The A-List Collection. Victoria Fox
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She laughed cruelly. ‘I know the score, and don’t you forget it. I’ve been there before you. Things aren’t quite as perfect as they seem, now, are they?’
Lana didn’t know what to say.
‘Tell me something, darling,’ Kate spat. ‘I’m dying to know. Can he get it up for you?’
Lowering her gaze, Lana tried to skim past her host before she could embarrass herself further. Kate would never know that Cole was the last man on her mind right now–for nothing and no one could chase the memories of Robbie away.
Belleville, Ohio, 1992
In the back of the station wagon, Laura Fallon sat quietly with her small hands held together in her lap. She looked out the window at the driving rain and tried not to be sad. Next week was her ninth birthday and she knew she should feel like a special little girl, just like Arlene, her foster mom, had told her. But instead she felt frightened.
‘Are we nearly there?’ she asked. The woman driving was wearing a brown skirt and jacket and had greasy hair. Earlier, when she had collected Laura from her foster family, she had ticked off lots of boxes on a piece of paper. Arlene had been trying not to cry, which didn’t make sense because Arlene had told her there was nothing to be sad about.
When they stopped at a red light the woman turned round and smiled. Laura saw that a tooth at the back of her grin was missing, a grotesque detail she hadn’t noticed before.
‘You’ve been waitin’ long enough, huh, cupcake. We’re finally takin’ you home.’
Home. That was the word Arlene had used as well. But she had already known two homes and now both of them had been taken away–what would make this one any different?
The first had been with her parents, before the accident. She squeezed her eyes tight shut when she thought of it. The policemen with their kind eyes and their smart uniforms, who had come to get her out of bed in the middle of the night and had sat her down and held her hand. One–he had a shiny head and a thick brown moustache that drooped at the edges–had told her in a quiet, gentle voice that her mommy and daddy had died. A truck had gone into their car as it waited to turn on to the freeway. He’d looked so sad.
Grown-ups didn’t get sad; they sorted things out, which was just what her big brother Lester would do. Lester was fifteen and brave and strong, the tallest boy in his class. He always promised that he would look after her, his best little sister. She idolised him.
But some time that night, in the darkest hours, the Lester she knew and loved had disappeared. For months he cried like he was filling up an ocean, and at night when Laura slept fitfully she dreamed she was swimming in its black waters, reaching for him, trying to keep hold of his hand. When she woke up she was bathed in sweat.
For the first few months with their foster family, Lester stayed in his bedroom. Sometimes he didn’t come out for days and days, and when he did, it was only after dark. He’d disappear until the next morning, when he’d slip into the house unnoticed and lock himself away.
One day Laura woke up and he was gone, just like that. Arlene explained that he was so sad it had made him sick, and he’d been taken to a special hospital to get better. She could still go see him any time she liked. But Laura didn’t want to see him. He scared her. He was a different Lester now, not the happy boy she used to know.
‘Please take me home,’ she said now. ‘I want to go back to Arlene.’
‘Sorry, kid,’ said the woman. She was chewing gum loudly–Arlene would have told her off for that. ‘Blame the system, not me. ‘
They had told her he was well again. And he was eighteen now, could look after her. They should be together, a family–brother and sister reunited, that was how it was meant to be.
He was living in a trailer park outside a town called Belleville. It was somewhere with a school where Laura would make new friends and finally be able to settle. That was why they shuffled their pieces of paper, why they smiled at Arlene and shook her hand and said that everything had worked out for the best. That was what they said, but Laura knew it wouldn’t be like that. She hadn’t seen her brother in two years. As far as she was concerned, Lester Fallon was a stranger.
The car turned off the freeway and the woman driver wound down the window, holding the steering wheel steady with her knee while she lit a cigarette. When she flicked the ash some of it blew into the back seat.
‘Almost there, honey,’ she said, scanning Laura in the rear-view mirror. Poor freakin’ kid. Those huge green eyes were enough to break your heart.
Soon after they came to a cluster of houses. Some were tall, with shuttered windows and pretty white fences, the kind Laura dreamed about living in. Two boys, a little older than she was, played out front with their bikes. One of them had messy brown hair and as he looked up, he caught her eye. He had very dark eyes. She smiled at him.
Laura knew her brother lived in a trailer but so long as it was near this town she thought she might not mind too much. But the car kept going and soon they were winding through a series of rundown, shabby-looking buildings with boarded-up windows. Beyond that a grassy space opened up, but the grass was yellowish instead of green, with bald patches here and there like scars.
She squinted, looking ahead through the windshield, and recognised her brother straight away. He was standing outside one of the trailers and was wearing a grey shirt. He hadn’t changed, she could tell, even though he was dressed better and had a tidy haircut. It was still the same Lester, the one who had run out on her.
He was waving now, and as the station wagon pulled up he said in a childish voice, like she was simple, ‘Hi, Laura! Hey, little sis!’
Laura was wary. The woman came round and let her out of the car, smiling as she brandished her papers and clipboard. Lester tried for a hug and she felt the hard lines of his ribs as he folded over her, but she stayed closed. She didn’t say anything.
‘It’s the shock, is all,’ said the woman, sympathetic and efficient at the same time. ‘Let’s go inside.’
The trailer was small, the kitchen just a plastic counter with a square refrigerator tucked underneath and two chairs with broken backs. Laura’s bedroom was tiny, a single mattress and feeble-looking closet, next to which hung a cracked oval mirror. The door didn’t close properly.
At the rear was a bathroom, but while the woman and Lester went to inspect it, Laura stayed where she was. She didn’t like it. The flowers were fake and when she lifted a framed photograph of her mom and dad from the side, she saw the board wasn’t on properly, like he’d done it in a hurry. He had drawn the curtains back with a rubber band.
When the woman returned she was furiously ticking her boxes again.
‘Perfect,’ she said, glad to have tied up this particular loose end. The kid would soon get used to it and realise this was as much of a happy ending as anyone could hope for. A family, such as it was, together again.
The woman went to leave, but even though Laura didn’t particularly like her, she didn’t want her to go. She didn’t want to be left alone with Lester. The darkness was still there. She could see it in his eyes and she didn’t even have to look that hard.
The door slammed and they were alone.
Lester watched her. ‘Looks like it’s just you and me now, kid.’