Pip sat at the end of her parents’ bed well into the night. Her and the albatross on her shoulders and her story. The telling of it was almost as hard as the living of it.
The worst part was Cara. As the clock on her phone had ticked past 10:00 p.m., Pip knew she couldn’t avoid it any longer. Her thumb had hovered over the blue call button but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t say the words aloud and listen as her best friend’s world changed forever, as it turned dark and strange. Pip wished she was strong enough, but she’d learned that she wasn’t invincible; she too could break. She clicked over to messages and started to type.
I should be ringing to tell you this but I don’t think I could get through the telling, not with your little voice at the end of the line. This is the coward’s way out and I’m truly sorry. It was your dad, Cara. Your dad is the one who killed Sal Singh. He was keeping a girl he believed was Andie Bell in your old house in Wendover. He’s been arrested. Naomi will be safe, I give you my word. I know why he did it when you’re ready to hear it. I’m so sorry.
I wish I could save you from this. I love you.
She’d read it over, in her parents’ bed, and pressed send, tears falling against the phone as she cradled it into her cupped hands.
Her mum made Pip breakfast when she finally woke at two in the afternoon; there’d been no question of her going into school. They didn’t talk about it again; there was nothing more to say, not yet. But still the question of Andie Bell played on Pip’s mind, how Andie had one last mystery left in her yet.
Pip tried to call Cara seventeen times but it rang out each time. Naomi’s phone too.
Later that afternoon, Leanne drove round to the Wards’ house after picking up Josh. She came back saying that no one was home and their car
was gone.
‘They’ve probably gone to their auntie Lila’s,’ Pip said, pressing redial again.
Victor came home early from work. They all sat in the living room, watching old runs of quiz shows that would usually be punctuated by Pip and her dad racing to shout out the answer. But they watched silently, exchanging furtive looks over Josh’s head, the air bloated with a sad and what-now tension.
When someone knocked at the front door Pip jumped up to escape the
strangeness that smothered the room. In her tie-dye pyjamas she pulled open the door and the air stung her toes.
It was Ravi, standing in front of his parents, the spaces between them perfect like they’d pre-arranged the pose.
‘Hello, Sarge,’ Ravi said, smiling at her bright and garish pyjamas. ‘This is my mum, Nisha.’ He gestured like a game-show host and his mum smiled at Pip, her black hair in two loose plaits. ‘And my dad, Mohan.’ Mohan
nodded and his chin tickled the top of the giant bouquet of flowers he held, a box of chocolates tucked under the other arm. ‘Parents,’ Ravi said, ‘this is the Pip.’
Pip’s polite ‘Hello’ got muddled in with theirs.
‘So,’ Ravi said, ‘they called us in to the police station earlier. They sat us down and told us everything, everything we already knew. And they said they’d be holding a press conference once they’ve charged Mr Ward, and will release a statement about Sal’s innocence.’
Pip heard her mum and heavy-footed dad walking up the hallway to stand behind her. Ravi did the introductions again for Victor’s sake; Leanne had met them before, fifteen years ago when she’d sold them their house.
‘So,’ Ravi continued, ‘we all wanted to come over and thank you, Pip. This wouldn’t have happened without you.’
‘I don’t quite know what to say,’ Nisha said, her RaviSal round eyes beaming. ‘Because of what the two of you did, you and Ravi, we now have our boy back. You’ve both given Sal back to us, and there are no words for how much that means.’
‘These are for you,’ Mohan said, leaning forward and handing over the flowers and chocolates to Pip. ‘I’m sorry, we weren’t quite sure what you’re supposed to get for someone who’s helped vindicate your dead son.’
‘Google had very few suggestions,’ said Ravi. ‘Thank you,’ Pip said. ‘Do you want to come in?’
‘Yes, do come in,’ Leanne said, ‘I’ll put on a pot of tea.’
But as Ravi stepped into the house he took Pip’s arm and pulled her back into a hug, crushing the flowers between them, laughing into her hair. When he let her go Nisha stepped up and folded her into a hug; her sweet perfume smelled to Pip like homes and mothers and summer evenings. And then, not
sure why or how it happened, they were all hugging, all six of them swapping and hugging again, laughing with tears in their eyes.
And just like that, with crushed flowers and a carousel of hugs, the Singhs had come and taken away the suffocating and confused sadness that had taken over the house. They’d opened the door and let out the ghost, for at least a while. Because there was one happy ending in all of this: Sal was innocent. A family set free from the grave weight they’d carried all these years. And through all the hurt and doubt that would come, it was worth hanging on to.
‘What are you guys doing?’ said Josh in a small and baffled voice.
In the living room they sat around a full afternoon tea spread that Leanne had improvised.
‘So,’ Victor said, ‘are you going to the fireworks tomorrow night?’
‘Actually,’ Nisha said, looking from her husband to her son, ‘I think we should go this year. It’ll be the first time since . . . you know. But things are different now. This is the start of things being different.’
‘Yeah,’ Ravi said. ‘I’d like to go. You can never really see them from our house.’
‘Awesome sauce,’ Victor said, clapping his hands. ‘We could meet you there? Let’s say seven, by the drinks tent?’
Josh stood up then, hurrying to swallow his sandwich so he could recite:
‘Remember remember the fifth of November, the gunpowder treason and plot. I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.’
Little Kilton hadn’t forgot, they’d just decided to move it to the fourth instead because the barbecue boys thought they’d get a better turnout on a Saturday. Pip wasn’t sure she was ready to be around all those people and the questions in their eyes.
‘I’ll go and refill the pot,’ she said, picking up the empty teapot and carrying it through to the kitchen.
She flicked on the kettle and stared at her warped reflection in its chrome frame until a distorted Ravi appeared in it behind her.
‘You’re being quiet,’ he said. ‘What’s going on in that big brain of yours? Actually, I don’t even need to ask, I already know what you’re going to say. It’s Andie.’
‘I can’t pretend like it’s over,’ she said. ‘It’s not finished.’
‘Pip, listen to me. You’ve done what you set out to do. We know Sal was innocent and what happened to him.’
‘But we don’t know what happened to Andie. After she left Elliot’s house that night, she still disappeared and was never found.’
‘It’s not your job any more, Pip,’ he said. ‘The police have reopened Andie’s case. Let them do the rest. You’ve done enough.’
‘I know,’ she said and it wasn’t a lie. She was tired. She needed to finally be free of all this. She needed the weight on her shoulders to be just her own.
And that last Andie Bell mystery wasn’t hers to chase any more. Ravi was right; their part was over.
