by A. M. Castle
Then Rachel releases Ruby as fast as she gathered her up and sweeps away again. ‘I’m so glad everything’s been sorted out. And don’t worry, I’ll get this put back right away,’ she says, waving the dagger. ‘See you all later for drinkies, before our special feast.’
She even shuts one eye in a wink. Jesus Christ almighty.
Chapter 29
Gita
Mount Tregowan, 31st October
I want my mood to be one of jubilation, now Ruby’s been brought back safe. But all my joy at finding my baby threatens to burn away, unless I’m careful. I take some deep breaths.
Ruby’s tucked up in our bed, with a hot chocolate, and Tom and I are sitting on opposite sides of her, each patting or stroking her arm or leg. I hate to say it but she’s actually gone straight back on her phone, some game that isn’t affected by the lack of signal.
The phone is a case in point. She shouldn’t have one; not at her age. As Tasha and Ness are always reminding me, they were twelve before they got theirs. But I came home from work one day to find eight-year-old Ruby glued to this rose-gold thing with all the bells and whistles. A newer model than my own.
‘I had to. She was at a playdate and needed to get in touch.’ That was all the defence Tom offered. And, of course, Tasha and Nessie don’t have a go at him about it. They save it up until I get home and gripe at me instead.
‘Ruby, love. Why did you go in the priest’s hole? And take that … thing?’ She frowns and redoubles her concentration on the string of blobs. Though I’m so angry with Tom I could kill him, I silently beseech him to have a go at least, not just lie there like a dummy. He shifts awkwardly.
‘Ruby, Mummy’s right. We need to know what happened.’
She sighs like a middle-aged businessman having to explain himself to pesky underlings. ‘She told me to.’
‘Who?’ I say, but Tom overlays my question with a much louder one of his own. ‘Told you to do what?’
I give him the eyes again and I ask, much more gently. ‘We won’t be cross, hon. I promise. Just tell us who you’re talking about.’
‘Dur,’ she says. ‘Who do you think?’
I shift on the edge of the mattress. I’m going to have backache tomorrow, but that’s the least of my worries. ‘We don’t know, love. That’s why we’re asking.’ My tone of sweet reasonableness is almost literally killing me. Tom flicks a glance at me and leans away.
Now he clears his throat. ‘It’s like this, Ruby. Sometimes even grown-ups aren’t right, and it’s OK to tell us, even if they’ve asked you to keep a secret …’
Ruby looks up briefly and meets my gaze. She breaks in before he can really get into his stride. ‘It was that lady, Mummy’s friend.’
I think hard. ‘Aunty Vicky?’ Ruby rolls her eyes. I try again. ‘Not Aunty Jane?’ Unlikely – they hardly know each other, thanks to Jane’s thing about children. Ruby shrugs, having evidently got to a gripping bit of her game. I resist the temptation to rip the phone from her little hands and throw it across the room. ‘Not … Aunty Rachel?’
She looks at me again and her eyes widen. She shakes her head again, but infinitesimally this time. She probably knows I don’t want it to be Rachel. Or she could just be bored with this whole conversation. I’m not sure, but for me, the pieces drop into place. It fits. With Rachel’s performance just now on the stairs. Suddenly it’s all the proof I need.
I don’t wait to ask another thing. I just leap up off the bed and I am out of the door before Tom can try and stop me.
Chapter 30
Rachel
Mount Tregowan, 31st October
I suppose I might have guessed it would happen, but it’s still a rude interruption to my preparations for my big night when Gita crashes through my door.
She looks deranged, I’m sorry to say. The sedative seems to have worn off completely. Maybe I should have given her more.
I sit at my dressing table, but I don’t turn around. I just watch her in my mirror. Her chest is heaving. Quite the Victorian heroine. She really should do more high-impact training. There aren’t that many steps up to my tower.
‘Why did you do it?’ That’s the question hurled at me. I put down my pot of Crème de la Mer and turn round slowly.
‘Gita! What is this? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
Suddenly she’s coming at me with a snarl on her face. Not so much broody hen as tiger mother. ‘Please explain yourself,’ I say, taking the precaution of getting swiftly to my feet.
Once we are both standing, she’s lost her advantage. I have a couple of inches on her, I’m stronger by miles, thanks to my one-on-one sessions with Tracy Anderson, and there’s a panic button on the wall behind me. What’s more, I know she adores me; she always has. She wants this to be sorted out. She doesn’t want to blame me for anything.
‘Are you denying you told Ruby to hide in the chapel? And take that knife?’
Oh! So that’s what she’s so worked up about. ‘Of course I’m denying it,’ I say. ‘The Tregowan dagger is not a toy.’ I watch the emotions surge over her face: fury, disbelief, incomprehension. Frankly, I’m astonished she thinks I’d do anything like that, and I tell her so.
‘Who did, then? Ruby said one of my friends told her to do it.’
‘One of your friends. That could be any of us on the island.’
‘Not really, I asked her. About Vicky and Jane. And I hardly know Penny, I wouldn’t describe her as a friend …’
‘But does Ruby know that? And why would Vicky, Jane or I wish Ruby any ill? We all love her,’ I say, eyes wide.
Gita stops and thinks. It’s almost comical, the way she switches tack. Two seconds ago, she was about to tear me limb from limb. Now she’s the rational woman I’ve known all these years. ‘Do you think it was Penny?’
I give her a look. ‘There’s something you need to understand about Penny. She’s … damaged.’
‘What do you mean? She’s highly strung, but that’s understandable, I mean, the accident …’
‘That accident was years ago. Anyone else would have got over it. But you’re right, it’s still affecting her. Don’t you think that’s odd?’
‘What are you getting at? And what possible reason could Penny have had for getting Ruby to hide?’
‘Where do I start?’ I say. ‘Listen, come and lie down,’ I add. Gita hesitates for about a second before we both flop onto my bed, billowing with silks and cushions. It’s the way we always used to chat, at uni, squashed up together on those narrow halls-of-residence singles. We swore they made them titchy so no one could have sex without falling off. But they were plenty big enough to snuggle up and exchange confidences. That’s what we do now on my sumptuous four-poster.
‘What do you know, about Penny’s crash?’
‘Well, you said there had been a car accident on the island, you mentioned it at lunch that time. And last night. And she was talking about it this morning. Roderick did say she never stops. It was a bit disloyal of him.’ Gita sniffs.
‘He’s right.’ I adjust a pillow behind me. Gita’s always been one for family solidarity – and she’s living with the consequences. ‘Well, this is entre nous,’ I say. Gita nods, all ears now. ‘Penny was just a teenager at the time. She shouldn’t have been driving. Particularly not on the island.’
‘Penny was driving? I thought it was her mother?’
‘Exactly,’ I say. ‘It should have been. It was like this …’
‘But there aren’t even any roads here,’ she interrupts.
‘Ross had them replaced with paths afterwards,’ I explain patiently. ‘No one’s driven here since. The point is, she shouldn’t have been at the wheel that day; it was illegal. So after the impact, her mother swapped places with her, so her precious little girl wouldn’t get the blame. Neither realised how bad her head injury really was. Getting up and moving into the passenger seat was what actually killed Evelyn Tregowan.’
‘Oh my God! How awful,’ says
Gita, eyes round. ‘That’s so sad. No wonder Penny’s so odd … But I still don’t see how that connects with Ruby?’
I sigh. ‘She’s got some weird salvation complex. She spent years nursing, but it got too much for her. Every time someone died on her watch she went into a tailspin. With Ruby, I bet she got her to hide, just so she could find her and “save” her. After all, only the family knows about the priest’s hole. It’s where the Catholic Tregowans hid their bits and bobs during the Civil War and after. Crucifixes and wafers and our lovely dagger. Penny always wants to be the heroine of the hour. It’s a sort of … atonement complex.’
Gita is silent for a second, processing. Then she says slowly, ‘God, it does fit. She rushed forward, saying she was a nurse. It looked like she was checking Ruby’s airway, bringing her back to life … but if Ruby never went into the water, she was probably just cold and in shock. You mean, there was no need for any of that charade? I was so grateful to her. That’s evil! Bloody woman! I’m so sorry, I thought you … well, it doesn’t matter. But Penny should be getting some sort of treatment. Either that, or I’m calling the police.’
I put a hand on her wrist. ‘Don’t. They’d lock her up for good this time. You don’t want that on your conscience. Ruby’s OK, after all. Poor Ross. Believe me, he’s tried everything.’
I carry on, knowing Gita can’t resist insider information. ‘He thought he was doing the right thing, hushing it up all those years ago. He still doesn’t talk about it, but you know how it is in small communities. People were queuing up to gossip about it as soon as I got here. The coroner was a great friend of the family, Penny had her whole life ahead of her … But fudging things did her no favours. Between them, her mother and father really did a number on her. Like Larkin says.’ I try a smile at Gita. I know she’s now remembering our favourite poem from our English course.
Gita sighs. I can tell she’s torn. Penny’s little drama frightened her out of her wits, and Ruby was clearly petrified too. But she came to no harm. ‘Ruby’s fine now, isn’t she? And I’d consider it a personal favour if you didn’t take this any further. It will just embarrass poor Ross.’ I look at her beseechingly.
For a moment, she holds firm, and then, as I knew she would, she concedes. ‘All right. But if Penny steps out of line again, I really think you ought to have her committed. And if she lays another finger on any of my family …’
Gita’s face suddenly turns ferocious, and I realise yet again how powerful the maternal instinct really is. I’m going to be relying on that when we have the next of these little chats, Gita and I. But she’ll see reason, just as she has now.
Woe betide Penny, though, if she pulls another of her stunts. I wouldn’t fancy her chances.
Gita, my lovely gentle Gita, looks like she’d cheerfully strangle her with her bare hands.
Chapter 31
Tom
Mount Tregowan, 31st October
I’m glad Gita has gone storming off. It gives Ruby and me a chance for a bit of a breather. She’s still deep in her phone, but I can tell from the way her shoulders go down an inch that she’s now relaxed. We just lie for a while and chill.
Finally I look at the time on my own phone. The movement doesn’t escape Ruby. Her eyelids flutter. She’s braced for what’s coming. But I have to leave; I want to get out there and see what actually went down.
‘Look, Rubes, do you mind if I pop out for a while? I need to check on something …’ Immediately she’s grabbed my wrist. ‘Ouch! You need to trim those nails, honey.’
‘You promised you’d cut them for me. Last week, remember?’ I rack my brains. She’s got a point. It didn’t seem the most pressing item on my agenda. Little did I know she’d be digging them right into me a few days later.
‘I’ll do it in a bit,’ I start to say, then I stop myself. ‘That’s if we’ve got nail scissors here.’ Gita is right. Promising them stuff in the moment is easy. It can come back to bite you, though. Or leave tiny crescent marks in your skin.
‘Why don’t you just go? You know you’re going to.’ She’s sulky now, chin down, avoiding my eyes, glued to the screen. I swing my legs to the floor as she speaks in a much smaller voice. ‘But what if I get taken again?’
I look at her, hard. ‘You didn’t get taken, though, did you? You went and hid.’
‘Did I?’ she says, eyes now fixed on mine, wide and scared. I rather wish she was looking at that cascade of fruit instead.
‘You know you did. In the old chapel.’
She looks me over again, head to toe, suddenly curiously like Gita, then returns to the game. I’m sick of being found wanting. I won’t take it from a nine-year-old. I take a step towards her, but then Tasha bursts in on us. ‘I need the straighteners.’
Immediately Ruby is off the bed and turning on her sister. ‘No! I was about to do my hair.’
‘Christ. I’m not getting stuck in the middle of round 101 of hair wars,’ I tell them. Is Ruby even old enough to use those things? I’m sure Gita would have a view but I’m just glad of the opportunity to edge out as they square up to each other.
There’s no one around as I pad down the stairs. I couldn’t get my jacket; that would have drawn attention to my flit. As I pass the window I can see I’ll get drenched. It’s black out there now, no sign of whitecaps. I’m not sure if the wind has died down, or whether the waves are breaking on the other side of the island. Life in a London suburb doesn’t prepare you for every eventuality.
I plod along as silently as possible, trying not to look furtive. I don’t know who’s more shocked when I almost run into Jane as I cross the hall. Looks like she was coming out of the small room to the side of Rachel’s beloved Great Hall. I say ‘small’, but of course you could fit the downstairs of our house in it. It’s some sort of pretentious library, the Laird’s lair. Is Ross in there? I try and see over Jane’s head. The light is on, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone at home. Proves nothing, where Ross is concerned. She shuts the door behind her.
‘Looking forward to the party?’ she asks in that stilted voice, as though she hasn’t spoken for hours. Maybe she hasn’t. I haven’t really seen her since this morning. Did she even turn out to search for my little girl? Gita has always insisted she’s got some kind of allergy to kids.
The party? I’ve semi-forgotten that it’s even happening. ‘I suppose so,’ I say, then realise that’s borderline impolite. It’s what we’re all gathered here for, on Rachel’s dime, isn’t it? ‘Erm, yes. Should be good.’ A bluff, hearty tone should cover everything. ‘And where are you off to?’
Jane looks startled. Have I been too abrupt? Too transparent in hoping she’s going to heave herself upstairs, move out of my way? ‘Oh, er, just getting ready,’ she says. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was being shifty. We exchange another wary glance. God, she’s not going to mention old times, is she? I cast around, find the ideal topic at last. ‘Geoff getting on OK, is he?’ He’s another I haven’t seen much of, though he was there when Ruby was brought in, I remember.
She gives me another of those uncertain looks, like I’m going to jump on her or something, and she actually edges past me. ‘Um, yes. He’s fine,’ she says, speeding up as she reaches the stairs. ‘See you later.’ She scuttles up them as though she has the hounds of hell at her heels. Funny how people change. She really wasn’t bad-looking at uni.
I’m almost at the front door when there’s a dry cough behind me. Christ, what now? I turn, reluctantly. It’s Ross. He must have been skulking in his library with Jane all along.
Now what was all that about, I wonder?
Chapter 32
Jane
Mount Tregowan, 31st October
God, I ought to have been braced for it. In fact, I’ve been lucky it hasn’t happened before. But coming upon Tom unexpectedly has thrown me into quite a tizzy.
This is what comes of leading such a sheltered life. Encounters that most people shrug off without a thought make me hyperventilate.
I hope Geoff thinks I’m out of breath because of the stairs. ‘All right, old thing?’ he says mildly as I erupt into our room.
I wish you wouldn’t call me that. Naturally I don’t say a word. My penances are many and varied. ‘Of course. I’ve … hardly seen you today. What have you been up to?’
He looks up from fiddling with his tie. He’s wearing that corduroy jacket I hate. I wish I’d taken more notice when he was packing. I suddenly wonder whether Rachel is expecting us to be in black tie evening dress. Oh God, Geoff is going to look absurd. No, she would have said. Unless it was in that blasted memo?
‘Have you read that email? The one about the arrangements?’ I ask him.
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘She’s provided those.’ He gestures at the bed and I notice the pile of dark velvet. I thought it was some kind of fancy bedcover.
I step forward, lifting the two heavy capes, running my hands over them. The scarlet linings shriek when I shake them out. God, they’re absolutely gorgeous. She has an eye for design, Rachel, I have to give her that. There are wigs, too. I twirl one cloak over my shoulders, like the woman in that Scottish Widows ad.
‘Silly, that’s mine,’ he says. ‘Look, it’s trailing on the ground.’
I give him a little smile. He’s about a centimetre taller than me, but I’ve always asked for help with high shelves. It’s a courtesy of a sort. A fantasy, though one of the tamer ones a married couple can have. Anything to keep him sweet, I suppose. God, secrets can turn you inside out, and back again.
‘Do you think … couples should tell each other everything?’ I say to him. As soon as the words are out, I wonder what on earth I’m doing, how many careful years of fabrications I may be tearing down. But I should have known better.
‘Of course. And we do,’ he says. His tone is so sure that it shuts me up as efficiently as a slap around the mouth. I turn to the dressing table and start dragging my brush through my hair, tears rising unbidden. Ouch. I should have attempted this last night. I’ve washed my hair, but it looks like the sea-spray is here to stay. In the mirror, our eyes meet for a second, then dash away from each other like my own nimble mice.
