Richard looks relieved at being dismissed and, without so much as a goodbye or a nod in my direction, he disappears back inside.
Yvonne fixes me with hard, hazel eyes that remind me of Josh’s. She’s dressed smartly and wearing high heels. Does she wear them even when she’s at home or was she expecting me? A sudden image bursts into my head. Yvonne, standing on my doorstep weeks ago, a diminutive version of her former self, wearing so much make-up it looked as if she’d applied war paint, and yet looking anything but fierce.
Today, in her high heels and from her elevated position inside the house, she towers over me and looks almost magisterial, threatening. I feel small. I’m the one who has come to her house demanding answers, just as she came to mine. I didn’t give her the answers she wanted and I realize now she won’t tell me what I need to know. A reverse image. The tables are turned. I wish I’d brought Daniel with me. In fact, I wish I hadn’t come at all.
‘Come in,’ she says, stepping back and holding the front door wide open.
I try not to show my surprise and, for only the second time since I’ve known Yvonne, I step over the threshold, into her home. She lets me lead the way, but points towards the door into the living room. I remember last time, we all slipped off our shoes at the door. Force of habit. I deliberately keep mine on this time, even though it’s wet outside and her immaculate living room has a cream carpet.
She waves her hand towards the sofa. Obediently, I sit. Yvonne chooses an armchair, which gives her a couple of inches on me. Again, I feel at a disadvantage. I grapple for my words. Yvonne looks at me, a mixture of anticipation and impatience in her expression. Does she expect me to thank her for taking Margo to hospital? I’m certainly not about to do that.
‘I’m hoping you can help me understand how Margo came to be in your summerhouse overnight,’ I begin. It sounds a little accusatory, although I’m aiming for something between firm and neutral.
‘I found her there yesterday. It must have been early afternoon,’ Yvonne says. ‘She was sleepy and she complained of a headache. I tried to get hold of Iris – I don’t have your number, I’m afraid – and when I couldn’t get through, I took Margo straight to hospital. Then I did manage to get hold of Iris. I had no idea that Margo had spent the night in the summerhouse. This is news to me.’
She clutches her heart a little too theatrically, but I have to hand it to her – she’s good. She did ring Iris. That much is true – that’s how Iris knew that Margo was at the North Devon District Hospital. But I don’t buy the rest of what Yvonne has spouted for a second.
‘Margo came to your house with Jordan and Jasper on the Saturday evening. She was staying at her grandmother’s, here, in Brayworthy. Your boys offered to lend her a bike to cycle home to Holtleigh.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ Yvonne says, her eyes wide, but the warble in her voice belies her words. ‘Tell you what, I’ll give them a shout and we’ll see if we can get to the bottom of this.’ She stretches her thin lips into a fake smile, revealing red lipstick stuck to her otherwise white incisors.
She leaves the room for a moment and I hear her shout for the boys from the bottom of the stairs. They both come immediately. I sometimes have to call Olly and Iris several times to come downstairs. Have Jordan and Jasper been briefed?
She sashays back into the room, her sons following. They remain standing while she sits back down in her armchair. ‘Mrs Ashford would like to know what you can tell us about Margo. Do you know how she came to be in our summerhouse last weekend?’
The boys both study the floor.
‘Margo had to spend the night in hospital,’ I add. ‘She was tested for drugs.’ I keep my eyes on Yvonne, but she doesn’t flinch, which seems to confirm my suspicions.
‘Jordan? Jasper?’ Yvonne’s tone is harsher than before.
‘We offered to lend her a bike to cycle to Holtleigh,’ one of them says. I have no idea which one.
‘She was thirsty. We gave her a can of soda.’
‘Did you spike her drink?’ I ask.
‘What?’
‘Spike?’
‘Did you put anything in her drink?’ I demand. ‘Specifically, Rohypnol? The date-rape drug?’
‘Now, hang on a second,’ Yvonne says. ‘I don’t know what you’re implying, but—’
‘I want to know if your boys spiked Margo’s drink. It’s a simple question, Yvonne.’
‘Did she have any trace of drugs in her system?’ Yvonne asks.
‘Well, no, but it doesn’t mean—’
‘In that case, perhaps you should leave.’ Her voice is as cold as her gaze. Yvonne gets to her feet, clearly expecting me to follow suit. I remain seated.
‘I want to know if your boys spiked my daughter’s drink.’
‘Jordan, Jasper, did you put anything – anything at all – in Margo’s drink?’
‘No,’ they reply in unison.
