Dear Diary,
God, Leo was in a real state when I got home today. I was all excited, more than ever and I thought that I would find him somewhere in the house being all excited too. I had just seen Tony, just as I came through the back door. He had come to speak with us about our next gig. This isn’t just any gig, this is the most unbelievable gig of our entire lives – everything we’ve dreamed of. A gig in New York City – all expenses paid in a huge venue, more people there than there were in Manchester! I mean, New York! Aaaaaah! I could hardly breath with excitement.
So when I came through the back door, after seeing Tony – who had told me loads of details to pass on to Leo – most of which I’ve forgotten now, I was expecting to find Leo somewhere rejoicing. But no. That’s not what I found.
First of all I walked over a small hill of mail all stacked up behind the door – the scribbles all over the envelopes and the hand drawn hearts told me it was fan mail. I checked all the rooms downstairs, shouting his name as I went, then dashed upstairs and flung myself into his bedroom. The curtains were drawn, only a few small slats of the afternoon sunshine fell onto the carpet. There were cups and plates strewn all over the place, sooo not like my neat freak brother. The bed was unmade and there he was, alone on the floor, sleeping.
He didn’t flicker despite my noisy entrance. The stuffed owl, the snowy white one Mum got him lay right next to his elbow. He had a bit of a rug under his head whilst his actual pillow lay on the bed. I just didn’t have a clue what was going on.
I bent down to look at him more closely, seeing dark circles under his eyes and matted bits in his thick hair. He looked paler than usual. I crouched right down next to him, worried. I stroked his hair until he started to murmur. He didn’t open his eyes straight away: it was as though he just couldn’t find the energy.
I patted his arm and noticed how cold it felt. When I looked closer I saw the tinniest little goose bumps all over his skin. After a few minutes he rolled over onto his back, knocking over a pile of books next to him.
‘Ugh,’ he said.
‘What are you doing?’ I said, as gently as I could.
‘I’m asleep, what does it look like?’ he said.
‘Why are you on the floor?’ I said.
‘Uh, I don’t know, I must’ve dropped off,’ he said.
‘What are you doing back here?’ he said.
‘Er, I live here,’ I said.
‘Not recently you don’t,’ he said, rolling over onto his side, turning himself away from me.
‘It’s only been a couple of days and I’m back now,’ I said, reaching out to touch his back. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m just ill, that’s all,’ he said.
‘What kind of ill?’ I said.
‘Don’t know, just feel horrible. Got a headache. Feel sick,’ he said.
I know it sounds weird but I was relieved when he said this. I was beginning to wonder what on earth was the matter. I’ve seen Leo ill many times before – it’s never a pretty sight. Even if he gets a cold the whole world knows about it and he has to be nursed like a patient in hospital or something.
‘Come on then. Let’s get you into bed,’ I said.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m staying here.’
‘Aw, come on!’ I said. ‘I just saw Tony. He told me we got a gig in New York, in one weeks time…’ I said, both hands on his back now, gently rocking him in excitement.
‘I know,’ he said.
‘Are you not excited?’ I said.
‘Not really,’ I said.
‘Aw, come on! We’ve never been abroad before! We’ll get to go on a plane and everything,’ I said.
‘Huh,’ he said, still facing away from me.
I stood up at this point and turned to leave. He was clearly not in any mood to talk. I knew he might be annoyed by the amount of time I’ve been out the house lately but I thought he would be interested to hear what I’ve found out – he’ll understand what I’ve been doing once I tell him. Whilst he’s ill isn’t the time, I’ll wait till he’s better.
I reached for the door handle, saying:
‘Alright, well I’ll leave you then. If you need me I’ll be next door.’
He let out a grunt and I closed the door behind me.
I’ve just got into my room right now, I haven’t had a chance to even write in my diary for the last few days – not since just after the Manchester gig. It has been crazy ever since then. I’ve been home, yeah, but not for long – just to sleep at nighttime. I’ve not seen Leo hardly. I figured he’d be alright after the gig and everything – his dreams are starting to come true. And mine, of course. But for him especially.
I can never completely follow my dreams until I find out what happened to Mum. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing for the last few days. With Farley at my side we’ve become a real pair of detectives. Strangely enough it has been a lot of fun. Yeah, don’t get me wrong – I hate anything to do with what happened to Mum but somehow, with Farley there I feel safe. He’s Sherlock and I’m Watson. He’s really good at detective work!
We’ve been setting off every day and going around and about asking everyone everything we possibly can about my Mum, her life and her death. We started off by writing a big list of everyone who could possibly have had anything to do with her. We did that the day after the Manchester gig.
It was so sweet, just after I got back to the hotel room after the gig I found a note under my door waiting for me. From Farley. I didn’t even realise he was in Manchester. I had gone on about the gig but I didn’t invite him as such, I didn’t know what to expect, plus I just don’t feel ready for Farley to meet Leo yet. Yikes!
So I was surprised to get a note from him saying that he was there, he had seen the gig – he had thought we were wonderful and that I should meet him right there in Manchester. I met him late in the night at a greasy spoon café on the same road as our hotel. We drank coffee and ate kit-kats for hours and I think because of the coffee I just didn’t feel tired at all. Farley asked if I wanted to take the bus back with him to Ellwood, right there in the wee hours of the morning.
I knew I wouldn’t sleep so I said yes and dashed back up to my hotel room to leave a note for Leo. As I wrote the note I felt a bit guilty, I suppose I knew he wouldn’t be too pleased to read it. But I wanted to spend the time with Farley, it’s just the way it is.
So off we went back to Ellwood on the night bus. We never stopped talking all the way back, even when we got off the bus and Farley walked me back to my house we never stopped talking. By the time I got back here I just flopped on my bed and went unconscious for a few hours before getting up again that morning and heading out, even before Leo and Jimmy got back from Manchester. I left a note for Leo again.
Farley and I had talked a lot about our investigation. That’s what we started to call it “our investigation”, like we were pros. We took the whole thing very seriously and it was that morning where we again looked at all the people who knew Mum, who had something to do with her or whatever. I added quite a few more names to the list. And so, for the next few days I set out early to meet him and we got on with the task in hand. It became a routine.
I got some sandwiches ready for us in the morning and he sorted out the drinks and picked up some crisps. We both had rucksacks where we kept the food and our notes and any “evidence” we came across. At lunchtime we would find a nice spot in the sun somewhere – a bench in the village center or a wall somewhere next to the trees or something. And of course we kept going into Café Bilberry for snacks and drinks – much to the absolute bemusement of old Jenny who kept on nosing about, desperately trying to find out what we were up to. Of course, everything was kept top secret. Only Farley and I know what we have found so far. No one else knows, not even Leo.
We’ve seen a whole stack of people – some with something to say, some not. It feels like we’ve practically been round the whole village. We saw Terry again who nearly went mental when he saw us from his living room window. I don’t trust him one bit – he’s a big rat and I know he’s hiding something, we’re just not sure what it is yet.
He tried to act all cool when he got to the door but I could see the rage flickering behind his rodenty eyes. I couldn’t help wondering what my Mum could ever have seen in this guy, to allow him to be her manager. I wish I could ask her.
Anyway, so we didn’t get much out of him, just more slimy comments. There’s something going on there, we’re pretty sure. One particular interview sticks in my mind more than the rest. I wasn’t really expecting much from the chick we went to see. She seemed so sort of dull, so unlike my Mum – I thought she wouldn’t know much.
But as it turns out this lady, Jean Craven she’s called, was actually Mum’s best friend at high school. She showed us a picture of her and Mum arm in arm when they were about sixteen years old, just a bit younger than me now. Mum was all dolled up with her red lipstick on and a shorter skirt than probably I would ever wear! Then there was Jean, next to her, no make-up, a short skirt yeah, but you could see from the picture that she wasn’t any kind of a trendsetter. Her brown hair was a bit flat and drab, the orange and brown colours of her clothes just made her look that little bit too mousy.
Just from that one photo I could tell that Jean was the ‘boring one’ and my Mum was the ‘exciting one’ if you know what I mean. I’ve seen girls like this at school before, plus Jean practically told us it was that way.
We got into her house in the late afternoon. Farley was by my side as we both walked through the front hallway into her living room. The house was pretty plain, neat and tidy, quite modern and it didn’t have the antiques and the old stuff you usually find in Ellwood houses.
She dutifully made us a cup of tea then sat down with us, saying:
‘So how can I help you two, then?’
Her voice was high pitched and polite, her accent a bit posher than I’m used to.
‘Well…’ I said, getting ready to launch into my usual introduction.
‘You’re here about your Mother? Am I right?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes we are.’
I looked at Farley, unsure how she knew what we wanted.
‘How did you know that’s what we were here for Ms Craven?’ he said.
‘It’s quite common knowledge in the village that you are trying to find out what happened to Margaret, Amber’s Mother,’ she said, picking up her teacup from the saucer.
‘Right, hmm. Yes, that’s what we’re doing. I suppose it’s no secret,’ he said. ‘So do you have anything to tell us?’
She wriggled in her seat ever so slightly.
‘Yes, yes, of course. I knew Margaret for many years. We went to the same primary school as well as high school. I always looked up to her,’ she said, looking at me. ‘I always thought of her as the most creative person I knew. Such a flamboyant little thing in those days…’
Her voice was edged with grief. She looked down at her teacup as we stayed silent.
‘Ah, you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve never quite got used to the fact that she’s not here, even after all these years. She and I were always so close at school. She was a bit older than me, I always looked up to her – you know how young girls do. She taught me how to do make-up, what clothes to wear, all those things.’
I smiled.
‘We didn’t see each other too much once we were a bit more grown up. She went on to get married, have kids, all that stuff. I never got married, never had kids…’
I noticed her hand was ever so unsteady as she placed the cup and saucer back onto the coffee table.
‘It’s been funny to watch all these families grow up around me in Ellwood. I know it sounds strange but I always thought your Mum would end up with Luke Crombie, not your Dad.’
‘Huh?’ I said. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Your Mum and Luke were the prince and princess at school. It didn’t last long but whilst they were together, goodness, they were quite a pair…’ she said, gazing to the ceiling, looking like she was lost in fond memories.
‘So you mean, my Mum and Luke Crombie went out with each other?’ I said.
‘Yes, yes, of course they did!’ she said. ‘You must’ve known that?’
‘Um, no,’ I said, finding it hard to compute.
‘So, when was Amber’s Mother in this relationship?’ said Farley.
‘Like I said, when we were at high school, maybe fifteen or sixteen. They were so in love, real teen love, you know? A bit fiery, they would argue then make up in the most spectacular fashion. I always wished I could’ve had something like that. There was no teen love for me, I can tell you!’ she said, smiling.
‘Ah, OK, so, sorry you have to excuse me, I did not know that at all. I mean, Luke Crombie? He was always a family friend. Leo and I grew up with his daughter, Marilyn,’ I said.
‘Yes, I used to wonder about that. Of course, Luke ended up with Aggie and your Mum ended up with James, your Dad. They all stayed friends I think. Quite close. I wasn’t really part of it all – little old spinster me,’ she said, raising her right eyebrow as she spoke.
‘How long did their relationship last?’ said Farley.
‘Oh, you know, not long. Aggie was never on the scene as she went to a different school. I always wondered if she only knew how Luke felt about your Mum. I mean, I’ve never seen a man, well I suppose he was a boy at the time, so in love with a girl before. He was absolutely devoted. He would do all the things that I would’ve given my right arm to have. You know, always protecting her, bringing her gifts, making everything special for her,’ she said.
‘Woah,’ I said, finding it hard to picture.
It seemed so wrong. Uncle Luke is well – like an uncle to me. Just so weird and quite disgusting really. Thing is, I’m not too sure how much relevance all this has to her death. Part of me thinks I’m just finding out all this stuff that I was never really meant to know.
After a bit more chatting and Farley asking a few more questions, we finally got up to leave, me still slightly in shock.
‘Well, it was lovely to meet you both,’ said Jean, leading us to the door.
As we walked through the door, she said:
‘You know, it’s funny but you two actually remind me of how Margaret and Luke used to be. It’s just lovely.’
I turned to leave, grabbing hold of Farley’s hand and squeezing it.
‘Yuck. That is so gross,’ I said.
He gave me a bemused look.
‘Well, we’ve uncovered a new slice of the mystery today, haven’t we?’ he said.
‘Do you really think so?’ I said, as we walked away from Jean’s house, back towards the village center.
‘Oh yeah,’ he said. ‘I’ve got my ideas as to what is going on now, I think we’re getting close…’
‘Huh,’ I said, feeling too much like I was already on information overload to find out what his ideas were.
So there you go, that’s what I’ve been doing for the last few days. I’ve had the whole thing whirring around in my head, ideas and thoughts about what might have happened.
You know, I woke up this morning from the strangest dream and it feels like I just have to write it down. It was all like blurry and stuff – it was like I was watching an old film or something. There was this massive ballroom. You know, one of those fancy ones that you might find in Blackpool. All intricately decorated, lots of gold and dark pink fabrics.
So the whole place was deserted but there was music playing, like waltzing type music. There in the middle of the ballroom were my Mum and Dad dancing around. They both looked spectacular. Mum was wearing this flowing, lime green dress and Dad was there in his tuxedo, looking so smart and handsome with his hair combed back. It felt so good to see them there.
After a while, once they’d gone round the dancefloor for a bit two other men showed up on the sidelines, appearing out of the shadows. They were both in tuxedos as well with their hair slicked back too. One of them was Terry and one of them was Luke.
They both moved forward onto the dancefloor but it’s like my parents didn’t even notice. Then Luke sort of swept right in and took my Mum from my Dad and started dancing with her. I remember I got this awful feeling. It was like Dad couldn’t do anything about it even though they were right there, almost like there was an invisible shield around them. Terry couldn’t do anything either. He looked like he wanted to dance with my Mum too.
Meanwhile Mum and Luke glided around the dancefloor, smiling and laughing, as though they couldn’t even see Terry and my Dad. What an awful feeling. After a while Dad and Terry turned on each other and started fighting. This is when I woke up, covered in a film of sweat, sick to my stomach.
That dream has stuck with me all day, I can sort of still feel it a little bit even now. I want to tell Leo all this, to share with him what I know. We’re going to New York in one week’s time and I absolutely need to tell him before then.