As I sit in the back of the cab, I think of me. Of the last ten years, of my slow descent into debt, my rope and buckets of water and cold-cold filled baths. My fear of fire and underground spaces because of what happened in that wine cellar and garage. Of my guilt and my mental anguish.
Then I see Philip’s scarred and pinched face and what he told me. My dad is his dad. Half-brother and half-sister. Philip and Rachel. Was it that unknowing connection of blood that instantly drew me to him? Did we see mirrors of ourselves reflected in each other? A reflection that has another face in it – Frank Jordan. I have this horrible weird feeling digging from my head right down to the soles of my feet that’s telling me that there’s more to the story of my dad covering up the fact he’s had a second family. A hidden lie that’s a truth that will shatter me apart.
Before I can try to unstitch it, my phone buzzes. I hesitate before I take it out because if it’s Dad, I’m going to have to spew my own lies; I want to confront him with his duplicity when his face is in front of mine. But it’s not Dad, it’s Jed on Skype. I inwardly groan. I love my dear friend to bits, but I’m not in the mood to talk to him now. Nevertheless I connect to the video call.
Jed pops up on screen, the camera distorting his face, turning his hair into a gravity-defying mane.
Jed: ‘Hey sweets, how you doing? You look like you’ve had the roughest day of your life.’
Me: ‘Something like that.’
His face becomes stark and alert as he shifts his face nearer to his camera.
Jed: ‘It’s something to do with that place you’re working in, isn’t it?’
I scowl, pulling the skin on my face taut. What would he know about the conditions in which I’ve been working?
Me: ‘Why would you think that?’
Jed: ‘After you asked me about this Michael character, I got to thinking I don’t like my Rachel working for this bloke. I mean, if he’s lied to you about knowing me I got to thinking what else is he lying to you about?’
Jed is more perceptive than I give him credit for. I get to thinking maybe I should have asked for his help much sooner. Brought him along for the ride too like Keats. Yeah, and look what happened to her. If anything had happened to Jed I’d never have forgiven myself.
Me: ‘That’s kind of you—’
He butts in, voice overly urgent.
Jed: ‘Do you remember telling me about the sweatshop fire that happened there back in the day?’
I don’t actually. I blink rapidly, trying to find the memory.
Me: ‘What of it?’
Suddenly Sonia appears beside him, her head intimately cushioned next to his. So they’re still an item. I’m surprised; I didn’t give their hook-up more than a couple of days. Strangely it’s not her wearing the soppy ‘I’m in love’ dreamy expression, it’s Jed.
Jed: ‘Me and computers aren’t really friends so I got Sonia to look into it for me.’
Sonia gives me her full attention. I can tell by the pursed fix of her lips, the narrowing of her eyes, that she still thinks I’m a bad influence on the man she’d fancied the pants from afar for such a long time.
Sonia: ‘When I tried to find records or accounts of the fire online, I could only find one website that mentioned it. It’s a roll call of haunted buildings in London.’
She isn’t telling me anything I don’t already know. But I remain patient, allowing her to continue.
Sonia: ‘It all sounded strange. A fire where a lot of people had died even back then would be a matter of historical record. So, I checked this haunted website more carefully and found that it had been put up about three weeks ago.’
Me: ‘So, it’s new. There are websites going up every day.’
Jed and Sonia look so serious I realise that my day from hell is about to shove me deeper into Hell’s fire.
Me: ‘Tell me.’
It’s Jed who does.
Jed: ‘The commemorative plaque on the building wasn’t put there by the local council.’
I hold my breath. Wait for him to drop his fireball.
Jed: ‘No-one died in that building. No young girls. No-one. Someone made all that crap up on the website. The sweatshop fire never happened.’