Mum was really subdued when we got home. She said she’d been for a walk on the beach, which usually cheered her up, but she wasn’t happy. She was nice enough to Callum and she pinched some of our chips but she was quiet and jumpy. I thought she was missing the Haven and I wished she would tell me why she wasn’t working there anymore. I’d ask her again when Callum went home. Or maybe it was because Halloween was coming. I had to admit I was a bit nervous about that myself. I wondered if there would be another prank at the house. That picture of my face, saying I’d gone missing still lurked in the back of my mind and creeped me out a bit.
Callum and I spent ages in the garden looking for Hermione, but there was no sign of her. Eventually, when it was almost dark, I shook my head. ‘I think I need to accept that she’s wandered off,’ I said. I felt like crying, which was totally lame. ‘She must have gone to live somewhere else.’
Callum was standing next to me and now he put his arm round me and hugged me. ‘Cats are bastards,’ he said.
I laughed but then it turned into a sob halfway through.
‘Don’t cry,’ Callum said. I buried my face into his shoulder and he wrapped me up in his long arms and held me tightly and it felt really nice. And then I looked up at him and he looked at me and he kissed me. And that felt even nicer.
After a little while we realized it was properly dark and very cold, so we went back inside. I couldn’t stop smiling and I thought Mum would totally realize what we’d been doing but she barely looked at me. She just asked if we’d had any luck with finding Hermione and I said no.
Callum went home and Mum sat on the sofa, watching Schitt’s Creek but not really watching it.
‘I’m quite nervous about the play,’ I said. I wasn’t actually nervous as my parts were pretty small and I only really had one line, but I couldn’t think of anything to say.
‘You’ll be great,’ Mum said mechanically.
‘Did you see Eva today?’
‘Yes.’
God, it was like she was the teenager and I was the parent. She was really making me work hard to get some conversation.
‘It’s a shame you didn’t go out with Rory tonight.’
She shrugged. ‘Wasn’t really in the mood anyway.’
‘I don’t think Rory’s worth bothering about,’ I said cautiously. ‘You shouldn’t let him upset you.’
Mum looked at me for the first time. ‘He’s not upset me.’
I bit my lip. ‘Good.’
Mum got up and poured herself another glass of wine. ‘Sorry, Jem,’ she said, smiling. It wasn’t a very genuine smile – it was all lips and no eyes – but I appreciated the effort. ‘I’m just tired. Rory had to work tonight. I’m not sad that he cancelled.’
‘I’d be sad if Callum cancelled,’ I admitted.
She smiled again – more genuinely this time. ‘You like him, eh?’
‘I do.’
‘He’s a nice lad.’
I grinned. ‘He’s going as Harry Potter tomorrow.’
‘Going where?’ Mum looked blank.
I threw my head back dramatically. ‘To the Halloween disco, Mum. It’s literally all Cassie and I have been talking about for weeks.’
‘Oh god,’ said Mum, putting her hand over her mouth. ‘I forgot about that.’
‘There are teachers there so it’s all safe,’ I said firmly, anticipating her next move.
‘Jem, I’m not sure …’
‘It’s fine.’ I was going to that disco, whatever she said. ‘You can drop me off and pick me up if that makes you feel better.’
Mum looked totally exhausted. She was all pale and thin and her face was puffy and saggy at the same time. She nodded. ‘Okay.’
We both went to bed early. I curled up under my duvet, reading over the notes I’d made about Honor being sold out by her boyfriend back in 1661. I was more convinced than ever that Rory was behind the nasty stuff that had been happening, but I just didn’t know why. And nor did I have any evidence.
*
The next morning, Mum and I had breakfast, and then I did my homework, quite half-heartedly because I kept thinking about the Halloween disco and how I was going to paint my face. I wanted it to be a bit like Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn. So I didn’t pay much attention to the doorbell when it rang, because I was watching a make-up video on YouTube. But then I realized I could hear a man’s voice and my ears pricked up.
Rory’s here! I messaged to Cassie. What shall I do?
Nothing!!!!! came the answer. Wait for me to get there. Coming now.
She was on the doorstep within half an hour. I bounded downstairs to let her in.
‘It’s Cassie,’ I sang, hearing Mum and Rory’s conversation pausing to listen. I pulled Cassie upstairs. ‘I told you that he cancelled Mum’s date last night,’ I hissed once we were in my bedroom.
‘Guilty conscience.’ Cassie nodded knowingly, peeling off her coat and hat. ‘Couldn’t face her.’
I made a face. ‘But he’s here now.’
Cassie shrugged. ‘Do you still think he’s the one who’s been doing all the weird stuff. And posted that poster thing online?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘Not really, I suppose, if I think about it rationally. But Callum said I shouldn’t ignore my gut. Maybe if I knew him better, I’d have a better idea.’
‘Well, maybe we should find out more about him.’
‘Sit him down and ask him loads of questions?’
‘Not outright. We just need to charm him and get him to open up.’
‘Okay.’ I bounced on my toes. ‘How do we charm him?’
‘Just get him talking. We can chat to him and find out more about him.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’
We trooped downstairs and into the living room, where Mum and Rory were both standing up, and Mum was looking for her car keys.
‘Are you going somewhere?’ I said, panicking. ‘Don’t go.’
Mum gave me an odd look. ‘I was just going to pick up those pots I ordered from the garden centre while Cassie’s here with you. Rory said he’d help me plant them.’
I felt a little prickle of annoyance that she wouldn’t let me stay at home by myself. I was 14 years old. I had a boyfriend. I was fine. I glared at her.
‘That’s a shame you’re going out,’ said Cassie.
‘A shame?’ Mum frowned.
‘Because we were hoping Rory could help us,’ Cassie said in a hurry. She looked at me desperately and I racked my brains trying to think of a reason we needed to speak to him.
‘With set design,’ I blurted. ‘We’ve got a bit of a crazy idea for the Macbeth scenery and I wanted his opinion on whether it would work. If you don’t mind, Rory?’
‘Of course I don’t mind.’ Rory looked quite flattered and for a moment I felt guilty about lying.
‘Why don’t you stay here and help the girls and I’ll pick up the pots,’ Mum said. ‘It’ll only take me half an hour and I’ll feel better if they’re not here on their own anyway.’
‘Can you manage?’ he said.
A shadow crossed Mum’s face and I hid a smile. She didn’t like her independent nature being questioned. Never had, even before Dad went to prison. It was one of my favourite things about her. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. She put on her coat and pulled her car keys triumphantly from her pocket. ‘Ah ha!’
‘Have fun,’ I said, eager for her to go. ‘Can you see if they have any of that cat grass in pots? Maybe we could put some of that outside and tempt Hermione to come home?’
‘Okay,’ Mum said. She headed off, jangling her keys, looking more relaxed than she had for days.
‘Cup of tea?’ I said to Rory.
In the kitchen, Cassie and I huddled together. ‘What are we going to say?’ I murmured. ‘I’ve got no set ideas.’
‘Ask how to make that wood thing move,’ she suggested.
I giggled. ‘Burnham Wood?’
‘That’s the one. It moves, doesn’t it? Ask him how to do it.’
‘It doesn’t really move – it’s the soldiers in camouflage making it look like it’s moving.’
‘Oh.’ Cassie looked disappointed. ‘Ooh, I know. There’s a picture inside the cover of our Macbeth books of the witches in some old production. And they’re on like a floating platform?’
I nodded; I knew the picture she meant.
‘Ask if we can do that.’
‘Brilliant.’
I finished making the tea and took it through into the living room for Rory. Cassie sat down on one side of him and I sat on the other.
‘We wanted to know if we could make a platform for the witches,’ I said. ‘Like on a pulley that lowers them down.’
Rory made a face. ‘Is this play going to be in your school hall?’ We both nodded. ‘Won’t work,’ he said.
‘Really?’
‘Because there’s a suspended ceiling.’
Cassie and I both looked at each other and then at Rory. ‘Suspended what?’ I said.
‘Suspended ceiling. Look.’ He picked up a pen from the coffee table and I handed him an envelope. Quickly, Rory sketched out an explanatory drawing. ‘It’s not a real ceiling, see? So you couldn’t hang anything from it.’
‘Oh,’ I said, weirdly disappointed even though we’d only just thought of it. ‘Never mind.’
Cassie was frowning at Rory. ‘Have you been to our school?’
He grinned. ‘Of course. I’ve been doing some work there.’
‘In the science labs,’ I said.
‘Yeeees,’ said Rory looking at me oddly. ‘Did you see me?’
I nodded. ‘Just wasn’t sure if it was you, that’s all.’ I glanced at Cassie who gave me a small nod. So he could have taken my tie, then. And I knew he had done some work at the Haven so he could have taken Mum’s scarf, too.
‘Do you have to be checked?’ I asked. ‘To work in school?’
‘Checked?’
‘You know, to make sure you’re not dodgy?’
‘Make sure you’re not a paedo,’ Cassie added unhelpfully.
Rory gave her a hard stare. ‘I’ve been working there for years,’ he said.
‘Means nothing,’ I pointed out. ‘You could still be dodgy.’
‘They know me.’
‘Yes, but how well do they really know you?’ said Cassie. ‘You could be anyone. Do the parents know they’re letting any old bloke wander round the corridors?’
Rory looked pissed off. I quite liked it. ‘I’m not any old bloke,’ he said. ‘I’m a parent. Or I was. My daughter went there.’
There was a small, slightly awkward pause. Rory drank some tea and I caught Cassie’s eye behind his back, making a surprised face. Because I knew Rory was divorced but I was pretty sure Mum had never mentioned that he had kids.
‘What?’ Cassie mouthed.
‘I didn’t know you had a daughter,’ I said, keeping my voice super casual. ‘Mum never mentioned her.’
Rory shrugged, his expression guarded.
I wasn’t sure what to say next, so I just jumped in with another question.
‘Looking forward to Christmas?’
Rory laughed, looking pleased we’d changed the subject. ‘It’s a while off, yet.’
‘It’ll come round quick,’ I warned, sounding like my granny, who was already claiming to be ‘almost 80’ when she was actually only 72. ‘Will you be here for Christmas?’
‘I’ve not made plans.’
‘Will you see your daughter?’ Cassie asked Rory.
‘Not this year,’ Rory said. His face darkened.
Cassie and I looked at one another. We’d obviously touched a nerve there.
‘What’s her name?’
‘What does she do?’
Rory looked vaguely alarmed at all the questions. ‘What is all this?’ He sounded lighthearted but I thought he was still a bit cross.
‘Do you see a lot of her?’ I asked. It really was weird, I thought, that he’d never mentioned her before. Never talked about visiting.
Rory looked straight at me. ‘Her mum and I were never great together,’ he said. ‘Off and on and then off again, you know what it’s like?’ I looked back at him, feeling a bit odd. He was talking to me like I was an adult who understood the ins and outs of grown-up relationships. But I just nodded, not wanting to interrupt him. ‘When I found out Michelle was pregnant, I was annoyed. Thought she’d done it deliberately.’
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and I looked at Cassie over the top of his head. She made a face, clearly feeling as weird as I did at the turn the conversation had taken.
‘But when she was born, I held her in my arms and I just felt this rush of love. And I knew I would never let anyone hurt her. It was up to me to protect her.’
I felt a lump in my throat because the person who’d hurt me more than anyone else in my life was my dad. He’d certainly never protected me, nor my mum.
‘You sound like a really good dad,’ I whispered, suddenly feeling awful that we’d quizzed him so hard. Rory looked round at me, as if he’d forgotten that I was there.
‘I’m not,’ he said fiercely. Then he smiled. ‘But thank you.’
Mum’s key in the door made us all look up. She came in, rubbing her hands. ‘Bloody hell, it’s freezing out there. Are you all okay?’
I grinned at her. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘We can’t do the idea we had for the play, but that’s okay. Rory was really helpful.’
‘Good,’ Mum said. She gave Rory an indulgent smile. ‘Thanks for that.’
He stood up. ‘Shall I help with these pots then?’
He and Mum went back outside to the car, and Cassie and I ran upstairs and watched from the landing window.
‘What do you think?’ Cassie said.
‘I don’t know, now.’ I scratched my head. ‘Because he’s been working at school and at the Haven and he could easily have picked up my tie and Mum’s scarf.’
‘But he really loves his daughter.’
‘Exactly.’ I sighed. ‘When he was talking, I wished my dad was more like him.’
Cassie gave me a little squeeze of sympathy.
‘We should google her,’ Cassie said suddenly. ‘Google his daughter.’
‘Ooh, yes.’
We went into my bedroom and I opened my laptop.
‘Ah,’ I said. ‘We don’t actually know her name.’
‘Look up Rory,’ Cassie suggested.
I typed in his name but all that came up was a Facebook profile with no picture, and some reviews about his carpentry work.
Cassie clapped her hands.
‘My mum’s been doing her family tree,’ she said. ‘She’s found loads of old people’s birth certificates and that.’
‘So?’ I said. ‘You’re not related to Rory. Are you?’
‘No,’ Cassie said tutting. ‘I mean we could search for him on the website and find his marriage certificate. It would have his wife’s name on it. And maybe we can find a birth certificate for his daughter, too.’
‘Ohmygod that’s brilliant,’ I said. ‘It’s like actual detective work. What’s the website?’
Cassie thought. ‘Not sure,’ she admitted. ‘I really should have paid more attention when Mum was telling me about it.’
‘Even just vaguely will do. We’ll find it.’
It took us a few attempts but we got there in the end. Cassie guessed her mother’s password far more easily than she’d guessed the name of the website and we typed in ‘Rory Baxter’.
‘When did your parents get married?’ Cassie asked.
‘2003.’
‘Mine were 2002,’ she said. ‘Rory’s roughly the same age, isn’t he?’
I screwed up my nose. ‘He’s a bit older, I think. And his daughter’s grown up, isn’t she?’
‘So if I do weddings from 1990 onwards?’
‘That would work.’
She set the search terms, pressed return and there it was: Rory Baxter and Michelle Hamilton, married at St Cuthbert’s in Edinburgh, 15th May 1995.
‘You are a genius,’ I said, properly impressed at Cassie’s detective work. ‘You should be like one of those private investigators.’
She looked pleased. ‘I actually might.’
‘Now look for births,’ I said.
Cassie set the search parameters and pressed return and there it was. Billie Baxter, born in Edinburgh in 1997.
‘Billie,’ said Cassie approvingly. ‘Nice name.’
‘So he’s definitely got a daughter,’ I said, thinking hard. ‘Why would he be so secretive about her?’
‘Perhaps they don’t get on.’
I giggled. ‘Perhaps he hung skeletons off her porch and called her a witch.’
‘Google her,’ Cassie said. I typed in Billie Baxter and nothing came up.
‘Nothing,’ I said. But then I had a thought. I used my mum’s maiden name – what if Billie did the same? I deleted Baxter and typed in Hamilton, and this time the top result was a Facebook page. It was set to private but we could see the profile picture was of a very pretty young woman in her twenties, and we could see her location was Scotland.
‘That could be her,’ I said, turning the screen so Cassie could see.
‘Click on it.’
I clicked through on to the profile. ‘Ooh look, we can see her friends list.’
‘See if there’s a Michelle on the list who could be her mum.’
There it was – Michelle Hamilton. I clicked on that name and it brought up a picture of a woman a bit older than my mum, hugging someone that was clearly Billie, though her hair hid her face. ‘Me and my girl,’ the caption read.
‘This must be her.’ I was pleased.
But Cassie shrugged. ‘Doesn’t prove anything though, does it? None of this has anything to do with what’s been happening here.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
I looked at Billie’s picture again. ‘Could we message her?’
‘Why? What would we say?’
‘I don’t know.’ I sighed. ‘Let’s leave it for now. Look at this make-up video – I thought I’d try to do it for tonight.’