‘Hi, Mum,’ I said.
‘Hello, stranger. Where have you been?’ she asked. She seemed kind of flustered, but not at all suspicious.
‘Oh… just around. The house is looking great, isn’t it?’ I stepped inside the hallway. It was starting to look like a home now. The walls were painted and the wooden floors were polished. I walked down the hall into the kitchen. There was so much more space than we’d had in Dublin. And everything was so new. I was beginning to get excited about moving in. The house really was gorgeous.
‘Yes. It’s looking great,’ said Mum. ‘But we have a problem.’
‘What the hell is that smell?’ I scrunched up my face in disgust, noticing it for the first time.
‘That’s the problem,’ she said.
‘What is it? It’s horrible!’ I covered my mouth and nose with my hand.
‘You know how we had to dig up out the back for the new pipes?’ she said, covering her nose too.
‘Yes…’ I vaguely remembered her complaining about it.
‘There was a load of rubbish buried there. It absolutely stinks.’
‘What kind of rubbish?’
‘All sorts of stuff. Looks like Alf just buried his rubbish, rather than putting it in the bin.’
‘Ew. Why would he do that?’
‘No idea. Now we have to dig up the whole back garden and get rid of it. Just when I thought we were getting somewhere, something like this happens. I don’t know if I’ll ever get rid of that smell!’
Mum seemed very upset, and rightly so. I looked out the window.
There was a pile of horrible-looking rubbish: bursting plastic bags, rusting tins, torn packaging…
‘Looks like he buried everything. God only knows what they’re going to find down there.’
I suddenly thought of Jane. Maybe they were going to find a body. Maybe she was buried underneath the ground, having lain there for years. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t move on. I stared at the giant pile of rubbish. It might have polluted the air around it with a horrid stale smell, but potentially it held the answer to my mystery. I was getting ahead of myself though. This was only a wild guess and I felt guilty even thinking Alf was involved in a murder.
I walked towards the rubbish, my eyes searching the rubble. There were torn black bags and bits of clothing and car tyres all stacked up. I looked to the very top of the pile, where decaying milk cartons and plastic bottles poked out.
‘Jacki, what are you doing?’ said Mum. ‘Is that smell not killing you?’
That’s when I saw them. Two of them. I couldn’t believe it. But I couldn’t investigate now. Mum would wonder what I was doing clawing through the rubbish. I would have to come back later.
The glorious weather continued on into the evening. Mum invited Des over to have dinner with us. I heard her on the phone and knew who she was talking to from her giddy voice. I’d been planning to go over to Colin’s that evening so wasn’t very happy when Mum told me I’d to eat with them. I tried to get out of it, but she insisted I stay there and make an effort to talk to Des. I texted Colin and then lay in a slump on the bed, waiting for the text to deliver.
‘Jacki, will you stop moping around and go down to the shop for me?’ said Mum. ‘We’re out of teabags.’
‘All right,’ I muttered, reaching for my bag, but then stopped abruptly. I couldn’t risk seeing Nick. He probably thought I was completely insane and I wasn’t sure how he might react. I would have to get Colin to scope it out before I went anywhere near him. There was no point in trying to explain everything to Nick, because my honest explanation was so weird.
‘I can’t go down there,’ I said, flopping back on the bed. I knew it would make her mad, but that was the least of my worries.
‘Why not?’ said Mum, turning round.
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ I avoided her gaze.
‘Fine. You’ll have to watch the dinner then. And don’t ask me for any favours this week.’ She grabbed her purse from the table.
‘But -’
‘End of discussion.’ Mum stormed out and I was left to watch the pasta and prepare the salad. Keeping all these secrets was proving hard work. There was no point in me telling her about Nick though, now that there was nothing to tell.
Des arrived early so I was forced to talk to him. At first it was tedious, but then I decided to be extra nice to him, in the hope of getting back on Mum’s good side. She’d promised to take me shopping that weekend and I didn’t want to mess it up. Once Mum saw that Des and I were getting on she might forget all about our little disagreement.
Des was all right, I suppose. He liked good music like Springsteen and Neil Young, his favourite film was
The evening went well, and thankfully Mum didn’t seem mad at me any more. I offered to do the dishes, just to be extra sure. We went to bed soon after Des left, but Mum was in such a good mood she kept chatting to me. I was a bit distracted by what I was planning to do, but I had to wait until Mum was asleep.
Eventually she dozed off and I took the torch out of the cupboard and put on my grey sweater and Mum’s wellies. I quietly stepped outside and closed the door behind me. I walked carefully along the dim path of torchlight, around the side of the house to the back garden. I was still amazed at how eerily still it was here at night. In our old house we lived on a quiet road, but you would still hear cars and people in the distance. Now you could go hours without hearing anything. I weaved through an obstacle course of building materials, then I looked up at the top of the big pile of rubbish. Sure enough, there they were: two leather bag handles poking out of the rubbish.
‘
The colour was exactly the same as the chocolate-brown bag from my dream. I couldn’t believe it. I had to have a closer look at them. I started to climb the pile, my fingernails desperately scraping at the dirt as I tried to hoist myself up. Bits of rubber and shards of plastic fell down on to the ground. I was trying not to tear any of the bin bags because they smelled disgusting. The smell was less potent without the sun on it, but it was still nauseating. I had no choice though. I had to grab hold of those two brown handles. Holding my breath, I lunged up and almost grasped them but then I lost my footing and fell to the ground.
‘Ow!’ I shouted as my shoulder hit the earth hard, but I was determined to try again. I scrambled back up the pile, quickly grabbed the handles and pulled them. A brown leather bag came free. Adrenalin pulsed through me at the sight of it. It was the same bag I’d seen in my nightmare.
I climbed back down and opened it. Then I let out a little shriek. Something had just scurried across my hand. A mouse. A tiny field mouse. I snapped the bag closed and hurried back towards the caravan, examining my new find on the way. There was a tear in the side, but other than that the bag seemed to be in pretty good condition. It was filthy and smelly though, so I couldn’t take it into the caravan. I decided to stash it in the hedge, as Mum probably wouldn’t come across it there. But first I sat down on the grass and opened it up.
Inside were four things: a black wallet, a packet of violin strings, a lipstick and a blue woolly hat. I took the lid off the lipstick. It was a bright red colour, half used. The hat was frayed at the bottom. The packet of violin strings was unopened and the price sticker was still on it – ?12.50. I unzipped the wallet. There was just one thing in it – a small piece of paper that looked like it might have been a receipt, but the writing on it was too faded to make out. There were no cards, no photographs, no money. This was disappointing, but even without proof I knew who the bag belonged to. I could hardly believe it. I could hardly believe what I’d found.
