I am alone. The nurse has gone to summon Vanessa. My hand rests upon the suitcase which the nurse fetched from the wardrobe and placed beside me on the bed. On top sits a letter. I wrote it before the chemotherapy burned away my nerve endings and prevented me from feeling my fingertips. I am pleased with its contents, confident that my words will convey my true feelings. It would be impossible to explain everything to Vanessa out loud. I am far too weak and have not the energy for speaking or interruptions and this way, I can sit in the stalls and watch the performance where tonight, my stepdaughter, the little demon of Tenley, has a starring role.
My breath is shallow and for a moment I feel the swell of panic, not at the notion of death but of missing out on playing my final part, just a small cameo really but one I shall enjoy, as will my guests who as expected have arrived for the show. I move my head slowly and see them so clearly. There he is, my husband, waiting patiently. But it is not him I seek so I cast my eyes along the row, past Daphne and the Crone until Sandy steps forward holding the baby who is thankfully asleep. I do not want interruptions during my swan song. Our eyes meet briefly but our clairvoyant communication is interrupted by the sound of the door handle turning slowly and footsteps, heavy on the wooden floor before they are absorbed into the wool of the rug.
Here she is, my bête noire, rushing around the bed to take a seat by my side, her eyes awash with tears which she dabs with her handkerchief. It is clear the doctor has told her the news and she is here to say goodbye. For some reason, I have the urge to laugh as the strangest idea has just popped into this drug-drenched brain. It is one of Vanessa having me preserved in a glass case, the haggard Sleeping Beauty, or maybe stuffed like one of Kenneth’s wild beasts that hang in his study. He would find that amusing, as do I. How odd, to conjure mirth from such a dire situation so I force myself into civility and focus on my final task. Coughing slightly, I clear my throat and taking a very shallow breath, step out from the wings and onto the stage.
“Vanessa… there is something I need to give you before I go. Here, take this letter and read it.”
“Please, Mummy. Don’t say that… you’re going to be fine, just rest. That’s all you need.”
“No, Vanessa, it’s time so please, do… as… I… ask.”
It exhausts me to speak and I so wish she would hurry as the light is fading, the edges of the room swirl and I feel as though I am looking down a tunnel and all I can see is Vanessa who is thankfully opening the letter. She is starting to read. Good. I know every word that is written and while I watch her eyes move upon each of them, I recite the message in my head.
Vanessa,
Before you read on, I want you to know that despite what is to follow, that in the beginning I did love you, I truly did, unconditionally and with all of my heart. I never judged or attempted to change you and tried so hard to shield you from the pain of the past.
I did my best to be a good mother and your friend. But I was ignorant of the truth, with not the slightest inclination of the monster within or that you were capable of such wicked acts. This knowledge not only broke my heart but killed any love I ever felt for you. I was left with nothing more than the desire to seek revenge. You see, Vanessa, you took away the one thing I treasured most in this world, you murdered my husband. When you snuffed out his life, you did the same to my soul because even if Kenneth had left me, I would have had him in my life, he would have still been my friend, my one true love.
I knew all about his nature, of course I did, and had he wanted to be free I would have let him go. It was a promise we made to each other at the beginning. So while you thought you were saving me, us, all you did was exterminate our relationship, you severed our bond. In that swift act of revenge, you lost both father and mother because I never forgave you and never will.
To this end I have spent the last years of my life trapped in a lie, one in which every moment with you has been torment. I vowed to avenge Kenneth’s death and take from you everything you held dear, your money and home – even your happy memories.
This illness which eats me alive has been my ally and will release me from the hell of life on earth with you.
A letter resides with my solicitor which documents your confession and heinous acts and will be given to the police on my death. It will be my word against yours but I hope it is enough to cast suspicion. Maybe they will presume they are the ramblings of a bitter old woman and you will remain free. Or maybe they will see you for what you are, a deranged, cruel murderer.
I have told them everything because the exposure of your father’s nature and our marital arrangement is of little consequence to me anymore, I preserved it whilst I lived but the only thing I care about now is serving you a very cold portion of revenge.
Do you remember I used to tell you it was the best way? Well, Vanessa, I have had this on ice for a while and it is my parting gift to you.
Inside the suitcase lies the truth, of who you are and what you have done, the demon you have become. It’s all there in black and white, everything you need to confirm that your father was a perverted rapist who defiled his stepdaughter. The rest of the tale is quite tragic.
From somewhere deep within, this poor young woman, whose mother sent her away, who never sought to comfort or seek her out, to apologise or make things right, found the strength to search for her baby girl. She never stopped loving her, she never gave in.
But do you know what the saddest part is, Vanessa? That after everything she suffered and even after finding her little girl, watching on as another woman took all the glory and love, in the end, she was let down, betrayed once again by the person she cherished most in the world.
Have you worked it out yet, Vanessa, have you realised who sat on your bed and whispered in your ear?
It was Sandy.
Dear sweet Sandy was your mother and you killed her. You pushed her into the cold water, held her down and watched her drown .For this and so many other things, I hope you are punished, in this world or the next but until then, I want your soul to torment your mind, day and night, every second of every day. It is all that you deserve.
Open the case and cast your eyes on the truth, the proof you need, your shame.
It is my parting gift to you.
There is nothing more to say, I have served my revenge and now I can go.
Goodbye, Vanessa,
Georgie.
Her hands are shaking. In between reading the words, she glances up at me, those beady eyes of coal, Satan’s fuel, boring right inside my head. I do not fear her anymore and even if she pounces and as I have feared for so long, covers my face with the pillow, I will not fight it.
She has reached the end and flings my letter to the floor then stands and grabs the case, grappling with the zip. I feel the lid hit my hip as it is flung open. I watch intently although I can barely focus. I am drifting into sleep or death but I cling on. She is opening the album and turning the page.
There is silence, just for a second, and then she screams, pulling at her hair and now she is dragging out the contents of the large brown envelope. The screaming intensifies as the truth, the provenance of Sandy’s life drops to the floor, like scattered pages of retribution.
I close my eyes. Now I can rest. It is done.
Epilogue
I open my eyes slowly as if from the deepest dream and for the first time in an age, I feel happy. The weight that rested in my heart for so long has gone. I am lying on the top of my bed, I must have had a nap, and as I take in the room I see it is bathed in a warm glow. The swirling patterns on the wallpaper, reds and golds, are bright and vibrant and mimic how I feel, alive.
Rising, I notice that my body and bones are no longer weary and stiff. I am light as a feather, almost gliding, gracefully towards the mirror where I gaze upon my image and smile. I look marvellous. My hair is set and my make-up is perfect even though I say so myself, and my darling heels match perfectly my gown, Dior if I’m not mistaken. In the midst of my self-appr
eciation, I am aware of being observed and turn slowly and there she is, dear Sandy holding the baby.
She smiles nervously and gestures that I should come and look, which I do. He is a darling little cherub, snug in his knitted blue layette, sleeping peacefully. Sandy holds out her arms, offering me my child and I see nervousness in her eyes, a trace of sadness and a hint of love. I place my hand on her arm to decline and in that moment she knows. He is a gift, mine to give, from one mother to another. He will be safe with Sandy. Of this I have no doubt.
I am distracted once again by a sound, a gentle humming and a bright white light that shines from within the dressing room. I follow the tune and push open the door, my giddy heart on fire as I search him out. There he is, trying to fasten his bow tie in the mirror but when he sees me he stops and turns. I walk over to him, and our eyes and lips smile as I fold the silk into place. Once he is smart I stand back and admire my handsome husband who holds out his hand.
It is a moment I have longed for, waiting an eternity to feel the warmth of his skin and see such love in his eyes. He places a gentle kiss on my cheek before offering his arm which I take.
Stepping forward into the light, I am aglow, my soul at peace and my heart has never known such happiness because tonight I am going dancing, with my one true love, my dear darling Kenneth.
The End
Acknowledgements
Thank you for reading The Secrets of Tenley House and I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I loved writing it. I would also like to thank a few more people who helped along the way to produce the book.
First is Alexina whose insightful suggestions were invaluable in the early stages as was her belief and encouragement. To Heather, Mandy, Susan and Angela who read early copies and patiently listened to my questions and gave great feedback. Thank you to Morgen for her superb editing skills plus the smiley faces and ticks in the margin. Thanks to Abbie for proofreading and the wonderful Bloodhound team Sumaira, Betsy, Fred and Tara who do their magic behind the scenes and support me every step of the way. A special mention has to go to my ARC group of readers who have been brilliant and given their time and support, you are truly wonderful. To all the loyal readers who buy my books, write reviews, get in touch and become friends, I appreciate each and every one of you.
Finally and as always I want to thank my family for being the best cheerleaders, who love, support and encourage me. You are my world.
A note from the publisher
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