The Flood
RACHEL BENNETT

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.

‘Stop.’ Franklyn caught her arm. Auryn jerked out of her reach and collided with Daniela.

There wasn’t room on the platform for pushing and shoving. Daniela’s foot slipped off the edge of the boards. She grabbed Auryn to save herself from falling. The platform groaned ominously beneath them.

‘Be careful!’ Daniela said.

She clung on to Auryn. For a moment they stayed like that, Auryn leaning into her, still crying, both of them listening to the noise of the river beneath them. Daniela felt her own eyes prickle with tears, and she turned her face away so Franklyn wouldn’t see.

‘Come on,’ Daniela said. She kept a hand on Auryn’s shoulder as she led her back along the platform onto solid ground. Franklyn stayed where she was.

Daniela wouldn’t have admitted how glad she was to get back onto the bank. The thrum of the river beneath the platform had unnerved her. It would’ve been so easy for someone to slip and fall and be swept away. She told herself that was the reason why her eyes were stinging with suppressed tears. She steered Auryn towards the upturned boat where she figured they could sit down.

Before they got there, Stephanie appeared from out of the woods. She had a scowl stamped on her face. Daniela thought for a second they would get yelled at, for being out on the rickety platform, or for messing around so close to the river. But Stephanie immediately saw Auryn’s distress.

‘What happened?’ Stephanie asked.

Auryn wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She was trembling slightly and her bare arms were covered with goose bumps. ‘We’re saying goodbye,’ she mumbled, so quietly Daniela almost didn’t hear.

Daniela sneaked a glance at Franklyn, who was still out on the platform. She’d picked up the box containing their mother’s possessions and, without ceremony, upended it. The remaining items vanished into the river.

Then Franklyn looked up at Stephanie. ‘Hey, glad you could make it,’ she called. She put her hands in her pockets and wandered back towards her sisters. ‘Come to pay your respects?’

‘Dad and Henry had an argument,’ Stephanie said, ignoring the question. ‘I heard them shouting. Something about a letter? When I got downstairs, Henry had driven off in a temper.’

Franklyn paused at the near end of the platform, looking down into the water. A tiny smile touched her lips. ‘Fancy that,’ she said.

‘What did you do, Frankie?’

‘Me? Nothing at all.’ But there was satisfaction in her voice. ‘All I wanted from today was to get rid of stuff we don’t want anymore. Feels good to know we can get on with our lives now, doesn’t it?’

2
February 2017
14 Years Later

It took Daniela three hours to wade into Stonecrop, and, by then, her temper was as bleak as the weather. She’d almost turned back when she’d reached the bridge on the Hackett road and found it already awash. Below the bridge, the River Bade was still rising, surging up to the metal arches, muddy brown, swollen, tangled with branches that shot past at worrying speed. Gathering her nerve, Daniela had edged across the bridge. The force of the water made the metal handrail thrum beneath her fingers. Off to her left, a few hundred yards downstream, she could see what was left of the old fishing platform she and her sisters used to play on as kids. Only the necks of its stubby supports remained sticking out of the mud. The ancient, upside-down rowboat was still there, a moss-coloured hillock pulled up away from the bank.

Once past the bridge, the going didn’t improve. In places, the road was flooded so deep she had to clamber along the muddy verges, clinging to branches in the hedgerow. Her jacket wasn’t nearly as waterproof as she’d been led to believe, and the chill dampness that’d started at her collar and sleeves had seeped through to her skin. Water had overflowed her boots. Her socks squelched with every step. And she still had another two miles of flooded roads to slog through before she reached her home village.

Daniela was sure there must’ve been dry, sunny days during her childhood, but in her memory, Stonecrop was always wet, always overcast, always unwelcoming. And now it was partially underwater too.

Late winter rains had swelled the rivers on either since of the village to twice their usual sizes, burst their banks, and turned Stonecrop into a giant boating lake. At least now the rain had subsided to a sullen drizzle.

Daniela paused at the top of the high street – the only street, really – to light a cigarette. It took her three attempts to spark her lighter.

Television footage of flooded towns always looked surreal. Water lapping at sandbagged doors. Residents in wellies. Cars submerged to their wheel-arches. Hanging baskets dangling serenely from lamp-posts like botanical lifeboats. It was so unreal to Daniela, to return to a place she knew so well, and find it like this. A kind of jarring nostalgia.

Her eyes sought out the details that’d changed. A plastic sign had replaced the metal one above the Corner Shoppe; the estate agent’s had been torn down to leave a gaping hole, and the antiques emporium that her dad had once co-owned was abandoned, its windows filmed with dust. Out of three businesses in the village, only one had survived.

But beneath the surface, the heart of the village was unaltered. Stonecrop maintained that quaint, chocolate-box appearance, like it was illustrating a magazine article about house prices in the rural midlands. The ruddy brickwork exteriors had seen few renovations. It was as if a lid had come down on Stonecrop when Daniela left, sealing everything in stasis. She wondered what she’d hoped to find. An untouched childhood memory? The entire village razed in an unreported hurricane?

Most of the community had been evacuated, but a few stubborn residents remained. Halfway along the street, where a natural dip caused a deep pool, a group of people were shoring up a garden wall. Two men in fishermen’s waders judiciously applied sandbags. A middle-aged woman – Margaret McKearney, Daniela recognised with a jolt, who owned the Shoppe and was apparently impervious to ageing – stood with her skirts hiked up to show off her flowery wellies, while she distributed cups of tea from a thermos.

And at the far edge of the pool, supervising the work while eating a chocolate digestive, was Sergeant Stephanie Cain.

She too had changed little in the seven years since Daniela had left. Maybe a touch heavier around the middle and below the eyes, a bit older and more tired, with the weight of the extra years on her shoulders. She’d always been big and broad, like their father. The police vest made her look dumpy. Daniela’s eyes flicked to the kit on the vest – handcuffs, incapacitant spray, torch, extendable baton. Prepared for everything.

Stephanie Cain was comfy in her role of village police officer, up to her shins in floodwater, with her police-issue waders and her chocolate biscuit. She’d found her place. Daniela felt a pang of jealousy.

Steeling herself, she waded towards the group.

Stephanie spotted her. Daniela watched the play of emotions across the officer’s face: polite alertness until she recognised Daniela, then surprise, disbelief … ah, and anger. That came an instant before the sergeant’s expression closed up like a door slamming.

At least now Daniela didn’t have to wonder if Stephanie was still upset.

Daniela stopped and waited. She didn’t want to interact with anyone other than her sister.

Stephanie took a circuitous route around the flooded dip in the road. Daniela discarded the butt of her cigarette into the water, and the sergeant’s eyes flicked to it. Her annoyance gave Daniela a petty satisfaction. In a perverse way, Daniela was looking forward to this fight.

Stephanie halted ten feet away. Like she didn’t trust herself to get too close.

‘This road’s closed,’ Stephanie said.

Despite everything, Daniela laughed. ‘Is that how you’ll greet me? You’ve got a million things you’d rather say.’

‘Why are you here?’

‘See, that’s what I’d expect. Want to maybe say I’ve got some nerve coming back home?’

Sergeant Cain’s mouth drew into a thin, angry line. The tips of her ears reddened.

‘Come on,’ Daniela said, still smiling. ‘Let’s sit down and talk, yeah?’

‘I’m busy.’

‘Too busy for family? That’s a shocking state of affairs, Steph.’

Stephanie swore under her breath. She glanced at the other villagers, who’d noticed Daniela’s arrival and were peering over. The two men were whispering. Margaret looked like she’d seen a ghost.

‘All right,’ Stephanie said. ‘We can talk. Quickly. I’ve got work to do.’

‘The water can supervise itself for ten minutes, Steph.’ Daniela cast a long look around the flooded village, then smiled at her big sister. ‘So, how about the pub? Is it still open, or have the ducks taken over?’

The Crossed Swords stood at the junction between the high street and Winterbridge Farm Road. The land there was slightly higher, leaving the pub currently marooned on a tiny island some hundred yards wide. But it hadn’t escaped unscathed. The basement was flooded, and water lapped the back door. A defensive barrier of sandbags blocked the entrance to the car park. The building looked like a castle with an unruly moat.

Daniela stepped over the sandbags ungainly in her wellies and damp jeans. A welcome light burned in the windows of the Crossed Swords. Daniela was more than ready to be inside in the warm.

‘Does Chris Roberts still own this place?’ Daniela asked.

‘Yes.’

That was all the conversation Daniela had coaxed out of Stephanie so far. To be fair, Daniela hadn’t said much either. Everything she had to say needed careful wording. Otherwise she could ruin everything. Again.

Above the door, trailing wisteria partially obscured the sign depicting two painted swords on a black background. Fat green leaves dripped water onto the flagstones. Pockets of flood debris dirtied the corners of the doorway.

It felt strange to walk on dry ground after so long wading. Daniela felt lighter, less tired. The door opened with a wash of warm air. Daniela wondered whether to take her boots off, but, judging by the carpet, the other patrons hadn’t bothered.

A few things had changed since Daniela’s last visit. A partition wall had been knocked through from the main lounge into the gentleman’s bar at the back. Plasma screens hung in pride of place. But the décor, a combination of muted browns and vibrant oranges, looked so much like home that a lump formed in Daniela’s throat.

A familiar face was behind the bar as well. ‘Morning, Sergeant,’ Chris Roberts called. ‘Not here on business, are you?’

The landlord was a slight man with a receding hairline and square glasses. He looked like he’d wandered behind the bar by accident. But his constant bemusement meant no one could ever dislike him. At present, he was seated near the cash register with a newspaper spread out on the bar.

His head tilted as he peered around Stephanie, blinking to focus. When he recognised Daniela, he put a hand to his chest in over-dramatic surprise.

‘Daniela?’ he asked. ‘Young Daniela Cain? Now, is that really you?’

Daniela waved in acknowledgement. ‘Hey, Chris. How’s business?’

‘All washed up.’ Chris cackled. ‘You’d think everyone would want to drown their sorrows, but most of them have scarpered. All my precious customers.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘So, what can I get you, youngster? Bottled lager only, I’m afraid. The pumps are off. The bitter’s on a hand-pump though, if you fancy.’

Daniela deferred to Stephanie, but the officer had already sat down by the window, where she resolutely faced forwards. She took off her hat, placed it on the table top, then clasped her hands. Her black hair was pulled back into an austere bun.

‘Pint of bitter for me,’ Daniela said to Chris. ‘Better make it a coffee for the big lady.’

Chris nodded as he rose from his chair. ‘You’d think normal rules about drinking at work could be suspended, given the flooding. But she’s a stickler.’

Daniela searched her pockets and came up with enough change to cover two drinks, just. She’d brought only limited funds and had to be careful. She eyed the price list while Chris fiddled with the coffee maker at the back of the bar. That was another thing that’d changed.

She glanced at the lights above the bar. ‘I see the power’s still on.’

‘More or less,’ Chris said. ‘They told us we only needed to shut the electricity off if the building flooded out. Since that’s not happened, I figured we’ll leave it on for now. Plus, we’ve got the emergency generator out back if things get desperate. I reckon we can stay open so long as the toilets still flush. That’s the important thing, right? So, are you staying, or is this a flying visit?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Daniela avoided looking at her sister. ‘It kinda depends. Might be a day, or a couple of days.’

‘Well, if you need somewhere to bunk, we’ve got rooms. Can even give you mates’ rates, since we’re not technically open for staying guests.’ Chris lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Just don’t tell the rozzers, yeah?’

Daniela returned his grin. ‘I’ll think about it. Thanks, man.’

It felt good to talk to the landlord again. It was as if Daniela had only been gone a few weeks, which was bittersweet. So much had changed for her.

Daniela took the drinks to the table and sat opposite her sister. Stephanie had switched her gaze so she stared out at the flooded streets. She could’ve been thinking about anything. Beneath her chin was a crescent-shaped scar, where she’d been hit with a golf club, years ago.

Daniela sipped her drink then pulled off her boots and turned them upside down in the vain hope they’d dry out. She considered taking her socks off but thought that might be impolite. She circled her weak left ankle, which always ached when it was damp.

‘This place was better before the smoking ban,’ Daniela said. She sniffed. ‘All you smell now is cheap bleach and old alcohol.’

‘That was ten years ago,’ Stephanie said. ‘You weren’t old enough to be in here then.’

‘When did that ever stop us?’

At last Stephanie looked at her. ‘Get to the point,’ she said. ‘I’m supposed to be working.’

‘We’re all supposed to be somewhere. If I had any choice I wouldn’t be here. Not right now, anyways.’

‘Why are you here?’

Daniela hesitated. ‘Well now. What explanation would you like? I can—’

‘The truth would be a nice change.’

‘That goes without saying. But what variant of truth? I can give you a tear-jerking breakdown, or a bald statement of facts, or—’

‘You need money.’

Daniela winced. ‘Okay, we’re going for stark, unvarnished truth.’

‘I’m not giving you money, Dani.’

It’d been years since anyone called her Dani. Heat flushed her face. ‘It’s not as bad as you assume,’ she said carefully. ‘I don’t want your money.’

‘So, why’re you wasting my time?’

‘I want my money, Steph.’ Daniela sipped her drink. ‘The money Dad left me. That shouldn’t be problem, right?’

Stephanie eyed the cup of coffee on the table. Her need for a warm drink was apparently less urgent than her wish to stay angry with her younger sister, and she pushed the cup away.

‘You can’t have it,’ Stephanie said.

‘I understand there’ll be procedures. Paperwork. It’ll take time. What I’m hoping is—’

‘You can’t have it. There’s no money, Dani.’

Daniela’s smile slipped. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘Dad left you a share of the house.’ Stephanie clasped her hands on the table again. A police officer’s pose; demonstrating calm, concern, patience. ‘Once it’s been sold, you’ll get some of the money.’

‘It’s not sold yet? Steph, it was two years ago.’

‘Three. There didn’t seem any hurry to sell.’

Daniela sat back. It was a disappointment, but not unexpected. If the house had been sold and the money released, someone would’ve told her. ‘So, what? It’s sitting empty?’

‘No.’

‘No? C’mon. If I have to drag every answer out of you—’

‘Auryn’s living there.’

Daniela’s eyes widened. ‘Auryn’s here?’

‘She was. She left a few days ago, before the floods got bad.’

‘God, I thought she’d got out long ago. Isn’t she a barrister in London?’

‘Solicitor.’

‘So, what happened? Why’d she come back?’

Stephanie paused. ‘Some kind of breakdown,’ she said. ‘I said she could come home, since no one was using the house, while she got her head together.’

Daniela’s fingers tightened around the glass. Despite everything, she still felt protective of Auryn, the baby of the family, who’d always been quiet and withdrawn, especially compared to the rest of them. Stephanie and Franklyn had looked out for Auryn in their own way, but it’d been Daniela who was closest to her. For a time, anyway.

‘Glad the old house is still in the family,’ Daniela said, with what she hoped was a sincere smile. ‘Lots of memories in that place. I’m surprised you’re not living there as well.’

‘Why would I go back?’

‘Same reason you never left Stonecrop. It’s comfortable and reassuring. Are you still living next to the police station in Hackett or have you found somewhere a bit more … separate from your work?’

Stephanie gave her an unfriendly look. ‘Listen, until the house gets sold there’s no money for you. So, you can take your sob story elsewhere.’

‘That’s harsh.’ Daniela adopted a thoughtful look. ‘But there’s other money, right? Dad’s investments. His savings. You got the pay-out from the insurance company—’

‘That’s nothing to do with you.’

Daniela leaned forwards. ‘I’m asking for a favour, Steph. I know what you’re like – you’ve got that money stashed in an account somewhere, nice and safe. I need—’

‘You need a slap. A favour?’ Stephanie laughed without humour. ‘The best favour you could’ve done would be staying gone. What do you need money for anyway? Drugs? Loan sharks? The old ladies at Payday-Cash-4-U coming to break your legs?’

‘I’m not asking for anything that isn’t mine.’

‘Technically you are.’

‘It’d just be a loan, all right?’ Daniela resisted the urge to shout. ‘A small amount to tide me over. Once the sale of the house goes through, I’ll see you right.’

Stephanie sat back and folded her arms. ‘How much?’ she asked.

Daniela moistened her lips. ‘Well, I’m due eighty-five grand once the house is sold …’

‘The house isn’t worth that much anymore.’

That sounded like a lie, but Daniela let it pass. ‘So how about five thousand? That’s not unreasonable, is it?’

Stephanie was already laughing. ‘You’re hilarious, Dani,’ she said. ‘Not unreasonable.’ Again, she shook her head. ‘Perhaps if you’d picked up the phone and asked, I might’ve paid five thousand to avoid seeing your face.’

Ouch.

‘I tried calling,’ Daniela said. ‘You didn’t answer.’

‘And can you blame me?’

‘I’ve never asked you for anything.’

‘You’ve never given much either.’ Stephanie stood and retrieved her hat. ‘Well, this has been a barrel of laughs, but I’ve work to do.’

‘Sure. Have fun policing the sandbags. I’m sure it’s giving you job satisfaction.’

‘I’m surprised you know the meaning of the term.’ Stephanie tipped her hat. ‘See you in another seven years.’

As Stephanie turned away, Daniela asked, ‘Did you ever find her?’

‘Who?’

‘Mum.’ Daniela studied her sister’s face. ‘I know you and Franklyn were looking for her.’

Stephanie’s expression closed up again. ‘We stopped looking a long time ago.’

After Stephanie left, Daniela sat by the window for a while. She drank her pint slowly, not wanting to brave the cold outside.

‘Can I get you a refill, youngster?’ Chris called from the bar.

Daniela shook her head and finished the dregs. As an afterthought, she drank Stephanie’s untouched coffee as well. It was cold and bitter. ‘I’d better get moving. Thanks anyway.’

‘So, have you decided if you’re staying or not? I can get the missus to make up a room.’

Daniela felt despondent enough to wade the five miles back to Hackett and catch the first bus she saw. But she hated giving up.

And, of course, there might be another way she could get her money.

She shook her head, smiled. ‘It’s okay. I think I might go home instead.’

3

In the afternoon the sky darkened again with low-bellied rainclouds, ready to shed their weight at the slightest provocation.

Daniela hadn’t anticipated how cut off the flooded village was from the rest of the world. Only a few houses were occupied, and the light from their windows was weak and tremulous, as if aware that the power could die at any second. Looking at the surrounding fields, with the pylons standing in a foot of water, Daniela was surprised the lights were still on, but, according to Chris in the pub, that was usual unless the substation itself was underwater.

A landslip to the west had felled the phone lines. Daniela kept checking the faint signal on her mobile. Amazing that a little rainfall could isolate a whole village.

Daniela ate lunch in the pub – the kitchen was closed, but Chris grilled a fair panini – sent a few text messages, then bundled herself up in her less-than-waterproof clothes. After an hour by the fire in the lounge, her boots were only a little damp inside, her jacket pleasantly toasty.

The warmth didn’t survive for long. By the time she’d slogged along the back street to the other end of town she felt the cold again. A light drizzle flattened her hair and chilled her exposed skin. She pulled up her hood and waded on.

The back lane took her around the main street, because she had no desire to chat to the group who were sandbagging the gardens. She’d wanted to get in and out of town without talking to anyone except Stephanie.

Daniela ground her teeth. Stubborn, awkward Steph. It’d been a pleasant daydream, to imagine her sister would hand over a wad of cash without blinking. She might at least have listened.

Daniela shook the thought away, set her shoulders, and kept walking.

The old family house was a half-mile outside town, along a narrow lane flanked with high hedgerows. As a child, Daniela had walked that road twice a day, every day, since she was old enough to walk. It held a familiarity like nowhere else in the world. Every footstep felt like a journey home. It wasn’t entirely comforting.

The lane rose and fell with the undulations of the land, too slight at normal times to notice, now dotted with tarmac islands that stood proud of the water. In places Daniela was forced to wade. She was careful not to flood her boots again. She also stayed clear of the ditches that edged the road; hidden sinks at least three feet deep.

As she left the village behind, the road wound into the woods. The hedgerows gave way to barbed wire fences. Slender elms and beeches crowded the skyline, their bare branches scratching as they moved with the wind, their roots swamped in mud and water. A rippling breeze scooted fallen leaves across the pools.

At another time, Daniela would’ve abandoned the road, ducking under the fence to follow the hidden pathways of the wood. Part of her yearned to rediscover the secret places where she and her sisters had played as children. The hollows where they’d made dens; the winding streams where they’d fished for minnows. Trees for climbing, root-space burrows, hollow deadwoods …

She paused to light a cigarette. It’s gone. Even if it’s still there, it’s gone. Those places are muddy grot-holes, or piles of branches, or fallen trees. You are definitely too old to grub around in the dirt looking for your misspent youth.

The family home stood in a shallow depression, hidden by trees until the road turned and it was suddenly right there. Daniela had to brace herself before taking those last few steps.

She was prepared for the house to look exactly as she’d left it. She was equally prepared for it to have been modernised and updated beyond recognition. What she hadn’t expected was it to be derelict.

The house was once elegant, with a wide, many-windowed front and arching gables, but neglect had made it slump, like an old lady giving up on life. Its timbers had slouched and its roof was sloughing tiles. The paintwork had peeled and cracked. A broken window was patched with cardboard. The woodpile under the awning had mouldered into a heap of rotting, moss-covered logs.

It didn’t help that rain had flooded the shallow depression, and the house sat in a lake of dirty water.

How did this happen? In Daniela’s memory the old place was alive, awake, with washing lines strung across the garden and toys scattering the front lawn. Now there wasn’t so much as a light in the window or a trail of smoke from the chimney. At some point in the intervening years the old house had died.

She’d thought Stephanie had been evasive about how little the house was worth. Now she saw the truth. No wonder they couldn’t sell the place.

She made her way down to the front gate. It was wedged open by years of rust.

The water was almost a foot deep around the house. Daniela felt her way along the path. Ripples sent reflected light bouncing across the windows. A half-hearted stack of sandbags guarded the front door.

Halfway up the path, Daniela paused to listen. The only sounds came from the wind in the trees and the occasional hoot of a woodpigeon somewhere among the stripped branches.

Daniela reached the front door. A piece of sticky tape across the inoperative doorbell was so old it’d turned opaque and flaky. She leaned over to peer through the sitting-room window. Floodwater had invaded the house as well. The front room was awash, the furniture pushed back against the walls, a few buoyant items floating sluggishly. Obviously the sandbags hadn’t done the trick.

She felt a flush of anger at Auryn. Why hadn’t she made sure the place was watertight before she left? And what about Stephanie? She was right here in town but hadn’t bothered to keep an eye on the house?

The front door was locked. In a village like Stonecrop, people hardly ever locked their houses, except when they went away. But Daniela had kept her key, or rather she had never got rid of it. It was still strung on her keyring like a bad reminder. So long as Auryn hadn’t changed the locks …

She hadn’t. The Yale clicked open. Daniela pushed the door but the water held it closed. She leaned her weight onto the wood and pushed it open a half-inch. It was more than just water behind. More sandbags, possibly. She couldn’t open the door enough to get her foot into the gap.

Giving up, Daniela stepped off the path and made her way around the side of the house. Clouds of muddy water swirled around her wellies. Now she risked not just flooded boots but tripping over the uneven ground into the freezing water. She kicked aside debris with every awkward step.

At the side of the house, the small vegetable garden was now an empty lake. A few tripods of discoloured bamboo canes protruded like totems. Against the far wall, the old beehive was a pile of mushy timbers. Dead leaves sailed like abandoned boats. Eddies of twigs had collected below the window frames. Daniela paused by the window of the utility room next to the kitchen, but the net curtains obscured her view.

There was more neglect at the rear. The back porch lay in a crumpled heap of broken wood and corrugated plastic, as if someone had angrily tossed it aside. The apple tree by the porch was dead. A frayed length of knotted rope still hung from a branch – the makeshift swing that Franklyn and Stephanie had put up.

The back door of the house was also sandbagged. When Daniela tried the handle, she found it locked too. Either that or the door was so tightly wedged it wouldn’t budge. She didn’t have a key. The sash windows on either side were stuck, the wood swollen.

By now she was sick of sploshing around. Despite her best efforts, water had trickled into both boots, and her toes were numb. She was tired and annoyed and already thinking how long it’d take her to get back to the pub.

And, besides all that, a niggle of unease wormed into her stomach. The house felt creepy and abandoned. She felt like an intruder.

She went to the base of the old apple tree that reached up past the roofline. Her eyes automatically traced the route she’d used to climb up and down the trunk a hundred times in her youth. The branches were sturdy and evenly spaced, and it was no more effort to climb than a ladder. Daniela was halfway up before she really stopped to think what she was doing.

The trunk was twisted towards the wall, bringing it close to the window of the old junk room, which Auryn had turned into a separate bedroom for herself when she’d got tired of sharing a space with Daniela. Daniela shimmied along a branch to the window, with only a twinge of vertigo when she glanced down. It’d been a long time since she’d been up a tree. There wasn’t a lot of call for it in adult life.

The window to Auryn’s room was stiff, but, with a certain amount of effort, Daniela slid the wooden sash up.

‘Hello, house,’ she whispered.

She clambered in through the window. Home, she thought, then shoved the idea away. This place hadn’t been home in years. Daniela had assumed she’d never come back, especially after Dad died. In fact, until this morning she’d assumed the place had been sold, and she’d never have to lay eyes on it again. Today was not working out at all as she’d hoped.

She paused with one foot on the carpet and one on the sill. It hadn’t occurred to her how weird it would feel to step into Auryn’s personal space like that. To be honest, the bedroom didn’t look much like Auryn’s anymore. Auryn had always been tidy to a fault, even as a kid. It was strange to see the bed in disarray and clothes scattered across the floor. On a cluttered table next to the bed was a half-empty bottle of wine and a half-full ashtray. Auryn had never been a big drinker, certainly never a smoker.

Daniela took off her boots and carried them so she wouldn’t track mud through the house. On soft feet, she padded across Auryn’s room to the door.

Out on the upstairs landing, there were more obvious signs that the house was neglected. The old wallpaper had turned yellow with age. A faint smell emanated from the drains backing up into the kitchen. The whole place was damp and cold. Daniela tried the light switch but the power was off.

She closed her eyes and breathed. The smell of damp and drains couldn’t entirely overpower the familiar scent of the house. Daniela was grateful the bedroom doors were closed; she couldn’t face seeing Dad’s room. Nothing in the house had been updated, aside from a few new items of furniture. A layer of dust and age covered everything.

The door to the attic room squealed as she pulled it open. It released a waft of cold, stale air, loaded with familiarity. It made Daniela nineteen again. She shuddered.

Up in the converted attic, a window in the gable wall was broken, an inexpertly fixed piece of plyboard keeping out the chill wind. All the furniture had been cleared out and the wide expanse of floorboards was patterned with dust. A leak in the roof had spread patches of damp across the plaster walls.

Daniela wondered if Auryn had emptied the other bedrooms or just this one, which they’d shared as kids. Back then, it’d made sense for her and Auryn, the youngest two, to share a room. They’d been so close in age. As time went on and they’d started wanting their own space, their father promised he would fix up the spare room for Auryn, but it remained as a junk room, with a battered futon shoved in one corner, until Auryn lost patience and moved down there anyway, carving out a neat little space among the clutter.

Daniela stepped into the centre of the room like a sleepwalker. Everything seemed unreal, like pictures in a faded book. Her bed had stood against one wall, with Auryn’s directly opposite, beneath the skylight. An empty wooden shelf was still fixed to the wall beside the window. Back in the day, it’d been laden with Auryn’s paperbacks and emergency supplies – a spare phone charger, AA batteries, and a pen-torch in case of power cuts. Prepared and paranoid, that was Auryn. Even after she’d moved to the spare room, she’d kept a stash of emergency supplies up here.

The floorboards were scratched where the heavy iron frame of Daniela’s bed had dragged. Daniela knelt and located a gap between two boards that was slightly larger than it should’ve been. A short plank that’d been removed and replaced so many times it’d worn smooth at the edges. Daniela used her fingernails to prise up the board.

Below was a musty space. It was a not-so-secret secret; a hidey-hole she and Auryn had used to conceal bits and pieces they considered valuable. As they’d got older, they’d used it less frequently. Daniela doubted anyone had lifted the board since she’d stashed something important there, seven years ago.

So, she was surprised to find a large, rectangular object, the size of a breeze block, wrapped tightly in plastic, taking up most of the room in the hole. Apparently at least one other family member recalled the hiding place.

Daniela reached past the plastic-wrapped object, flinching away when it brushed her arm. Whatever it was, it wasn’t hers, and she avoided touching it.

Right at the back of the concealed space, wedged behind a wooden support, so far that Daniela had to lie down flat to reach it, should’ve been a small bundle wrapped in cloth. At first, she couldn’t find it, and panicked. Had someone taken it? But then her fingers closed on the bundle. It was tucked further back than she’d thought.

Daniela drew it out gingerly. The cloth had once been a blue striped tea towel, but long years in damp conditions had turned it into a formless grey mush, coated in dust and rot. It smelled of decay.

Perching on her heels, Daniela unwrapped the old bundle. The last seven years concertinaed and suddenly she was a teenager again, sitting on the edge of her bed, folding the towel around a slim metal object. The memory returned with such clarity it made her flinch. She’d pictured returning here so often it was hard to believe this was real.

She knew it wasn’t smart to retrieve the object, but she couldn’t stop herself. For years she’d wondered whether it’d remained unfound, awaiting her return. She had to know.

She pulled away the friable cloth to reveal a flick-knife. Rust decorated the once shiny steel, but couldn’t obscure the shape of a snake, inlaid in black, along the dark red handle.

Along with the knife, concealed in the folds of the cloth, were four gold rings, tarnished and discoloured, with precious stones that no longer glittered.

The rings were what she’d come to the house for. Daniela had a rough idea how much they were worth. Not nearly as much as five thousand, but maybe enough. By now it should be safe to sell them. In her palm, they were cold enough to make her skin tingle. Here was another chunk of her past. She tucked them in the pocket of her jeans.

She started to rewrap the knife, but her gaze fell on the plastic-wrapped package in the hidey-hole.

What was Auryn hiding?

Curiosity won, and she lifted the package out. It hadn’t lain there long enough to collect dust. In the slightly better light, the blue polythene became translucent. Daniela whistled in surprise.

The package contained stacks of twenty-pound notes, bound so tightly they’d become a hard brick. Daniela weighed it in her hand. She couldn’t begin to estimate how much money was there.

What the hell was Auryn doing with this?

She hadn’t for a moment expected to find money in the house. She’d come back for what was hers, that was all. And yet, here it was, like a gift from God, left hidden for her in an empty house. Just when she needed it most.

How long would it be until Auryn came back to the house? How long before she checked the hidey-hole? It’d be days at least. Possibly longer. She might not discover the money was missing for weeks.

Daniela hesitated a moment more as she struggled with her conscience. Absently she pocketed the knife. Then she replaced the loose floorboard.

Cradling the plastic-wrapped money, Daniela went downstairs. She closed the attic door behind her.

Rather than clamber down the tree, she figured she could let herself out through the front door if she moved whatever was blocking it. She took her boots and the money and followed the stairs at the far end of the landing down to the flooded ground floor.

Halfway down, she stopped.

The only light came from the round window at the top of the stairs. It wasn’t really adequate to illuminate the hallway. But Daniela could see the shape that lay blocking the front door. It wasn’t sandbags.

4

Daniela took another step down the stairs. She’d thought Auryn had left the house days ago. If she’d believed otherwise, even for a moment, she would’ve searched the house properly. She never would’ve wasted time going up to her old room.

A little more light slipped through the upstairs window behind her. It didn’t improve the situation. All it did was let Daniela see her sister’s face.

Auryn had slumped against the door, falling sideways so her head rested against the wall. Her nose and mouth were underwater. It appeared that she’d let her hair grow out past her shoulders, normally worn short as a teenager. Loose strands stuck to her forehead and cheek. Her eyes were open. Auryn had always been the odd one out – a blonde-haired, blue-eyed anomaly among her dark-haired sisters.

Daniela dropped what she was holding and came down the stairs fast. She jumped down the last two steps before remembering she wasn’t wearing her boots. The shock of the cold water barely slowed her. She grabbed Auryn’s shoulders and dragged her upright.

Water flowed from Auryn’s slack mouth. Daniela stifled a cry. She shook Auryn by the shoulders as if the woman might suddenly snap out of this. Auryn’s head flopped forwards. She was a dead weight.

Daniela pressed a hand to Auryn’s neck. She held her breath, willing a pulse to flutter beneath her fingers. There was nothing. The skin was cold and waxy and lifeless. When Daniela moved her hand, the imprint of her fingertips remained indented on Auryn’s throat.

Daniela stumbled away and half fell against the doorway that led to the sitting room. Her feet sent waves bouncing off the walls. The reflections from the water gave the illusion of movement on Auryn’s face. As if at any moment she might blink and sit up. Auryn’s black vest billowed around her stomach. The flesh of her arms and face was the colour of dead fish belly.

Automatically Daniela glanced into the front room, where the phone always sat on the windowsill. It was disconnected, the cable wrapped around the handset.

She managed to get her mobile out of her pocket. With shaking hands, she dialled Stephanie’s number.

The line rang four times then went to voicemail.

‘Steph, I’m at the old house.’ Daniela’s voice sounded loud and panicky in the close confines of the waterlogged house. ‘Something’s happened to Auryn.’

She tried to say more but the words jammed in her throat. Her eyes stung with tears. She shut the phone off and held it gripped tight in her hand.

Turning away, she stared into the front room. It was difficult to tell when the house had flooded. Water lapped the big oak dining table. The table was strewn with papers and magazines, their edges curling. Already the wallpaper was beginning to peel. The threadbare sofa was saturated, and a low coffee table was now an island. Several empty cups sat on the table. Some effort had been made here to move books and magazines to the higher bookcase shelves, and there was a conspicuous empty spot on an entertainment stand where a television and DVD player had been removed. A sodden cushion wallowed in the water like a half-sunk iceberg. The water had an oily sheen.

There was also a lot of rubbish. Cigarette ends and empty beer cans bobbed on the waves. A pair of whisky bottles nestled together in the corner. One was still half-full and rode low in the water.

Auryn … what happened to you?

Looking into the sitting room, Daniela’s gaze flitted from one irrelevant object to the next, searching for something solid. The dusty mirror above the fireplace reflected her pale, shocked face, almost unrecognisable. The semi-opaque glass made her look drowned. Daniela stared at the ornaments on the mantel, at scraps of paper and postcards, at the books on the shelves next to framed photographs that’d belonged to Dad. Some of the items were hers. A carved wooden bear brought back from a school trip. The shell casing from a Second World War mortar that she’d dug up in the woods. Small, meaningless things that she’d left behind without a thought, and which had long since vanished from her memory, yet remained here, awaiting her return.

Daniela took a few stumbling steps back to the stairs. Eddies of greasy water followed her. She sat down on the third step before her legs gave out. Her mind sloshed and tilted in her skull. Her jeans and socks were soaked with dirty water. She lifted her wet feet out of the flood.

Again, she tried Stephanie’s number. Listened to it ring.

Dad died here as well, Daniela remembered with a jolt. She raised her eyes to the upstairs landing where, three years ago, her father had stumbled, drunk, and tipped headfirst over the banisters. Broke his neck on impact then lay for twelve hours until the postman found him.

Is that what’d happened to Auryn as well? From where Daniela sat, she could see one of the empty bottles that bobbed about in the sitting room. Had Auryn fallen?

Her phone bipped as the call went to voicemail again. Daniela hung up and immediately redialled.

Closer to the water, the bad-drain smell was stronger. Daniela wondered whether the smell and the oily glaze had leaked out of Auryn. The thought made her stomach roil so badly she had to close her eyes.

Voicemail again. Daniela swore. It came out as a sob.

You don’t even know if Stephanie’s using the same number, Daniela realised. That hadn’t occurred to her. Likewise, it hadn’t occurred to her to call 999. Despite the years, she’d reached instinctively for Stephanie.

Daniela leant back against the stairs. Her arm brushed something solid and wrapped in plastic. The package of money. She picked it up and let it sit heavy on her lap.

She was about to redial when her phone burst into life, the ringtone loud enough to make her jump. Stephanie’s number appeared on the screen, so familiar even after all those years.

5

When the police arrived, Daniela was sat on the wall at the bottom of the front garden, her knees pulled up so her booted feet were clear of the water. She was shivering and red-eyed, not just from the cold.

She heard the police before she saw them. They’d commandeered a tractor – the best way of traversing the flooded roadways – from a local farmer. The steady chug-chug-chug was audible long before the vehicle popped into view.

Daniela didn’t recognise the thickset woman driving the tractor. Her wind-burned cheeks and earth-coloured clothes suggested she was either the farmer or the farmer’s wife. It stood to reason she wouldn’t trust the local bobbies to drive the vehicle themselves. Stephanie stood on the footplate, stony-faced, hanging on with both hands.

The tractor stopped in the flooded turning circle, and Stephanie jumped down with a splash. Daniela took one look at her sister’s face then dropped her gaze. She didn’t know what she’d hoped for. Sympathy? Forgiveness? Some human emotion, at least. But Stephanie could’ve been arriving at a train station for all the sentiment she showed. She started up the path with barely a glance at Daniela.

‘You’ll have to go around the back,’ Daniela called after her. ‘Front door’s blocked. I’ve opened the kitchen door.’

Daniela didn’t follow Stephanie. The idea of going inside again made her stomach churn. Instead, she remained on the wall, lit another cigarette, and watched the tractor perform a six-point turn. The farmer tipped her cap and set off back along the road. Daniela waited.

Within a few minutes, sloshing footsteps indicated Stephanie’s return. Daniela studied her cigarette, which had burned down to the filter. She cringed at having to face her sister.

‘Dani, what happened?’ Stephanie asked. There was a raw edge to her voice that Daniela had never heard before.

Daniela rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. ‘I told you on the phone,’ she said. ‘I found her like that.’

‘What were you doing here?’

‘I wanted to see the old house.’

‘What for?’

Daniela discarded her cigarette into the water, where it bobbed about with the dead leaves and twigs. ‘It’s still my home,’ she said. ‘It belongs to me, at least a little.’

‘So, you broke in.’ Not really a question.

‘I couldn’t get in the front, and the back door was locked. I climbed through the upstairs window. Look at the state of the place, for God’s sake. Of course, I went inside.’

Stephanie let the silence stretch. Daniela felt the police-stare burning the back of her neck, but didn’t look up. She was wise to that trick.

‘Where did you go when you got inside?’ Stephanie asked.

‘Through the junk room, down the stairs, into the hall. That’s when I saw Auryn.’

‘And then?’

‘I called you.’

‘Did you move her?’

‘No. I … I tried to sit her up. Before I realised.’

‘But did you move her? Is she still where you found her?’

‘I—’ Daniela couldn’t shift the memory of Auryn’s dead weight under her hands. ‘What the hell should I’ve done? She’s dead, isn’t she?’ Daniela rubbed her eyes again. Her hands were cold. ‘I knew I had to call someone.’

‘So, you called me.’

‘You’re the police. I figured it’d be quickest. I mean, if I’d called the control room I would’ve got put through to Hackett, and God knows how long it’d take them to get here with the bridge closed. Have you called anyone?’

Stephanie grunted, which could’ve meant anything. Daniela noted she wasn’t writing this down like she was supposed to. She wondered whether Stephanie was doing any of the things she should’ve. Shock was hitting her hard as well; Daniela could tell. There was a stricken look on Stephanie’s face. She had all the police training to deal with awful, stressful situations, but this had blindsided her.

‘I’ve called a doctor,’ Stephanie said. ‘They’ll be here soon.’

‘Is that Abrams?’ Doctor Abrams was the local GP and, by Daniela’s estimation, had to be a hundred years old.

‘Abrams is in Hackett. There’s a doctor in town who’s coming to examine the body.’

Daniela studied her hands again. The body. Already Auryn had ceased to be a person.

‘Did you go anywhere else in the house?’ Stephanie asked.

‘No. Wait, I went into the kitchen on the way out. To unlock the back door. Rather than climbing out through the window, y’know.’

‘You didn’t go back upstairs?’

‘No. Didn’t want to track too much mud into the house.’ Daniela forced a smile. ‘What would Dad have said, eh?’

Stephanie didn’t answer.

Daniela took out her cigarettes. She didn’t want another yet, but she needed something to do with her hands. Talking with police officers made her uncomfortable. Talking with her sister, doubly so. Daniela focused on the packet and tried not to think about the hidey-hole in the bedroom.

‘You said Auryn had left,’ Daniela said. ‘She left a few days ago, you said. So, why was she here?’

Stephanie didn’t answer that either.

‘Hello?’ someone called. ‘Stephanie?’

Daniela looked up. A man had appeared at the top of the road. He was wrapped in a grey duffel coat and shapeless woollen hat, plus obligatory wellies. His young face was stamped with grief. Daniela froze.

‘I got here as fast as I could,’ the man said as he approached the gate. ‘My bloody car got stuck. I figured since it’s a four-by-four it should’ve been fine, but apparently not. Tilly’s going to drag it out with her tractor.’

His words spilled out in a rush, as if he had to keep his lips moving or his voice would seize. He went to Stephanie and touched her arm. With anyone else he might’ve gone in for a hug, but he knew Stephanie better than that.

‘Is it true?’ he asked. ‘What happened?’

Stephanie pulled away. ‘You’d better come inside,’ she said.

The man rubbed his face with both hands. He had to take a stabilising breath before he could focus on Daniela. When he did so, his eyes widened. ‘Daniela?’

‘Hi, Leo,’ Daniela said. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were still in Stonecrop.’

Leo McKearney tore his gaze away. ‘Why is she here?’ he asked Stephanie in a fierce whisper. ‘Did she—?’ He broke off as if afraid to say more while Daniela was in earshot.

‘I just got here,’ Daniela said. ‘I went into the house and found Auryn.’

Leo bit his lip. Then he straightened up and, despite the redness of his eyes, assumed a professional air. ‘I’d better see her,’ he said.

As he waded up the path, Daniela turned to Stephanie. ‘D’you think that’s a good idea?’ she asked quietly. ‘Him and Auryn …’

‘We need a doctor to certify death,’ Stephanie said. ‘He’s the only one in town.’

‘He’s a doctor?’

‘Junior doctor at Dewar’s Hospital in Hackett.’ Stephanie fixed Daniela with a look. ‘Don’t move. I’ll be right back.’

‘Sure,’ Daniela said, staring at the water again. The nub of the cigarette she’d dropped had sunk below the surface and hung suspended, turning gently in the currents Leo McKearney made as he waded past.

This was the closest Daniela had been to home in seven years, yet she’d never felt further away.

6
June 2010

‘I need money.’

Daniela’s father didn’t look up from whatever the hell he was reading. An old newspaper, folded and refolded, the printed columns of stocks and shares marked with fingerprints and pencil scribbles. Whenever Daniela came up to the study, her dad was poring over financial papers. It was all he seemed to care about these days.

Absently, her father reached for his wallet. Daniela watched his hands as he thumbed through the notes. The hands and wallet looked like they were made of the same leather. The wallet always contained money. Once a week, her dad went into Hackett and withdrew his pension from the post office, plus anything additional he needed from his savings. Daniela didn’t know how much was in the savings, but it had to be substantial, left over from when her dad had co-owned the antiques shop in Stonecrop.

Her father counted off twenty pounds and laid it on the desk. It was far more than Daniela needed but she wasn’t complaining. She scooped up the notes.

‘Thanks,’ she muttered.

Her dad turned over the newspaper and didn’t look up.

In the past twelve months, there’d been a scattering, as if a sudden wind had driven everyone from the old house, although in truth it’d started years earlier, when their mum left. When she’d walked out it was like she left the front door open, and let the cold wind in.

Over time, the atmosphere became fragile, friable. Dad refused to let them speak of their mother, until she was nothing but a ghost in their memories.

Franklyn, twenty-six years old and the eldest of the four sisters, was next to move out permanently, but her absence was less jarring, because over the years she’d become an erratic presence. Likewise, it was no surprise when Stephanie started to talk about moving out. She’d completed her probationary period with the constabulary, and was anxious to live closer to the station in Hackett. Plus, Stephanie and their father were too similar. They’d always butted heads.

The real sign of the end was when Auryn announced she was leaving. She was the easy-going one, who rarely reacted to the shouted voices in the house. If the atmosphere became too toxic, she would hide away with her books in the spare room that was now hers. She was due to leave for university at the end of the summer. They’d planned a party and everything. So, it took everyone by surprise when she said – in her quiet, non-confrontational way – that she’d be leaving early, at the end of June, now her exams were finished.

‘We wanna get moved in and acclimatise to Newcastle before term starts,’ was her excuse.

Stephanie said it was presumptuous, going there before the exam results were in. ‘What’s your back-up plan if you don’t get the grades you need?’ she’d asked.

Auryn had shrugged. ‘We’re still leaving.’

It was understandable. Moving into her own place with her boyfriend had to be better than remaining at home. But the real reason for leaving early was obvious: if the sisters stayed under the same roof much longer, they’d go crazy. There was too much bad feeling in the house.

Now Daniela faced the probability that by autumn she’d be alone with their father.

She was aware of a change; aware of the increased tension when her father was home, conscious of her sisters spending as much time as possible away from the house, but she had her own problems. For years she’d been desperate to leave Stonecrop. The perfect time to do so would’ve been after her A levels last year. She’d got a conditional offer for Sheffield university, so long as her results were good enough. It turned out they weren’t. Then laziness or apathy had stopped her going through clearing. She’d told herself that taking a year out was a smart move. She could work, save up some money, then apply to university the following summer.

And yet, somehow she hadn’t got around to that either. Summer was almost there, she’d wasted a year scratching around doing odd jobs, and she still didn’t know what she wanted from her life. She only knew she didn’t want to live it in Stonecrop.

It was far past time to get out. All her friends had already gone. Auryn would be the last of them. Auryn and Leo, of course.

Those were the thoughts that bounced through Daniela’s brain as she trudged along the footpath away from the old house. She was sick of having no plan. Today her father had been fine, albeit uncommunicative, but Daniela’s right shoulder still tingled from the slap she hadn’t quite avoided the day before. It’d been aimed at her face, the culmination of some petty argument that’d escalated out of proportion, but she was faster than her old man now, and it’d caught her a glancing blow on the tip of the shoulder instead. It shouldn’t have hurt, but still she felt it, like a phantom echo.

Even on a summer day, Stonecrop was grey and sheltered, the clouds close enough to touch. The few shadows below the trees were broad and fuzzy-edged. Headache weather; like a storm that refused to break. It’d been like that for weeks. Daniela walked quickly with hands in pockets. Her leather jacket – a hand-me-down from Franklyn, which was too wide in the shoulders and always smelled like smoke – kept out the intermittent breeze.

She knew every inch of the woodlands. Whenever the atmosphere in the house became too oppressive, she’d take to the outdoors, walking for hours, crossing and recrossing her path, trying to lose herself. Sometimes she’d bring her MP3 player with her; other times she let the white noise of nature fill her head instead.

The woods enfolded the village like protective arms. To the south there was nothing but trees as far as Briarsfield, while to the north, the forest petered out into farmland, bisected by the Clynebade, which diverged around Stonecrop as if around an inconvenient stone. A break in the trees allowed a partial view to the north over low-lying fields and hedgerows. If Daniela had been minded to climb a tree, she could’ve seen Winterbridge Farm in the distance.

Some people found the trees eerie, especially when the light was poor, and Daniela sort of understood that. The woods were rife with half heard noises and flickering movements. But the trees were the one part of Stonecrop Daniela liked, because, if she put her head down, she could pretend her world wasn’t limited to this tiny village, hemmed in by rivers. She could imagine walking in any direction for miles and seeing nothing but trees.

The path led her in a sweeping loop to the banks of the Bade. Flowering garlic perfumed the air. At this time of the year, the woods and the riverbanks were carpeted with wild garlic and fading bluebells, unfurling ferns and bramble tangles. The well-worn paths were trampled streaks of brown through the green.

In a muddy hollow beside the river stood a ruined building. It’d once been the home of a wealthy businessman, back in the early twentieth century, but was now little more than a brick shell, the rotted timbers of its first floor having collapsed, the slates of the roof missing, likely adorning the roof of some other property by now. Above the door a carved stone lintel read, Kirk Cottage.

Daniela went down the bank and circled the building. The area never drained properly and, even months after the last flood, the earth was still sodden, the mud churned by footprints from dog-walkers, ramblers or people looking for a fishing spot. Daniela stepped around puddles of stagnant water.

She was annoyed to find someone had replaced the broken board across the side window. She’d smashed the board herself, a few months earlier, to allow access to the interior. Not that anything was inside – more mud, more standing water, a tangle of nettles, corroded and discoloured litter – but that wasn’t the point. There was precious little to do in Stonecrop, and kids made their own entertainment.

Now a new sheet of plyboard had been nailed up, along with a notice that the structure was unsafe and trespassing was forbidden.

Daniela glanced around to make sure no one was about. Then she climbed on the windowsill, gripped either side of the stone window for support, and kicked the board.

The hollow boom rolled across the river and back. Daniela drove her foot into the board several more times until the wood split.

She was breathing hard as she climbed down. She worked her fingers into the split and, with some pushing and shoving, loosened the nails on one side. With a final effort and a satisfying splintering, part of the plyboard came loose. It’d been nailed onto a wooden frame fixed inside the window, but not well enough. Daniela tossed the broken piece of wood aside.

The hole she’d made was just wide enough to let a person climb into the building. Daniela wiped her hands on her jacket. She had no interest in going into the ruin today. She just didn’t want anybody keeping her out.

She left the ruined house and followed the path until she reached the Hackett road. There she hesitated. Turning left would take her into the centre of Stonecrop, where she could maybe try her luck at the Crossed Swords. The landlord liked her well enough, but his wife really didn’t. Daniela had worked there for a few months the previous year, collecting glasses, but there’d been a falling out – a discrepancy in the till one night – which Daniela had got the blame for, and the landlady had never allowed her in the bar since.

If Daniela turned right at the road, she’d eventually reach the town of Hackett. The road wound between fields and crossed the River Bade via the old bridge, which hadn’t been designed for anything more strenuous than horse-drawn traffic, and which had been verging on collapse for twenty years.

It was a fair distance to walk, although she’d done it before, and there might be a bus or someone she could thumb a lift off. When she got to Hackett, she could catch a train to the next town, and the next, and the next …

With an angry shake of her head, Daniela turned left, towards Stonecrop. Who was she fooling? Several times a week she made these long, aimless walks, and fantasised about leaving forever, and every goddamn time she made an excuse not to take the first step. She could circle around and around, and sometimes look wistfully towards other places, but always she was drawn back in, like to a magnet.

The time wasn’t right, of course. She was saving up money from her odd jobs, along with the hand-outs from her dad – plus anything else she came across – to raise an escape fund. The savings were squirrelled beneath the loose floorboard in her bedroom. Once she had enough money, she’d be gone.

She heard a car approaching, and crossed to the opposite side of the road so the car would see her when it rounded the corner. Daniela had lost count of how many times some idiot driving too fast along those country roads had almost wiped her out.

When a car appeared, it was indeed driving too fast, and being driven by an idiot.

The car screeched to a halt next to where Daniela had hastily stepped onto the verge. A woman leaned out of the driver’s window.

‘Been looking for you all over,’ Stephanie said. ‘Want a lift?’

Auryn was in the passenger seat, one foot propped on the dashboard, so Daniela climbed in the back, sliding across the leather seat.

‘What’s going on?’ Daniela asked. ‘Family outing?’

Auryn flashed a grin. ‘We’re gonna pick up Franklyn.’

‘Frankie’s back? She only just left.’

‘Apparently she missed us.’

Stephanie made an indelicate noise. ‘I can think of a number of reasons why she’s back,’ she said, ‘and precisely none of them are to do with missing us.’

Auryn shrugged. ‘Just a suggestion. Anyways.’ She twisted in her seat to face Daniela. The round glasses she’d taken to wearing made her look young and owlish. Auryn’s fair hair was tidy, worn in a neat, trendy style. The blonde mistake of the family, she would joke. ‘Apparently Franklyn came in on the bus this morning and wants to meet up. Seriously, I think she misses us.’

Daniela and Franklyn had always been close – perhaps because they were so similar in appearance and temperament – but now Franklyn had moved away from Stonecrop, the times they spent together felt strained and awkward, like they both knew they were growing apart, and neither had the ability or the inclination to prevent it.

‘She’ll be in trouble,’ Stephanie said. ‘You mark my words.’

Stephanie drove too fast through the country lanes. Her Subaru was only three years old and the interior was immaculate, but the exhaust had suffered an incident with a cattle-grid and roared like a tank when the car accelerated. Stephanie had completed an advanced driving course for her job, which she reckoned made her a safe driver, no matter her speed. Daniela disagreed. She fastened her seatbelt and braced against the front seat.

‘Where’re we meeting Franklyn?’ she asked.

‘She’s having a word with Henry McKearney,’ Stephanie said. Her tone indicated her feelings.

Roughly seven years ago, the relationship between their dad and Henry McKearney had gone irreparably sour. Their dad had opted to be bought out of the antiques emporium they’d founded together. Things might’ve been all right if one family or the other had moved away from Stonecrop and let tempers settle, but everyone involved was way too stubborn. The Cain and McKearney families continued to coexist, relations between them becoming increasingly strained as the years went by.

Stephanie sped into the village, through the square, only slowing as they approached the junction next to the Corner Shoppe. She bumped the car onto the pavement without indicating. Auryn popped open the door.

‘Are we picking up Leo as well?’ Daniela asked.

Auryn’s ears went pink, and she mumbled something. That was another complicating factor – Auryn had been dating Leo McKearney for almost a year. Everyone had realised they were serious when they applied to the same university and made plans to move in together. In idle moments, Daniela wondered what Henry thought about that. She knew her own thoughts well enough.

Daniela followed Auryn out of the car and across the street. The antiques shop was bolted onto the Corner Shoppe, which the McKearney family also owned, and to the house at the back where the McKearney family lived. It was a wide, low-slung shop, a holdover of Seventies’ architecture, with broad windows and a constant air of neglect. When Henry took sole ownership, he renovated the façade and commissioned a posh new painted board above the front windows, reading McKearney Antiques. But since then the woodwork had faded and never been repainted. Daniela didn’t know how the place ever turned a profit, since she rarely saw any customers. At a cursory glance it looked like it’d shut down months ago. The Open sign was dusty.

The Corner Shoppe next door was run by Henry’s wife Margaret and was therefore in a much better state. Daniela had heard village gossip that the difficulties between Henry and Margaret didn’t just extend to their businesses.

Auryn shouldered the already-open door to the antiques shop wider and stepped inside, Daniela following after her.

The interior smelled of wood polish and air fresheners, intended to disguise the lingering odour of stale tobacco. To Daniela, it was so familiar it always gave her a jolt. As a kid, back when their dad had co-owned the shop, she had spent hours in the overcrowded maze of wardrobes and bookcases, burrowing beneath desks and climbing in and out of cupboards, until either Dad or ‘Uncle’ Henry got sick of her scuffling presence and sent her outside to play. Now, with so much residual bitterness between the two families, Daniela hated the stink of the place.

Although the stock sometimes changed, the feel of the shop remained the same. Henry had made a big deal of getting rid of the ‘ugly, unfashionable’ stock and replacing it with ‘proper antiques’, but it was a cosmetic change at best. Its rotten heart was unaltered. Daniela dragged her fingers over the bubbled veneer of a Georgian dining table. Unpleasant memories overlaid every surface, heavy as the greasy sheen of beeswax. She shoved her hands into her pockets.

Near the front, Leo McKearney was perched on a side table, reading a paperback. He was lucky enough to have inherited his mother’s looks, although his hair was the same brick-red as Henry’s. A smile brightened his face as he spotted Auryn. He waved at Daniela; a friendly, everyday wave, not nearly so full of meaning as his smile.

Daniela felt a tug at her insides and let herself imagine the smile was for her.

The more time Daniela spent in Leo’s company – and it was difficult to do otherwise, since Leo and Auryn were joined at the hip – the more aware she became of him. What had started off as curiosity on Daniela’s part had grown over the years to a weird, unrequited longing. She noticed things about him: the way his hair curled around his ears, the dusting of freckles across his nose, the fleck of brown in his green eyes.

She’d long ago convinced herself she was in love with him.

And that was why Daniela dropped her gaze. She was certain Auryn must’ve noticed her infatuation.

Leo put down his book to give Auryn a quick, one-armed hug. He smiled at Daniela over Auryn’s shoulder. ‘Hey, Daniela.’ He sang her name – Dan-ee-el-laaa – like he’d done since they were little kids. It gave her a warm feeling every time he did it. No one else bothered with her full name. And it was cute, because Auryn was the one with the pretty, lyrical name, which their mother had insisted on after their dad had named the first three girls after his distant relatives. Daniela liked how Leo made her name pretty too.

‘Everything okay?’ Auryn asked.

Leo’s smile scrunched up. ‘They’re arguing. Can we go? I’d rather not hang around to listen.’

Daniela was already moving off through the furniture maze. A murmur of voices filtered from the back of the shop. Henry’s was harsh from years of chain-smoking, edged with a London accent. She recognised the opposing notes of her sister Franklyn’s lighter tone, which always sounded like she was mocking you, even when she wasn’t.

‘Should I get Steph?’ Auryn asked.

As if in response, something heavy crashed to the floor at the other end of the shop. Daniela sped up. The layout of the shop meant she could hear Franklyn and Henry but couldn’t see them yet.

‘It’s only money!’ she heard Franklyn shout. ‘You want to lose everything for this?’

Another crash, which sounded like a chair going over. ‘You owe me,’ Henry said. ‘After everything I’ve done for your family—’

Daniela at last found her way around a bulky Welsh dresser that blocked the direct route to the cleared area at the back of the shop that doubled as Henry’s office. A huge polished rosewood desk the colour of venous blood took up most of the space, with a wicker chair wedged behind it. The desk and two nearby tables were submerged below a sea of paperwork. At the back of the room, the fire exit was propped open with a metal urn, allowing a sluggish breeze to flow in from the walled courtyard behind the building.

Franklyn had been sat in a ladder-backed chair, which she’d knocked over as she stood up too fast. A box of papers had fallen from the desk, but it was unclear who’d done that. Franklyn was thin and wiry like Daniela, with a fringe of black hair that was always in her eyes. Henry was six inches taller and at least five stone heavier. His shirt didn’t fit well, the material stretched and strained across his chest. His reddish hair was combed flat.

‘Hey …’ Daniela said.

When he saw her, Henry smiled and shook his head. ‘How come you invited these guys?’ he asked Franklyn. ‘I thought you wanted to keep this private.’

Franklyn took a moment to shove her temper back into whatever compartment she usually stored it in. To Daniela she said, ‘I’ll be done in a minute, Dani. Just wait for me outside, yeah?’

Daniela looked from her to Henry. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing. Nothing.’

‘How about you tell her?’ Henry suggested with a smile.

‘Is that really what you want?’ Franklyn asked. ‘Seriously, I would’ve thought you’ve got more to lose than me right now.’

Henry settled down into a chair and rested his arm on the rosewood desk. He was still smiling, like he was entertained by Franklyn’s words. Daniela had learned at a young age that Henry had a pretty good poker face, but all his tells were in his hands. She glanced at his fingers. The table was littered with papers and boxes and trinkets from the shop. Not far from Henry’s hand was a stack of post and a knife he’d been using to open the envelopes.

‘This isn’t a great reflection of your character,’ Henry said. ‘Coming in here to threaten me. I’m sure your little sister doesn’t want to see that.’

Daniela couldn’t look away from the knife on the table. It was a flick-knife, a patina of age across the opened blade. On the handle was an inlaid design in the shape of a snake, black on red. It looked like part of the stock from the antiques shop. The handle was less than two inches from Henry’s hand.

‘Frankie, maybe we should go,’ Daniela said, nervous.

‘Listen to your sister,’ Henry suggested. ‘It’s good to hear someone in your family talk sense. That’s been sorely lacking since your dear mother walked out.’

Franklyn took a couple of steps towards Henry. Wherever she’d put her anger, it hadn’t been boxed away securely, because the colour rose back to her face. ‘Listen—’ she said.

Henry started to his feet. His hand moved over the knife.

Darting forwards, Daniela snatched up a double-handful of papers from the desk and flung them at Henry’s face. He flinched in surprise. At the same moment, Franklyn made a grab for him.

Everything happened too fast after that. Daniela lunged for the knife. She succeeded in knocking it off the table, but lost her balance and stumbled. Someone shoved her to get her away – either Henry or Franklyn, she couldn’t be sure – and she fell, striking her chin on the table on the way down.

For a second, Daniela lay dazed on the rough carpet. Feet scuffled next to her head. The papers she’d thrown were still fluttering to the ground.

Someone yelled, ‘Stop it! What’re you doing?’

Leo had run into the shop, with Auryn right behind him, and behind her, Stephanie.

Stephanie pushed to the front. She got both hands on Franklyn’s shoulders and yanked her away like a dog on a leash.

‘All right, what the hell’s going on?’ Stephanie demanded. ‘Franklyn, cut it out.’

Franklyn lifted her hands contritely. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she said, with a shrug that implied she wasn’t doing anything worth shouting about.

Stephanie shoved Franklyn away, not gently.

Daniela was still on the floor, dazed, unwilling to get up. Her hands shook from the brief confrontation, and there was a dull ache where she’d banged her chin. It took her several moments to work out why her mouth tasted coppery. Her tongue probed a split on the inside of her cheek.

Light glinted off something metal nearby. The flick-knife, which had bounced under the table after Daniela knocked it off the top. Careful to keep her movements hidden, Daniela closed her hand around it.

‘It’s my fault,’ Franklyn told Stephanie. ‘We were just having a discussion. Here, let me help you up.’ She reached down to grab Daniela’s hand.

Stephanie didn’t look even slightly convinced. ‘What were you discussing?’

‘Just passing the time of day. Daniela tripped and fell, right?’

Henry smirked. ‘Tripped right over her own feet.’

Daniela felt heat flush her cheeks. She let Franklyn haul her upright. Her head swam. She stayed half-turned away so no one would see she’d picked up the flick-knife. The handle felt warm.

Leo had pushed past so he was between Stephanie and Henry. ‘Franklyn started it,’ he said. ‘You all heard her shouting at my dad.’

‘That’s not what I heard,’ Stephanie said.

Franklyn laughed. But whatever comment she was planning to make, Stephanie silenced her with a glare.

‘Go wait in the car, Franklyn,’ she said. ‘You too, Dani.’

Daniela hesitated. It rankled that no one had bothered to check whether she was hurt, or to get her side of the story. Her fingers tightened around the knife.

‘C’mon, kid,’ Franklyn said, taking hold of Daniela’s elbow. ‘Let’s give the grown-ups some space.’

Making her expression neutral, Daniela nodded, while she slipped the knife into the sleeve of her jacket, hidden.

7

By the time they reached the car, Franklyn had shrugged off her temper. She kept her head up as she crossed the road.

‘You okay?’ Daniela asked.

Franklyn gave a tight smile. ‘Sure. Why the hell not?’ She leaned against the bonnet of Stephanie’s car to light a cigarette.

The door of the antiques shop opened and Auryn came out with Leo. She kept wiping her eyes with her fingertips. Leo pushed her away when she tried to touch his arm.

‘You don’t get it,’ Leo was saying. ‘Dad’s mad at your stupid sister right now, but by tonight he’ll take it out on me, or Mum. We’re the ones who’ll get the fallout.’

‘So, come stay at our house,’ Auryn suggested.

‘That’s not going to help Mum, is it?’ Leo chewed his lip as he glanced at the open door of the corner shop. ‘I better warn her.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘It’s probably best if you stay away.’ Leo softened his words with a sad smile. ‘I’ll call you later, okay?’

He walked off, leaving Auryn standing helpless in the middle of the road, still blinking back tears.

Daniela loitered by the car. She’d removed the knife from her sleeve and tucked it into the breast pocket of her jacket, blade folded. It was heavy and warm. Unnerving. Daniela wasn’t even sure why she’d taken it, except that she didn’t like the idea of Henry having it. He’d definitely been reaching for it during the argument – hadn’t he? The whole confrontation had taken less than thirty seconds. It’d left her dizzy and sick, and not just from the bang on her chin.

Auryn rubbed the back of her neck. ‘Not that we aren’t glad to see you and all, Franklyn,’ she said, ‘but did you come home just to pick a fight?’

‘I’m hurt that you’d suggest that.’ Franklyn didn’t deny it though.

A minute later Stephanie appeared. Daniela flinched. Stephanie looked so much like their father when she was angry.

‘What did you think you were doing, Franklyn?’ she asked.

‘Nothing.’ Franklyn blew out smoke. ‘Having a discussion. That’s what Henry said too, right?’

‘How did you guess?’

‘Thought so. Are you planning to be heavy-handed about this?’

‘In what way? You mean like reporting you both?’

‘Yeah. That.’

Stephanie opened the driver’s door. ‘Get in the car.’

Franklyn winked at Dani. ‘That’s what this family’s good at,’ she said. ‘Bending the rules.’

‘You don’t even know what the rules are.’ Stephanie got into the car and slammed the door.

Franklyn climbed into the passenger seat. Stephanie was already revving the engine as Daniela took the back seat. Auryn hesitated a moment more, unsure whether to go after Leo, then joined them.

Stephanie bumped down from the kerb with more force than necessary. Daniela glanced back. Through the dusty windows of the antiques store, Henry was watching them. He was on the phone.

‘Okay,’ Auryn said, breaking the tense silence. ‘What happened, Frankie?’

Franklyn shrugged. She’d rolled down the window to let her cigarette smoke escape. The breeze tousled her dark hair. ‘It was a misunderstanding,’ she said.

‘Isn’t it always?’ Stephanie commented.

Franklyn laughed. She sank down in the seat, shoulders low, as if she wanted to hide from the world. She’d always been like that, Daniela realised. Folded inwards so no one would guess what she concealed. Her jacket smelled of smoke and diesel fumes.

‘Believe it or not, I had no intention of getting into an argument,’ Franklyn said. ‘I came home to see my loving family. But I figured you all might have better things to do on a sunny Saturday, so I called on Henry about some business.’

‘What kind of business?’

‘The private kind.’ Franklyn flashed a smile to take the edge off her words. ‘Nothing worth getting riled about. Henry takes things so seriously.’

Daniela remembered the partial conversation she’d overheard. It’d sounded like Franklyn owed Henry money … but why? If Franklyn needed cash, Dad would always put his hand in his pocket.

Daniela asked, ‘Where’re we going?’ Stephanie had spun the car around the one-way system so they were headed towards Hackett.

‘We’re taking Franklyn back to the train station,’ Stephanie said.

‘She just got here.’

‘And look how much excitement she’s caused already.’ Stephanie met Daniela’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. ‘We’ll do the family reunion some other time.’

‘Actually,’ Franklyn said, ‘I quite want to come home. Today’s not working out like I’d hoped. It’d be nice to chill for a bit, rather than rushing back to Birmingham.’

Stephanie took her eyes off the road long enough to look at her. ‘Is that a good idea?’

‘Hey, don’t make me pull rank. I’m the oldest; my word is still law.’

Stephanie’s voice was tense as she shrugged and said, ‘Whatever you say.’

‘Cool.’ Franklyn went back to staring out of the window. ‘Be nice to spend a night in the old house again. No feeling like coming home, huh?’

8

Regardless of circumstances, it felt like a celebration whenever the four sisters were together. Even though their father had retired to his study with the door firmly closed, and nothing could fully dispel the chill absence of their mother, for a short time the house felt full again. It echoed with voices and laughter and movement, and the family could pretend nothing was wrong.

It’d been a while since all four of them had hung out. A longer while since they’d been together without arguing. Franklyn brought a slab of beer in from the garage, placing half the cans in the fridge to cool. Auryn opened a bottle of wine. After some cajoling, they even persuaded Stephanie to have a drink.

Nobody mentioned the altercation between Franklyn and Henry. It wasn’t the first time Franklyn had got into trouble, and nobody thought it’d be the last. By nature, she rubbed people the wrong way. Her school record had been a history of near-disasters.

Now she was at ease, sprawled in a chair with one leg thrown over the arm, a can of beer in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other. Their father didn’t mind them drinking or making noise, but drew the line at smoking in the house.

‘Hey,’ Auryn said, settling on the sofa, ‘I meant to ask, Franklyn. Are you really going back to university?’

Franklyn gave a careful shrug. ‘News travels fast, doesn’t it?’

Guilt needled Daniela. She hadn’t been sworn to secrecy, but still …

‘So, is it true?’ Auryn pressed. ‘Or is someone spreading mad rumours?’

‘I’ve not decided,’ Franklyn said. Her tone was more serious than Daniela had heard in years. ‘But yeah, it’s something to think about.’

‘Finishing that business course, are you?’ Stephanie asked.

‘Nah. I’m looking at theology.’

Stephanie raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s a career departure,’ she said. Unlike the others, she’d remained standing, as if even when relaxing she couldn’t lose the stiffness her job had hammered into her. A certain tightness marked her eyes. Nothing escaped her notice. It felt like Stephanie was always poised to spring into action at the first sign of anything improper. In a different life she could’ve been a superhero.

The idea made Daniela snort into her drink.

‘Maybe it’s time for a career,’ Franklyn said. ‘A proper career, I mean. No more bouncing from one rubbish job to the next. And let’s face it, I was never cut out for the business world. That’s for people like him upstairs, isn’t it?’ She smiled, but the twist to her lips made it ugly. ‘I thought you’d approve. Really, I’m just copying. You’ve got the nice, stable, legal career. What’s wrong with us wanting the same?’

Stephanie chuckled but said nothing. Daniela looked away, irrationally annoyed that everyone except her was progressing with their lives.

‘What would you do with a theology degree?’ Auryn asked. ‘I mean, what can you do? Apart from becoming a lecturer or a vicar.’

It was difficult to imagine Franklyn doing either of those. Difficult enough to picture her knuckling down to complete a university course. Franklyn had always been moody and solitary, without close friends, more content to be off on her own than hanging around at home. She’d also been closest to their mother. Being the eldest meant she’d known their mother the longest, and remembered when there’d been more smiles than silences. Franklyn was the one who’d tried hardest to make her stay. She’d encouraged their mother to make outings, to drive into Briarsfield or take the bus in a long circular journey out along the valleys and back again. Franklyn had kept up the Sunday trips to church with her long after the others lost interest.

And yet nothing Franklyn did was enough to make her stay.

One of Daniela’s clearest memories was of a fight she hadn’t been meant to witness. Aged twelve, Daniela had watched, through a crack in the door, as her father berated their mother in that whip-tongue voice until she’d pulled off the eternity rings he’d given her and flung them at him. Daniela had barely had time to get clear of the door as her mother strode out. Two days later, their mother had packed her bags, leaving Daniela with a clearer memory of her hands than her face.

She thought of the sort-of funeral they’d held, out on the fishing platform above the swollen river. None of them had spoken of it again. But a few weeks later, Daniela went back to the garage to look through their mother’s remaining possessions. At that time, she’d noticed other items conspicuously missing. Everything of value, like the jewellery, had gone. As had the crucifix from the hallway, the one with the sad Jesus, which was no longer hidden under the pile of magazines.

Franklyn didn’t answer Auryn’s question straight away. She turned the beer can with her thin fingers. ‘It’s not something that’s come out of nowhere,’ she said at last. ‘Wanting to change … wanting something different. It probably feels like I’m springing this on you, but it’s always been in my head. I want something different. I want to do something. This week was …’ She stopped. ‘Anyway, I came home to clear my head. And to get some support.’ She flashed a grin. ‘That’s what we’re here for, right? To look out for each other. I bet Auryn hasn’t been getting hassled over her academic choices.’

Auryn’s ears went pink. She hated to admit how well she’d done at school. Everyone in the family knew she was the bright one – the one with the high-flying career ahead. From a young age she’d known what she wanted to do with her life. Daniela envied that, a lot.

Stephanie was envious as well, Daniela knew, because although Stephanie had her own career – one she insisted she loved – she’d fallen into it more or less by accident, recruited straight from high school. Someone had to keep the peace in the household, and Stephanie was the only one capable. Policing had been the logical, inevitable choice. A concrete way to enforce the rules of the house.

But Auryn was still the smartest, with the best qualifications and the pick of universities.

Daniela had never considered Franklyn might be jealous too.

‘I don’t blame you for wanting to get away,’ Franklyn added to Auryn. ‘Get out, see the world. It’ll be good for you. And Leo.’

Auryn nodded. ‘I think he’s more anxious than me to get away.’

‘No surprise. If Henry McKearney was my dad, I wouldn’t stick around either.’ Franklyn made little dents in the beer can with her fingertips. ‘If he’s smart, he’ll hang on to you.’

Auryn frowned. ‘What d’you mean by that?’

‘He’s not got much to look forward to here, has he? If he can escape Stonecrop and tough it out at university, he’s smart enough to go far. But studying medicine is a long hard slog. He’ll need support.’

‘You mean financially.’ A hard edge crept into Auryn’s voice. ‘You think he’s only staying with me because our family’s got money.’

‘I never said that.’

‘You’re thinking it pretty loudly.’

Franklyn drained her beer. ‘No, I’m not. You and Leo need to support each other. That’s all I mean. It’s a big, scary, horrid world out there. Even if it is better than this fucking place.’

Stephanie raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s some fine language. Are you sure you’re cut out to be a vicar?’

Franklyn laughed and threw the empty can at her, and the tension in the room dissipated for a while.

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