m not sure …’
‘It might help me get a picture of her life, that’s all,’ said Alex gently, knowing the tremor in Cat’s voice was, after all she had said, due to the possibility of losing something of her daughter’s. ‘I won’t do any harm, or destroy anything, I promise.’
‘But her passwords?’
‘Leave that to me,’ said Alex.
‘She wanted to be an artist, you know. She was good enough too,’ said Cat, her face sad. ‘That’s one of hers. It’s Hallow’s Edge.’
She pointed to a painting on the wall. Oil. A landscape. A beach, the sea, white horses, groynes, all painted as if the artist was sitting on the beach. And in the corner, on the edge of the cliff … was that a tiny figure? Alex moved nearer to peer at it, but the picture dissolved into a mass of paint blobs. She moved away, further across the room, and the blobs morphed into a figure that seemed to be wearing a long coat and scarf. It could have been anybody.
‘She painted that in her last term; it was part of her Art A level. They let me bring it home. It’s lovely, isn’t it? I think it’s somewhere near the school, but—’ Catriona looked as though she was about to cry.
‘Who’s the figure in the top corner?’
Cat shook her head. ‘No idea.’ She got up and stood next to Alex. ‘I hadn’t noticed it. I didn’t look closely enough. I didn’t take enough interest. Not then.’ She gulped back a sob.
‘Cat …’ Alex hesitated, not wanting to appear intrusive. ‘Would you mind if I took a photograph of the painting?’
‘No. If you think it’ll help in some way, any way, then please do.’
Alex snapped the painting. ‘And do you have a recent picture of Elena? I’ll give it back