The Last Daughter

by Nicola Cornick

Quickly, I told him everything I had seen and heard earlier. ‘It makes no sense,’ I said. ‘Mother was glad to hear the news of the King’s advance. I know she was. I saw her face. It was as though—’

  ‘As though that was what she had wanted all along,’ Francis finished for me. A light leaped in his eyes. ‘Of course. They planned this. They planned to draw Edward out of London. They want the King in the North.’

  ‘Are you mad?’ I gaped at him. ‘How will that serve?’

  ‘It leaves the South open for the Earl of Warwick to take,’ Francis said. ‘It’s a trap.’

  ‘The second messenger,’ I said, grabbing his arm in my excitement as I saw where this led. ‘The one I saw riding for the coast…’

  ‘Yes,’ Francis said grimly. ‘Four days at sea would take a messenger to Calais, where your uncle waits for word to invade. Whilst Edward is so far north, Warwick will take London.’

  We were silent. It was odd that until now I had not truly grasped the scale of the whole plan. I suppose I was too young to see beyond my own immediate concerns, the danger to my father and the confusion into which the rebellion had thrown my world. Now I realised that this was huge, a power play with no lesser aim than replacing King Edward with the old Lancastrian King Henry. It was my first real insight into the vast, complicated game of chance in which my birthright gave me a small role.

  ‘What can we do?’ I asked Francis, and I was not even sure what I meant, only that I felt completely lost.

  ‘Nothing,’ Francis said, ‘it is too late,’ and we stood there, hands clasped, as adrift as two children could be in an adult world.

  Chapter 7

  Serena

  Minster Lovell, Present Day

  Serena was deep in thought as she made her way back across the courtyard to the information centre and shop. Had she really seen Caitlin’s ghost or was it her imagination, stirred up because the manor was where she had last seen her sister? Was her mind desperately trying to prompt her to remember what had happened? And what was the connection to Jack Lovell, and the persistent feeling he had some significance to the memory as well? Jack, like many of her other friends, had been around that summer. Had she forgotten something important to do with Jack along with the other events that had been swept away by trauma…?

  ‘Serena!’ A voice penetrated her preoccupation and she realised that someone was blocking her path; a woman who was short, slender except for a baby bump, her striking red-gold hair pulled back under a scarf. She had her hands on her hips and gave every indication of refusing to move.

  ‘I called and called,’ she said accusingly, ‘and you completely blanked me!’ Her face broke into a huge smile. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Lizzie!’ Serena dropped her bag on the cobbles and enfolded her friend in a huge hug. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she excused. ‘I was in another world.’

  Lizzie Kingdom had been another friend from her teenage years. They’d met at a church nativity locally when they had been little more than toddlers. Serena and Caitlin had been staying with their grandparents for Christmas whilst Lizzie’s family had lived in the next village. Serena had been one half of the donkey in the nativity play, Caitlin had been the innkeeper, but Lizzie had been an angel; she had sung like one but with her scowling expression had looked rather more like a small devil. Serena smiled now at the memory.

  Their respective parents had thrown them together in school holidays in the hope that they might entertain each other and Serena and Lizzie had developed a sort of wary friendship. It had not been easy to get close to Lizzie who was prickly and sometimes unfriendly, especially after the death of her mother, but Serena had kept in touch with her through the years and to her slight surprise the friendship had developed into the sort of comfortable connection where they could pick up where they had left off, no matter how much time had elapsed. Even when Lizzie became a celebrity – and then crashed out of the limelight equally spectacularly – they hadn’t lost touch. Lizzie was the only friend that Serena had talked to after Caitlin had disappeared. Perhaps because Lizzie had suffered her own traumas it had been easier to talk about it with her. She’d even texted Lizzie when she had got back to England the previous week; Lizzie was the only person she’d told about the discovery of Caitlin’s body.

  ‘You didn’t say that you were coming back to Minster Lovell,’ Lizzie said, brushing soil from her gardening gloves and dusting down Serena’s jacket. ‘Oops, sorry – I’ve made you all dirty.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Serena said. ‘You look amazing,’ she added. ‘Really well. Pop star turned gardener obviously suits you. You said the horticulture course was going well but I didn’t realise you were working here.’

  ‘I do some shifts as part of my placement,’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s nice helping out here, very mindful and relaxing. And with Arthur and the baby as well…’ Her voice softened, her eyes sparkling with an emotion that made Serena feel a pang of something close to envy. ‘Well, sometimes I can’t quite believe how lucky I am.’ Her expression changed comically to horror. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘That was so crass of me! Here you are because your sister’s body has been found and I’m going on about how wonderful my life is. Oh God—’

  ‘Lizzie,’ Serena repressed a smile, ‘forget it. I’m so happy to see you and very glad everything is going so well.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Lizzie’s eyes misted over and she squeezed Serena’s hand again. ‘Look, have you time for a proper chat?’ She glanced around the empty courtyard. ‘It’s quiet now. The season hasn’t got going yet. No one will miss me from the kitchen gardens for a little while and I can make up the time later.’

  ‘If you’re sure that’s all right,’ Serena said. ‘I wouldn’t want to be responsible for you getting the sack.’

  ‘I don’t think they’d do that,’ Lizzie said with a wicked little smile. ‘There are still a few perks about being an ex-celebrity.’ She held open the door of the information centre for Serena and led the way through the small shop to a neat and bright café area. She eased her bump behind a table and settled on one of the cushioned wooden benches with a heartfelt sigh. ‘It’s nice to rest for a bit. I’m in a tired phase.’

  ‘I’ll get the drinks,’ Serena said. ‘What would you like?’

  ‘Tea and a scone, please,’ Lizzie said. ‘Thanks so much.’

  Serena went over to the counter where a lanky youth in a striped blue-and-white apron was setting an ancient tea urn hissing as it came to the boil.

  ‘Two teas and two scones, please,’ Serena said.

  ‘Morning, Stuart,’ Lizzie called across from the window. ‘This is Serena, an old friend of mine. She used to live here.’

  ‘For real?’ Stuart gave Serena a thoughtful look from beneath a thick-cut dark fringe. ‘I can’t imagine anyone actually living in the manor.’

  ‘It was my grandparents’ house,’ Serena said. ‘My sister and I spent our holidays here when we were children. It was very different,’ she added. ‘There was a fitted kitchen and a 1970s avocado bathroom suite in those days.’

  ‘Cool,’ Stuart said. ‘I like retro. They should have left it when they did the renovations. The Seventies is history now, isn’t it?’ He put a silver teapot under the urn spout and turned the handle. The machine hissed again. ‘I’ll bring it over in a minute,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks,’ Serena said, handing over the cash and eyeing the scones with pleasure. It wasn’t that long since her full English breakfast at the pub but she was feeling unexpectedly hungry. A lot seemed to have happened in a short space of time.

  ‘I was very sorry to hear about Caitlin,’ Lizzie said as Serena sat down opposite her. ‘I imagine it was horrible not to know what had happened for such a long time but equally horrible to have her death confirmed.’

  ‘It’s closure in a way,’ Serena said, ‘but I don’t think I’ve processed it yet. Once I’ve seen the police later today and we’ve got all the details it might be easier to come to terms with it. We’ve been waiting so long to
know what happened.’ She paused. ‘My parents are in pieces. It’s horrible for them.’

  ‘It can’t exactly be easy for you either,’ Lizzie said dryly. ‘Tell me to butt out if you like, but why did you come here? To Minster Lovell, I mean? Doesn’t it make you feel worse?’

  Stuart clattered up with a tray laden with a big blue china teapot, mismatched floral china mugs, a milk jug, two plates, scones and butter.

  ‘Oh wow!’ Serena said. ‘I recognise some of this stuff from my grandparents’ kitchen!’

  ‘We got a job lot when the house was sold,’ Stuart said. ‘I like the fact they don’t match but they all look good together.’

  Serena picked up one of the teaspoons. They were collectors’ items she remembered from a wooden board that had hung on the wall in the manor kitchen. There had been about thirty of them, all silver-plated with enamel coats of arms on the handles. This one was from Blackpool with a picture of the unmistakable tower painted on it. The other had the name ‘Shrewsbury’ on it and featured a blue background with three snarling leopards’ heads.

  She waited until Stuart had decanted everything and headed back to the counter before she replied to Lizzie’s question. She didn’t mind talking to Lizzie – in fact, it helped to have someone to confide in – but she felt sensitive about the whole of the village knowing her business. Then she remembered Jack and Zoe and the fact that Caitlin’s body had apparently been found nearby. Probably the village was already six steps ahead of her in knowing what was going on.

  ‘I came back because I hoped it would help me to remember what happened that day,’ she said. She rubbed her forehead. ‘A part of my life’s missing, Lizzie – a really important part. I want it back. Plus, I feel I owe it to Caitlin, you know? I want to do my best for her.’

  Lizzie nodded. ‘I do understand,’ she said. ‘The two of you were always so close. Plus, Caitlin was special. She was…’ She paused.

  ‘A bright, shining light?’ Serena said, with only a hint of an edge to the words.

  Lizzie laughed. ‘People always say that when a teenage girl dies, don’t they? Their death rewrites the narrative of their life. The difficult stuff, the bad stuff, gets written out.’

  ‘Unless it’s so bad it can’t be ignored,’ Serena said. ‘In Caitlin’s case, though, it was all true. She really was lovely.’ She wondered whether Lizzie could hear the unspoken thought beneath her words, the sense of trying to live up to a younger twin who was prettier, sweeter-natured, simply more appealing in some indefinable way than Serena felt that she was. It had been so complicated for her, feeling protective and jealous of her sister at the same time.

  Lizzie looked at her. ‘To be brutally honest, people like Caitlin can be a bit bland,’ she said. ‘There wasn’t much to her. I mean she was good at the games we played and she was popular, but she didn’t seem to have any plans or ambitions.’ Lizzie shrugged. ‘She was just fun and frivolous and sweet… I sometimes wondered whether she had a dark side that none of us ever knew about, because no one could be so cute.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Serena said doubtfully. ‘But you’re right, of course – Caitlin wasn’t perfect. We did quarrel sometimes, and I always felt terrible about it, as though I was being cruel to a kitten.’

  Lizzie laughed, which made Serena feel obscurely better. ‘Even kittens have claws,’ she said, ‘and not even Caitlin was a saint.’ She reached for pot, pouring for them both, splashing milk and tea haphazardly into the blue mugs. ‘I mean it, you know,’ she said. ‘I do wonder whether Caitlin was going through a bit of a rebellious phase that summer. Don’t forget that she was always slipping off to drink in the pub and shag that hot bartender, Leo.’

  ‘I remember,’ Serena said. Something touched her mind like a shadow, a doubt that perhaps she hadn’t known her twin as well as she thought she had. ‘What happened to him?’ she added. ‘Leo, I mean.’

  ‘I think he moved away,’ Lizzie said vaguely. ‘We all did in our own ways, didn’t we? No one wanted to stay – after.’

  ‘I really envied Caitlin bagging someone like Leo,’ Serena said. ‘He was older than us and he was gorgeous. It was all very hot and heavy between them. Caitlin was precocious in that way, whereas I was still in the teenage crush phase of emotional development. I was so jealous of her. She was always prettier and more fun…’ She sighed. ‘Oh, you know what I mean.’

  ‘People are always drawn to the obvious,’ Lizzie said. ‘You’re just as attractive, just more subtle. I guess at that age we were all growing up at different rates and you were still living through your books and your imagination rather than in real life.’ She gave Serena a wicked smile. ‘And Jack Lovell was well worth crushing on even if he was a bit gawky in those days.’

  Serena was annoyed to feel herself blushing. ‘Well, he’s got an entire TV audience swooning now so he’s doing fine.’

  Lizzie smiled and picked up her mug. ‘Do you think that being here has stirred any memories for you yet?’ she asked.

  Serena grimaced. ‘It’s stirred something, though I’m not sure whether it’s just my imagination. I thought I saw Caitlin just now. I was on the stairs and I was sure I saw her running out of the garden door.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t, obviously. It must have been my mind playing tricks because I was so immersed in the past but it’s the sort of thing that might help me remember.’

  Lizzie gave a little shiver. ‘Spooky,’ she said. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea? You never know what this might trigger in your mind.’

  ‘That’s what my Aunt Polly says,’ Serena said, ‘but it’s better than not knowing.’ She spread butter lavishly on her scone and topped it with jam, then cream. ‘Mmm.’ She took a bite. ‘Heaven.’

  ‘Stuart’s very good at baking,’ Lizzie said. ‘You should try his chocolate cake.’ She tilted her head and looked at Serena thoughtfully. ‘What do you remember from the night Caitlin vanished? Is there anything at all?’

  Serena frowned into her mug. She had gone over this so many times, with the police, the therapists and in her own mind. The answer was nothing. She remembered nothing at all of the evening of 25 July 2010.

  She did remember something of the day that had preceded it. Her parents had been abroad and she and Caitlin had been staying with their grandfather for a week. The school holidays had only just started. That afternoon she and Caitlin had been swimming in the river. Afterwards, Caitlin, in her tiny little striped bikini, had stretched out languidly in the dappled shade under the birch trees, as though she was in California rather than Oxfordshire. They had drunk ice-cold lemonade and chatted in a desultory fashion whilst the air hummed with the sound of bees and the river rippled past. Later on, Caitlin’s boyfriend Leo had dropped by for a while – he and Caitlin had hooked up the previous holiday – and Serena, feeling like a spare part, had wandered off and left them together. She’d been miserable and listless – she could still remember the feeling now – because Caitlin’s glowing prettiness had made her feel clumsy and ugly. Caitlin had always been the more outgoing one, the twin the boys fancied. They had not been identical and Caitlin’s hair was blonder than Serena’s, her eyes were green unlike Serena’s hazel colour, and even her bone structure seemed more delicate than her twin’s.

  Serena had heard her grandmother talking about it when she had been about six years old.

  ‘Serena’s so sturdy,’ Pamela Warren had said, and it had not sounded as though this was a good thing. ‘Everything about Caitlin is finer.’

  Finer. Leo had obviously thought so too. He’d been all over Caitlin, literally, and Serena had smarted to be so obviously unattractive in comparison. She felt sad to remember now how cross and jealous she had been. If only she had known that soon Caitlin would no longer be there to be envied; if only she had realised how unimportant teenage sibling rivalry was compared to the void of losing her sister.

  After she’d left Caitlin and Leo together, she had walked across the field to the old dovecote just to b
e on her own, but the ground had been hard and dry and she’d only been wearing flip-flops, which was how she had managed to trip and twist her ankle. She’d limped back towards the house feeling hot and out of sorts, and then… That was where the memories faded into a sort of mist that was completely opaque. It filled all the corners of her mind and she could not penetrate it. Except that now, as she visualised walking through the ruins of the Old Hall, she thought she had met someone… the memory flickered and she felt a small flare of warmth inside, as though the meeting had been a good one.

  She frowned. It was the first time she had remembered that someone else had been there that afternoon.

  ‘What is it?’ Lizzie had seen the change in her expression.

  ‘Nothing, really,’ Serena said slowly. ‘Just a few more memories of the day Caitlin disappeared. I’d forgotten some little details.’ She paused, chasing the image, trying to give it form and substance, but the mist was back, unrevealing, supremely frustrating. She shook her head as though the physical movement might dislodge the memory somehow but the blankness just pressed closer. ‘It’s hard to separate out imagination from memory after all this time,’ she said with a sigh.

  ‘It’s a start,’ Lizzie said encouragingly, seeing her disappointment. ‘It does look as though being here is helping you.’

  Serena nodded. ‘I think it is.’ She thought again of the sense of recognition she had felt when she saw Jack Lovell, the idea that he, in some way, held a clue to the past. ‘You mentioned Jack Lovell just now,’ she said. ‘Did you know he was here in Minster Lovell at the moment?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Lizzie said, draining her mug. ‘He’s staying with his grandmother for a few days. Jack and I are practically related,’ she added. ‘His grandmother Avery is my next-door neighbour and godmother. We’re all very cliquey around here. Everyone knows everyone else.’ She set her mug down. ‘He’s a good guy, Jack. I know he comes across all hard-nosed and analytical on the television but he’s on the side of the angels.’