Adrian joins me in the kitchen. He’s still carrying the papers. ‘I think we need to talk to the family liaison officer about this,’ he says gravely. Considering the note and the phone number I’m still keeping away from the police, it feels a relief to be able to be honest about something.
I tear my eyes away from the girls and try to concentrate on what Adrian’s saying. ‘Shouldn’t we ask Nancy about it first when she comes here tomorrow? We can’t just accuse her of something like this.’
He shakes his head. ‘You’re right. It seems such a peculiar thing to do. Why would she?’
‘Rachel will be back tomorrow. We can show her these after we’ve spoken to Nancy.’ I indicate the wodge of paper.
He opens the kitchen drawer where we keep odd bits and pieces and crams it in. Usually I’d admonish him for his untidiness, but not today. Not when we seem to have reached some understanding. He closes the drawer. I try not to smile when I see it won’t quite shut.
He agrees but he looks cagey, unnerved.
‘Ade? What is it?’
He shuffles. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you. I didn’t want you to worry. But we can’t do that any more. We have to be completely honest with each other from now on. About everything …’
My scalp prickles. ‘Go on,’ I say.
‘This morning, on the way out for my run, I found some more dead flowers. On the doorstep. Like before. And this time there was a card.’ His hand dips into the pocket in his tracksuit bottoms to extract it.
I take it from him. The once-white card is faded to a tobacco-stained yellow and the writing that was there originally is barely decipherable. But written on top of it, crudely in black biro, are the words ‘IT’S NOT OVER.’
33
Three days after
The wind whistling outside the window is keeping me awake. Adrian is snoring beside me. Evie, as yet, is still in her own bed. I’m bracing myself for her to wake up crying. And maybe that’s why I can’t sleep. But I know it’s more than that. It’s that Dean is still out there somewhere. I need to tell Rachel about the latest bouquet when she arrives in the morning. The Brecons I’ve always loved so much now feel like a threat. They are harbouring a fugitive.
And it’s not just Dean. It’s Julia and Nathan. It’s my mum and Ruby. It’s Amelia and her sulkiness. It’s Nancy, who might have tampered with Adrian’s computer. It’s knowing that someone who was –or still is– staying here killed Selena.
I reach for my phone on the bedside table. It’s only one thirty. There’s no point lying here tossing and turning. I decide to get up. I drag my dressing-gown from the foot of the bed, put it on and go downstairs. I pass Nathan and Julia’s room and Janice’s, my heart falling at the thought of all those empty rooms waiting for new guests who might never come, now there’s been yet another scandal here. I shudder when I think of Violet Brown hanging from the rafters in the place where we now sleep. So much tragedy has happened here. Will we be forced to move? But where to? We can’t afford to return to London.
When I reach the kitchen I’m surprised to see the light on. My heart skitters. I immediately think of Dean.Don’t be so ridiculous, I tell myself. Gingerly, I push the door open. Mum and Nathan are sitting at the breakfast bar, their faces solemn, a half-empty bottle of wine in front of them.
They turn to look at me when I come in.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask.
Nathan looks stricken. He’s still fully dressed, although Mum’s in her nightie, which makes me think he hasn’t been up to bed yet.
I switch the kettle on. I can’t face wine. ‘I take it you’ve told Julia,’ I say, as I unwrap a mint and camomile teabag and add it to my mug.
Nathan drops his head into his hands and groans.
‘Yes, he’s told her,’ says Mum, rubbing his back as though he’s six years old.
‘And? Does she know about Ruby?’
‘He’s told her everything.’ Mum shoots me daggers but I ignore her.
Nathan lifts his head. His eyes are red-rimmed. He pours himself more wine and gulps it back.
The kettle boils. I pour the water over my teabag and join them at the island. I deliberately sit at Nathan’s other side so that he’s between Mum and me.
‘Nathe?’
He puts his glass down. It’s empty. He sighs, long, deep and full of regret. ‘She knows about Ruby,’ he says. ‘It’s upsetting, as you can imagine. Especially as Julia can’t stay pregnant.’
‘Where is she now?’
