by B. A. Paris
Lorna’s hand moves to her heart.
“You lost your sister and your parents? Your poor thing, how did you cope? To lose three loved ones—it doesn’t bear thinking about.”
“If it hadn’t been for my grandparents, I’m not sure I would have coped. They were so strong; they’d lost their only son, their only child—” I stop, halted by the look of desolation clouding her face. “I’m so sorry, Lorna, that was clumsy of me. I know you lost your son too.” Lorna doesn’t say anything; her fingers pluck at the material of her skirt and I hate that I’ve upset her. “It must have been so hard for you.”
“Yes, it was,” she says, her voice almost a whisper. “Any loss is terrible, however it happens.”
We sit in silence for a moment. I wonder if I should leave her in peace but I want to find out what I can. “I was wondering—would you be able to tell me about Nina? Maybe if I knew a little about her, if I could make her real to me, it would help.”
Lorna eyes dart, as if she’s looking for a way out. Then she nods and squares her shoulders in acceptance of my request.
“She was lovely,” she says. “So was Oliver. He was like a son to us, he would help us in the garden, cut the hedges, mow the lawn, that sort of thing. That’s why I still don’t understand what happened, why it all went so wrong between them. One minute they were the happiest couple in the world and the next—we heard them arguing one evening, it was awful. Oliver sounded so angry, which was strange, because I’d never seen him get cross about anything. But they say that, don’t they, that sometimes, when easy-going people explode—well, they really explode. Edward and I didn’t know if we should go over, or call the police. We were so worried for them.”
“And did you? Call the police?”
“No, because everything calmed down. Oliver was still angry but he wasn’t shouting.”
“Did you hear what they were arguing about?”
A frown comes over her face and I realize that, like with Tamsin, I’ve crossed some sort of invisible line.
“I’m sorry,” I say hastily. “I don’t mean to pry.”
Lorna’s internal struggle is visible on her face as she tries to work out how much she should tell me. Her shoulders sag.
“Edward said I shouldn’t talk about it, but nobody does and somehow, it makes everything worse.”
“I can understand that,” I say gently. “When my sister died, people stopped talking about her, they thought it would upset me. But it upset me more when nobody mentioned her at all, as if she’d never existed for them.”
“I’m not allowed to talk about our son, or have photos of him anywhere in the house.”
“That must be hard.”
“It is.” Tears fill her eyes but before I can say anything, she blinks them away. “But back to Nina and Oliver,” she says, giving me a wobbly smile. She pauses a moment to recall everything. “I went to see Nina the next day, the day after we’d heard them arguing. I waited until Oliver had gone to work. She was in a dreadful state, very tearful. She was mortified that Edward and I had heard them fighting. She said it was her fault, that she’d been having an affair and that Oliver had found out.”
“Did she say who she’d been having an affair with?” Appalled that I’ve been so brusque, I rush to apologize. But she takes my question at face value and carries on talking.
“No, but she said she was going to break it off with him. And then, that night, just hours later, Oliver—” She stops. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Maybe it wasn’t Oliver,” I suggest carefully. “Maybe it was the man Nina was involved with. You said she told you she was going to tell him it was over. I’m sorry, but why couldn’t he have been the one to have killed her?”
She fishes a tissue from her sleeve. “Because Oliver lied to the police and that proved his guilt,” she says, wiping her eyes. “I wish I’d known, I wish I’d known what he was going to tell them because—I know I shouldn’t say this—I would have lied—not lied exactly, but I would have told the police I hadn’t seen anything. But when they came to see us that evening, I had no idea that Nina had been murdered and they didn’t tell us. They wanted to know if we had seen or heard anything and I answered truthfully, that I saw Oliver come back just after nine o’clock and go into the house. I knew it was just after nine because we’d sat down to watch the news on the BBC news channel, like we always do at nine o’clock—they say old habits die hard, don’t they, and anyway the News at Ten is on too late for us now—and when we heard Oliver’s car, I got up and looked out of the window. I wouldn’t normally have done that, not in the winter when the curtains are already drawn, but we were anxious because of the argument we’d heard the night before. I waited a moment, hoping they wouldn’t start arguing again. But I didn’t hear anything so I went back to the news.” She stops a moment. “It must have been about half an hour later, because the news was ending, that we heard a lot of cars pull up and when I looked out, I saw it was the police. We thought that Oliver and Nina had been arguing again and that one of them, or maybe another neighbor, had called for help. To tell you the truth, we were relieved that the matter had been taken out of our hands because if we had heard them arguing again, like the previous night, I think that this time, we might have called the police—or at least gone round to try and calm things.” She twists the tissue in her hands. “The next thing we knew, the police were knocking on the door, asking their questions. We only found out the next morning that Nina had been murdered.”
“It must have been such a shock,” I say gently. But lost in the past, I’m not sure Lorna hears me.
“Oliver told the police that he hadn’t gone into the house, that he’d gone to sit in the square for a while. But it wasn’t true.”
“Could he have gone into the house and then gone straight back out again, to sit in the square?” I suggest.
Lorna shakes her head again. “If he had, he would have told the police. If I’d known he was going to say he’d gone to sit in the square, I wouldn’t have mentioned seeing him go into the house. But I didn’t know, I didn’t know he was going to lie. And why would he have gone to sit in the square at nine o’clock at night, when it was cold and dark?”
“Did you tell the police about the conversation you had with Nina, when she told you she’d had an affair with someone?”
“Yes, and they were very interested, because it gave Oliver a motive for killing Nina.”
“Didn’t they consider that maybe it was the man she was having an affair with who killed her?”
She looks sadly at me. “Why would they? It was Oliver who killed her.”
I nod. “I won’t take up any more of your time. Thank you for talking to me.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to stay?” she asks. “Now that you know about the murder?”
“I don’t know. My sister was called Nina and it’s hard to explain, but if I leave, it will be as if I’m abandoning her too. I know it’s not healthy but I haven’t let her go yet, not really.”
“That’s understandable.”
“After almost twenty years?”
“I think time has no meaning when it comes to grief.”
The gentleness in her voice brings sudden tears to my eyes and I nod, grateful that she understands.
“I’ll let you know what I decide,” I promise. “Everyone here has been so kind—Eve and Will have been amazing, and Maria and Tamsin are lovely too. And I still love Leo, despite everything.”
“Yes—well, it’s been lovely talking to you, thank you for coming by,” she says. She leans in to give me a kiss, and I hear the whisper of her voice in my ear.
Startled, I pull back. “Sorry?”
Again, Lorna’s hand flies to the pearls at her neck. “I was just saying goodbye.” She seems flustered. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have embraced you but after what you told me about your parents and sister—” Her voice trails off.
“No, no, it’s fine, I thought—”
Movin
g back, Lorna opens the door. “Goodbye, Alice.”
EIGHTEEN
Anxiety presses down as I close the front door behind me. Had Lorna really whispered Don’t trust anyone when she’d leaned into me, or had I imagined it?
I must have imagined it because why would she have felt the need to whisper when she was alone in the house? She had told me that Edward was out. I try and recall what I was saying before she whispered in my ear. I’d been talking about Will and Eve, and I think I mentioned Maria and Tamsin, and then Leo. She couldn’t have been warning me about Leo, she doesn’t even know him. Had she meant Will and Eve? Maybe she had heard me chatting to Will before she opened the door. Unless she meant Maria, or Tamsin. Or no one at all, because she hadn’t whispered anything.
I’m on my way up to Leo’s study to watch for Edward walking back across the square, because I can’t believe that Lorna would have lied to me about being on her own in the house, when there’s a ring on the bell. Retracing my steps, I open the door and see Tamsin standing there, her hands pushed into the pockets of a brown leather jacket.
“Oh, hi Tamsin,” I say, surprised. “How are you? Do you want to come in?”
She shakes her head. “No thanks. I just want to say that I don’t think you should be upsetting Lorna by bringing up the murder again.”
My cheeks burn. “I was only trying to find out a little more about Nina.”
“Why?”
“Well, I—”
“Why do you want to know more about Nina?” she interrupts. “Didn’t we tell you enough yesterday at lunch? What more could Lorna tell you about her than we, her friends, already have?”
“I—I was just trying to help,” I stammer. “Lorna said she was glad to be able to talk about Nina.”
“Bullshit.” I flinch at the animosity in her voice. “Look, I understand that it must have been a shock to find out about the murder,” she goes on. “And I have no idea what that reporter’s motive was in contacting you. But you’re going to do more harm than good if you start sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you. You don’t want to start alienating yourself, especially if you decide to stay here.” Turning her back on me, she walks down the drive without saying goodbye.
My face burning at Tamsin’s unjustified aggressiveness, I run upstairs to Leo’s study and watch from the window as she walks across the square to her house. Maybe it’s the truth behind her words that stings. I had upset Lorna. Losing Oliver must have been like losing her son all over again, but somehow worse, because she had been the one to pull the trigger. As she’d sat there, twisting her hands in her lap, I’d felt the weight of her guilt. But I don’t like being threatened and Tamsin’s visit had felt like a threat. How did she know I was asking Lorna about Nina anyway? Did she see me coming out of her house and make an educated guess?
There’s still no sign of Edward. I scan the other houses and see Tim standing at the upstairs window of number 9, also watching the square. Even though I’m doing the same thing, it makes me uncomfortable to see him there. Ten minutes pass, then fifteen. A movement to the left catches my eye—Lorna and Edward’s garage door swinging upward and outward. I look down and see Edward, his green gardening shoes on his feet, walking down the drive toward their wheelie bin. I watch as he takes hold of the handle and pulls it slowly back up the drive and into the garage. So, he wasn’t out, as Lorna had said. Unless—her actual words had been “Edward isn’t here.” I had taken that to mean he was out; but maybe all she had meant was that he wasn’t there in the house with her, but in the garden.
* * *
When Leo comes home, he asks me if I want something to eat. Still upset by Tamsin’s visit, and worried about Lorna’s warning—if that’s what it was—I’m not hungry. I sit at the table and follow him with my eyes as he walks from cooker to fridge and back again, silently asking Who are you really, Leo? How come I didn’t know that you would ever lie to me? And more importantly—why have you got a key taped to the underside of your drawer? What is it that you’re hiding from me?
“We’ve been invited to Maria’s tomorrow evening for supper,” I say, breaking the silence.
He turns from the cooker. “Are you sure you want me to come?”
He sounds as if he wants the answer to be no.
“It will look strange if you don’t.”
“If you prefer to go without me, I can always say I’m ill.”
For a moment, I wonder if I should tell Maria we can’t go. I can barely act normally around Leo and I don’t want the awkwardness between us to spoil the evening. Also, Tamsin will be there. But I want to get to know the other couples—and I’ll be doing Leo a favor if I cancel. Everyone will understand if things are a bit fraught, given that he didn’t tell me about the murder.
I take out my phone. “I’ll call Maria and tell her to expect both of us.”
* * *
“Lovely,” Maria says, when I tell her we’re free.
“Can I bring anything?” I ask.
“Not at all. Is 7 p.m. all right for you?”
“It’s perfect.”
I hang up. “It’s at seven,” I tell Leo.
“Great,” he says, trying to inject enthusiasm into his voice.
He doesn’t try to make small-talk while he eats his dinner, just reads the news on his phone, a glass of full-bodied red wine in his hand. I don’t know whether to be offended or relieved.
“I saw Lorna today,” I say.
“How is she?”
“Still upset about letting someone in to The Circle on Saturday evening. I told her that I’d only just found out about Nina,” I add, unable to stop myself from having a dig.
He takes a sip of wine. “Right.”
“We talked about Nina and she told me that Nina had had an affair. So now I’m thinking that maybe it wasn’t her husband who killed her but the person she was having an affair with.”
His glass slips from his hand and crashes onto the table. Wine seeps across the wood, like blood from a wound. For a moment, we both stare at it, seemingly mesmerized. Then he leaps to his feet, grabs a tea-towel from the side and begins dabbing at the table while I move the glass out of the way.
“Sorry,” he says. “My hand slipped.”
I frown at the mess the wine has made, then pick up his glass and stand it on its base again. “No harm done.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to gossip about the dead,” he says, kneeling to mop up the wine that has spilled onto the floor. I stare at the back of his head, noticing for the first time that his hair is thinning on top. Flashes of pink skin show through as he begins to rub vigorously at the floorboards.
“Lorna wasn’t gossiping, I asked her to tell me about Nina,” I say.
He balls the tea-towel, walks over to the sink and puts it down on the side. Turning on the tap, he rinses his hands. “Why?”
“Because I want to know about the woman whose house I’m living in.”
“Only because she was murdered,” he says. “If she hadn’t been, you wouldn’t have been curious about her.”
I glare at his back. “So, Leo, how was it for you when Ben told you that a young woman had been murdered in the house you wanted to buy? Weren’t you curious? Didn’t you ask any questions about her, not even ask who she was?”
He reaches for a clean towel and turns. “No, I don’t think I did,” he says, drying his hands carefully. “If I remember rightly, it was Ben who volunteered her name.”
“And you didn’t google her to find out what had happened? You were that disinterested?”
“I wasn’t disinterested. I recognized her name and I knew what had happened, I remembered the case. Anyone would have remembered it, it was well-documented at the time, in the press, in the papers.”
“Yet there was never any mention of her having an affair.”
He puts the towel down, comes back to the table. “Maybe she didn’t have one. Maybe it was just a rumor.”
“No,” I say. �
��She admitted it to Lorna.” I go to refill his glass but he shakes his head.
“That must be why her husband murdered her, then. He found out she’d been cheating on him and killed her in a fit of jealousy.”
“Maybe. Unless it was the other man who killed her.”
He frowns. He seems on edge, but then he’s never enjoyed listening to gossip. “Why do you say that?”
“Because, according to Lorna, Nina was going to tell him that it was over. And because everyone says that Oliver was the nicest man you could ever wish to meet.”
“Everyone?” He pounces on the word.
“The people here! His friends and neighbors.”
Leo picks up his near-empty wine glass and drains it. “If there had been anything suspicious to find, I think the police would have found it.” He pushes away from the table. “I’ve got work to do. I’ll see you later.”
I listen as he goes upstairs and into his study. A moment later, I hear the screech of metal on metal and I know that sound, it’s one of the drawers in the filing cabinet being pulled open. So, the key to unlock it was up there somewhere. Unless—I go out to the hall. His bag is no longer by the front door and his jacket has gone from where he usually hangs it on the newel post. Maybe he carries the key around with him. But why would he do that? His client files can’t be that confidential, can they?
NINETEEN
When morning comes, I know I can’t do it. I can’t go to Maria’s. I don’t want to have to pretend that everything is all right between me and Leo and I don’t want to have to face Tamsin. What if she tells everyone I’ve been upsetting Lorna?
“I’m going to Harlestone for the weekend,” I tell Leo. “I’ll be back Sunday evening.”
He looks at me, surprised. “Right, OK. Are you staying with Debbie?”
“Yes. I need to get away from The Circle for a while.”
“What about supper at Maria’s?”
