by Kirsty Ferry
‘Jon, do you never get jealous that Lissy got the rich daddy?’ she asked, her words echoing around the huge, airy room. And the bed; dear Lord, the bed! It was massive. She could probably lie lengthways across it and still have space. She ran her fingers across the cool Egyptian cotton sheets and was horrified to see a wrinkle appear. She tried to smooth it out, failed, then laid a cushion over it to hide it.
‘Nope,’ said Jon. ‘Never. I know – weird, isn’t it? I can’t blame Lissy or my dad, wherever he is, for that, can I? Lissy doesn’t flaunt it.’
Becky raised her eyebrows and gestured around the room.
‘Well, okay, she doesn’t flaunt it generally,’ Jon said, with a laugh. ‘So she’s got a nice house; good luck to her. At least we get to borrow it for a couple of days.’
Becky went over to the window and looked out at the pretty, leafy trees. Beyond those, though, she spotted the traffic crawling down Old Brompton Road and a seething mass of people wandering around the streets.
‘I like our sea view better,’ she said. She shuddered and turned to Jon. ‘But I guess it’s Cori we’re here for.’
‘Do we know what it’s all about yet?’ asked Jon.
Becky shook her head and sat down on the remarkably comfortable window seat. ‘All I know is that Lissy said it was an “emergency”.’ She made little bunny ears with her fingers as she spoke. ‘A Cori-type emergency. You saw the e-mail. It’s anybody’s guess.’
Jon wandered over to the window and stood next to her, peering out himself.
His brow furrowed. ‘I’m sure Lissy will take great pleasure in telling us all about it,’ he said. ‘She had better have a good reason for dragging us down here, that’s all I can say.’
He held his hands out and Becky put hers into them. He pulled her to her feet and smiled. Then he looked across at the door and the frown came back. ‘Hold on, there’s somebody coming. Lissy must be back.’
She hadn’t been in to let them into the house. Trustingly, she had left the door open and evidently given instructions as to their names and what they looked like to the concierge downstairs, who had in return presented them with a visitor’s parking permit.
Becky had swept up the marble staircase towards Lissy’s apartment utterly speechless. She had the irresistible urge to step off the plush, cream coloured carpet that lined the middle of the staircase and walk on the bare marble, wanting, bizarrely, to feel the slipperiness of it beneath the soles of her shoes.
She had waited for Jon on the second landing. ‘I’m a little underdressed for these stairs,’ she said, only half-joking. ‘To think this was originally one house!’
‘I think some of them are still only one house,’ said Jon. Becky had blanched at that thought and continued up to the next landing to Lissy’s front door, shaking her head in disbelief.
And now, the lady of the house had apparently returned. A moment or so later, Jon spoke again. ‘Come in!’ he said. ‘We made it.’ The bedroom door opened and Lissy peered in, her fist still clenched from the knock on the door.
‘You did make it! And all in one piece too! Thank you so much for coming so quickly,’ she cried, flying across the room and hugging them. ‘Was the traffic all right?’
‘It was fine,’ said Jon. ‘It’s good to see you. Even better to see you’ve got your own parking space. You should use it.’
‘Why would I want to bring my car into town?’ asked Lissy, pulling a face. ‘There are taxis galore, a fabulous tube system and aeroplanes if I need to go further afield. Anyway, Daddy said I could leave my car at home.’
‘Home’ was a huge mansion in the country. Daddy had a massive garage that could easily accommodate Lissy’s little MG in one tiny corner.
Lissy began to wander about the room, chattering on about something to Jon, and Becky took the opportunity to quietly sidle away, intending to move towards the style-heavy kitchen she had spotted at the other side of the lounge. She would make coffee and make herself useful. At the best of times, it was impossible to keep up with the jumps in Lissy’s conversation and if it was important, they would find her and tell her. Knowing Lissy, she would get to the point eventually.
Becky padded across the blonde wood parquet flooring towards the staircase and wondered how someone as chaotic as Lissy could maintain such a perfect house. As she came down onto the mezzanine floor she looked over the small balcony and saw the mountain of shopping bags Lissy had dumped in the middle of the floor along with a pair of rather fabulous Louis Vuitton shoes, lying in a heap next to them. She smiled wryly. Yep, that was Lissy. It was clearly the housekeeper that kept the place shipshape.
She skirted the graveyard of designer gear and went into the kitchen. There had to be the means of making a drink in here somewhere. It was as she was pondering, looking into a glass-fronted unit for inspiration, that she saw her.
There was a shadowy figure reflected behind her in the kitchen doorway; a figure with long, curly hair. She spun around, convinced for a moment it was the spirit woman she had seen back in her own flat in Whitby; until she realised it was Cori.
‘Cori!’ She almost laughed with relief. She hadn’t realised quite how jittery that spirit woman she had seen in Whitby had made her. ‘You gave me a shock.’
‘Hello, Becky,’ said Cori. ‘What are you doing here?’
It wasn’t exactly an enthusiastic greeting. There wasn’t any hostility there, precisely, but more of a distancing. Cori’s eyes didn’t seem to be focussed fully on Becky. In fact, the best way Becky could describe it was to say she seemed spaced out.
‘Oh, we’re just here visiting Lissy,’ she said, vaguely. Heaven forbid the girl knew she was the purpose of the journey. ‘How are you? Have you been shopping together?’ It was a pathetic response, and Becky felt herself flush with embarrassment at it.
‘Shopping,’ repeated Cori. ‘Yes. We’ve been shopping.’ There was an awkward pause and Becky felt the urge to either run away or fill it with some inane comment, but because Cori was blocking the doorway, Becky had to opt for the inane comment.
‘Did you buy anything nice?’ she asked.
Cori stared at Becky, wondering what on earth she was doing in the apartment. Last time she had seen her, she had been in Whitby. She seemed at home in Whitby; she seemed uncomfortable here, like she didn’t belong. For a moment, Cori was back in Whitby, in the little apartment collecting the diary and … what had happened after that?
Sometimes, I forgot things.
Cori stared at Becky a moment longer then blinked. A spark of sense and energy suddenly returned. ‘My word,’ she said. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Becky. It’s nice to see you again. Lissy’s had me around the shops for two hours and I think I’m just tired and stupid today.’
‘Two hours is nothing for Lissy. She can shop for England,’ replied Becky.
Cori nodded. ‘I know. I’d originally popped into the gallery to see Simon but he was on a day off, so I couldn’t see him. But then I spotted Lissy and she said she was just finishing and if I just waited for two seconds, she’d be off and we could go out. So I texted Simon while I was waiting and said I was sorry I’d missed him and I was heading off with Lissy so I would call him later.’ She blinked as Becky’s features began to blur a little and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her. It was as if there were three people in that room. Becky. And her. And a shadow – a shadow very close by, just in the corner of her eye; much like the one that had stormed out of Elodie Bingham-Scott’s office.
Cori swallowed the feelings down, and continued in a rush, trying to keep the shadow in her field of vision as it glimmered in the corner. ‘But then Lissy came out and we left, and I said I needed some stuff for my house, and she said she knew some great places, so that’s where we went and I managed to get some great bargains, but I …’ Cori trailed off, seeing the confusion flit across Becky’s face. She shut her mouth. ‘Sorry.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ said Becky. She smiled, but Cori could tell it was a little stra
ined. ‘I caught most of it. I’m assuming, then, that you’ve been shopping, and Lissy forced you into it and now you’re exhausted. I was just about to make some coffee, if you think that might help you revive a bit. But I can’t find anything.’ She turned back to the cupboards and did that nervous little gesture with her hair again. ‘There has to be some somewhere. She can’t drink nothing. And she knew we were coming, so …’
Cori walked over to Becky and began helping her to pull drawers and cupboards open. Between them, they found some mugs, located a fridge and some tins of ground coffee. They stared at the little row of tins, all marked Fortnum & Mason, and then stared at each other. The tins looked too pretty to break open.
‘I just wanted Nescafé,’ said Becky.
‘A cup of tea would have done me,’ replied Cori. ‘I’m going right off coffee.’
Becky widened her eyes. ‘You’re not …?’ she asked.
‘What? Oh! Oh – no. Good Lord, no. No way.’ Cori sucked her tummy in and stood up straight, mortified at the fact Becky might think her pregnant, even if that was what she secretly wished herself. ‘No. Daisy wrote that she liked tisanes. I think they’re some sort of posh tea. She keeps talking about them, and how good they are for you. It just made me think that I needed to cut back on the caffeine and try that approach instead.’
‘Oh!’ Becky laughed. ‘You had me worried. Having said that, I haven’t gone off the stuff, so it doesn’t happen to everyone.’
She smiled at Cori, perfectly innocent of Cori’s innermost desires and Cori forced a smile back, but couldn’t quite bring herself to answer her.
‘I wish I’d been with child as well, just like Lizzie was. But it never happened.’
Cori jumped and turned her head in the direction the voice had come from.
‘Oh, look – just sod it,’ said Becky. ‘I’m going to open this coffee.’ She began to poke a knife under the seal, then stopped poking and gestured to another cupboard with the knife. ‘I think I saw tea bags in there. Or a tea caddy or something, if that’s what you want instead.’ The sun was streaming in the window by now and glinting off the shiny, silver blade.
The light caught Cori’s attention and she couldn’t stop staring at it. ‘I’m finding the diary very interesting, you know,’ she replied. ‘It’s not just the fact that Daisy’s teaching me all about tisanes.’ It was as if her voice was coming from far away. ‘I’m getting to learn so much more about everybody in the PRB and I’m really getting a feel for Daisy’s life. Yes. I think I’d like tea.’
‘Okay – well the tea bags or tea leaves or whatever are in there, as I say. Just choose whatever you want. I doubt Lissy will mind.’ Becky moved the knife back towards the coffee tin and leaned over it. ‘Bloody tight fit this,’ she muttered, finally popping the lid off. It rolled onto the grey and white marble surface and made a horrendous clatter. Becky smacked her hand down on it and swore.
Cori blinked, the noise bringing her focus back to the present. ‘Nothing’s broken,’ she said, surveying the scene. ‘Not to worry.’
‘Thank goodness. This place has me on edge,’ said Becky, frowning. ‘It’s too tidy. But I’m surprised Jon hasn’t come in. The noise of a coffee jar opening and the smell of the stuff – he’s like a moth to a flame. But I guess there’s a bit more distance between us down here and him upstairs, than we’d have at home.’
‘Do you live at the studio, then?’ asked Cori, passing Becky a chrome and glass cafetière.
‘Live there? No. No, we don’t live there. It’s convenient and we’re very lucky to have it, especially if the weather’s bad or we have a late night and don’t feel like driving; but generally we just work from it. It has a lovely atmosphere to work in.’ She heaped some spoonfuls of coffee into the cafetière and flicked the switch on the nearby kettle. ‘It’s maddening if I have to go away anywhere for work and leave it all behind though. I’m always happy to get back.’
Cori had located an interesting looking tea which was fortunately contained within a tea bag and, in the absence of seeing a teapot anywhere, popped it straight into a cup. ‘Did you write that article about Daisy in your studio?’ she asked.
Becky smiled. ‘I write most of my articles in the studio,’ she said, ‘unless I need to do something in the field, sort of thing. But, yes, Daisy’s article was written there and it all came really easily to me.’
‘Did you feel like she was talking to you?’ asked Cori, carefully. She looked down, and made a big production of filling the cup and cafetière up from the kettle.
‘No,’ said Becky. Cori was pretty sure Becky had answered just as carefully. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘No reason,’ she said. ‘Look.’ She changed the subject and smiled brightly at Becky. ‘That’s the tea done and the coffee ready to stew in the pot.’
‘I’ll go and find Jon and Lissy,’ replied Becky, ‘and then we have to decide where to serve the drinks. I think the dining table in the bay window looks nice.’ She grinned suddenly. ‘You did bring your maid’s outfit, didn’t you? Because I left mine in Whitby.’
‘Dammit,’ said Cori. ‘I knew there was something I’d forgotten.’
But, despite the jokes, somewhere, hovering just on the edge of Cori’s subconscious was the spectre of Daisy. And it seemed very wrong to be bringing her here, to Lissy’s home, without Lissy’s knowledge. Because she did feel as if she was with her again; and it wasn’t pleasant.
‘Does one refer to this as a tisane or a tincture? I do not know. The names and the meanings escape me now. I believe tisanes are made with natural, herbal ingredients, but then so is this. Does it truly matter?’
Becky found Jon and Lissy in the bedroom, still talking.
‘I didn’t realise you’d brought Cori along, Lissy,’ she said, walking over to them. Her feet sank into the deep carpet and she realised the carpet was what made the room smell so very new and very expensive. ‘She said you’d been shopping together.’
Lissy lit up the room with her smile. ‘Oh! Yes. She popped into the gallery to see Simon and—’
‘Stop!’ Becky commanded. She held her hand up. ‘I’ve already had the story from Cori. It’s clearly very complicated, but it’s nice you two have picked up where you left off.’
Lissy looked guiltily at the floor and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. ‘Ah. Yes. She still hasn’t got much taste in soft furnishings,’ she said. ‘She needs some professional guidance.’
Becky smiled. ‘You’re a terrible liar. Don’t pretend you haven’t got a heart. It’s not just a jolly shop with an old pal. You feel bad about the whole diary thing, don’t you?’
‘Well. Okay. Maybe a teeny, tiny bit,’ said Lissy, pulling a face. ‘I felt sorry for her today. And I just thought if she was with me she might open up a bit. She’s just not herself. I would think, as her oldest friend in London, she would trust me if something was going on.’ Lissy looked self-righteous, as only Lissy could.
Becky let that comment pass. ‘So what exactly is happening?’ she asked. ‘You dragged us down here, telling us you had an emergency. I think we need to know what that is.’
Lissy shrugged. ‘Yes, I suppose you do need to know. Simon says Cori freaked out when she got lost yesterday. And she rang me late last night asking about some things to do with Daisy. I don’t know if there was anything else. Oh, she said she thought she saw someone in her bedroom, and that sounded pretty odd, but she’s said nothing since. She did look a bit strange in the gallery today though. I spoke to her for ages, but she wouldn’t answer me – just stared at that Ophelia picture like she expected Lizzie to open her eyes and climb out of the frame.’ Lissy shuddered. ‘It would be like a scene from a horror movie, wouldn’t it? Lizzie, all weedy and wet and dripping everywhere. And probably decomposing by now.’ She mimicked the ghastly Ophelia creeping around and looked a little like a zombie. Then she shuddered again. ‘One thing I do know, though, is that whatever’s happening has been really sudden. She was fine las
t week. I’m a bit worried it is something to do with Daisy. ’
‘When spirits want your attention, they can be pretty intense,’ said Becky. ‘If that’s what it is, of course. But whatever’s going on, she needs to talk about it.’
‘Is she not just highly strung?’ chipped in Jon. ‘Sorry!’ He held up both hands as the women glared at him in unison.
‘Was I highly strung when we met up again?’ asked Becky, coldly. ‘When I told you that the ghost of Ella was talking to me?’ She took great satisfaction in watching him squirm and shake his head. ‘Good. Thank you. We have to give Cori the benefit of the doubt here. You should know that. Anyway; we’ve made some drinks, and Cori is probably setting them out on the dining table as we speak. I think we need to go and see her, don’t you?’ Lissy and Jon nodded. It was a bit strange seeing two identical and yet unique sets of eyes moving up and down in such different faces, but it was nice as well.
Becky smiled. ‘Excellent. Come on, let’s go.’
Cori had laid the cups and saucers out carefully around the table and she was standing staring at them when Becky came back in with Jon and Lissy. Cori must have found some biscuits as well, because there was a selection laid out in the middle of the table, looking particularly delicious on the creamy coloured china.
The biscuits were Becky’s favourites and she knew that it would be easy to polish off most of them in one sitting. She idly wondered how polite it was to a) have broken into your hostess’s expensive coffee and b) be contemplating eating all your hostess’s treats as well. She looked at Cori, ready to congratulate her on her findings and Cori caught her look.
A smile flashed up before it disappeared again. ‘They all match,’ she said. ‘The stuff in my house doesn’t match.’
‘I don’t suppose anyone cares really,’ said Becky. ‘It’ll be you they come to visit, not your matching crockery.’
‘I quite like things not matching. At home,’ her face flickered a little, ‘I mean at Granny’s house, everyone had their own mug when they visited.’
