Familiar Strangers Read online

  ‘What now?’ Jeff says, placing a load of green leaves into the rabbit’s cage. I look over at him, his cool lean body kneeling down in front of the open cage door, and I wonder what I would do without this guy. I would never have gone to Algiers, that’s for sure. I would have said I’d go, I would have pottered around making plans, but without Jeff pushing the venture it would never have happened. I have a lot to thank him for, or blame him for, I haven’t quite decided yet.

  ‘I’m going to call on Bert.’

  ‘Now?

  ‘Yes, now.’

  Jeff stands up and stretches his arms above his head.

  ‘You could wait until tomorrow,’ he says. ‘It’s a bit late to go knocking on an old man’s door.’

  ‘I can’t wait until tomorrow, Jeff. I’ve got to go now.’

  I know Bert will still be up. He is one of those night birds, he told me himself.

  ‘There is just one problem,’ I say, looking away. ‘I can’t take my car, Dad might see it and wonder I’m doing there at this hour,’

  Jeff shakes his head, disappointed, I know, that he has to go out again. Jeff would prefer to be boiling pasta, sipping wine and plucking strings.

  ‘Okay, we’ll take my sister’s car.’

  * * *

  The radio is playing some song about leaving the past behind. I’m not familiar with the artist but his lyrics hold my attention, talking to me as I struggle to understand what is going on. What has happened in my past? What is it that I must leave behind? The moon hovers bright in the clear sky; everything’s calm except me. The pink coat holds the answer. I know it does. I have to find out why it ended up in Danny’s house, how Bert came to have it in the first place. And why did he wait until now to bring it out? Jeff has stopped trying to convince me it’s just a pink coat, that it might be a coincidence. The missing button put a stop to that. Could all this mean that Mom’s words weren’t some random moment of imagination falling from her lips? That she was telling the truth? Or is there some other explanation for all this?

  Jeff parks the car down the street from Bert’s house. I feel sick, my stomach doing a dance inside. Jeff consoles me, tells me to turn back, wait until tomorrow. But I can’t, I have to go in now or I might not make it to tomorrow. He moves to get out of the car with me.

  ‘No, Jeff, you stay,’ I say, resting my hand on his leg, nodding a smile at him. Bert wouldn’t like to see a stranger at his door at this hour of night, even if that stranger is accompanied by a deluded neighbor.

  This is mine, I must do this alone.

  The street is quiet as a graveyard when I step out of the car. Nothing moves; the large oak trees seem painted into place, a backdrop on the stage of my drama.

  ‘Wish me luck.’ I bend down to say before closing the door.

  You’re on your own now. Becca Wall. Except I’m not. In the distance the dark shape of a man walks out of Bert’s yard. It’s definitely not Bert. The step is too quick, the frame too thin. Moving out of the streetlight, I pull open the car door and jump back inside, lowering my head so I’m peering over the dashboard.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Jeff says.

  ‘Sshh.’ I wait for the man’s face to come into view, for him to look this way. And then, stepping out on to the road, he turns his head, checking both ways.

  Danny?

  What the hell is Danny doing coming from Bert’s house at this hour of the night?

  Chapter Forty

  ‘Maybe he was just checking up on him,’ Jeff says, trying to calm me down while I sit in the car, shocked and confused.

  ‘But Danny doesn’t like Bert. Doesn’t even speak to him. Why would he check up on him?’ It’s then I realize he must have called to confront him over the coat.

  The SUV’s lights brighten up the whole street when Danny drives off.

  Bert’s house is in complete darkness. With a trembling finger I press the doorbell. No answer. I try again, holding the button down for longer; still no answer. Then I bang, not so loud as to wake the neighbors but loud enough that Bert should hear. Still no answer. Stepping back, I look up at the house to see if a light is coming on, but no, there’s no sign of life here. Maybe Bert’s not at home. Placing my ear up against the door I listen for any signs of him moving around inside the house. Nothing. A wasted journey. Jeff won’t be happy I dragged him all the way out here for nothing.

  To my right is a wooden fence at the side of the house. It’s tall, not one I could climb easily. The gate in the middle is always locked so that’s a no-no. Bert is a fanatic about security. Locks, chains, alarms. Edith used to get bawled out if she overlooked any of his security measures. I remember hearing him once. I was about fourteen at the time and he was going on about the ruthless people, the robbers, how they would take anything. Edith stood with her back to him, listening, pulling faces, trying to make me laugh. I did laugh.

  Moving closer to the fence I get a shiver down my spine. Where’s Bert? I push the gate, not expecting it to open, but it does. Swings at my touch. This scares me even more. Something isn’t right. Feeling like a criminal, I look up at the rear of the house, but there’s no light on here either. ‘Bert? Bert,’ I call in a hoarse whisper. He’s not going to hear me, I know, but it’s just something I do. I need answers; I need to talk to this man.

  Scattered leaves crunch beneath my feet. That’s not like Bert either. He’s usually standing at the trunk of the tree with his yard brush waiting for the leaves to fall so he can gather them all into the recycling bin he’s so proud of. Maybe Bert is sick, lying in bed on his own, unable to move, unable to reach the phone.

  A small wooden decking stands between me and the back door, so I step across it and reach for the handle. If the door opens, Bert is in trouble. Pushing down on the handle, my heart beats louder. Part of me wants it to open, to know what’s going on; the other part is shaking. The lock stays firm, no movement, a barrier to the story on the other side. Slowly I realize I’m not going to find out anything about the pink coat tonight.

  Walking away from Bert’s house, I look across the street at my own family home. Did something happen in that house? The old wooden door stands worn, beaten, tired. Mom always kept it open when I played in the front yard or on the porch, calling out every so often to make sure I was still there. Looking back now she seemed a lot more vigilant than my friends’ moms, who would let them play out on the street for hours before checking on them. Maybe she was nervous of something, expecting someone to come along and take me.

  To take me back.

  Jeff’s eyes are closed, headphones in, when I open the car door. He jerks forward, pulling the buds from his ears.

  ‘Well, has all been revealed?’ he says.

  ‘I didn’t get an answer.’

  Jeff has the foresight not to say I told you so. Checking his mirror, he turns the engine on and drives away.

  ‘You can call again tomorrow, Becca.’

  Taking my cell out, I dial Danny’s number.

  ‘Who are you calling at this hour?’

  ‘Danny.’

  ‘Danny?’

  ‘Yes. I want to know what he was doing at Bert’s.’

  Jeff clenches his lips. He knows when to let me be. The phone rings out. I try again. It rings out again.

  ‘He might have it on silent, with the new baby and all that, Becs,’ Jeff said.

  ‘He never has it on silent. He’s avoiding me. Drive to his house.’

  ‘What? Now?’

  ‘Yes, now,’ I say, my tone not inviting any argument.

  I direct Jeff to Danny’s house, but the driveway is empty. No Danny. He has not come home yet. I make Jeff wait for a while but realize I’m pushing our friendship a little too far. I’ll contact him tomorrow. I want some answers about what he was doing at Bert’s.

  Chapter Forty-One

  As soon as Jeff finishes dipping bread into egg and grilling it, I head back to Bert’s. I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about the pink coat. How did it e
nd up in Bert’s hands? What is he going to tell me? The car in front crawls along like it has no place to be in a hurry so it takes me quite a while to get there.

  The street is blocked by groups of people standing around chatting. When I park the car and push my way through, I can’t believe what I’m looking at. An ambulance, with a body on a stretcher being slid into the back by two paramedics. Something has happened to Bert.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask the paramedic who is stepping back out of the vehicle, closing the door.

  ‘Who am I speaking to?’ he says, not bothering to look at me.

  ‘I’m Rebecca Wall. Bert’s friend.’

  ‘You’re not family then?’

  ‘No, but I’m his best friend.’ I hear the words and suddenly realize they are true. I am Bert’s best friend, ever since Edith left.

  ‘I’m sorry, but this man has passed away.’

  ‘What?’ I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Bert’s dead? He’s being taken to the coroner’s office for a post-mortem. Freda, the girl who cleans his house once a week, found him in bed this morning. Freda is standing in the front yard with tears in her eyes, telling me what happened. When she arrived, she knew something was wrong because Bert is always already up and waiting to give her orders. Bert never mentioned Freda to me before. I wonder what else he never told me. She went to his room thinking he was asleep but when he didn’t answer she knew he was dead. Suspected heart attack.

  ‘How long has he been dead for?’ I asked but she didn’t have the answer. I realize Bert could have been dead for days. Apart from the weekly visit from Freda, no one else except me ever calls at the house, and I haven’t been here since he gave me the pink coat last week. That’s why I got no answer last night: while I was prowling around outside hoping to talk to him, he was lying dead inside. Oh sweet Jesus, why didn’t I call the cops when I got no answer? And Danny – what the hell was he doing at Bert’s?

  I look around to see if my dad is amongst the crowd of neighbors gathered in packs to discuss the terrible news. He isn’t. He’s standing in his doorway on the other side of the street, looking straight at me. A shiver runs down my spine.

  * * *

  The smell in here belongs to hell. Rolling my tongue around my mouth, I suck up some saliva, anything to quench the thirst.

  The coins have rolled under the seat in front, grabbing the attention of a young man, his face the perfect ad for addiction. Pale, decorated with marks, his skin sucked in so I can make out exactly how he’ll look in his coffin. His bottom lip drops open, his eyes watching my every move. He wouldn’t have the balls to rob me, not in here, but stray coins… I bet he could do with them.

  Bending down I gather the cards scattered around my feet. Lots of cards.

  Holding the purse open, I slip the first card back into its pocket.

  She shouldn’t have told him. That was mine to tell.

  Then the second.

  Why did he tell her anything in the first place?

  Then the third card.

  Will he still want me now?

  The fourth card doesn’t slip in as easy as the other three so I pull out the blockage. Notepaper. White. Folded over two times. If this is it, everyone is wrong. Including me.

  I hear screaming, crying. It’s not far away, a few feet maybe, but I don’t look up. I’m unraveling the truth with trembling fingers, reading the words that were meant for me.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  I want to go to the coroner’s office and see what happened to Bert. Freda said the ambulance guy is pretty sure it was a heart attack. I also want to go over to Danny’s and find out why he visited Bert last night. Though I know, deep down, that he went to confront him over the coat.

  Poor Bert, he didn’t last long after Edith. I didn’t think he would but this is very soon. Edith will only be settling in up there when he knocks on the door; what a nice surprise for her.

  I realize now that I may never know the history of the coat, and maybe it doesn’t matter, maybe this all happened for a reason. Mom always said things happened for a reason. Like the many times I didn’t get called back after the dancing auditions I went to. Or the time Luke Brennan canceled bringing me to the prom in order to ask some new girl who joined the school. There were many occasions when Mom got to unload these words of wisdom. I wonder what she thinks of them now. I wonder how they fit into her diagnosis. Things happen for a reason.

  The ambulance drives away leaving the curious in its wake. My head is heavy with sadness as I cross the road and enter Dad’s kitchen.

  ‘So Bert has gone,’ I say.

  ‘So I see.’ My father turns, a strange look on his face. ‘What happened?’

  ‘They’re not sure, a heart attack maybe.’

  ‘May he rest in peace.’

  I doubt my father cares if Bert rests in peace; he didn’t care if he lived in peace. His dislike for Bert was there for as long as I can remember. But he never stopped me going over to visit him. He tried at first, but Mom said it was okay. Even though she didn’t talk to him either. Maybe she liked Edith.

  I’m not going to bring up the subject of Dad coming to Bert’s funeral with me because I know the answer. He won’t go, no one will go; in fact, I may be the only one there. Hopefully some of Edith’s family will show up. I doubt Bert cares, though. He didn’t care when he was alive so he is not going to care now that he is dead. God, I can’t believe he’s gone. Everything I care about is slipping out of my world one thing at a time. My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. It’s Jeff.

  ‘Hi Becca, just calling to see how you are? How did you get on with Bert?’

  I can’t answer him.

  ‘What’s wrong, Becca?’

  ‘He’s dead, Jeff,’ I say, my voice cracking.

  ‘What?’ Jeff can’t believe it, struggling to digest that we were outside Bert’s house when he might have been taking his last breath. He tells me to come straight back and not to bother visiting Mom today, but I tell him that I’m okay, I need to see her and I’ll be back later.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Now I’ll never find out about the pink coat. Bert was my only hope and now he’s dead, gone to Edith. But it has to mean something; someone must know why that coat started off in a trailer park in Maine and ended up in Danny’s kitchen.

  Having spent the rest of the day in Dad’s house trying to contact Danny. I finally get through to him on the phone.

  ‘Danny, why were you at Bert’s house last night?’ There’s silence for a moment.

  ‘I wanted to ask him about the coat.’

  ‘But why would you want to hassle an old man, Danny? Could you not leave it?’

  Danny is clearly as interested in the coat as I am. He doesn’t believe the heirloom story. I knew his reaction when he saw it in the kitchen was out of proportion.

  ‘Well I didn’t get an answer, Becca, so don’t worry about it… how did you know I called at Bert’s house anyway?’

  ‘I saw you leave… I… I was leaving Dad’s and I saw you…’

  Quick, change the subject. Don’t mention New Orleans, Becca, or he’ll think you’ve gone mad.

  ‘Bert is dead.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yes, he had a heart attack.’

  ‘Holy fuck.’

  I listen carefully to his tone of voice, try to hear any traces of secrecy, before asking the question. ‘Why are you interested in the coat, Danny?’

  ‘Becca, I have to go, Joanna is calling me.’ Before I have time to say anything else, he hangs up on me.

  * * *

  Oakridge is closed, but as luck would have it, Barry the security guy is on duty when I arrive.

  ‘Back again?’ he says, pulling the door open. ‘Mom not doing too good?’ Barry leads me to the reception desk to sign in.

  ‘No, she didn’t have a good day and I was in work earlier so I thought…’

  ‘No worries, Rebecca. Glad to be of help, go ahead,’ he says, pointing to
the elevators. He doesn’t mention the mystery visitor, the tapes or the fact that Katie Collins is dead. He just plods along, minding his own business. There should be more Barrys in this world.

  Snores in all keys and tones vibrate through the hallway. In the distance I see that Mom’s door is open and light is flooding out into the hallway. Why is it open? Who’s in there? Rushing down the corridor, I arrive at the door with my heart pounding. Lucy the night nurse is holding Mom’s hand, talking to her, and there’s a doctor, one of those on call amateurs, fiddling with something in her stomach, pushing in a tube or a needle.

  ‘What’s happening?’ I cry, rushing over to Lucy’s side. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s okay, Becca,’ she says.

  Taking Mom’s hand from Lucy’s, I kneel down by the bed and look into her eyes. They’re red; Mom has been crying, her face is wet. Something washes over me, scares me, weakens me.

  ‘What happened?’ My voice is barely recognizable, the words snowflakes in a blizzard.

  Lucy puts her hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Everything is okay now.’

  ‘What do you mean now?’ I want to scream, pull the bedclothes off, push the nurse away, drive the doctor away. What are these people doing to Mom? Why did she cry?

  ‘Becca, Nancy pulled out the feeding tube in her stomach earlier and, well, she tore the skin. We’ve given her painkillers, she’s not in pain anymore.’

  The doctor ignores me, concentrating on what he has to do. I squeeze Mom’s hand, telling her everything is going to be okay. Who am I kidding? It’s only been two days since the tube was inserted and already there’s a problem. Nothing will ever be okay again. This is just another battle in the war, another shadow in the room, another flame in the crematorium.

  Mom’s eyes look back at me, helpless and confused. The world is a stranger now, pain is just pain. I kiss her cheek. Her salty tears coat my lips and I lick them. I swallow them.