The Flood

Published by AVON

A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019

Copyright © Rachel Bennett 2019

Cover Design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019

Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com

Rachel Bennett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008333287

Ebook Edition © September 2019 ISBN: 9780008333270

Version: 2019-07-08

For my sisters, who are actually delightful

Table of Contents

Cover

Title page

Copyright

Dedication

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About the Publisher

1

October 2003

‘We need a funeral,’ Franklyn said.

She’d been joking about it for a good few days, but now she squared her shoulders, as if prepared for a physical argument. Daniela could tell she was serious.

Stephanie, predictably, was happy to argue. Daniela wondered why Franklyn had bothered telling Stephanie, rather than just going ahead and hoping she wouldn’t find out, like usual.

Although, this time, Stephanie did have a point. ‘It’s weird and morbid,’ she said. ‘Funerals are for dead people.’

‘She might as well be dead, for all we’re going to see of her,’ Franklyn said. It was only dinner time, but Daniela suspected Franklyn had been drinking already. ‘We need some closure. It’s for us, not her. Funerals always are. We’re closing one part of our lives so we can open another.’

And perhaps, privately, Stephanie agreed, because she took herself off somewhere else in the house while the rest of them made plans.

‘How’re we actually going to do this?’ Auryn asked. She and Daniela had trailed Franklyn into the garage. Franklyn dragged out the cardboard boxes their father had stored away six months earlier, once it’d become obvious that wherever their mother had gone, she wasn’t coming back.

‘We each take whatever we want,’ Franklyn said. ‘Two or three items each max.’ Franklyn had a way of talking like she’d thought of everything in advance. ‘Any more than that and he’ll know what we’ve been up to.’ Franklyn rarely referred to their father by name anymore. If he walked into the room, she left.

There was a time – maybe as little as two months ago, maybe as much as six – when they’d each believed their mother was coming home. Franklyn, the eldest of the four sisters, gave up hope first. Stephanie, second oldest but most mature by some distance, had been practical enough to accept the situation quickly. That left Daniela and Auryn. At thirteen and twelve respectively, it’d seemed impossible to them that their mother could’ve just walked out. For weeks afterwards Daniela would wake with clear certainty: today she’ll come home.

A month after their mother left, their father went around the house and systematically removed every trace of her. Pictures, trinkets, jewellery; everything went into cardboard boxes to go into storage. When Auryn asked if she could keep the ceramic kittens from the mantelpiece, their dad had snapped at her. Auryn was used to being the favourite, being granted every whim, but apparently that was about to change as well.

Franklyn started taking items out of the boxes and setting them aside. Some she studied for a moment then put back. Others she wouldn’t even touch. Her eyes were narrowed, as if she was focusing so hard, she could see nothing except what was right in front of her. Daniela watched her, fascinated and a little worried.

Franklyn glanced into the bin bags of clothes but then shoved them out of the way. She paused over the wooden crucifix that used to hang in the hallway. Daniela had never liked it, with its sad Jesus that watched her every time she left the house. Secretly, she was pleased their father had taken it down. Now, she felt a tinge of regret as Franklyn put it back in the box, tucked securely under a pile of magazines.

At length, Franklyn settled on three objects. A silver-backed hairbrush, a small vanity mirror, and a set of wind chimes, which she had wrapped with newspaper to shut them up.

‘All right.’ Franklyn sat on her heels. ‘That’ll do for a start. You guys pick something to add.’

Daniela and Auryn shuffled closer, on their knees like supplicants. It felt almost like a game. Daniela was tempted to smile, but Auryn was chewing her lip and Franklyn looked as serious as Daniela had ever seen her.

‘What about Stephanie?’ Auryn asked.

‘If she wants to join us, she can,’ Franklyn said. ‘If not, whatever.’

Auryn ran a finger over a string of jade beads. ‘Mum will be upset if she comes home and finds her stuff gone.’

If, she said. Not when. Not anymore.

‘She took everything she wanted to take,’ Franklyn said.

Auryn was more rational than Daniela, able to analyse options and make a choice, even when all choices seemed equally bad. Onto the pile she added the jade beads and the ceramic kittens that her father hadn’t let her take before.

Franklyn gave her a gentle look. The whole family was gentle with Auryn, as if she was the most likely to break. Except Stephanie – Stephanie treated Auryn like everyone else, with barely concealed impatience. ‘Whatever you pick isn’t coming back,’ Franklyn said.

‘I know that,’ Auryn said. She set the cats down next to the jade beads, turning the ornaments so they sat parallel to the hairbrush.

Daniela pulled out a handful of bracelets and laid them on the floor so she could study them. On an intellectual level, Daniela knew the jewellery was pretty, but other than that it held little fascination. She’d never developed an enthusiasm for dressing up like most of the people at school.

Maybe she had her sisters to blame for her rough appearance. Franklyn had no tolerance for posh clothes or nice shoes, which she just wrecked anyway. Stephanie was entirely practical. At sixteen, she was in the midst of another growth spurt, and wore whatever fit her frame. Auryn had been getting their hand-me-downs for years, giving her a mismatched style that she was rapidly losing patience with. Daniela sometimes looked at her sisters, then at the girls from school, and wondered where she fit in.

No, she wouldn’t take the bracelets. Daniela couldn’t remember her mother wearing them anyway.

She looked for something else. It was a delicate balance, choosing objects that reminded her of her mother, whilst also being something she wanted rid of. Should she take a cheap and nasty item, like the plastic clip-on earrings that even her mother had hated? Or something expensive, like the vintage satchel, to show how angry she was?

But Daniela had spent enough time in the antiques shop, helping their father price up stock, to know how much the small items in the boxes were worth. Her stomach twinged at the idea of destroying anything valuable. So instead she took up the bundle of postcards, sent by her mother’s friends from various exotic places, each filled with cramped, excitable writing. Of no value to anyone except her mother.

She took everything she wanted to take.

Franklyn made no comment on the choices. She simply put all the items into an empty box, then stood up.

Their dad was in the sitting room at the front of the house, talking shop with Henry. Henry owned a half-share in the antiques shop, and more than a half-share in their lives. ‘Give your Uncle Henry a hug,’ he’d often say to Daniela and Auryn. Their mother had always puckered her mouth whenever he spoke like that.

About a year ago, Daniela had realised Henry was an honorary uncle at best. That was a relief – she didn’t want him as any kind of uncle let alone a relative. But his son, Leo … she’d grown up thinking Leo was her cousin. That’d been a blow, to discover he wasn’t.

Her dad and Henry used to do their talking in the actual shop, in the centre of Stonecrop, all of half a mile distant. But, since Daniela’s mother could no longer object, Henry had started showing up at the home, usually mid-afternoon, to discuss business. Dinner time would come and go while the two men remained sequestered in the sitting room, and the kids foraged whatever they could find to eat from the scant supplies in the kitchen.

Daniela, Franklyn and Auryn carried their contraband through the house. This was the riskiest part of the plan. If their dad caught them, he’d take the items and hide them away somewhere the kids couldn’t find them, to moulder with the other memories. Daniela and Auryn would get sent to bed with slapped legs. For Franklyn it might be worse, because she didn’t have the sense to shut up when she was in trouble.

Daniela could hear the murmur of voices from the front room as she crept down the hall.

‘The problem with all this,’ Henry said, with the air of continuing a conversation that’d been going on for hours; days, possibly, ‘is it’s such piddly stuff. I mean, look at that delivery yesterday. We paid good money, but it’s just crap. Who in their right mind wants to buy this?’

Daniela’s father grunted, non-committal.

‘We need to diversify,’ Henry said. ‘Furniture like that … it’s had its day. No one wants big, dark, heavy items anymore. It’s no wonder our profits are freefalling.’

As Franklyn stepped past the open door of the front room, Henry caught sight of her and called out, ‘Frankie, you agree, don’t you?’

Franklyn stopped, clocking the conversation. Her body language made it clear she wanted no part in it.

Oblivious, Henry said, ‘The shop’s gotta move with the times. New stock, new customers. A whole updated look. Get some signage out front so people actually know it’s there when they drive past.’

Franklyn tilted her head, then said, ‘That’ll cost money, right?’

‘That’s how business works, sweetheart. Spend money to make money.’

‘Easily said when it’s not your money.’ She stepped into the front room so she was out of Daniela’s sight.

Daniela, tucked behind the door, listening, could almost hear Henry bristle. ‘Now, what’s brought that on? We’ve all put into this business, me and your pa both.’

‘Is that so?’ Franklyn said. Her tone was light, mocking. It was the same tone that’d got her kicked out of college less than a month ago. ‘Funny how it’s his name above the door, not yours. Here.’ There was a slight scuffle of noise as Franklyn moved the box from one arm to the other.

‘What’s that?’

‘Found it in the garage. It’s addressed to you.’ It wasn’t clear who that comment was aimed at.

Franklyn came out of the sitting room and kept walking, right out of the house.

Henry waited until the front door slammed before he said, ‘She should watch that mouth of hers. Get her in trouble someday.’

Daniela’s dad chuckled, like maybe he agreed. Daniela dug her fingernails into her palms.

Auryn was drawing back, as if she was having second thoughts about this whole business. Daniela grabbed her hand, briefly, and squeezed. It was as much reassurance as she could muster. Then she pushed forwards, head down, eyes fixed on the floor. She couldn’t help a quick glance into the front room. Henry had got up and retrieved a white envelope from the table, which was presumably what Franklyn had left for them. Daniela didn’t recall seeing any envelopes in the garage, but there’d been a lot of stuff. She hadn’t looked at everything.

While Henry’s back was turned, Daniela slipped past the door of the sitting room, holding her breath. No one called out to stop her.

When she reached the front door, Daniela glanced back, assuming she’d have to wave Auryn to join her, but found Auryn right behind her, a silent shadow with both hands clutched to her chest.

Outside, the wind had picked up, rattling the trees and sending loose leaves skirting across the road. It’d rained heavily for most of the day and, although it’d now stopped, every gust of wind brought a flurry of droplets from the branches overhead.

Franklyn hadn’t waited. She was already striding away from the house into the woods. The sun was on its way down, leaving the sky dark grey and getting darker by the minute. Daniela had no fear of the woods. Her earliest memories were out here, among the trees that surrounded the house. Either with her sisters, playing, or on her own, walking or running or hiding or crying. When she was in the house, her emotions were tied up tight inside her chest. But the woods saw her as she really was.

Auryn, however, was skittish about being outside once it got dark, although she would happily tag along with her sisters during the day. Recently, Daniela had discovered Auryn’s night vision wasn’t good, and in the shadows beneath the trees, the poor girl was almost blind. Daniela led the way up the bank that sloped away from the house. At the top she glanced back. The house crouched in the pool of illumination from the windows of the front room and the kitchen. There were no streetlights on the road, and the house sat too far from the village to be included in its ambient glow. The only light was what it created for itself.

The woods were criss-crossed with pathways, lines of trampled mud that wove through the trees and undergrowth. Daniela had walked those paths so often she probably could’ve found her way blindfolded. She trailed her fingers over the damp ferns at the side of the path.

Franklyn picked a route seemingly at random, heading east. She didn’t bother looking back to make sure the others followed her.

Auryn was struggling to keep up. Loose roots conspired to trip her at every other step. On impulse, Daniela caught hold of Auryn’s gloved hand, in a way she hadn’t done since they were both much younger. She could just make out Auryn flashing a grateful smile in the gloom. Daniela helped guide her along the path, hand in hand like small children. Their proximity made Daniela realise that a strange distance had grown between them. They’d been close, almost as if they were twins, when they were younger. Was it just their mother’s absence that’d pushed them apart?

The rain started again as they walked. Water dripped off the leaves and dimpled the puddles that collected in every footprint along the path. Some of the footprints probably belonged to Daniela and her sisters from days before. The rest had been left by dog-walkers or fishermen or hikers. Even during the worst weather, there were always people out in the woods.

‘We should’ve invited Leo,’ Auryn said.

Daniela felt a flash of annoyance. Henry’s son Leo was in the year below Daniela at school, but up until recently that hadn’t mattered – he’d been best friends with both her and Auryn for as long as Daniela could remember. To all intents and purposes, he was the brother who was missing from their lives. The girls at school thought it weird that he and Daniela were friends but nothing more. They’d ask her, giggling, whether she’d ever kissed him, or thought about kissing him.

No, she’d never thought about it. Why would she?

But that answer marked her out, apparently. Her friends had looked sceptical, side-eyed her and whispered. So next time, Daniela said of course she’d thought about it. Why wouldn’t she?

After that, Daniela had started watching Leo. Trying to convince herself she felt something more for him than just normal friendship. As an odd side-effect, she’d become jealous of Auryn, who was in Leo’s class and therefore got to spend more time with him.

A magpie in a nearby tree let out a ratcheting cry, close enough to startle Auryn. Daniela said, ‘It’s just a bird, don’t worry,’ but the sound had rattled her nerves as well. That was the problem with those woods. They were usually so quiet that the slightest noise could be frightening. She squeezed Auryn’s hand again, but the hand-holding felt strange and childish now, so she let go a few moments later.

Inevitably, the path led to the water. To the north of the village, the River Clynebade forked and became the Clyne and the Bade, so if Daniela walked in pretty much any direction from Stonecrop, she would come up against one of the twin rivers that bracketed the village. On quiet nights, Daniela could hear the water muttering as it flowed not far from the house.

This path emerged on the banks of the River Bade, within sight of the bridge and the road that eventually wound its way to Hackett, the next town over. To their right, a fishing platform extended a few feet out over the river. After the recent rains, the waters were almost level with the planks. The structure thrummed with the force of the current.

Franklyn put a foot on the platform to test it. She leaned her weight and bounced twice. Since the boards didn’t immediately crack, she decided it was safe.

A wooden rowing boat had been turned turtle on the grass some distance from the river, where even the yearly flooding wouldn’t dislodge it. Daniela sat down on its hull rather than go anywhere near the fishing platform.

‘Where do we make the fire?’ Daniela asked.

‘What fire?’ Franklyn asked.

‘For the … y’know.’ The word funeral still felt melodramatic. ‘To get rid of this stuff.’

‘Too wet for a bonfire,’ Franklyn said. She took a few more paces along the platform, testing its strength with her weight. ‘Anyway, not everything will burn. Better to do it this way.’ She made an expansive gesture at the water with her free hand. ‘The river carries everything away.’

Even though it’d been raining pretty consistently all summer, the river wasn’t nearly as high as it sometimes reached. During the winter, it often burst its banks. At least once a year the bridge to Hackett would be closed because it wasn’t safe to cross when the water was at its highest. Daniela and her sisters had a healthy regard for the river, drummed into them by their mother.

Not that it was obvious from the way Franklyn was acting. She reached the end of the platform and leaned out over the water. She peered down as if she could see anything at all in the muddy depths.

‘Be careful,’ Auryn called. She’d stayed well back from the water, about equidistance between the river and the shadowy trees. She looked uncomfortable. Her hands were scrunched in the pockets of her blue waterproof coat. Drizzle beaded her blonde hair.

‘It’s fine,’ Franklyn said. ‘Come on out here.’

Auryn shook her head. Daniela didn’t particularly want to stand on the rickety platform either, but she wanted to prove she was braver than her younger sister. After all, Franklyn wasn’t scared.

As she stepped onto the boards, the platform groaned, and Daniela froze. But it was just the swollen boards acknowledging her presence. Like Franklyn said, the structure was solid. Daniela swallowed the nagging voice that said otherwise.

She glanced at Franklyn, hoping for encouragement or acknowledgement, but Franklyn had already turned back to the water. She’d set down the box. In her hand was a slim bundle of letters, secured with an elastic band. As Daniela watched, Franklyn took the elastic band off, slipped it around her wrist, and started flicking through the envelopes. She selected one and tore it into quarters, then eighths. Then she flung the handful of paper across the water. The white flakes settled onto the surface, turned dark, and were swept away.

‘Where’d those letters come from?’ Daniela asked. She was certain they hadn’t been in the garage among their mother’s other possessions.

‘Found them.’

‘Found them where?’

Franklyn didn’t answer. She tore up another envelope and scattered the pieces.

Who are they addressed to? Daniela didn’t ask aloud, because she was afraid of the answer. Instead she watched Franklyn methodically tear up each one and consign it to the river.

Daniela took the postcards from the box. Suddenly she wasn’t sure she was angry enough to start ripping things. ‘This is a weird kind of funeral,’ she said.

‘It’s a weird kind of situation. You want to say a few words? Will that help?’

‘You should do it.’

Franklyn blew out her cheeks. ‘All right. Let me think.’

While she thought, she finished ripping up the envelopes. Daniela glimpsed the writing on the front. Definitely her mother’s. Who were they for?

Are any for us?

In her formal speaking voice, Franklyn said, ‘We’re here to say goodbye. You’re gone, and I guess we miss you. So long.’

She flung the last handful of paper into the air. The wind caught it and sprinkled it like confetti around them.

Daniela threw the postcards out into the water, one at a time, skimming them like stones. Each settled onto the surface and was carried away. The water blurred the writing fast, before the cards were out of sight.

Behind her, Auryn stepped onto the platform. She never made a move until she was completely sure of herself. She walked across the boards until she reached her sisters. Franklyn moved aside to make room.

‘Go ahead,’ Franklyn said. She put a reassuring hand on Auryn’s shoulder.

But Auryn didn’t need any encouragement. With quick, jerky movements, she chucked the jade beads into the water. They disappeared with a plop. Her other arm shot out and the ceramic kittens followed the beads into the depths, without a single hesitation. They hadn’t even disappeared before she was stripping off her coat and flinging it into the river. Next, she pulled off her left shoe. It was only then Daniela realised Auryn was crying.

‘Hey,’ Franklyn said, ‘Auryn—’

‘Everything goes,’ Auryn said. ‘Everything she gave us.’ She stumbled taking off her other shoe.