Shallow Be Thy Grave Read online

  CAFFEINE NIGHTS PUBLISHING

  Shallow Be Thy Grave

  AJ Taft

  Fiction aimed at the heart and the head...

  Published by Caffeine Nights Publishing 2013

  Copyright © Alison Taft 2013

  Alison Taft has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998 to be identified as the author of this work

  CONDITIONS OF SALE

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, scanning, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher

  This book has been sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental

  Published in Great Britain by Caffeine Nights Publishing

  www.caffeine-nights.com

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN: 978-1-907565-61-8

  Cover design by

  Mark (Wills) Williams

  Everything else by

  Default, Luck and Accident

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to Christian Geeson, Katie Jukes and Liz McPherson for being there - in true story-writing style - beginning, middle and end.

  And also to Emma Barnes, Caitlin Butler, Hannah Butler, Becky Cherriman, Andrea Cowans, Rachel Connor, Louise Cunningham, Liz, Ian and Valerie Foulds, Seni Glaister, Rachel Greenwood, Ellie Greenwood, Liz Hughes, Julie Lewthwaite, Nick Moon, Tom Palmer, James Nash, Claire Oxby, Pam Ruston, Charlotte Ryan, Paul Sandham, Andrew William Smith, Karen Smith, Maggi Summerhill, Anna Turner, Melanie Whiteside and Anamaria Wills for all their support and encouragement.

  There’s a fantastic team at Caffeine Nights Publishing, led by the visionary Darren Laws. Thanks go particularly to Ian Ayris, Bob and Carol Bridgestock, Harry Dunn, the two Nicks - Quantrill and Triplow and Sandra Mangan.

  And thanks always and forever to Mark, Harvey and Maggie for putting up with me. I know I’m not always the easiest of women…

  Also by AJ Taft

  Our Father Who Art Out There...Somewhere (The first book in the Lily Appleyard series)

  WAR – A Lily Appleyard short story

  I Know Why Your Mother’s Crazy

  This one’s for my dad, Colin Taft, for teaching me to always accelerate out of a curve and for sharing his passion for books

  Actions speak louder than words

  And even if mine are barely heard

  I’d rather be a glimmer of light or a spark

  Than a hollow pose that’s lost in the dark

  Yes I’d rather be a glimmer that’s straight from the heart

  Than a hollow pose that’s lost in the dark

  More Than A Badge

  Henry Normal

  Chapter 1

  The room was pitch dark. Lily lay on her back and wondered whether the banging she could hear was merely a peculiarly intense hangover.

  But the noise grew louder, became more insistent. The walls shuddered in protest. Lily raised herself up, pulled back the curtain and was almost blinded by the sudden influx of light. She yanked open the sash window and stuck her head out into the fresh air, “Hello?”

  The banging stopped and a figure stepped backwards down the path, scanning for her voice.

  “Up here!” Shouting wasn’t helping her headache. The person on the path raised his head upwards, and Lily caught sight of his face. A face she hadn’t seen in thirteen months, two weeks and three days. Not that she was counting.

  Her first instinct was to duck her head back inside and hope he hadn’t seen her. She collapsed back on the bed and closed her eyes.

  “Lily, I need to talk to you.”

  She concentrated on her breathing. If she ignored him long enough, he’d have to go away. She tried to erase the image of him from her mind.

  “It’s important.”

  A blast of anger threw her across the bed and back to the window. “Go away,” she yelled.

  “Fiona’s missing.” He was shouting so loud she could see even from this distance that his face had gone red.

  For a moment Lily thought she might vomit. The tequila slammers had probably been a bad idea.

  “For God’s sake, Lily. Open the door!”

  He disappeared from view and the banging resumed. Lily wrapped the duvet around her naked body and shuffled out of the bedroom. She slapped her palm on Jo’s door as she passed it and heard Jo mumble something offensive in reply. Lily sat on her bum and slid down the stairs.

  Their flat occupied the top two floors of an old Victorian terrace overlooking Hyde Park in Leeds. The ground floor flat was occupied by a much put-upon member of University staff, who was either already at work or busy sticking pins into a wax effigy of her upstairs student neighbours.

  Lily reached the bottom of the second flight of stairs and tried to run her fingers through her hair. It was beginning to dread again, but because it was still so short it stuck up at right angles to her head. She gave it up as a bad job and pulled open the heavy front door.

  Stuart stood on her doorstep, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his shoulders hunched up like it was cold, even though it was May already.

  She tried to ignore the way her stomach leapt around and over-compensated by snarling at him, “What do you mean, Fiona’s missing?”

  She hadn’t seen Fiona for thirteen months, one week and six days. Not that she was counting.

  “Hi.” He stared at her and she felt her nipples shrink under his gaze. “Can I come in?”

  “I don’t think so.” She tried to summon righteous indignation like a force field around her. “Where is she?”

  He spoke quietly. Slowly. “I’ve got bad news.”

  Lily felt dread seep through her body. She’d lived the past twelve months in anticipation of this moment. She swallowed to clear her throat. “Tell me here.”

  “I’d rather tell you inside.”

  “What’s happened?”

  Stuart hesitated, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a seal. He wiped the palm of his hand down the front of his coat, “I’m really sorry, Lily. I’m afraid Arthur’s died.”

  Lily scrunched up her face. “Who?”

  Stuart stared directly into her eyes. The sympathy in his made her want to sit. By the time he started to speak she’d made the connection, but she let him spell it out anyway. “Your granddad. He died.”

  “Oh.” The first feeling to hit her wasn’t sadness - it was guilt. Small and hard, like a knot in the pit of her stomach. “How?”

  “Heart attack. They thought he was going to be ok, but then, well, then he wasn’t.”

  “Oh.” Lily cast around for something more appropriate to say. She had a sudden picture of Arthur with her sister, their heads bent together as they toasted marshmallows over the open fire. “Fiona must be gutted.”

  Stuart shook his head. His hair was longer than she remembered, almost to his collar, dark and shiny like wet coal. “She doesn’t know.”

  “Oh,” she said again, trying to get the sequence of events straight in her mind. Hard to do while Stuart was staring at her - she could feel the warmth of him even from this distance. “Then, how come she’s missing?”

  “Well, that’s the thing.
Your dad rang. To ask if I know where she is.”

  “I haven’t heard from her for ages,” Lily tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  “Not in the last week?”

  “Not in the last month.”

  His shoulders sank an inch. “She’s gone inter-railing, but no-one knows where.”

  “Does she,” Lily tried to keep her voice steady, “keep in touch with you?”

  He nodded slowly. “We’re still friends,” he said, emphasising the word ‘friends’ slightly, or did she imagine that?

  Lily bit her tongue so she couldn’t ask any of the questions that were threatening to spill out of her mouth.

  “Can I come in?” asked Stuart. His denim jacket was faded and had a hole on the sleeve.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I told her dad, your dad,” the awkwardness of his tone brought back thoughts Lily had been trying to ignore all year, “that we’d find her. In time for the funeral.”

  “We’d find her?” Lily stressed the ‘we’ in order to emphasise the preposterous nature of that idea. “What did you tell him that for?”

  “Please let me in.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “For God’s sake, Lily, Fiona’s missing-”

  “She’s not missing.” Lily’s tone was scornful. ‘Missing’ was missing in action, presumed dead. ‘Missing’ was Salvation Army posters and men who had gone to the shop for a packet of fags twenty years ago. ‘Missing’ meant a whole lifetime of not knowing who your father was. “She’s not missing. You just don’t know where she is.”

  “Don’t you care?” He looked at her like he didn’t recognise her. “She’ll be devastated if she misses her granddad’s funeral.”

  The front door of the adjoining house opened and a group of students spewed out. “Wotcha, Lil,” said one of them, breaking open a can of Coca Cola. It sprayed into the air and Stuart ran a hand through his dark curls, as if to brush out the liquid, although Lily wasn’t convinced any had hit him. There were five second-year students in the house next door and Lily watched them all gawp unashamedly at Stuart. She knew they were trying to work out who he was, whether there was any gossip. There were no secrets in student-land.

  “Alright,” Lily stepped aside. “Five minutes.”

  Stuart stepped into the box-like hallway. They both headed towards the stairs and nearly came into contact with each other, Lily still naked under the duvet. She took a step backwards, indicated for him to go first, then shuffled up the stairs after him. “Go in there,” she pointed to the front room on the first floor. “I’ve got to get dressed.”

  “It’s half past ten,” said Stuart.

  “So?”

  “Nothing. I wasn’t-” said Stuart but Lily didn’t hear the rest of his sentence as the front room door closed on its spring mounted self-closer, cutting him off, physically and audibly. Lily turned and raced up the second flight of stairs - as fast as she could while wrapped like a sausage roll - to the attic rooms. Her bedroom was on the right, next door to Jo’s, and she cannoned through the heavy fire door. She picked up a black T-shirt from a heap on the floor and threw it over her head, not bothering with underwear. She almost fell trying to get into her tight canvas trousers, hopping round the room, then hit her head on the low beam that ran diagonally across the room. She swore and zipped her fly.

  Out on the landing, she knocked again on Jo’s door - then barged her way in without waiting for an answer. In the dark she only just managed to locate the lump of Jo, wrapped in bedclothes on the futon. “Fiona’s missing.”

  Jo raised a sleepy head off the pillow and squinted at Lily. “Again?”

  “Stuart’s downstairs.” Lily felt sick again as she said the words.

  She left Jo’s room and ran back down the stairs and into the front room before the thought occurred to her to give her reflection a quick once over in the mirror in the bathroom. She glanced down at her T-shirt. Jo had bought it for her for her birthday last year. It said 'Bring back Capital Punishment - Hang Thatcher', and apart from the grease stain on the front, seemed pretty presentable. Stuart sat on the settee nearest the window, a glimpse of tanned knee protruding through a rip in his jeans. She took a breath, tried to use the solemnity of the situation to ground herself. “Poor Arthur. How’s Alice taking it?”

  “Your dad’s been trying to ring you.”

  Lily’s hands shook as she reached for the tin of Golden Virginia that sat on the mantelpiece.

  “He’s taking it badly,” said Stuart.

  She picked a ready rolled cigarette out of the tin and put it between her lips. “Well, I know it must be sad, when your dad dies.” She picked up one of the pots on the mantelpiece and plucked out a pink disposable lighter, holding the smooth plastic in her hands. “But then, at least he had one, for what, fifty years?”

  “True.” There was no argument in Stuart’s tone.

  “I mean,” she stared at a spot at the coving above the fire and wondered why she’d never noticed the enormous cobweb before. “He should be grateful his dad didn’t fuck off the day he was born.”

  Stuart stood up. He paced round the coffee table in the centre of the room. It was still full of the beer cans from last night. “I was really hoping Fiona’d rung you.”

  “Well, she hasn’t.”

  The door opened and Jo burst into the front room with a cigarette between her lips and her pink mohican still thick with last night’s gel. Her eyes were screwed up against the smoke. She glowered at Stuart and removed her cigarette. “Stuart, long time. What’s up?”

  “Arthur’s died,” said Stuart.

  “Oh,” said Jo.

  “And Fiona’s gone inter-railing,” added Lily. “She doesn’t know. No one’s heard from her since...” Lily sought out Stuart for confirmation.

  “Nearly a week.”

  “Well, that’s hardly missing,” said Jo, sitting down on the settee and tucking her legs under her bum. “I’m sure she’ll turn up sooner or later. Sorry about Arthur though, Lil. You ok?”

  Lily nodded, as if to try to convince herself. She’d made a decision. Clean breaks were best. “My da… David’s not though. He’s taken it bad.”

  Jo nodded, like the news was of mild interest, but didn’t cause her any discomfort.

  “You’ve got to feel sorry for him,” said Stuart.

  Jo’s arm was on the way up to her mouth, to inhale on her cigarette. She stopped, her fingers frozen mid-air and frowned at Stuart. “Why?”

  “Well, you know,” said Stuart. “His dad’s died. He’s on his own. The divorce turned really nasty. He came out of it with nothing.”

  Lily winced but Stuart didn’t seem to notice.

  “Hardly surprising when your ex wife’s a lawyer,” he added.

  “And you’ve spent the whole of your married life lying to her,” said Jo.

  “He deserves to have someone with him at his father’s funeral.” Stuart’s voice was gentle but firm.

  Jo spoke to Lily, “Will you go?”

  Lily’s jaw slackened. “To the funeral? I can’t. I…”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Jo, “if you wanted, I mean.”

  “Do you guys ever check your messages?” asked Stuart. “I’ve been trying to ring you for the past two days. Maybe Fiona has too.”

  There was silence in the room. Lily took a drag on her roll up before realising she hadn’t got round to lighting it. The telephone, with its state-of-the-art, built-in answer machine - courtesy of Jo’s brother Ste, was out on a table in the hall.

  “She hasn’t rung in ages,” said Lily, as Jo hauled herself up out of the settee and went to retrieve the phone. Lily took Jo’s seat on the settee. She could feel the imprint and warmth of Jo’s bum. “Can’t the police track her down?”

  “Your dad’s rung them,” said Stuart.

  “Let’s call him David,” said Lily. It was all she could do to keep breathing under Stuart’s gaze.

&nbs
p; Stuart shrugged. “The French police went round to her flat but there was no one in. And no one seems to know where she was headed. There’s not much they can do. It’s not like a crime has taken place.”

  Jo came back into the room carrying the phone, its white extension lead trailing behind.

  “It’s my fault she went to France in the first place,” said Lily.

  “No, it’s not,” said Stuart. “It’s mine.”

  “I agree,” said Jo. “You’re the one that cheated, not Lily.” She set the white plastic phone down on the small coffee table, and pressed a button. “You have sixteen messages,” came the electronic voice as Lily’s stomach flipped over. She wanted to go and make herself vomit in the bathroom - only the thought that Stuart might hear her stopped her.

  “I can’t believe you don’t check your messages,” he said as he flopped down next to Lily on the soft, grey settee.

  “No one ever rings, ‘cept my mum,” said Jo.

  Lily took one of Jo’s cigarettes from the packet on the table as the mini cassette inside the machine rewound.

  “What’s David going to do?” asked Lily.

  “Give her a couple of days. I think he’s upset with her – I’m guessing she’s not been great at keeping in touch.”

  Jo was busy deleting messages, mainly from her mother, although Lily had also heard Aunt Edie’s voice, talking like the answer machine was not only deaf, but it had to write down what she was saying. “It’s. Auntie. Edie. Just. Ringing. To. See. How. You. Are.”

  Lily steeled herself to ask Stuart the question she didn’t really want to know the answer to. “So, how is he, David. I mean, generally?”

  But she was saved from listening to the answer, because Fiona’s voice filled the room. As soon as she heard the first word, Lily knew her half-sister was crying. “Lily? Are you there? Please, pick up if you are. Oh God, it’s all a big, fat mess. I really need to talk to you.” Each sentence was punctuated by a pause as Fiona had obviously waited to see if Lily would pick up the call. “I know it’s late.” Fiona’s sobs intensified. “I really need you.”