To Catch a Butterfly Read online

  She stopped and read the names from where she stood. Then slowly she stepped over and stood in front of it. The grave was a double plot, bigger then she had expected, but then she didn’t really know what she did expect. Her heart was pumping as she read over and over:

  In Loving Memory of Daniel Buchanan Born February 12th 1952, his beloved wife Rachel Buchanan Born December 1st 1955 and their son Jonathan Buchanan Born 12th March 1977. Taken from us on March 3rd 1979. They lived, loved and died together. Sleep tight our angels.

  Now it was real.

  Stevie was stood at the grave of a family she never knew existed. She felt a knot in her stomach, eighteen years they had laid here, her parents and her brother, her older brother. The drizzling rain made her shiver; she wrapped her arms around herself and breathed in deeply. She could feel her eyes welling up and she let tears fall freely down her face. She felt dreadfully alone at this moment. She turned around and walked away, she would come back tomorrow, bring some flowers.

  Catherine stepped out of her front door, an April sky loomed grey above her, she popped up her umbrella and walked briskly with her head down. She thought about Marilyn and Len, Marilyn had told her that their daughter was going to have Len stay at hers for a couple of days, Marilyn had declined the offer at first, but eventually agreed, it would give her the chance to spring clean the house anyway. And get a decent night’s sleep. As Catherine walked through the cemetery gates she passed a young woman who was walking with her head bowed towards a parked car, Catherine stopped and turned around, the young woman sat for a moment in the driver’s seat, wiping her face. Catherine watched closely as she drove away and then continued up the main cemetery path.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX

  “Hey honey, you ok?” Pippa tapped on Stevie’s door.

  “I’m fine thanks.” Stevie sniffed.

  “I’ve just boiled the kettle, do you fancy a cuppa?”

  The door opened and Stevie smiled, “No, I’m fine thanks.”

  “Well you don’t look fine and you’ve been crying, did you get something to eat?” Pippa leant against the door frame and crossed her arms.

  “I’m not hungry, but I will take you up on that cup of tea.” Stevie followed her downstairs and they sat chatting, Pippa regularly refilling her cigarette holder.

  “How many guests have you got at the moment?” Stevie asked, images of her families grave seeping into her mind.

  “Just you.” Pippa smiled, making smoke rings and then blowing them away.

  “Oh.” Stevie nodded, not knowing what else to say, undecided if she wanted to sit and make small talk.

  “Well except for Dylan, but he’s not really a guest, more part of the furniture.”

  “Who’s Dylan?”

  “He lives in the back room, old boy, he turned up here about a year ago with his little old suitcase, keeps himself to himself, sits in his room and reads, comes out, has his breakfast, goes for a walk and then that’s it, he’s in for the day and night, I charge him a special rate, bless him.”

  “Where did he come from, hasn’t he got any family?”

  “Don’t know, he never said and I never asked. Like I said to you, if people want to tell you then they will, if they don’t, well, that’s their prerogative.” Pippa took another drag of her cigarette.

  They sat for a moment in silence, Stevie looked at the rain on the window, “I’m looking for the man that killed my family.” She said, still looking at the rain. Pippa looked at her and never said a word.

  “They were killed when his Landrover hit their car at Fourbridge railway crossing in 1979, they were hit by a train, my mum, dad and brother. I was a baby at the time; I was the only one that survived. The man responsible ran away and he’s never been seen since.” She looked at Pippa, “That’s why I’m here, to find him.”

  Still, Pippa remained silent, listening.

  “I went to the cemetery today where they’re buried, you see I was brought up by my dad’s brother and his wife, but up until a few months ago I thought they were my parents, I didn’t know anything about the accident until then, and now my whole life has been turned upside down. I’ve got no idea how I’m going to find this man or where to even start looking, but I will find him.”

  She told Pippa about Marie and her family, she told her about Adam and Laura, and Pippa listened, nodding every now and then and making tea until it turned dark outside.

  When Stevie was finished, she rubbed her eyes. Her head heavy. Pippa made them dinner and poured out two glasses of wine. They sat up until the clock pinged midnight and as Pippa said goodnight, she gave Stevie a hug. “You know what kiddo?” She looked Stevie straight in the eye.

  “Whatever happens, if you find him or if you don’t, just make sure that something good comes out of all of this. Because it has to you know, something good just has to come out of this.” She kissed Stevie on the forehead and watched her make her way upstairs to bed. And then she carried the bottle of wine into the lounge and made herself comfortable listening to Joni Mitchell singing ‘A case of you’.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN

  Stevie woke the next morning, jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, meeting Pippa at the bottom.

  “Good morning honey!” Pippa smiled.

  “Morning, Pippa where’s the nearest phone box, I forgot to call Adam yesterday, I promised him I’d call him when I found somewhere to stay.”

  “Honey, slow down, you haven’t taken a breath, look, my phone’s in there, help yourself.” She nodded towards the lounge.

  “I’ll pay for the call, thank you so much.” Stevie said as she made her way through the lounge door.

  “I’ll put it on your bill!” Pippa waved and smiled to herself before heading back to the kitchen to finish preparing Dylan’s breakfast.

  Stevie called Adam’s house, Beth answered. She told her where she was staying and that she was fine. Beth was delighted to hear from her. They chatted for a while, Stevie conscious of keeping the call short, she promised to ring in a couple of days. Beth told her to take care, call if she needed anything and that Adam would be disappointed that he’d missed her. Stevie ended the call and made her way into the kitchen, “Thanks for that Pippa, I’m just going to take a shower if that’s okay?”

  “Of course, there’s plenty of hot water. Oh, sorry, I haven’t introduced you, Stevie, this is Dylan, Dylan meet Stevie.”

  Stevie looked at the old man with the wild hair who sat at the dining table chewing over a piece of black toast.

  “Hello, nice to meet you.” Stevie nodded at him and smiled. He smiled back and Stevie noticed that he had no teeth, not one.

  Pippa laughed, “Isn’t he gorgeous!” She threw her head back, “Dylan, put your teeth in when we have guests, no wonder my vacancy signs always up.” She ruffled Dylan’s hair “Do you want some breakfast Stevie, I do a mean scrambled egg on toast, and don’t worry, my toast isn’t usually black, that’s just how Dylan likes it.”

  “That would be great, thanks, I won’t be long in the shower.” Stevie watched as Dylan poured his tea into his saucer and drank it, smacking his lips when he’d finished.

  She showered, dressed, ate her breakfast and headed out. There was a chill in the air but the sun shone brightly, she felt positive today. She would buy some flowers and go back to the cemetery and then head for the police station, they must keep old files there, unsolved cases, she’d seen it on TV, cold case’s reopened years after the crime. She put the carrier bag containing the photos of her family and newspaper reports on the front seat, pushed a tape in and listened to Stevie Nicks singing Beauty and the Beast as she drove. She stopped at a tiny grocery store with battered brown apples displayed outside, she bought three bunches of daffodils and drove to the cemetery. On the journey there Pippa’s words from their conversation the evening before went through her mind. Stevie wondered how something good could come from any of this. Find Frank Samuels and get him locked up for a very long time. That would be good.
/>   As she parked at the cemetery gates she moved the carrier bag into the glove compartment and made her way down the main pathway.

  As she walked she breathed deeply, taking in the fresh morning air, she passed a woman sitting on a bench, reading, she nodded to her, the nod was returned. Stevie put the woman in her early sixties, she had short dark, greying hair, looking comfortable in dark trousers and a thick cotton top with a granddad collar, she inhaled deeply on a cigarette, the familiar smell followed Stevie as she carried on to her family’s resting place. She laid her flowers and promised them that she would find the man responsible for them being there, the man who took them away from her, the man who ran away while her family died. Then she turned and made her way back, the sun was warming and as she approached the woman on the bench, she noticed that she closed her book and looked up at Stevie coming towards her.

  “Good morning.” Stevie said.

  “Good morning.” The woman said.

  Stevie walked on.

  “They were beautiful.” The woman said.

  Stevie turned around, “I’m sorry?”

  “The daffodils, they were beautiful.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Stevie smiled. The woman looked up and for a moment they just looked at each other.

  “You were here yesterday.” The woman said, she put the book down next to her. Stevie noticed the woman’s hands were shaking.

  “Yes, I was.” Stevie frowned.

  The woman breathed deeply, “Do you smoke?” The woman offered Stevie her packet of cigarettes.

  “No, I don’t, thank you.” Stevie looked to her left; there was no one else in the cemetery that she could see. She really wanted to get going, she had so many places she felt she needed to go, make a start, but she also got the feeling that this woman wanted to chat; maybe she was a widow, lonely, sitting here, ready to talk to anyone who gave her the time. “Do you mind if I sit?” Stevie pointed to the bench. She could spare a few minutes.

  “No I don’t.” The woman said, moving the book out of the way.

  “So, what are you reading?” Stevie tilted her head to read the cover.

  “A book about butterflies.”

  “Oh.” Stevie said, “You like butterflies then?”

  “I like to paint them.”

  “I like butterflies too.” Stevie looked at the woman’s face, her warm sad eyes set perfectly amongst subtle lines. “Do you have someone buried here?” She looked away, towards her family’s grave.

  “No, but you do.”

  “Yes.” Stevie looked back at the woman. “Yes, I do, how did you know?”

  “Because you brought them daffodils.” The woman looked up. “What’s your name?”

  “Stevie.” Stevie sat back; the sun was warm on her face.

  “Stevie?”

  “It’s short for Stephanie, but no one calls me that, I hate it.” She smiled.

  “My name’s Catherine.”

  “Well it’s nice to meet you Catherine.” Stevie put out her hand and Catherine took it. “Why do you come here to read?”

  “It’s peaceful.”

  “Have you lived here long?”

  “Almost nine years, but I lived here before; I left in 1979 and went to live in France for a while.” Catherine looked straight ahead.

  “You left here in ’79?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you here when there was a train crash at Fourbridge, a family was killed?” Stevie turned in her seat.

  “Yes, I was.” Catherine turned her head, picked up her cigarettes and lit one.

  “Do you remember it then?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Stevie got the sudden feeling that this woman may not be the full ticket, answering ‘yes’ just to keep Stevie engaged in conversation. “It was my family that was killed.” Stevie watched Catherine’s face, expecting some vague response. “I’m here to find the man responsible.”

  “Have you ever tried to catch a butterfly Stevie?” Catherine slowly drew on her cigarette.

  Stevie remembered being a little girl again, in her back garden with the man she had thought was her father, chasing a butterfly and catching it, damaging its wing and leaving it in the rain, she was abruptly beset, she put her head down, conscious not to cry in front of a complete stranger. “Yes.” Her voice was quiet.

  “You see, if you want to catch the butterfly, you have to wait until it settles, until it’s still, you’ll never catch it otherwise.”

  Stevie stood up, “That’s probably very true. It was nice meeting you Catherine, I’m sorry, but I have to go now, I’ve got things to do, thanks for the chat.” Stevie started to walk away, feeling a tinge of guilt at cutting the conversation short so abruptly.

  “You’ll never find Frank Samuels.”

  Stevie stopped dead. She slowly turned around. “I’m sorry?”

  Catherine looked up at her, “Frank Samuels, that’s the man you’re looking for.”

  Stevie stared at the woman before her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT

  Beth opened the front door.

  “Hello Beth, I was wondering if you’d heard from Stevie?” Marie looked nervously at her.

  “Yes.” Beth sighed, “Do you want to come in?”

  Marie nodded, stepping into the hallway.

  Beth turned as she walked through to the kitchen.

  Marie looked around; the house was immaculate, fresh, clean. A world away from her own.

  “How are you?” Beth began. Polite.

  “I miss Stevie, it’s lonely without her.” Marie stood in the doorway. “Peter out?” She asked.

  “He’s at work.”

  “Oh.” Marie wasn’t really interested.

  “Has Stevie rung you?” Beth asked pulling out a chair for Marie to sit down. Marie sat.

  “No.” Marie swept her hand across the table. “I don’t think she cares about me right now.”

  Beth’s jaw clenched. ‘Well, she’s got a lot on her plate hasn’t she?” Beth turned to look at her.

  “Wasting her time if you ask me, she’ll never find him.” Marie looked up, “I take it she’s told you everything?”

  “Yes she has.” Beth folded her arms in front of her.

  “Don’t judge me Beth.” Marie looked at her. Beth looked her in the eye.

  “Oh I judged you years ago.” They stared at each other.

  “I didn’t come here for this.” Marie stood up. “You’ve got me all wrong.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so Marie. I think I’ve got you spot on actually.”

  Marie’s face tightened. “You don’t know shit about me or what I’ve been through.”

  “I know exactly what you’ve been through, I was there, remember?” Beth stood dead still, her heart pounding. This moment had been a long time coming.

  Marie lowered her head. “You don’t know the sacrifices I had to make for Stevie, I gave up everything for her.” She looked around the room.

  “I don’t dispute that.” Beth watched her.

  “But?” Marie looked at her again.

  “Nothing.”

  “If you have something to say, say it.”

  “You don’t want to hear what I’ve got to say.”

  “Nothing you have to say is of any importance to me anyway Beth.”

  Beth felt her heart race. She felt her cheeks flush. She felt an anger rise within her. She spoke slowly.

  “I think you are a cruel, evil woman who treated Stevie like a piece of shit, I think you abused her, I know you hit her when she was a little girl and you thought of no-one else except yourself when Will died. I don’t believe that you deserved her, you let her live in that pig sty of a house and you made her miserable, because you were miserable.” Beth took a deep breath.

  Marie’s eyes widened, “You bitch.” She shook her head, “You fucking bitch.”

  “Maybe I am, but I’ll tell you something Marie Buchanan, Stevie’s all grown up now and she’ll make her own way in life, hopefully away
from you, and I’ll tell you something else, if you ever hurt her again..” Beth stepped over to her and held her face inches away from Marie’s “I’ll fucking kill you.” Beth surprised herself with her choice of words, expletives rarely entered her vocabulary. But this was different. Now she was pissed.

  Marie breathed deeply. “Don’t you threaten me, what the hell do you know about anything, you and your perfect little life…”

  “Oh Marie, I’ve heard all this before from you, it’s getting old.” Beth shook her head.

  “It’s true, you don’t know tragedy, you don’t know what it’s like to bring up a child that’s not your own, to sacrifice everything, have no money!” As Marie spoke her voice became louder and Beth cut her short.

  “I know exactly what it’s like to bring up a child that’s not my own. Adam’s adopted.” She watched Marie’s expression change, a fleeting second of surprise quickly replaced by a mocking smile.

  “You’re a fucking liar.” Marie’s eyes were wide. Manic.

  “I’m not lying, he’s adopted.” Beth’s voice was calm. Controlled.

  “When?” Marie tilted her head to one side. Still that mocking smile.

  “It’s none of your business really is it?” Beth copied Marie’s expression.

  “No, because you’re lying.” Marie turned to leave.

  “I’m no liar Marie, we adopted him after his mother died.” Beth sniffed, watching Marie turn back to face her.

  “Of what?” She snapped.

  “A heroin overdose, Adam was found next to her dead body. Satisfied?” Beth inwardly cursing herself for using her beautiful son’s own tragic beginnings to make her point.

  “Druggie was she?” Marie’s raised eyebrows and cocky grin was enough for Beth to bring the conversation to an end.