Fragile

by Sarah Hilary

  ‘They did.’ Mrs Mistry looked at me, very clearly. ‘Both of them.’

  My heart hurt in my chest. ‘He isn’t . . . He’s kind to me.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s true.’ She paused. ‘You’ve been there a very short time.’

  We walked on a way, watching the girls dart and skip ahead of us, peeling apart then coming back together like two pieces of the same person.

  ‘Is that why you left, because of the keys?’

  ‘That was the end of it, yes. I needed the money or I’d have gone sooner.’

  ‘Did you sleep in the bedroom at the top of the house?’

  ‘Sometimes, when they needed me to work late. But I tried to get home to my girls whenever I could. He preferred someone to live in.’ This time she didn’t look at me. ‘Now he has you and that suits him very well, I’m sure.’

  ‘I like him.’ My voice was small, shaped by protest. ‘Not her, but him. I – trusted him.’

  She didn’t remark on my switch from present to past tense, just nodded to where her girls were walking, slowly now, their heads together. ‘Do you know the work he does? Have you seen it?’

  ‘His work?’ I could only think of the poetry, the sacred temple deer.

  ‘He’s a magistrate, making the rules.’ Her eyes tracked her girls. ‘All the worst things. The things that trap us, you and me. His work.’

  I didn’t understand her. I thought of his library, the stillness of his books. Then I remembered the boxes, pushed to the edges of the room. Carolyn had said I should search the boxes.

  ‘My sister’s children,’ Mrs Mistry murmured. ‘They were taken. It’s terrible.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘A man like him decided they were at risk. So they took them from my sister and put them with strangers. Foster parents. The littlest hasn’t spoken a word in months.’ Her face twisted painfully. ‘But they know best, these men. These magistrates. They make decisions and the rest of us have to live with it, with the misery and the harm.’

  Sparrows darted down onto the path before flitting back into the branches. I tried to process what she was saying. Misery and harm, I understood that much. Dr R. Wilder JP.

  We’d reached the end of the park. I wanted to stay with her, to ask a hundred questions about the Wilders and the house, her sister’s children. But she was hurrying again, chivvying the girls along to school. ‘Thank you for the keys. You should go.’

  ‘Yes, it’s time for his breakfast.’

  She shook her head, her body already turned away from me. ‘You should go from the house. Leave, before they hurt you. Before he does.’

  No doubt I should have followed her advice, but then who would answer for what was done to Carolyn? I watched her walk away before I turned towards the house. It was time to end this.

  37

  In Starling Villas, the stink of cigarettes announced her arrival. Meagan Flack, come for her fair share. She was in the library; I heard the rise and fall of her voice through the walls. I was surprised Robin had let her in the house, but that was my fault for not being here to answer the door. Without stopping to remove my coat, I crossed the hall to the library, pushing wide the door.

  Robin stood by the window in shirtsleeves and flannels, his expression as severely formal as I’d ever seen it. Meagan sat in his chair on the other side of his desk, wearing her old coat and a blue woollen beanie pulled down over her hair. She swivelled as I entered the room, a Poundland Bond villain without even a cat to warm her vicious lap. ‘Here she is, my little Nellie.’

  Seeing me, Robin’s face grew stark with relief. He didn’t speak but his eyes met mine with more emotion than I’d have thought possible.

  ‘What’re you doing here?’ I asked Meagan. ‘Joe’s left, I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘So I’ve been hearing.’ She stayed in the chair. Her skin was grey, hair flattened around her face by the beanie. ‘I was just talking with Dr Wilder about how I’m going to manage back in Bala.’

  ‘You don’t live in Bala.’ I made my tone conversational, determined to stay calm. I wasn’t afraid of her, but Robin was worrying me. How much did Meagan know of what had happened here last night? Joe was gone, that alone was enough to sound alarms in her grizzled head.

  ‘You know what I mean, love. You know how hard it is back home, it’s why you ran off. You and Joe both.’

  ‘And now he’s run off again.’ I was amazed at my own composure. ‘There’s nothing here for you, so you may as well go back.’

  ‘After yesterday?’ She gave a laugh that was mostly a cough, raspy. ‘I don’t think so.’

  The entitled way she sat in the chair, with her elbows on its arms, made me glance across at Robin. He scratched at his eyebrow with his thumb, a silent plea for me to clean up this mess. I was the housekeeper and I’d brought her here, it was my job to get rid of her.

  ‘Joe’s gone. There’s nothing for you.’

  ‘And she’s gone.’ Meagan’s smile soured. ‘Which suits the pair of you very nicely.’

  ‘Carolyn’s not gone.’ I fixed a matching smile to my face. ‘I saw her last night, in fact.’

  Robin was a statue, his face carved with silence. He didn’t recognize this version of me. But Meagan did. She pushed upright, keeping hold of the chair. She stank of more than cigarettes, an astringent smell that took me back to Lyle’s – disinfectant in the bath, plasters on scraped knees, antiseptic wipes. The scar at my temple throbbed.

  ‘I could go to the police. He knows it.’ Jerking her eyes at Robin. ‘Even if you don’t. I wanted to give him the chance to avoid that trouble but since he doesn’t seem to appreciate it, I’ll take myself off to the station.’

  ‘The train station.’ I nodded. ‘Good idea. Because I am not sure what you think happened here, but I would like to see you gone.’

  ‘The police station.’ She’d turned her back on Robin, concentrating all her attention on me. ‘Maybe I’ll make a couple of statements, while I’m at it.’

  ‘You should. Two years you’ve been subverting the course of justice, withholding evidence, interfering with an investigation. It’s time you came clean.’

  ‘It’s because of you that kiddie’s dead.’ She clenched her fists. ‘You and Joe Peach.’

  ‘No, it’s not. You were the adult in charge. You handed me the blame, needing me to be guilty in order to protect yourself. You’ve had the luxury of that protection for two years. But it’s over.’

  She gave an ugly laugh, not believing me.

  ‘I was a child.’ I looked her in the eye. The next words out of my mouth surprised me because I meant them: ‘I forgive myself.’

  ‘You? You’ll never forgive yourself.’

  ‘Watch me.’ Robin was watching but I was hardly aware of him, only of her. ‘You like to think you’ve no weaknesses, but what about Joe? You’d do anything for him. That’s how I know you’re bluffing. You won’t involve the police, not where Joe’s concerned.’

  She wet her lips, eyes slitted on my face. Joe had said, She hates you so much, but he didn’t understand the depth of her loathing. Only I understood, because I felt the same way about her.

  ‘Joe isn’t even your real weakness,’ I went on. ‘That’s believing no one can change, that there’s no way back once we’ve seen the worst of ourselves.’ I was addressing Robin now, and myself. ‘You’re wrong. We can change. It’s not too late.’

  ‘Too late for Rosie.’

  ‘You covered it up. After I told you what I knew about what’d happened, you covered it up. And now you’re attempting blackmail.’ I tilted my head at her. ‘The police are going to love you.’

  Moments passed with Robin like a woodcut against the window and Meagan immobile. Then she laughed and let go of the chair, grinning as she came across the room towards me.

  There was a second when she was so close I thought she’d hit me, or pull a knife and bury it in my neck, but instead she fixed me with her bloodshot stare.

&n
bsp; ‘There she is, my Nell with a K. Death Knell.’ She bared her teeth. ‘I’ll leave you two lovebirds together but I’ll tell you this, lady. You can do better. Oh, you can do so much better.’

  ‘Goodbye, Meagan. Good luck.’

  I followed her from the room, crossing the hall at her heels, holding the front door as she passed through it into the street. No parting shots, just the sight of her limping up the road, away.

  In the library, Robin was sitting on the edge of his desk, both hands in his hair.

  ‘Thank God,’ he said. ‘Thank you. That was – nearly a scene.’

  ‘It still might be.’ I removed my coat, placing it in the empty chair. ‘There’s a chance she’ll go to the police. Without Joe, she’ll be desperate. She loves him, you know.’

  ‘Funny sort of love!’ Robin gave a short laugh, breathless.

  ‘Like ours.’ He looked up at me quickly. I met his stare, unflinching. ‘I’m here, aren’t I? When I should have been the one to go to the police last night. When I saw what you’d done, you and Joe.’

  Which of you, I wanted to ask, which one of you killed her?

  ‘That was an accident,’ Robin said shortly. He moved to sit behind his desk, twitching my coat from his chair, straightening its papers. ‘In any case, as you saw for yourself, she’s fine.’

  ‘I saw . . . a ghost.’ I couldn’t believe he was making light of it. ‘I was in shock, I expect.’

  Carolyn, I meant. I’d seen Carolyn’s ghost.

  ‘What?’ He stared at me, puzzlement and exasperation battling for control of his face. ‘You just sent her packing! You were magnificent.’

  ‘Meagan?’ It was my turn to be puzzled. ‘She was bluffing, but if she knows what happened last night . . .’

  ‘Of course Meagan knows. She was right here!’

  We stared at one another across his neat stacks of papers and books.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said finally. ‘Meagan was here? Yesterday?’

  ‘You know she was. I thought you knew.’ He stood and came around the desk, reaching for my hands, stopping when I shook my head at him. ‘I tried to explain this last night. She came in here, raving. Joe had told her he wasn’t going back with her, and she was furious. Just as you said. She wanted money, or Joe. Both, probably. She was – insanely angry.’

  He pushed the knuckles of one hand at the wood of the desk. ‘We tried to calm her down but she kept grabbing at Joe, insisting he was to come with her. Then Carolyn intervened.’ He drew a short breath. ‘And Meagan turned on her. It was an accident, I imagine; she can’t have meant to hurt her, not badly anyway. But she lashed out and Carolyn fell and hit her head then Joe threw a punch at Meagan with a similar result. It was like a scene from a bad film.’ He frowned with distaste. ‘I’d have called an ambulance but by the time I got back upstairs with that wet cloth, Carolyn was conscious and agreeing to go with Joe, anywhere away from that madwoman. Meagan was gone too, back to the hotel. I offered to pay for a cab but Joe wouldn’t let me.’

  ‘Meagan.’ My tongue was thick in my head. ‘This was all Meagan.’

  ‘Yes. Nell, what did you think had happened? You’ve been odd since last night . . .’

  ‘I saw the two of you, in the dining room. With Carolyn . . .’ I began to shake. ‘You and Joe, kneeling next to her. And there was blood, on the floor. You cleaned it up, but I saw it.’ I looked up at him. ‘Meagan was hurt, too?’

  His face cleared. ‘You saw her just now, with that hat covering the head wound. It was shallow but it bled a lot. The scalp does, of course.’ He reached for me again.

  I held him off. ‘You said Joe took Carolyn, that she was gone.’

  ‘They weren’t going to stay here after that. I gather Joe had been trying to talk her into going away with him. Meagan just speeded things along. God knows if it’ll last, Joe and Carolyn, but I have to hope it might. If Carolyn could just – stop, stand still and make a choice . . . Anyway, that’s why Meagan came back just now, looking for Joe. When I told her he was gone, she threatened to tell the police about her head injury. Really it was Carolyn she was furious with, and I pointed out she’d caused as much damage to Carolyn. I didn’t think the police would have much trouble believing how it unfolded.’ He searched my face. ‘What did you think had happened, exactly?’

  ‘I thought she was dead.’

  ‘Carolyn?’ His face creased in confusion. ‘But you told Meagan you saw her last night.’

  ‘I saw something. I thought it was a ghost.’ Carolyn taking a last look at Starling Villas before leaving in the taxi heading east. ‘I was lying just now, to make Meagan leave. I wanted her gone and I was afraid Joe had told her what happened, how the pair of you—’ I stopped, flooded with remorse and relief. No one was dead. What a fool I’d been. If only I’d taken the time to look – but all I could see was Joe, Joe kneeling at the side of the lake, and Rosie. A psychotic break, that’s what a psychiatrist would call it. Guilt and fear, fighting it out in my gut.

  ‘My God, Nell.’ Robin leaned into the desk, his face blank with shock. ‘You really thought we killed her? Carolyn?’ He tried to laugh but it died in his throat. ‘You think I’m capable of that? Murdering my wife, disposing of her corpse and eating an omelette with you afterwards?’

  My chest clenched in protest. ‘No . . .’

  ‘Yes. It explains why you were so changed, so terrified.’ He stared at me. ‘Oh God, my God. What did we do? What did we ever do, to make you think that?’

  ‘I didn’t want to think it, not of you. But I know Joe, and I was scared.’

  ‘You stayed.’ He straightened, moving his head as if to get a better perspective on me. ‘You actually stayed in the house, thinking I’d done that. And you defended me against that bloody woman and her blackmail. Thinking all the while that I’d done it, imagining me a murderer.’

  ‘I didn’t know! I didn’t know what to think.’

  But he nodded, his stare fixing on me as Meagan’s had. ‘You thought I killed my wife and disposed of her body. And you stayed in the house, thinking it.’

  As if I were the monster. I was the monster.

  ‘I don’t know enough about you. You’re so secretive, so alone—’

  ‘And that’s enough to make me a murderer? You’re right, though, I was alone, until you came. And I dared to hope, that if you got to know me . . .’ He stopped speaking.

  ‘You wanted me.’ Tears burnt the bridge of my nose. ‘The night Joe stayed. You didn’t mind him being here then. You liked him—’

  ‘I liked you.’ He lowered his voice, standing like a statue, unreachable. ‘I thought I’d made that clear enough.’

  ‘The sex, you mean. Why can’t you just say it? You liked having sex with me.’

  ‘It was more than that.’ He was so far away now, observing me as if I were a stranger, distancing himself from me. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t feel the same way.’

  ‘Don’t do that.’ Anger flared through me. ‘Don’t pretend you’re the better person because you can’t call it by its name. It’s just sex. You do it all the time, you and Carolyn. Parties, people. And why not? It’s your house, your privacy, you can do what you want. But don’t pretend you’re the better person or that you’re in love with me, because it’s not true. It’s not true.’

  He blinked slowly, his shoulders up. Making himself narrower, less of a target for my attack.

  ‘You hide money in the house like – like a test.’ I couldn’t bear the look on his face, the way he was relearning me. ‘You said you were ashamed of things you’d done with Carolyn. You said that. And she told me not to trust you. Even Mrs Mistry said you played games. Not just Carolyn. You.’

  ‘So you spoke with my former housekeeper.’ His voice chilled. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t decide I’d killed her too. That business with the keychain . . . You have a flair for melodrama.’

  ‘You should’ve told the truth! Not just stories about Japan, the scared deer, trying to give me gif
ts! You could have given me the truth.’

  ‘And let you make up a story about that, too? Thanks but as you say, I value my privacy.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me that. All the rules you want me to obey, that rota, everything tied down to the minute, to the second.’ When he didn’t challenge this, I stuffed the silence with worse words: ‘Meagan says she knows women like Carolyn. Broken women who’ve put themselves back together again—’

  ‘And you’ve decided I’m the one who broke her. Permanently.’ His stillness was full of splinters. ‘I see.’

  ‘I don’t know what to think, what’s the truth, because I don’t know you. You hide away in here with your books and your boxes, and you expect me to follow your rules. Everything’s a rule, it’s how you keep control. You’re obsessed with keeping control.’ I stopped at last, out of breath. My throat was raw, as if I’d scraped this final truth from it with a serrated spoon, everything I’d been keeping inside while I tiptoed around him, scared of making even the smallest mistake.

  He reached a hand for the desk, touching his index finger to its polished wood as if marking a full stop. ‘You think I’m the one in control, in this house?’ His words were soft, his mouth thinned and white. ‘That the rules here are for you, or for her?’ He gathered a breath. ‘The rules are for me. To stop me being that man – the one who did those things – ever again. Because you’re right. I behaved despicably towards Mrs Mistry, and countless other people besides. I was vile. I made this house vile. The parties, the people . . . Carolyn was only ever happy when we were off our heads, out of control, the pair of us worse than animals. And I let her take charge. I let myself—’ He shook with self-loathing.

  ‘Robin . . .’ I put out my hand.

  ‘No, let me finish.’ His eyes swam darkly. ‘You wanted to know what went on in this house before you came. It was a pit. We let anyone in. Strangers, people we’d paid for, friends I can’t now look in the face, after the way I behaved. Ashamed doesn’t come close.’ His face hollowed, his shoulders so stiff it hurt me to look at him. ‘I was arrogant, vicious, corrupt. You have no idea.’