Lost Time by Winona Kent

Author:Winona Kent [Kent, Winona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Winona Kent / Blue Devil Books
Published: 2020-08-31T07:00:00+00:00

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There were four bedrooms upstairs, and just as many bathrooms. I was pretty certain the house hadn’t been built that way originally. In old places like that, there was usually only one bathroom which, typical for its day, would have contained only a bath and a sink, and no toilet. The original toilet was in its own little hideaway, quite literally a water closet, up a step and situated between two of the bedrooms.

Pippa’s room was the second-largest, and was across from the one her parents had occupied. And it had its own ensuite toilet and bath.

Pippa’s bedroom walls were painted cream, and there was a little alcove between two built-in cupboards, into which the bed had been placed, head first. On the left of the bed was a wide window, through which I could see the garden, brilliantly lit by the noon sun. The curtains reminded me of perfume packaging, pale pinks and pale greens. A door-sized poster of David Cassidy, in a cotton pullover, jeans and trainers, had been tacked on the wall opposite the bed, and a second poster, this one a head and shoulders shot of a young Donny Osmond, all hair and teeth, was on the wall beside it.

There was a tall, standalone wardrobe and a dressing table, scattered with necklaces and bracelets and hair slides. And tacked to the wall beside the dressing table…a glorious colour poster of mum, dad, Mitch, Rolly, Keith and Ben Quigley. The Figs in 1973.

“As you can see, Susan has kept it just as Pippa left it,” Moira said, “although the cleaners do come in once a week to dust it all off when they do the rest of the house.”

“I’ll try not to disturb anything,” I said.

Moira watched as I walked around, trying to pick up a sense of the young woman Pippa had once been. I opened the drawers in her dressing table, saw neatly-folded knickers and bras, tights and socks and shorts and a two-piece swimsuit.

I looked inside the wardrobe. School uniforms, dresses, skirts, jeans, shirts and t-shirts. I checked them all.

“Everything’s there,” Moira said, helpfully. “Except, of course, the clothes she was wearing when she disappeared.”

“Of course,” I said.

I went into the bathroom, which had a glassed-in shower stall, a toilet, a sink and a little counter with a mirror. Lucky Pippa. Growing up in the 1970s, my sister and I had never merited our very own loos. I checked the cupboard under the counter.

“Thanks,” I said. “You’ve been very helpful. I’ll just go downstairs and say goodbye to Susan.”

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