After that morning, I felt the presence of Mrs. Mins everywhere. Even if I could not always see her, she seemed always able to see me. I would have to fight her at her own game; if knowledge was power, I would arm myself against her. I felt positive she knew something about Daphne’s disappearance. I felt positive she had something to hide.
It was more difficult for me to move about covertly: while she lurked in shadows and had keys to every lock, I had three children in tow; where she had access to the computers and knowledge of the family history, I was scraping around for morsels of information and studying old photographs. It was time for me to find an ally.
By chance, that very morning Elizabeth phoned from the island. I hadn’t seen her since the concert, even though she must have been at the house at some point to have the conversation Robbie overheard. She was ringing, she said, to see how Christmas had gone, but I suspected she was really phoning about Daphne. I took the timing of her phone call as some sort of sign that she could be trusted. My father’s email implied that she had known of my existence all along, and yet she hadn’t worked out my identity. Despite my father’s warnings, I couldn’t see the danger in Elizabeth.
Robbie and I were back in the kitchen, eating our way through piles of hot buttered toast with plum jam, bottles of which I had found in the larder, labeled in Daphne’s handwriting. There were piles of jars tucked away: quince preserves and cucumber pickles, pear jams and apple chutneys, and I was trying to encourage the children to eat them. In my mind, I was reinforcing a connection between them and Daphne, but on a more selfish level, I was looking for an excuse to eat them myself. They were absolutely delicious, and I was starting to see Daphne as more than the shell of a woman I had met in the restaurant.
“Hello, dear,” Elizabeth said, and continued without giving me a chance to say anything. “Has Max really gone to London?” Nothing stayed quiet around here. I wondered how Elizabeth knew this.
“Yes, he left last night. Did you have a nice day?” The toaster sent four more slices slowly upwards. Its gradual mechanism was distracting, so different from the violent springing of toasters I had known previously. I gestured to Robbie to butter the toast and then watched as he dug the knife into the butter and made deep rifts in the bread with it.
“A nice day? Yes. Of course I did.” Even through the poor phone connection, I could sense her puzzlement.
“Christmas.”
“Was it? Oh yes, it was yesterday. No wonder Max has gone to London.”
“Does he always go to London at Christmas?” Max’s sudden and urgent trip to London was yet another mystery that had been overshadowed during the night’s and morning’s developments. I had also googled the name Daniel, but without a surname or any other detail that had proven rather pointless.
“No. Why would he go to London at Christmas?”
It was too early and I had not had enough sleep to deal with Elizabeth’s circuitous style of conversation. “Would you like to speak to the children?” I said, changing tack and hoping she would follow.
She didn’t. “Whatever for?”
“To wish them a happy Christmas?”
“Have you seen Daphne yet?” Her phrasing was peculiar. It was as if Daphne were sleeping in, or in the shower. I kept an eye on Robbie and said that I hadn’t.
A deep sigh came down the line. “We might have to go back to plan A.”
“Plan A?”
“We talked about it on the phone last time.”
So much had happened in the intervening days, I could barely remember the last phone call, let alone plan A. It took me a couple of seconds to remember she had phoned to cancel our trip to the island. “The island?”
“Yes. I’ve changed my mind. I think it would be lovely if you came out here.”
“To the island?”
Robbie looked up from his sourdough massacre and nodded furiously, clasping his palms together in a praying motion.
“Yes.”
“It will be rather difficult, with just me and the children, especially Agatha.”
“Oh no,” she said, shrill and interrupting. “Don’t bring the children.” I shook my head at Robbie and tried to turn away from him, my head tucked towards the dresser in a futile attempt at a private conversation.
“I have to, Max is away, and—”
“I’ll talk to Meryl.”
I could feel Robbie’s eyes on my back, and felt I should at least try again, on his behalf. “Perhaps she could come with me? That way we might all be able to come?”
“No. Not a great idea. Just you. Tomorrow?”
“Um, okay.” I shook my head at Robbie in what I hoped was a sympathetic manner. “If you can sort it out with Mrs. Mins.”
Robbie sniffed in disappointment and took his plate of desiccated toast with him into the snug.
“Elizabeth?” I tilted my head back to make sure Robbie was definitely gone. Out of earshot.
“Hmm.”
“Was Daphne really afraid of water?”
A pause. Noise from the television floated from the snug. “That’s what she claimed.”
“And that’s why she never took the children out to the island.”
“I suppose.” Elizabeth was used to steering conversation; her discomfort was palpable.
“Why?”
“Why what?” Her voice was distant, as if she’d moved her face away from the receiver. It seemed certain she was doing something else. The click of the lighter and an inhale confirmed it.
“Why was she afraid of the water?”
“You young people—everything has to have a reason. Some things just are.”
I waited.
“There was some nonsense about a catamaran incident in Sydney Harbour. I never quite understood the ins and outs of it. Besides, she didn’t like to talk about it.”
That made sense, I supposed. Made sense as much as any of Elizabeth’s stories did. “Right. Good. Now listen to me. This is the important part. I’ve been thinking about Daphne a lot these last few days, and I think she would have left me something. A message, something. You’re up and down, all over the place. Sticky-beaking in everything, I hear. I wondered, have you found anything?”
In a split second, I decided to trust Elizabeth. I had to trust someone. I quashed the niggly voice inside me, the one asking why Sophia hadn’t gone to Elizabeth for help. Sophia was a child, incapable of making adult decisions. The children themselves had said how close Elizabeth and Daphne had been. I put aside my father’s warnings. Something had happened to Daphne, I was sure of it, and Elizabeth could help me work it out. “I might have found a key I could try . . . ,” I began, unsure of just how much to confess.
“Say no more. Bring whatever you find with you tomorrow. Go down to the jetty at ten, and Leonard will bring you across.” She hung up.