Helen Hegarty unlatches the front door and I follow her through to a kitchen that smells of sugar and citrus peel. She is making jam. Saucepans bubble on the stove and sterilised jars rest upside down on dishcloths on the table.
The steam has straightened strands of her hair, which are plastered to her forehead. She wipes her hands and glances at the ceiling. ‘Sienna is upstairs. She’s packing some things.’
‘You’re on your own?’
‘Zoe and Lance have gone into town.’
I climb the stairs and tap gently on Sienna’s bedroom door.
‘Don’t come in,’ she says, sounding startled.
‘It’s me.’
‘Can you come back later?’
‘No. I’ll wait.’
Pressing my ear to the door panel, I hear drawers being closed and a window opening.
‘I really don’t want to talk to you today.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m not feeling well.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Let’s talk about it.’
‘I’m getting changed. Won’t be a minute.’
The door eventually opens and Sienna spins away from me, crawling on to her bed and sitting against the wall, drawing up her knees and tugging her dark skirt tight over them. The room is tidier than I remember. The bloodstained rug has gone and the floorboards have been scrubbed clean.
Walking to the window, I glance outside, wondering if someone might have been with her. The garden is below. Sienna used to brag to Charlie about climbing out the window and shimmying down the rainwater pipe while her parents thought she was studying upstairs. A gnarled cherry tree has been cut back so its branches don’t scrape against the wall.
‘It must have been tough today.’
Her shoulders rise and fall.
‘You thought he might come, didn’t you?’
She doesn’t answer.
‘Mr Ellis was never going to come, Sienna. He says you made it all up.’
No answer.
‘Now he’s complained to the school that you’ve been harassing him. He wants you suspended.’
Sienna tilts her face and glares at me. ‘I don’t believe you.’
Behind her head I notice a torn strip of wallpaper curling like a roll of parchment. Beneath is an older layer with nursery rhyme characters. Little Bo Peep is visibly searching for her lost flock.
‘I don’t want to fight with you, Sienna. I just want to understand. ’
‘You can’t. You’re too old. You don’t know what it’s like to . . . to . . .’
‘Be in love?’
‘Yes.’
‘I know you believe your feelings, Sienna. You believe he loved you. Tell me how it started.’
‘And then you’ll leave me alone?’
‘If you help me understand.’
‘Remember I told you how I got the scar on my leg?’ she whispers. ‘Malcolm Hogbin dared me to climb a tree and I fell out.’
‘Yes.’
‘Mr Ellis was the first teacher to reach me. He carried me to the infirmary and got me a blanket and called the ambulance. Then he sat talking to me and told me really lame jokes until it arrived. “Don’t laugh or it’ll hurt more,” he said, and he wouldn’t let me look at my leg because the bone was sticking out. I remember wondering if he saw me fall. My dress flew up which meant he probably saw more of me than he should have, but having Mr Ellis see my underwear didn’t creep me out like I thought it might.
‘They had to put metal pins in my leg and I was in plaster for three months. Mr Ellis signed my cast. He drew a bird and signed his name.
‘“Why a bird?” I asked him.
‘“Because birds can fly, which you obviously can’t.”
‘I remember looking at his long fingers as he signed his name. He had such nice hands. And when he talked he had this deep round voice that rolled out of his mouth and burst in my ears. He said I could call him Gordon, but only when we were alone.’
‘You started to babysit Billy?’
She nods and smooths her skirt over her knees. Her bruised-looking eyes now look sleepy.
‘I missed six weeks of school, but Gordon helped me catch up. I know you think he’s done something wrong, but it wasn’t like that. He made me feel lovely. Grown up. Special.’
‘How old were you when he made you feel grown up?’
‘We were just sitting in his car and he put his finger beneath my chin. Suddenly his lips were right there, pushing against mine.’
She won’t look at me. Her forehead is resting on her knees.
‘I knew about sex. Lance kept magazines in his room and I once saw him and Margo Langdon going at it like nobody’s business in Simpson’s barn. Margo was on her back and Lance had his pants down and his backside was going up and down on top of her. I remember because Lance started whimpering and shaking and that’s when Margo turned her head and she looked straight at me.’
‘How old were you when you had sex with Gordon?’
‘Thirteen.’
‘That’s against the law.’
‘Juliet was only thirteen when she fell in love with Romeo. Gordon told me that.’
‘Romeo wasn’t forty.’
‘That doesn’t matter. True love doesn’t wait.’
She says it defiantly, parroting the words that I’m sure Gordon whispered in her ear when he took her.
‘I wish you could understand,’ she explains. ‘You don’t know how wonderful he makes me feel. He could have had any girl he wanted, but he chose me.’
‘He’s married.’
‘He was going to leave Natasha when I finished school. He doesn’t love her. He loves me!’
I produce a photograph from my pocket, holding it between my thumb and forefinger.
‘Remember I told you that Gordon had been married before? Her name is Carolinda Regan. Everyone called her Caro. She’s Billy’s proper mother. Nobody has seen her in three years.’
‘What about Natasha?’
‘Gordon met her at school - just like he met you. She was about your age.’
Sienna chews at her bottom lip leaving a carmine mark that slowly fades. Hugging her knees more tightly, she grimaces as though in pain. Her bare feet are tucked beneath the bedspread.
‘You told me that Gordon took you away for a weekend. Where?’
‘I don’t know exactly. It was during the summer. Natasha was in Scotland visiting her folks.’
‘Where was Billy?’
‘He came with us. We took him for a trip to the seaside. Gordon has a caravan. I told Mum that I was spending the night with Charlie.’
‘This caravan - is it near the beach?’
‘I think so. I can’t remember much of anything. The whole weekend is a blur. I know we left on Friday afternoon and I can remember coming home. Gordon said I slept most of the time. He said it was food poisoning.’
‘Is that the only time you went away?’
She nods. He eyelids are half closed. She forces them open.
‘Did anyone ever see you with Gordon outside of school?’
‘I don’t think so. Mostly we stayed in the car or went somewhere private. Sometimes I slept over when I was babysitting. I stayed in the spare room, which is next to where Billy sleeps. Gordon would sneak in and spend a few hours with me.’
‘What about Natasha?’
‘She was sleeping. I was scared she might wake up, but Gordon said that wouldn’t happen.’
‘Why?’
‘He mentioned something about sleeping pills.’
Sienna’s skin has grown ashen and beads of sweat prickle on her upper lip.
‘Did you ever tell anyone about Gordon?’
‘He made me promise.’
‘Did anyone suspect - someone at school, a friend?’
Her head rocks from side to side and then stops. ‘Miss Robinson asked me.’
‘What did she ask you?’
‘If I was spending time with Gordon outside of school.’
‘When was this?’
‘Late last year.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell me where you went on that Tuesday - after Danny dropped you in town.’
Sienna shrugs. ‘It doesn’t matter any more.’
‘Did you meet up with Gordon? Did he take you somewhere?’
Sienna’s line of vision sweeps past me as though watching something terrible approaching. Something she has to escape from. She wants to run but I need her here. Gently gripping her shoulders, I make her meet my gaze.
‘You don’t have to be frightened, Sienna. I’m going to protect you.’
‘I didn’t kill Daddy.’
‘Show me. Prove it to me. Where were you?’
Tears hover at the edges of her eyelids.
‘With Gordon,’ she whispers.
‘Gordon says he wasn’t with you. He’s given a statement to the police. He has an alibi. Natasha has backed him up.’
‘They’re lying.’
‘He’s letting you take the blame, Sienna. Just tell me where you went after Danny dropped you off.’
‘Gordon wanted me to do something for him.’
‘What was that?’
Her mouth opens, but she can’t bring herself to tell me. I wait and she tries again. The words come slowly and then in a rush as though she wants them gone, forgotten, buried.
‘Gordon said he was in trouble, but I could help him. I just had to do this one thing for him and everything would be OK. I’d prove myself. He’d know I was the one. Then we could be together.’
‘What sort of trouble?’
‘He didn’t say.’
‘What did he want?’
She shakes her head, embarrassed, ashamed.
‘I had to visit someone and do what he asked.’
She puts the heel of her hand against her forehead. There are patches of colour on her throat as if someone has wrapped an invisible rope around her neck.
‘What did you have to do?’
‘I had to sleep with him,’ she whispers.
There is a tingling in my chest like a heated wire is being pressed against my heart.
‘Who was he?’
‘I don’t know his name - some old guy who lived in a big house.’ Her voice starts to break. ‘I was dropped off and picked up later.’
‘Who dropped you off?’
‘Gordon and another man.’
‘Another man?’
‘His eyes looked like they were bleeding.’
‘Where did they take you?’
‘I don’t know. It was a big house. Old. It smelled funny.’ She rocks forward, breathing through her mouth. ‘It was horrible. I had to have . . . I had to let him . . . he did things to me. Gordon said it would prove how much I loved him.’
I can hear the wetness in her throat as she swallows. At the same time, a shudder goes through her body like tension leaving a metal spring.
‘What happened afterwards?’
‘Gordon drove me back to his house but we couldn’t go inside because Natasha was home. He said it turned him on - knowing what another man had done to me. He took off my clothes and we had sex in the car but he was rough. He hurt me. I told him to be careful.’
‘Did you tell him you were pregnant?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He swore and shoved me away. He was yelling at me, saying I’d tricked him, saying I got pregnant on purpose. He told me to get rid of the baby. An abortion. That’s when I ran away. I ran home.’
Sienna looks at me blankly, too numb to cry. Touching her upper arm with my palm, I feel the coolness of her skin. She leans against me, pushing her face under my chin. Motionless in my arms, she remains curled up, her skirt pulled tight over her knees.
The patchwork quilt has slipped down, uncovering her feet. A dark stain runs over her right foot. It looks like a birthmark or a lesion. Then I notice that it’s shining and viscous, soaking into the sheet beneath her.
‘What have you done?’ I whisper, unhooking my arms and raising her skirt up her calves and over her knees, which are slick with blood.
Sienna’s eyes are closed as though she’s fallen asleep, but she’s still conscious.
‘Don’t tell Mum,’ she murmurs.
Twin lacerations on her inner thighs are swollen and leaking. She has cut from the edge of her panties towards her knees, probably using a razor blade wrapped in a tissue.
I glance around the room. Where did she hide her implements?
‘You need stitches.’
‘I’ll be OK.’
‘You need to go to hospital.’
‘It doesn’t matter any more.’
Her eyes are closing.
‘Have you taken something, Sienna?’
She doesn’t answer. I shake her gently. ‘Did you take something? ’
In a sing-song voice, ‘White pills, yellow pills and long green pills.’
‘Where did you get them?’
‘I stole them,’ she sings. ‘From the trolleys and from bedside tables.’
She’s talking about Oakham House.
Flinging open the door, I yell down the stairs, ‘Call an ambulance! ’
Sienna opens her eyes just long enough to give me a pitying look. ‘They’re never going to let me out now, are they?’
I grab her top sheet and rip it into bandages to wrap around her thighs. I need to know what she took. What drugs?
Sliding sideways down the wall, Sienna rests her head against a pillow and mumbles, ‘He told me not to write a note. He said too many suicides spend too much time composing letters, trying to find words. “You could die of old age, trying to write a note,” he said. “You just have to do it.”’
‘Who told you that?’
‘He said to do it like Juliet, but I couldn’t. So I did it like Romeo.’