Willow leaves the room saying she’s off to get dressed.
‘I thought it was her day off,’ murmurs Kathryn.
Elspeth scowls at her. ‘It is. But you’d just left me downstairs on my own.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Kathryn snaps. ‘You’re perfectly capable of getting yourself up the stairs. This has got to stop, Mother.’
‘What does?’
‘This reliance on other people. If it’s that hard then maybe you should go into assisted living and sell the house.’ She’s amazed that she’s telling the truth for once, rather than pussy-footing around her mother like she usually does.
‘Sell the house? You of all people want me to sell the house?’
‘Of course I don’t. I love this house, you know that. But …’ Kathryn softens her voice deliberately ‘… I’m worried about you. It’s a big place. The stairs …’
‘I’ve had a thought about that and I’ve decided I’m going to install a stairlift.’
This is a surprise to Kathryn. ‘Really?’ She can’t bear the thought of the beautiful oak staircase being blighted by an ugly lift. ‘You’ve always said you hated those things.’
She purses her lips. ‘Hmm, well, needs must.’
Kathryn knows she’s gone too far. Her mother is doing this to punish her.
‘Also …’ she says, smiling at Kathryn in the chilling way she’s come to recognize over the years. It’s the smile she bestows on her unsuspecting victims whenever she’s about to impart some news that she knows won’t go down too well. ‘… I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About Viola.’
A wave of alarm washes over Kathryn. ‘What?’
‘Don’t look so surprised.’
‘But you’ve never wanted to talk about her. You removed all photos of her, pretended for years she doesn’t even exist.’
‘That doesn’t mean I’ve not thought about her. After all, she is my daughter.’
She says this coldly, as though to make clear that Kathryn is not.
35
Willow
When I leave the house around ten o’clock, Elspeth is in the sitting room with her cold fish of a daughter. Kathryn has brought the accounts from the gallery. When I poke my head around the door to say goodbye, they’re having what looks like a serious discussion. I knew Kathryn would be here today. And I know why she plays the dutiful daughter. It’s all about money, I can see that now. Money and control. Thank God my parents never had any. I’m not naïve: I can tell that Elspeth’s affection for me isn’t that of a normal boss/employee relationship. Obviously, I have no idea how she treated the other girls but Courtney said Una had told her Elspeth blew hot and cold. But with me Elspeth is always lovely: maternal, giving, generous. Last week I took her shopping and she bought me this boho bag with tassels I’ve had my eye on for ages at a boutique in Clifton. She never lets me pay for anything, even though she gives me a generous wage. I’ve hardly spent a thing since I moved in. I’ve seen her cold side, of course. The way she is with Kathryn sometimes is frosty. But, so far, she’s been nothing but kind and welcoming to me. Still, it’s early days.
It’s another warm spring day. I only need a jacket on top of my T-shirt and trousers. I can already see a hint ofsummer on the horizon, tantalizingly close. Where will I be then? I’ve been thinking more and more about going back to studying, maybe reflexology. I’m not really a make-a-plan kind of person, but maybe that’s where I’ve always gone wrong in the past. If I stay in this job for a couple of years I’ll have enough money to return to college, get a place of my own.
Courtney has set up a WhatsApp group to include me and Peter. I told them both last night about finding the keys for the gallery. We agreed I’d go over there today to suss out if there are any CCTV cameras. If we’re going after dark we’ll need to make sure nobody knows we were there. Peter has today off and is driving down so we can break in tonight.
I stop for a takeaway coffee on the way to the gallery, pausing to chat to the cute barista with the dreadlocks and sparkly eyes who now knows me by name. I enjoy taking my time on the walk, savouring the fact it’s my day off and I don’t have to rush anywhere. I think of the texts I’ve been exchanging with Courtney and Peter. It’s strange, really, considering I’ve known them just a few weeks, but they’re already starting to feel like friends. Yet it’s a warped friendship that the three of us have formed. They’re acting out of grief, but why am I doing it? They’re looking for answers on behalf of those they loved and lost.
At first I agreed to help because it was almost like a game, something to relieve the boredom of the job.
But then I found the T-shirt. When I described it to Courtney she’d been adamant it was Una’s. ‘I was with her when she bought it,’ she said, over the phone. ‘Why wouldElspeth have Una’s T-shirt? When Una died I went to the house to collect her clothes.’
‘Maybe Elspeth had wanted to keep a memento,’ I’d suggested, which horrified Courtney, especially when I admitted I’d found it in Elspeth’s bedroom, and that I believed she’d been sleeping with it.
Whether Elspeth is involved in the deaths of the other girls or not, it’s obvious she has a slight obsession with all of us, is capricious and faking her frailty for attention. I sometimes wonder if maybe she’s losing her marbles, confusing us so that in her mind we merge to become Viola. I don’t understand it but, even so, does that make her a killer?
When I arrive, the shop is predictably empty. Daisy is sitting at Kathryn’s desk, her mobile cradled between ear and shoulder, picking at her pink acrylic nails. ‘Yes, that’s what I’m worried about,’ she’s saying into the phone. When she hears the ping of the door she looks up and irritation flashes across her features when she sees it’s me. ‘Gotta go. Speak later.’ She ends the call. ‘Back again so soon?’
‘Sorry to bother you. I know you’re really busy.’
