To Catch a Butterfly Page 15

  “That’s bollocks, you don’t want me to go because it’ll make me happy!”

  Marie leant her head back on her chair “You’re all I’ve got left of Will and I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I’m going to France I’m not bloody dying!” Stevie was exasperated.

  Marie took a deep breath, her head wobbled slightly, “YOU..ARE..NOT..GOING!”

  “I lost my dad and I’m getting on with my life, I have to, I can’t let losing him stop me from living my life and you shouldn’t either.” Stevie lowered her voice, trying to get her point across.

  “Don’t you fucking tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, you have no idea what I’m going through, you can’t begin to imagine how I feel, what I’ve sacrificed and what I’ve lost, Will was my husband, mine!” Marie stabbed her own chest with her finger “Mine!”

  Stevie frowned “Yes, he was and he was my dad, we both lost him!”

  “No!” Marie screamed, “No!” Her eyes wildly searching the room and finally stopping on Stevie.

  “What the hell do you mean, ‘no’?, I lost my dad, I was nine years old and I lost my dad!” Stevie stood with her hands on her hips.

  “He wasn’t your fucking dad!” Marie’s eyes were wild, her words venomous. She glared wide eyed at Stevie, who stared, stunned, back at her.

  “What do you mean?” Stevie’s voice plummeted as she felt her stomach suddenly churn.

  “He wasn’t your dad!” Marie’s eyes fixed on Stevie, “And I’m not your fucking mother!”

  CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

  Catherine sat in her kitchen staring at the box on the table; she ran her hand along the top of it and looked at the dust on her fingers. The years since she had sealed it up had gradually caused the tape that secured it to lose it stickiness and she pulled it back easily. She felt her heart thumping as she reached inside and pulled out the framed picture which sat on top wrapped tightly in grey cloth and secured with string. As she unwrapped it she saw the face smiling back at her and she closed her eyes. “I miss you.” She held the picture to her chest.

  A bitter wind outside brought Scruffy Boy to come clattering through his catflap, making Catherine jump. She wiped her face and put the picture away.

  “Hello boy.” She reached down and stroked Scruffy’s tail as he walked past her towards his bowl.

  “Wind got you spooked has it?” He sniffed his empty bowl and turned back towards her. She picked him up, plonked him on her knees and stroked his head. Spotting the box, he stepped onto the table and frantically pushed his face against the corner of it.

  Catherine smiled and continued to stroke him, his fur wasn’t as shiny as it used to be and nowadays he spent most of his time asleep on her bed.

  “You’re getting old Scruffy.” She smiled at him and realised they were actually getting old together. She’d reached fifty eight and in cat years he was about eighty four, although his actual age was a bit of a mystery. The vet had explained that a cat’s age was usually determined by it’s teeth, but even when he first arrived, he was missing a fair few and had lost a couple since. At least the ones he had left were all on the same side of his mouth, which meant he could still crunch his way through his favourite fish biscuits.

  Catherine pushed the thought that she would lose him one day out of her mind and sat thinking about the picture, she remembered the day it was taken, a snatched moment of a love long lost.

  “Come on boy, bedtime, us oldies need our beauty sleep.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT

  “Sit down Stevie.” Marie finally looked up, Stevie had remained silent, standing in the middle of the room, her arms straight down by her sides. She looked into Marie’s eyes “I don’t want to sit down.” Her jaw tightened “I want to know what the hell is going on.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you.” Marie started, “We were going to tell you years ago but the time was never right.” Her voice trailed off.

  “Who are my parents, where are they?” Stevie watched as Marie reached for her glass “Don’t!” Stevie snapped “Don’t drink anymore, whatever you’ve got to tell me, you tell me sober.”

  Marie flopped back in her seat, her eyes glazed and her speech slurred, “I’ll make some coffee.” She tried to stand up but her head was swimming and she had to steady herself.

  “Jesus Christ, you can’t even stand up!” Stevie shook her head, “I’m going out, and when I come back you’re going to tell me everything. Sober. I want you to be sober.”

  “That’s right, you fuck off out.” Marie tried to focus on her, “Go on, piss off!”

  Stevie’s head was swimming, Marie’s words going over and over in her mind. She felt sick, physically sick and needed to get out of this dank room and clear her head. “You sober up by the time I get back and then I want to know everything.” Stevie was surprisingly calm and that unnerved Marie.

  “Where are you going?” Marie’s voice suddenly changed, she looked like a child about to be scalded. Like Stevie had looked so many times before.

  “I don’t know, just out, I can’t breathe in here.” She made her way to the front door “Drink some bloody coffee.”

  Marie stared at the floor and heard Stevie close the front door behind her, her head was thumping, she looked at her drink “Shit.” She said under her breath “Shit.” She always knew this day would come, she had avoided it tirelessly, even when everyone had pushed her to explain it all to Stevie, she had always found an excuse. Failing that, she had bluntly told them to “Fuck off, I’ll tell her when I’m ready, not just because you want me to.”

  Stevie felt the freezing wind against her face and stuffed her hands deep into her coat pockets. It entered her head to go to Adam’s house but she needed time to think, alone. She couldn’t explain to herself why she had left the house straight after Marie had laid this bomb at her feet. She needed to absorb what had happened before she was ready to hear the rest of it, whatever it may be. For a second it entered her head that Marie was so drunk that she was just saying it to upset her, but even after witnessing Marie’s behaviour over the years, Stevie had never seen her quite like this, drunk or sober. She felt the nausea in her stomach, an acidy ache that made her mouth dry. She found herself walking in the direction of Blackhurst River, she had no idea what time it was, probably about ten o’clock. The moon was bright and full, lighting up the streets. As she reached the path that lead to the river she was suddenly aware of an orange glow through the trees and quickly deciding it must be local kids messing around she turned to go back.

  “Get off me!”

  Stevie stopped and turned around.

  “Ah, you bitch, give it back!”

  Stevie turned off the path and looked in the direction of the voices.

  “Shaun, you’re hurting me!”

  Stevie took a step forward, straining to listen, her footsteps snapping fallen twigs.

  “Shush, there’s someone there.” The man’s voice stopped Stevie rigid, then the voices lowered to incoherent whispers and she could see a figure standing up against the glow of the fire. Laura.

  “Laura, is that you?”

  Silence.

  “Laura, I know it’s you, it’s Stevie, what’s going on?” Stevie walked closer to the figure.

  “Fuck off Stevie!” The man’s voice responded.

  As Stevie reached them she realized the man was Shaun Halliday “Fuck off yourself.” Stevie looked from him to Laura “What are you doing here?”

  “None of your fucking business.” Shaun leant down and picked up a can of beer, swigging it.

  “Come on Laura, let’s go.” Stevie held out her hand, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Shaun.

  “It’s okay Stevie we’re just mucking about.” Laura half laughed.

  “Yeah, so fuck off eh?” Shaun picked up a carrier bag that lay on the ground and swung it over his shoulder. “Come on Laura.” He stepped around the fire and took Laura’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  Laura shrugged his hand away “Le
t go Shaun I can walk on my own thank you.”

  “Come on Laura, I’ll walk you home.” Stevie waved Laura towards her.

  Laura threw a glance at Shaun before stepping towards Stevie.

  “Forgotten something?” Shaun lunged at Laura grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her back causing her to cry out in pain.

  “Let her go!” Stevie took one step forward and pushed Shaun hard in his chest.

  “Hey, touch me again and I’ll…..” Before he could finish Stevie threw a punch which connected clean in the middle of his face, sending him stumbling back, slipping on wet leaves, he fell, without grace, onto his backside. “You’ve broken my nose you fucking bitch!” He capped his hands to catch the blood that poured from his nostrils.

  “Good.” Stevie snapped, looking at Laura who stood open mouthed. “Come on Laura, let’s go!” Stevie took her hand and pulled her away, leading her down the path towards the main road, Laura looking back all the while.

  “Stevie stop, I’ve got to go back.” Laura stopped in her tracks.

  “What?’ Stevie shook her head “For what Laura, he’s an arsehole, why do you hang around with him?”

  “You shouldn’t have hit him; he’s going to be really pissed off now.”

  “I don’t care, he was hurting you, you shouldn’t let him do that to you, who the hell does he think he is?” They stood for a moment, looking back towards the woods, then at each other.

  “What did he mean when he said haven’t you forgotten something?” Stevie asked, clenching and unclenching her fist, trying to ease the pain in her knuckles.

  “Nothing, I’ve got to go back, see if he’s alright.”

  “Laura, what did he mean?”

  Laura sighed deeply “We’re just mucking about Stevie, it’s nothing, I don’t need a lecture from you okay?”

  “It’s drugs isn’t it, he’s got you into drugs!” Stevie took Laura’s arm again.

  “No, it’s just a bit of weed, I’m not a bloody druggie Stevie!”

  “Weed is drugs for Christ’s sake, Laura, you’re going to end up in all sorts of shit if you hang around with him he’s a bloody shitbag.”

  “He’s alright really, he gives me things, presents and stuff.”

  “Yeah, which he steals, he’s a thief and he’ll get you thieving for him given half the chance. Laura, he’s no good.”

  Stevie, blissfully unaware of Laura’s run in with the law and the fact that she had accompanied Shaun on several occasions since on his ‘shopping trips’ as he referred to them, the only difference being they hadn’t been caught since.

  “People don’t know him like I do, he’s not a bad person, we have a laugh together.” Laura shrugged.

  Stevie felt a wave of frustration wash over her, this was a mad night, surreal, everything was out of place. She wanted to go home, she wanted to go to bed and wake up with everything back to normal, she wanted to be nine years old again, sitting with her father in the back garden, except he wasn’t her father and right now Stevie had no idea who he was. Or who she was for that matter.

  “Hey, you got Adam, I got Shaun, that’s just the way it is.” Laura reached down and took Stevie's hand.

  “What do you mean?” Stevie winced as Laura’s thumb ran across her swollen knuckle, which throbbed like hell.

  “You and Adam, you’re together like me and Shaun.”

  “Adam and I aren’t together, we’re just mates.” Stevie pulled her hand away from Laura’s “Sorry, my hand’s killing me.”

  Shaun appeared, pinching his nose.

  “I’d better go and see if he’s alright.” And with that Laura walked over to meet him as he approached them.

  As she reached him, he side stepped around her “Shaun, she didn’t mean it, did you Stevie?”

  “Yes I bloody did.” Stevie held his furious stare as he walked past muttering. “Fucking psycho.”

  Stevie grinned falsely at him and watched him marching down the road, with Laura bouncing behind him like a puppy trying to please.

  CHAPTER FIFTY NINE

  Stevie felt stillness in the house as she stepped through the front door; she had killed an hour wondering around in the dark, she’d gone to Adam’s house but only sat on his wall until her feet went numb. She’d considered knocking on his door but changed her mind, what would she say? What could he do?

  The silence in the house made her feel uneasy, so many times she had come home to find Marie asleep in the armchair, a dropped cigarette burnt out on the carpet, but this time felt different. She noticed a chill in the place and looked upstairs to see the loft hatch was open. Her heart thumped as she took each step, holding on to the banister as she went. Just then she heard a noise from the front room and made her way back down. As she walked in the room, she saw laid out across the floor, newspapers and an array of photographs, unfamiliar faces looking up at her, strangers faces. Marie looked at her; she was sitting in her armchair, hands on her knees. Neither spoke. Stevie knelt down, reading the bold headlines that stood out from yellowing front pages; she looked over them, each one with a similar headline. FAMILY KILLED IN HORRIFIC ACCIDENT. BABY SURVIVES CRASH AS FAMILY KILLED.TRAIN HITS CAR, FAMILY PERISH. DRIVER FLEES AFTER TRAIN HITS CAR. MIRACLE INFANT SURVIVES AS FAMILY ARE KILLED.

  She picked up the one nearest to her and read on, ‘A local family was killed yesterday when its car was struck from behind by another vehicle, which pushed them into the path of an oncoming train at Fourbridge railway crossing. Miraculously a 4 month old baby girl was pulled unscathed from the wreckage of the family car which was split in two by the impact. Rachel Buchanan 24, her husband Daniel Buchanan 27 and their son Jonathan aged 2, were killed. No one on the train was hurt. Eye witnesses told police that the man driving the vehicle that hit the family’s car ran from the scene. He is currently being sought by police.’

  As Stevie read, her eyes were so full of tears she could no longer make out the words. She leant back against the sofa and wiped her eyes, focusing on Marie. “What’s all this about?” Her voice broke and she swallowed “Was this my family, am I the little girl?”

  Marie nodded.

  “So who are you?” Stevie could hardly speak.

  “Your aunt. I’m your aunt.” Marie didn’t look at her.

  “You’re going to have to explain this to me.” Stevie choked, looking back at the headlines. Not quite believing what she was seeing.

  “Will was your dad’s brother, we adopted you after the accident, brought you up as our own.” Marie wished she’d finished the bottle of scotch as she drank down her cold coffee.

  Stevie took her time to try and digest each piece of information, trying to make the puzzle fit together.

  Marie reached into the ashtray and picked out a dog end, having smoked her way through a pack and a half of cigarettes that day. She straightened it out and lit it; the smoke stinging her eye and making it water.

  “Stevie, I, they wanted to tell you sooner but I just couldn’t, the time just never seemed right.”

  “So you show me all this stuff, you show me like this, these papers, these pictures.” She held up a photograph of a woman and man on their wedding day. “Fucking hell, this is the way you do this is it. Fucking hell!” She threw the photo down “What the fuck am I supposed to do with all this, you couldn’t tell me another way, you have to do it like this, fucking newspapers all over the floor. Who wanted to tell me before, who?!” She was out of breath, wild eyes glaring at Marie.

  “Everyone, Will, your grandparents, everyone. But you were too young and then Will died and I just couldn’t face telling you. It’s been hard for me, you’ll never be able to understand what I’ve been through.”

  Stevie ignored Marie’s outburst of self pity “My grandparents?” Stevie looked at her. Her face ashen.

  “Yes, Stan and Cynthia and…” Marie hesitated. “And Harry and Elizabeth Palmer.”

  “They’re my grandparents, Harry and Elizabeth are my grandparents?” Stevie frowned. She
was desperately trying to stay in control, stay calm, and take it in.

  “Yes. They’re your mum’s parents, that’s why they always wanted to be around, to help us out, you know, give Will as much work as possible, Harry always made sure of that.” Marie nodded as she spoke. “They all love you very much, Will adored you from the moment he saw you, he was so excited when your brother Jonathan was born, used to want to visit your mum and dad all the time, bought him presents, and when you came along he was just the same. He always wanted children of his own.” Marie stopped, stubbing out her dog end.

  “You didn’t though did you, you didn’t want children?” Stevie watched Marie’s face. “You didn’t want me.”

  “It was hard Stevie..” Emotion evaded Marie’s words.

  “Be honest, just be honest, don’t I deserve that by now, surely now you can tell me the truth.” Stevie remained calm, even though inside her stomach churned and her heart raced.

  Marie waited before she answered. “No, I didn’t want children.” The silence that followed gave them both the opportunity to take stock, Marie’s answer was no big surprise to Stevie, in fact it made so much sense to her, the way Marie had treated her as a child, she had been an inconvenience, yet Stevie felt no resentment, right now she just felt numb. She read each newspaper article, reading over and over the same story. The man seen running from the scene was identified as Frank Samuels, a local scrap dealer who was known to the police. By the time she finished, her eyes were sore and she was desperately tired.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Shaun Halliday watched his parents sleeping for a while then crept into his bedroom. He lifted his mattress and retrieved his hunting knife and the wad of ten pound notes neatly bound together with an elastic band. He packed a change of clothes and after rifling through his father’s wallet and mother’s purse, pausing briefly to look at the photograph of himself as a child with them, taken during a day out at the seaside, he silently left the house, his heart still pounding and his nose still broken. He looked around before walking into the darkness towards the ferry terminal. He walked quickly. In a few hours he would be well away from this place, fucking shit hole, he thought, full of fucking losers. He’d go to London, start again, be the big man. No one would fuck with him there.