Deniro is the first to speak. “Forgive us, my dear, but you were so suspicious of Raff, and so worried about Philomena it was too good an opportunity to pass up.”
The red bloody slash is still there on her neck. I lean closer. “How did you do it?”
“Raff did it.” She smirks.
Oh good, he’s in on this too.
“Let me tell you, he’s not so bad close up. Under the beard, he’s very nice.” Philomena’s cheek is pink around her secretive smirk. “And he smells very nice.”
“If only I’d known you liked a bit of rough.” Gethin shoots her a wicked look.
“Not rough at all. He used to be an actor.”
My ears prick up. “An actor?”
“That’s what he told me. It’s how he knew about faking blood.”
“I thought you were using ketchup,” Gethin says.
“Yeah, but it’s too red, blood is darker, Raff mixed it with instant coffee powder to make it convincing.”
Gethin looks around the group. “Look at her, all giggly. She was in there with him in her room for an hour.”
“Not alone, more’s the pity,” Philomena argues back. “Shirley was there with us.”
They go on mock-bickering, accusing one another of this and that. It turns out they started planning this trick yesterday after I left them and have been setting it up all morning. Even Bill must have been in on it. The prank has given them hours of fun. They haven’t stopped smiling and joking since the scream upstairs.
But Raff. Welsh Hagrid used to be an actor. If anything, it makes me even more suspicious of him. Why would he be working as a handyman? Did he lie? Used to be…what does that mean?
You don’t really get fired from acting jobs; it screws up the entire production and upsets the crew. You’d have to do something very, very bad to get fired. Usually it’s more subtle. If you’re a bad apple, word gets around, and people stop working with you. But, and that’s what makes me suspicious, when the job offers dry up, actors tend to work in a related field. They try to stay close in case things improve. If he’s a handyman, he could easily work as a grip, assistant stage manager, set builder; there are hundreds of such jobs on film sets and backstage in theatres. Why is he so far away in a care home?
What most outsiders don’t realise about our business is how very gossipy and very incestuous it is. Everyone talks, nothing stays secret. So, if Raff is reduced to working here, he must have blackened his name so badly that he has to get well away from anyone who knows him.
“You’re very thoughtful?” Bill asks me when I’ve been quiet for so long.
“Just wondering how Raff, who doesn’t know me, agreed to play this prank on me. I mean how irresponsible? What if I had a heart condition?”
“Oh, Raff thought it was just us play-acting. He never knew the truth.” Bill assures me.
“What was the truth?” asks a deep quiet, slightly amused voice from the door.
Raff, in a grey hoodie and jeans comes in with a small pot of cream and a wad of cotton wool.
While everyone fills him in on the prank, he pulls a chair to sit opposite Philomena and gently cleans off the fake blood from her neck and the death make-up from her face.
I try not to watch and stay next to Grandad at the far side of the circle. But it’s impossible to ignore someone so big and hairy. He works quickly but with gentle fingers. And yes, there is no doubt about it. Philomena enjoys the process far too much. In fact, when he’s done and gives her a wet wipe to clean the cream off her neck, she tries to delay him.
“We didn’t tell you Leonie was very suspicious. “Philomena giggles. “She thought you were a baddy.”.”
This stings me into defending myself a little too quickly and without really checking my words before they are out. “I never said I suspected him of murder.”
Raff swings round to look at me, a slight lift to one eyebrow. I can well believe he used to be an actor; that eyebrow speaks volumes. It’s asking a question but also making it clear he’s not very concerned. His eyes though are very steady on me, reading my expression.
Heat floods my face.
“Oh, look now you’ve embarrassed her.” Gethin nudges me with his elbow. “She’s lovely, really, even if she thought you were a scallywag.”
My face burns. It doesn’t help that Raff is still watching me. For some reason I can’t look away. His grey-green eyes hold mine for what feels like ages. Then, abruptly as if he’s seen enough, he gets up. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly and leaves.
