The Truth About Celia Frost Page 7

  “What do you mean?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.” He shrugged.

  Celia stared at him; she didn’t know what it was about this boy. Maybe it was the fact that he’d just saved her life. Whatever the reason, she felt she wanted to tell him everything.

  As she let it all pour out, Sol listened, open-mouthed.

  Celia finished her tale. “So what do you reckon? Why would she lie about this disorder – to me, to everyone! What is she, an evil cow or a serious nutcase?” Celia said in disgust.

  Sol hesitated. “Do you really want my opinion?”

  “I’m asking, aren’t I?”

  “Listen, I do have a theory, but I’m not saying it’s right. It’s just something that came into my head when you were talking.”

  “Go on,” Celia said apprehensively.

  “Well, there’s this condition – I saw a psychiatrist on the TV talking about it. Loads of people rang in with their stories. It’s a mental thing, really heavy stuff. I remember it because it was so weird. He was talking about this case where a mother had pretended that her kid was sick for years. Telling her kid that he was really ill, getting loads of sympathy off people and all the time there was nothing wrong with him. The psychiatrist said that the mother was doing it for all the attention everyone gave her and for the control and power she had over her kid. Every time people started to suspect something didn’t add up, this woman would do a runner with the kid and start it all over again where people didn’t know them. It took years for anyone to realize what she was up to, but when they did, the kid was taken off her and the mother was sectioned; locked up in some mental hospital.”

  Celia seemed stunned.

  “Oh my God! That’s it,” she whispered. “That’s what’s wrong with her.”

  “It’s only one theory,” said Sol, alarmed. “Really, what do I know? It’s just something I saw on daytime TV.”

  “NO! I think you’re right. It makes sense. It all fits in. She wouldn’t do this to me on purpose – she loves me. I know she loves me, but she’s not well, it’s not her fault. She’s totally screwed up... Do you know that I’m named after a cook from a children’s home she lived in? Mum says that cook was the only person who ever cared about her. It’s no wonder she’s turned out mad.”

  “Listen, isn’t it best for you to talk to her first? Hear what she has to say?”

  “Yeah. I need to get back.” Celia stood up urgently. “She’s got to face this. She’s not ruining my life any more with her craziness.”

  Celia looked around for her bag, then suddenly remembered. “My bag! It had my mobile, my keys, my bus money in. They’re all at the bottom of the lake.”

  “Well, at least it isn’t you down there. Look, don’t worry. My bike’s on the other side of the fence. I’ll give you a seater, drop you off on the edge of the estate. We don’t want people seeing us together and asking questions, do we?”

  “I’ve never been on a bike before.”

  “It sounds like you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  “I know, pathetic, isn’t it?” Celia mumbled.

  “No. It just means you’ve got loads to look forward to.” His kindness made Celia smile. “You’re not going to tell anyone about the quarry, are you?” he asked.

  “Course not. I promise. It’s your place. You wouldn’t want anyone else here, ruining it.”

  Sol suddenly looked bashful. “Actually, I’ll probably be here tomorrow...about eleven. If you’re not doing anything, maybe you’d want to come along? You could tell me how it went with your mum.”

  “Okay,” Celia said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Why not?”

  “Okay then, it’s a date!” Realizing what he’d said, Sol started to stammer with embarrassment. “No...no...not a DATE, date. You know what I mean, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, don’t worry – I know what you mean,” Celia said reassuringly.

  Celia didn’t even get a chance to knock at the door of their flat before it was flung open by Janice.

  “Where have you been?” she bristled. “I couldn’t get through to you on your mobile. What have I told you? Always keep it on! I’ve been worried sick. I left work early to try to find you.” Then Janice noticed her face. Celia’s lip was thick and her cheek was now covered with an angry-looking bruise.

  “Oh my God! What have you done?” Janice screeched.

  “It’s none of your business,” Celia replied coldly.

  “What do you mean, it’s none of my business? I’m your mother.”

  “You don’t deserve to be a mother,” Celia said venomously. “Mothers are meant to protect their kids. Kids are meant to be able to trust their mothers, but you...!” She stabbed her finger towards Janice’s stricken face.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about,” hissed Celia. “Look at my face, my mouth. Do I look like I bled to death? Do I look like I’ve lost pints of blood?”

  “Was anyone with you? Did anyone help you?”

  “No,” Celia said without a flicker.

  “Well, you’ve obviously got more lives than a cat.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Celia’s voice was full of fury. “Do you honestly think I’m going to believe you this time?”

  “Of course you should. Your disorder is rare, so rare that there’s bound to be things they don’t know about it. It must be unpredictable.”

  “I want to see proof about my ‘disorder’,” Celia said, forming inverted commas in the air. “Anything will do – a doctor’s report, a medical certificate. It’s not a difficult request. You must have something official about such a life-threatening illness.”

  “You know me...” Janice tried to withstand Celia’s stare. “I’m not one for keeping paperwork. I threw all that stuff out years ago.”

  “Not to worry. I’ll just make a doctor’s appointment, have a blood test. We’ll soon know the truth,” Celia said with a menacing breeziness.

  “NO! Don’t do that.”

  “Why not? If you’re telling the truth, what have you got to be worried about?”

  “Celia, you don’t understand. They’d take you away from me.”

  “Exactly!” Celia shouted triumphantly. “I’d be taken away because we’d all find out that you’ve been lying! There is no blood disorder, is there? You’ve made it all up!”

  “Why would I do that to my little girl? Why would I put you through that? Why would I tell every school about your condition?”

  “Because you’re sick, Mum, sick in the head!”

  Janice gave a forced laugh. “Oh, so you think I’m a nutter now, do you?”

  “Yeah – a big-time nutter! I don’t think that you’ve been lying to me on purpose, to hurt me – it’s just you can’t control yourself, can you? There’s this psychiatric illness and I think you’ve got it. You need professional help. There’s probably some kind of medication you should have been on all these years.”

  “Oh yeah and who’s put all this into your head? Who have you been talking to?”

  “Who I talk to is none of your business. You’ve done your best to make sure that I never had anyone to talk to. Everywhere we’ve ever been you made people think that I was untouchable. The girl with the freaky illness, the girl no one wants to hang out with in case I bleed to death on them! You’ve never let me stay anywhere. Always dragging me from one place to the next. But now I know why: it’s when people start to get suspicious, isn’t it? It’s when they start to think you might be lying.”

  “Celia, love, you’ve got to believe me. Everything I do is for you,” Janice implored.

  “Shut up! Just shut up! The lies have got to stop right now. Either you show me proof or I’m going to the police.”

  “I can’t give you proof but I’m begging you to trust me. If you bleed it could be disastrous – it’s dangerous.”

  “Dangerous!” Celia shouted. “The o
nly danger I’m in is from you.”

  “I’d never do anything to hurt you!”

  “I think the evidence contradicts that, don’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t put you through all this for no reason.”

  “I know, but there is a reason and it’s that you’re a total nutcase who’s used me and an imaginary illness to get attention from people; to make yourself feel important, because you’re nothing, you’re no one. Isn’t that right?” Celia bawled at her.

  “No, Celia. I’ve just been trying to keep you safe. Even if I can’t explain it, I need you to trust me.”

  “No way! I’ve trusted you for fourteen years because you’re my mother so I believed what you told me, like any kid would. But not any more.”

  “Celia, I love you. Don’t do this to us,” Janice pleaded.

  “Shut up. Just looking at you makes me feel sick.”

  Janice’s voice hardened. “You need to stop and think about this. What will happen if they take you away from me? Do you really want to end up in care like I did? People being paid to look after you. Paid to pretend to like you. Surrounded by kids who’ve been so screwed up that they’ll do anything to drag you down with them.”

  “I’ll get fostered. Some lovely, normal family will take me in,” Celia answered.

  “Don’t kid yourself,” Janice laughed bitterly. “No one wants to foster teenagers. You’d be dumped, left to rot in some kids’ home until they chucked you out at sixteen with nothing and no one. You know there’s no one else to look after you. It’s always been just you and me.”

  Celia knew she was right. Janice never spoke of her parents. She’d only ever say that she didn’t know or care where they were. There had never been any mention of grandparents or aunties and uncles. Janice was all Celia had.

  “I love you so much, Celia,” Janice began to crumble. Tears welled up in her eyes as she buckled at Celia’s feet. “You’re all I live for. I would die for you.”

  “Stop! Just stop with all the acting. Emotional blackmail is one of your specialities, isn’t it? You’ve always been able to make me do what you say because I felt so guilty, so frightened; thinking I was causing you a life of pure stress with my ‘disorder’; thinking I could bleed to death. How could you do that to me?”

  Janice sobbed. “You mustn’t do anything stupid. We’ve got to stick together. I’m the only one who can look after you.”

  At that moment Celia wanted to feel such hatred for Janice, but she found she couldn’t: it would go against everything that she’d ever felt for this woman – this sickly-looking wretch who had devoted her life to Celia, lavished love on her, worked to provide for her until her hands were raw and her frail body ached.

  “You keep out of my way,” Celia hissed. “No more telling people that I’m ill. No more telling me what I can and can’t do. You don’t ask me where I’m going or what I’m doing. These are my conditions. You stick to them, otherwise I swear that I’ll go to the police and social services and have you sectioned! Do you understand?”

  “Yes. I understand. Anything, Celia, anything you want. Just stay with me.” Janice clung to her legs, a quivering, sobbing bag of bones. Celia looked down on the pathetic sight and knew that Janice wouldn’t survive without her. She felt overwhelmed by a mixture of pity and disgust, for this, the only person in the world who loved her.

  Frankie’s Oscar-winning performance at the coach station paid off. He’d been back in his office for a couple of hours when he’d received a call from one of the drivers telling him that he’d picked up the woman in the photograph and an orange-haired girl on that Friday. He remembered them among the coachload of passengers because the girl had been crying.

  “I knew it,” Frankie said to him. “She didn’t want to go with her mother. She wanted to stay here with me. So where did they get off?”

  Frankie was hoping it would be a town small enough to have a chance of tracking them down, but when the driver replied that they’d disembarked in one of the biggest cities in England, his heart sank.

  “Did anyone meet them off the coach?” Frankie asked.

  “No one that I saw. I handed them their luggage and they disappeared into the crowd. I really hope you find them, mate.”

  “So do I,” Frankie replied with genuine feeling.

  Frankie had immediately posted a report and the hair-enmeshed brush to his client. He’d tried to get on with his other cases while he awaited instructions. However, as each day passed he knew that the Frost trail would be getting colder and his job harder. He decided to contact Julian, who was less than pleased to hear from him.

  Julian had been Frankie’s best investment. They’d met back in Frankie’s police days, when he’d dealt with allegations that the nineteen-year-old IT student had been hacking into his own bank account and changing his overdraft to a healthy credit. Frankie had made the allegations go away in return for Julian’s help “now and then”. It had sounded like a good deal at the time, but now Julian was thirty and held a senior position in one of the biggest telecommunications firms on the planet, and the crooked ex-cop was still demanding information that only a skilled hacker like him could provide.

  “Just a little favour, Julian,” Frankie had said to the protesting man. “Here’s a couple of names. See what you can find out.”

  A few days later Frankie’s mobile rang.

  “Hello,” Frankie said. He never answered his phone by announcing his name. He always waited to hear who the caller would ask for as, in the course of his numerous investigations, Frankie used several pseudonyms to protect his identity. He, of all people, knew what powerful information it was to know someone’s real name.

  “Hello,” a cultured female voice replied. “Is that Mr. Byrne?”

  “Who’s calling, please?” he asked in his most polite voice.

  “This is Nemo.”

  Frankie was taken aback. “Yes, this is Frankie Byrne. Did you get my package?”

  “Yes and I’m very satisfied with your progress, Mr. Byrne. I now have the results from the hair you provided and its DNA proves beyond doubt that this is the girl I am looking for. This, together with the fact that people recognized the photograph as Janice Frost, means that I am confident that we have positive identifications for these two people.”

  “Yeah, and I’ve got more information for you.” Frankie was pleased with himself. “I got a contact of mine to fish around on a few databases and he found out that this Janice Frost was brought up in care. There’s no mention of any contact with relatives; she doesn’t seem to have any roots. Also, she spent a few months in a young offender institution in her late teens for persistent shoplifting. After that, there’s nothing on her. From the data on her National Insurance contributions it would be fair to say that she must work for cash in hand, never claims benefits and doesn’t use credit cards. She’s obviously a lady who isn’t keen on people having information on her.”

  “I hope this information wasn’t obtained using any official channels. You have understood that there must be no police involvement in this case whatsoever, no matter what happens,” Nemo said curtly.

  “Of course – that goes without saying.” Frankie’s pride was hurt. “I am used to dealing with cases of a ‘delicate’ nature. Anyway, I’ve found out more from the searches, something really odd.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, it looks like Celia Frost’s birth was never registered, not using that name anyway. Janice Frost has never registered any child’s birth or claimed child benefit or anything else for her.”

  “Mr. Byrne.” The client’s tone was stern. “I appreciate that as part of your investigation you may well unearth certain information that is, perhaps, perplexing, but you must remember that, for now, your only concern is to locate these people. Whatever else you find out can be passed on to me and then any evidence of it destroyed and forgotten about. You must not get involved in areas which do not concern you. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Cryst
al,” Frankie answered.

  “I came to you because you have a certain reputation. I hope that you’re not going to disappoint me.”

  “No, madam, you won’t be disappointed.”

  “From now on you can contact me on this mobile number. I need you to put all your efforts into finding these people. I need regular updates. They mustn’t know that they are being looked for. We can’t afford for them to run away again.”

  “Yes, madam, but you’ve got to appreciate that it may take some time. Even though we know what city they travelled to, that was three weeks ago and we have very little else to go on. All I’ve got is an old photo of Janice Frost and no photo of Celia – nothing to show around.”

  “I know that this will be time consuming, but the quicker you find them the more I’m prepared to pay,” Nemo said.

  “But I have other ongoing cases. I have other clients depending on me too.”

  “I need you to work exclusively on my case. Put the other cases on hold and I guarantee that I will compensate you.”

  “You must want to find these people pretty badly,” said Frankie.

  “Mr. Byrne, I’ve been looking for them for a long, long time. If I was only at liberty to explain to you how important it is to find them, I guarantee that you wouldn’t eat or sleep until you did.”

  Sol looked at his watch again: quarter past twelve. She wasn’t coming. Why did he feel so lousy? She was only some stupid girl, who’d nearly got herself killed by running off a cliff. It’s not like he needed her here, invading his space. And all that stuff about her mum and the blood disorder – it was all too weird; he was best off out of it. He started to pack up his rucksack; he’d suddenly gone off the idea of spending the day here. Just then, Celia emerged from the trees and stood next to him on the top slab. She was breathless and flustered.

  “I didn’t think you were coming,” Sol said, unaware that a beaming smile had spread across his face.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve had a nightmare getting here. The closest bus stop is nowhere near and then it’s taken me ages to find the way back to the lake. I lost track of where the hole under the fence is,” Celia said, plopping herself down on the warm, smooth stone and feeling immediately calmed by the scene that surrounded her.