To Catch a Butterfly Page 20

  Stevie slumped down onto her bed, pressed her face into her pillow and cried, she cried for her family, for the emptiness she felt in her stomach, for the brother she never got to grow up with, for Will, for her grandparents who had had to pretend to be something else, for her parents. She squeezed her pillow and pulled her knees up. She felt lonely in a house full of people.

  Elizabeth was the first to go upstairs and see her. She sat on the end of the bed and waited patiently. Stevie finally wiped her eyes and sat up.

  “I’m sorry Stevie, I’m sorry that we kept it from you.” Elizabeth ran her hand through her hair and across her weary face.

  They talked and hugged and Elizabeth listened as Stevie talked of her plans to travel over to Hampshire and find Frank Samuels. “I know what you’re all thinking.” She said, “But can you understand why I have to do this, I have to try, it’s just something I need to do.”

  “Of course we understand, we’re just all worried about you, I mean, what if you don’t find out anything, have you thought about how you’re going to feel then, don’t you think you’ve been through enough?”

  “What about you, you’ve had to pretend for all these years that you’re just friends of the family, Will’s employer, I mean, God that must have been so hard, I can’t imagine how you must have felt.” She paused. “I know Marie stopped you, I know she didn’t want to tell me, I know it wasn’t you.” She took a deep breath. “And grandpa Stan, grandma, losing both of their sons, Jesus.” Her eyes filled up, “How do you deal with that, how the hell have you all dealt with this for so long?”

  Elizabeth didn’t answer her. And in the silence she wondered how they all had. It was just the way it was, the way it had had to be.

  “When do you plan to leave?” Elizabeth touched her hand.

  “As soon as possible.” Stevie looked deeply into her eyes, “Haven’t you ever wanted to know what happened to Frank Samuels, didn’t any of you try to find him?”

  Elizabeth studied the lines in her hands, “Stevie.” She sighed, “We’ve all had to let go, we’ve all accepted that he’s gone, we’ve had to because it would have destroyed us otherwise. I know how I felt in the months and years following the accident, there were times that I thought I would go insane thinking about it, about him. I know he got away with what he did, but sometimes I thought about it and I convinced myself that he was dead; I mean how could he simply disappear? I’m sure it’s harder than we think especially with half of the police force looking for you. Maybe he wandered off and fell into a river and drowned, maybe he’s living as a tramp somewhere, freezing cold in the winter, destitute.” She sighed. “The truth is, I take a tiny bit of comfort knowing that wherever he is, if he is alive, he will always be looking over his shoulder, he’ll never be happy, never be settled and will no doubt rot or already be rotting in hell.” She swallowed. “I understand how you feel, I know you want to go and find him, bring him to justice, but just don’t be disappointed if you don’t find him. I only hope and pray,” She clasped her hands together, “that one day you find peace with it, I know that right now you can’t imagine ever feeling like that, but someday you’ll understand.” She looked at Stevie who was staring at her, absorbing her words, a slight frown swept across her face.

  “I’m still going.”

  “I know you are.”

  A moment passed before Elizabeth took her hand and smiled.

  “We’d better bring you your proper birthday present then hadn’t we?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, with everything going on, we were waiting for the right time to give it to you.” Elizabeth smiled again.

  “But you already gave me that book.”

  “You didn’t think that was it did you?” She squeezed Stevie’s hand tightly, “It was your eighteenth, we can do better than that, better than just a book.”

  “The book was fine; you don’t have to buy me things you know.” Stevie squeezed Elizabeth’s hand back.

  “Oh, so you don’t want the car we’ve got you then?

  CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO

  Catherine had woken early, she lay in bed watching Scruffy Boy twitching his way through a dream, his whiskers flickered and his paws jerked, running through a field chasing a mouse perhaps.

  Suddenly Catherine heard singing through her open bedroom window, she frowned and listened as it got louder, it was a man’s voice but she couldn’t make out the tune, it sounded like he was right outside, serenading her. Her curiosity forced her out of bed, waking Scruffy in the process; he shook his head, stretched and meowed loudly at her. “Good morning boy, did all the singing wake you up?” Catherine walked over to her window; Scruffy joined her, jumping onto the window ledge. And together they watched as Len danced around his garden bellowing out his own rendition of ‘Daisy Daisy’. Completely naked.

  “Oh shit.” Catherine sighed, realizing it was Friday and Marilyn always went to the supermarket on Fridays mornings, while Len slept.

  Catherine threw on a tee shirt and a pair of cotton trousers and made her way quickly downstairs, followed excitedly by Scruffy who was misled that he was going to get his breakfast. Catherine ran down her path, praying that Marilyn still kept a key under the pot by her front door. “Shit.” Catherine cussed, no key. She went back through her house, knowing that she would have to climb over the six foot fence separating her garden from Marilyn’s. All the while, Catherine prayed that Len’s singing hadn’t woken Annie James, the nosey old busy body other neighbour of Marilyn and Len’s, oh, she’d love this. Scruffy Boy sat by his bowl and watched as Catherine swept back through the house, flying out of her back door. She made her way over to her large wooden table that stood near the fence, gingerly climbed on top and peered over. The singing had ceased but the dancing continued, arms outstretched, left leg swung forward, then the right, then a turn.

  “Hello Len.” Catherine called, keeping her voice as low as she could.

  “Len, hi, how are you?” She called again, he looked up smiling.

  “Hello Violet, how are you?” He shimmied over towards her.

  “I’m fine, Len could you do me a big favour, could you go into the house and open the front door for me?”

  “Dance with me Violet!” He held out his hand.

  “Len, if you open the front door, I can come in and we can dance together.” Catherine noticed the face of old Annie James peering through her upstairs curtains.

  She took a deep breath and clambered over the fence, landing very ungraciously on Marilyn’s prize geraniums. Quickly checking she hadn’t broken or dislocated anything, she grabbed one of Marilyn’s dresses off of the washing line and as Len grabbed her arm to twirl her around, she managed to wrap the dress around his waist. Covering most of his dignity and kissing goodbye to her own. As Annie James’ head appeared out of her open window, Catherine continued to engage in the tango with Len as she looked up at Annie “Hello Annie, lovely morning isn’t it!?” She smiled broadly “Makes you feel like dancing!” Catherine freed a hand to throw Annie a wave, which wasn’t returned. Annie raised her eyes to the sky and pulled her window shut muttering something about ‘silly old fools’ to herself.

  Catherine frowned, as amusing as this scene could have been, the truth was Len was getting progressively worse and her heart went out to him. And he had no idea. And he never would.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE

  Stevie got out of her car and looked back across the water at the Isle of Wight. She tried to ease the sudden panic that had crept over her. What was she thinking? Had everyone else been right? Everyone except her? Wild goose chase. She watched sailing boats with fresh white sails as they graced through the water, she had always loved the sea and took comfort in knowing that she was still near to it, although far away from Adam and her family. They had ensured she had enough money to ‘stay somewhere nice, don’t sleep in some dingy bed and breakfast’ Elizabeth and Vera had made her promise. She had spent the night before at Adam’s house, sittin
g up drinking coffee and reminiscing about their childhood. Beth had kissed her goodnight, “Is there anything you need?” She asked Stevie who was settled in bed.

  “Frank Samuels’ address would be helpful.” She smiled.

  “If I had that, we could save you the trouble of going.” Beth smiled back.

  “I know everyone thinks I’m crazy.” She sighed, “Maybe I am.”

  “Oh, I don’t think you’re crazy, I think you believe that you can find him and turn him in.”

  “Do you believe that will happen?” Stevie turned on her side, her head pressed into the pillow.

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe Stevie, I just know that ever since you were a little kid with dirty knees that I’ve loved you like a daughter and whatever you do in your life, I’ll always love you, we all will. Plus, if anyone’s going to find this man, then you probably will.” She touched Stevie’s cheek and stayed with her until she fell asleep.

  Beth, like everyone else, did not believe for a moment that Stevie would ever find this man. If they had believed it, they certainly would not have let her go. Not in a million years.

  Stevie drove through a misty rain, a borrowed suitcase in the boot, newspaper cuttings and photographs of her family neatly placed in a carrier bag on her front seat, her head full of names and places. She decided to head to Fourbridge, try to find somewhere to stay first. She saw the first sign that made her stomach turn over, ‘Fourbridge 5 miles’ she bit her lip.

  She pulled up outside a big house with a battered ‘Bed and Breakfast’ sign creaking in the wind. She looked up at it, seemed ok. She got out of the car and walked up the steps that dominated the front of the place. She knocked on the door and waited, standing under the canopy out of the drizzle. The door opened and Stevie was pleasantly surprised at the look of the woman who stood there. She was a good 5’10, slim build with mad red hair and bright blue eye shadow, she wore a low cut kitten pink top and tight jeans finished around the middle with a huge silver buckled belt.

  “Hi honey, can I help you?” She smiled a huge smile. American terminology, English accent.

  “I’m looking for a room.” Stevie couldn’t help but smile back.

  “For how many and for how long?” She asked, the question was sung more than said.

  “Just me and I’m not sure.” Stevie liked this woman and hoped there were vacancies.

  “On your own are you, you’re a bit young aren’t you honey? Come on in!” She pulled the door open, and Stevie followed her through the large entrance hall, the house smelt of flowers, a mixture of perfume and pot pourri. She led Stevie into a small upstairs room furnished simply with a single bed and small hand painted dressing table. A reupholstered armchair sat bored in the corner and the window looked out onto the road. A cheap framed picture of Marilyn Monroe hung slightly crookedly on the wall.

  “How will this do you my darling, it’s small, but it’s clean and the bugs only bite on Wednesdays!” She laughed at her own joke, “Only kidding, it’s Thursdays!” She laughed and Stevie smiled, she immediately felt relaxed and knew this would do just fine.

  “It’s perfect, thank you. How much is it?” She said politely.

  “Ten pounds a night.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Lovely, right then, I’ll pop the kettle on while you sort yourself out, how long did you say you’d be staying again?” She asked.

  “I didn’t actually, I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, a few days, maybe longer, is that a problem?” Stevie asked.

  “Problem? There’s no such thing as problems just challenges and we all love a challenge don’t we?” She sailed out of the room and Stevie watched as she danced down the stairs.

  Stevie unpacked her case and put the carrier bag under the bed; she looked out of the window and watched cars driving past. She wondered what Adam was doing.

  “Here you go, get that down you, here have a seat. I’m Pippa by the way, glad to make your acquaintance!” Pippa put out her hand and Stevie shook it.

  “I’m Stevie, nice to meet you Pippa.” She sat down at the huge kitchen table and took a sip of her tea.

  “Stevie? That’s unusual, I like it though, it suits you, it’s got a certain spunk to it.” Pippa tapped the table to emphasise the word ‘spunk’, “So, Stevie, what brings you here?” She crossed her longs legs and adjusted the multicoloured pendant that hung around her neck.

  “It’s a long story.” Stevie took another sip.

  “Well, you’ll share it if you want to and if you don’t, well that’s your prerogative honey, just as long as you’re not in any trouble, and if you are, then maybe it’s best I don’t know. Although if the police are gonna come knocking I’d appreciate the heads up, there’s a secret door that leads right under the house.” Pippa lifted her tea cup and looked at Stevie,

  “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that, I’m not in any trouble.” Stevie frowned slightly, “Is there really a secret door?”

  Pippa smiled, “Yes there is, but I haven’t had to use it yet, do you smoke?”

  “No.” Stevie replied, feeling more relaxed by the minute.

  “Just me then, unless your one of those asthmatics, ‘cos you can step outside while I have one if you are!” Pippa smiled again and Stevie smiled back.

  “How long have you run this place?” Stevie asked as Pippa pushed a cigarette into a long black holder.

  “Four years, I was left the place by my late husband, it was our matrimonial home.”

  “I’m sorry.” Stevie said, thinking Pippa was pretty young to be a widow.

  “Don’t be, he went with a smile on his face.” She grinned and smoke poured out the sides of her mouth. “He was seventy seven, thirty two years my senior, he was glad for the company and when he died, that’s what I missed, so I opened this place up to the paying public, keeps me busy, stops me getting lonely.” Her eyes darkened but the smile remained. “How about you sweetie, got yourself a young man?” She flicked her ash into a guitar shaped ashtray.

  “No, not really, I’m not that bothered about guys right now.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “No, no, nothing like that.” Stevie choked a little on her tea.

  “Nothing wrong with it I say, live and let live, you know I bet women treat women a lot better than men do, my first two husbands were evil bastards, with their fists if you know what I mean.” She shook her head, “Still, that was a lifetime ago, I’m doing okay.” Her words drifted off, “Listen to me babbling on, are you hungry?” She stubbed out her cigarette.

  “I’m fine, I need to go out shortly, got some things I need to do.” Stevie got up.

  “Okay sweetie, well the front door’s locked at ten, but if you’re later than that, just pop round the back and tap on the lounge window, I don’t go to bed early. Breakfast is between seven and nine.”

  “Okay, thanks Pippa.” Stevie went up to her room, put on her jacket and headed out.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR

  Catherine opened the door and Marilyn stepped in, “Miserable day.”

  ‘Yeah it is.”

  Marilyn noticed Catherine had her coat on and looked down at the umbrella in her hand. “Oh, sorry are you off out?”

  “No it’s okay, I can go later, is everything alright?” Catherine put the umbrella on the stairs.

  “Yeah, Len’s nodded off, thought I’d pop in for some sanity.” She made her way to the kitchen.

  “Coffee?” Catherine took off her coat and hung it back behind the kitchen door.

  “Yeah lovely. Where’s Scruffy?”

  “Asleep on my bed, looks like both the old boys are asleep then.” She smiled.

  “How old is he exactly?” Marilyn tutted as she noticed a ladder in her tights.

  “Hard to say, I’ve had him nine years, mind you he looked like an old man then, he lost another tooth the other day, I think that leaves him two now. I have to mash his food up for him.”

  “Poor old Scruff. Mind you he’s got more
teeth in his head than Len has.”

  “How is Len, any more episodes?” Catherine unhooked two mugs from the rack.

  “Nothing too much, he’s not been dancing naked in the garden since, anyway. The doctor’s put him on a stronger tablet, but it just zonks him out a lot of the time.”

  Catherine sat down waiting for the kettle to boil. “How do you cope, I mean you just get on with it don’t you?”

  “He’s my husband, in sickness and in health and all that, no one else would have him anyway.” She smiled “You don’t want him do you? I mean he is your dancing partner after all.”

  “And a fine dancing partner he is at that, gave old Annie James something to talk about, Christ knows what she was thinking when she saw us.” Catherine crossed her arms.

  “Probably thought there was something fishy going on.” Marilyn chuckled.

  Scruffy made his grand entrance, “Here he is, talk of the devil, nice of you to join us.” Marilyn reached down and stroked him. “Where were you off to anyway before I disrupted your day?”

  “Oh, nowhere really, just for a walk, bit of fresh air. I’ll go later.” Catherine poured the water into the mugs.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE

  Stevie parked the car outside the cemetery gates. She zipped up her coat and got out. The cemetery was vast but Grandma Cynthia had told her that she needed to head to the left side of the main pathway, about three quarters of the way down. Stevie had turned down all offers from her grandparents to accompany her on this trip. Marie had offered her nothing.

  She had imagined this moment time and time again over the last few months and had tried to imagine how she would feel. And now she was here, she felt anxious about walking through the gates, about finding the grave and reading the names engraved on it. She walked through the main gates and kept walking, it was almost two in the afternoon and the grey sky matched her mood. When she was about half way down the pathway she started to check the names of those buried there. The cemetery was empty except for a woman walking her dog. Stevie walked from side to side, scanning the black, granite and white stones. And then she saw it.