Then She Vanishes(25)

I’m sure I can still hear the footsteps. Heavy and determined. I stop and turn around, ready to confront whoever is behind me, but there is nobody. Someone laughs, piercing the silence. I walk on, but as the river falls away and I’m enveloped by the tall buildings either side of me I can see shadows lurking in every doorway. It’s my imagination, I tell myself. There’s nothing here. I’m just feeling unnerved after reliving past events this evening, that’s all. But I deliberately walk in the middle of the cobbled road anyway, praying no cars turn down this way, until I reach my block.

I fumble for my key, but don’t allow myself to panic. I turn the lock and let myself into the lobby, closing the heavy glass door behind me with relief. But as I do so I notice a light flash in the lower window of the derelict building opposite. A torch, perhaps. But it’s gone.

Before I have time to think any more about it, my phone vibrates in my coat pocket. I retrieve it to see Margot’s name flashing up on the screen.





14




August 1994


Flora was falling in love. She was certain of it. She’d never felt like this before. And Dylan was so different from anyone she’d ever met. They’d only been seeing each other for seven days, but it had been the best week of her life. Dylan made her feel so special. And he was nineteen. Nineteen. Three whole years older. She still couldn’t believe her luck that he was interested in her when he could have had anyone. She saw the way other girls flicked their hair and fluttered their eyelashes whenever he was around.

The country was in the middle of a heatwave, and every day seemed hotter and more humid than the last. When they weren’t at the fair, they were at the beach, sunbathing or splashing about in the extremely cold Channel.

‘I don’t know why you keep mooning over that boy,’ Heather had said that afternoon, after Flora had begged her to go with her to the fair yet again. Heather was on her bed, an A4 sketchpad on her knee, getting away from the incessant heat. ‘You know the fair will move on in a couple of weeks and him with it. A girl in every town, I bet.’

Flora had scowled in response. It wasn’t like Heather to be mean, yet here she was acting like a jealous ex. ‘You’re my sister,’ she’d replied. ‘You’re supposed to be supportive.’

It had had the desired effect, as Flora had known it would. Nothing like laying a guilt trip on Heather to get her to do what Flora wanted. It worked both ways, though – they’d been doing it to each other for as long as they could remember. So Heather reluctantly agreed to accompany her to the fair for the fifth time that week. On the days that Heather had refused, Flora had gone anyway. Her mother hadn’t noticed, too busy with customers. The caravan park was only in its second summer and the business was starting to take off. But Flora didn’t like to disobey Margot’s rules too often, if she could help it. She knew her mother’s strictness came from a good place, and that she cared more than anything for her and Heather. Which was more than could be said about Heather’s friend, Jess: her mother didn’t seem to give a toss where Jess was half the time, or for how long. Jess might as well have lived with them, the amount of times she stayed over.

Jess was here now, standing by the coconut stall wearing a crop top and too much make-up. She was jigging along to ‘Saturday Night’ by Whigfield that was blaring out of a nearby ghettoblaster. God, Flora hated that song. Someone had brought a tape back from their holidays in Benidorm and unfortunately it seemed to have caught on. There was even a bloody dance. She’d caught Heather and Jess doing it the other night in Heather’s bedroom. They’d looked mortified, mid-pose, when she came bounding in, Jess in particular. Flora knew Jess wanted her to think she was cool.

Jess blushed now at the sight of them. ‘Hi, Heather, Flora.’

Flora smiled kindly, then cast her eyes about for Dylan. Where was he? She couldn’t see him in his usual spot on the Waltzers.

‘Right, I’m off to find Dylan,’ she said to Heather, undoing the top button of her lacy blouse and repositioning her yin-and-yang velvet choker. She gathered her hair away from her neck. It was nearly seven thirty but it was still stifling hot and the air smelt sickly sweet. ‘I’ll meet you back here about nine fifteen. Okay?’

Heather folded her arms across her chest. ‘Fine. But don’t be late. I don’t want to piss Mum off.’

Flora sighed. Heather was such a party-pooper. ‘I won’t be late.’ Over her sister’s shoulder she spotted Dylan in the distance. He was with another bloke. Someone she didn’t recognize, not that she’d met many of Dylan’s friends yet. This bloke looked a lot older than Dylan, with a hard face and lots of piercings. Flora didn’t want to sound all middle-class about it, but she thought he looked a bit … unsavoury.

Jess took Heather’s arm and led her away, chattering in her ear, although it didn’t look as though Heather was listening. Flora wanted to reassure her sister, tell her not to worry. But she knew it would fall on deaf ears. Even though Flora was the elder, it was Heather who was more sensible and reliable, Heather who had looked out for them both when their dad died.

Flora waved at Dylan, who raised a hand in return, but he didn’t smile. He was in deep conversation with Mr Piercings. She stood where she was, waiting for them to reach her, not wanting to interrupt.