Mallory spun round, reaching out for a pillar to steady herself. She sensed danger – the same menace she’d recognised the previous evening crossing to her cabin. What she now expected to see was who The Birthday Girl was. Mona, Charlotte or Beth. As a bubble of hysteria rose in her throat, Mallory clung on to the last of her sanity. The ride across the island should have cleared her head but now the crypt was a carousel of images, the faces of the three women grinning as they spun around her head. Lifting the front of her jumper over her mouth as a makeshift mask, Mallory removed her head torch and shone it around the crypt, the wild beam bouncing off stone and wooden coffins. Another sound echoed around the chamber, this time recognisable as a groan of pain. Mallory ploughed forward, coughing in the pungent air. At first, she thought it was her imagination. A body on one of the spare racks. It took all her courage to go to the figure retching at the foul miasma.
Mallory bent down to look at Stella, careful to keep the strong beam from her torch out of the woman’s face. Even in the small act of crouching, it was impossible for her to keep her balance.
‘Stella,’ she whispered, feeling the woman’s pulse, which fluttered against Mallory’s fingertips. ‘Stella, are you all right?’
‘No.’ The words came out in a long hiss. ‘Don’t come near me. Poison. In the air.’
Mallory recoiled. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Can’t you feel it?’
Mallory was assailed by another rush of nausea. ‘Yes. Is this what’s making me hallucinate?’
‘Probably. You need to get out of here.’
‘I’ll let the night air in.’ Mallory stumbled across the room and dragged open the heavy wooden doors, letting in the blowy wind. She could see piles of smoking, evergreen leaves stacked up in the corners of the crypt. Laurel, she was sure. Pulling her jumper further over her nose, she pulled the branches out of the building and chucked them into the night, their sparks dancing in the wind. Remembering her promise to Elsa, she found the light switch, an old-fashioned lever type and clicked it off and on three times.
She vomited onto the grass, immediately feeling better. Inside she could see the foul choking smoke. Stella would die if Mallory didn’t get her out of there. She ran back into the crypt almost blind from the singeing smoke.
‘Stella, I have to get you on the quad bike.’
‘I can’t move.’ Stella rolled over and retched on the ground beneath her. Her juddering caused a nearby coffin to rock.
‘I have to get you out. You need help. Laurel is poisonous, isn’t it? It can’t just be the berries. The atmosphere in here is foul.’
Stella was stupefied with pain. ‘Pull me over to the door.’
Mallory looked around the mausoleum for something to use as a stretcher but apart from the eternally sleeping sisters, the place was just cobwebs and rotting leaves. She had little choice but to drag Stella outside by her arms while the woman’s heels scraped along the concrete floor.
She lay Stella flat on the ground, the rain spraying the woman’s face. It brought back memories of Mallory’s own brush with death nine months earlier. She prayed the sharp air outside would revive Stella enough to transport her back to the hotel.
‘Why did you come to the crypt?’
The woman licked her lips, her voice hoarse. ‘You know. Bryony. Bryony brought me here.’
‘But who is Bryony? Please, Stella, this is important. Michael told me you thought I was Bryony. You don’t still think that.’
Stella gave a shake of her head.
‘Then who is it? You’re the only person here who’s met her in real life.’
‘I don’t know. Bryony had brown hair… a mousy colour, I think.’ Stella coughed, a rattling sound as if her lungs were struggling to work. ‘Her eyes were blue – it’s what I wrote in my book – but I don’t actually remember them.’
‘You don’t recognise her from amongst the guests?’
Stella didn’t answer but turned her head away from the beam light. ‘I feel terrible.’
Mallory knelt next to the woman. ‘I can get you back on the quad bike and give you an emetic at the hotel. That might help. At least let Michael look at you. He might be able to mitigate the effects of whatever laurel leaves do to you.’
‘They produce cyanide. Every gardener knows it. I was so careful what I ate but I was struggling with staying indoors. I had a note under my door. Bryony was going to meet me here. She knew I’d come here even in the most terrible of weathers.’
‘Was there anyone here?’
‘I think so. The light was on but as I stepped into the building I was overcome by a feeling of sickness. Then someone hit me on the head. When I came round, I was on the rack.’
‘Let me see.’ Stella’s cropped hair made it easy to check for injuries and Mallory couldn’t see any blood. Internally, she had no idea what damage had been done to the skull. A gust of wind reminded her of their vulnerability. She pulled the radio out of her rucksack. ‘Elsa are you there?’
The radio crackled to life. ‘Are you OK? I saw the light signal. It’s not Bridget Marsh, is it?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve found Stella and she’s feeling a bit under the weather. Can you get me Tom? He won’t leave the kitchen so you’re going to have to go to him yourself.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Elsa and the radio went silent.
Mallory turned her attention back to Stella. ‘We’ll get you back to the hotel in a jiffy. Michael said you’d been invited to the island.’
Stella made a stab at laughing. ‘I fell for an obvious ruse. I received an anonymous message that I’d find Bryony here this weekend. It seemed to be sent from heaven. I’d put some feelers out to see if I could track down Bryony. I’d approached her legal team and put in a request with the Home Office that I’d like to get a message to Bryony. No one replied but when I got the email, I wondered if someone had seen my letter and decided to help me along a bit.’
‘A leak or something.’
‘Exactly. I made the booking for this weekend but when I got here, I couldn’t spot Bryony as an adult. There were women of about Bryony’s age but not one of them was recognisable. That’s when I thought Bryony might be you.’
‘Mallory, are you OK?’ Tom’s voice came over the radio.
Mallory, her head pounding, updated Tom on what she had found. ‘I’m going to bring Stella back to the hotel. Find Michael and take him into the spa suite. I’ll bring Stella through the back door.’
‘Is she OK?’ asked Tom.
‘She’ll be right as rain.’ Mallory met Stella’s gaze and the woman shook her head slightly. Mallory bent down to her.
‘You’re sure you don’t think I’m Bryony, do you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Listen, I’m Mallory Dawson. I was brought up in Guildford not Wilmslow. My mother lives in Australia. I’m divorced with a child.’
‘Bryony had a child.’
‘What?’
‘Bryony had a child. How old is yours?’
‘Nearly sixteen.’
‘Then they’re too old. You can’t be Bryony.’
‘Why not?’
‘In 2018 when Bryony got lifelong anonymity it was because of the existence of an offspring. The court order covers her child too.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘I’ve still got contacts in the police. They couldn’t tell me much. I knew at least that.’
‘You think Beth Gregory is Bryony?’
‘I don’t know. How long has Charlotte Vass been married? I heard her daughter shout “you’re not my mother” this morning. My contact might not have got all the details right. Perhaps it was on her marriage to her husband that the court order came into effect. To protect a stepdaughter.’
‘Shit. Then we’re no nearer to the culprit. Mona doesn’t give the impression of someone with a child in tow.’
‘She looks at the child a lot.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Mona looks at the little girl. When she doesn’t realise she’s being observed, she stares at the girl.’
‘Edith Gregory? You think Edith reminds her of another child. Do you think if Bryony had a child, it might have been taken into care?’
‘Would you trust The Birthday Girl with a child? Bryony was obsessed with poisons. Anyone close to her would be in danger. Can’t you question the women?’
‘I have no official role in the killing of Grace. Or your attempted murder.’ Mallory paused. ‘I have to tell you that we’ve lost a member of staff. Alys, who was working on reception, died yesterday evening before Grace. You were right, there was something terrible about the coffee.’
‘Help me,’ Stella tried to sit up. ‘I’ll be damned if I die it’s going to be next to these fucking nuns.’
‘That’s the spirit. Take my coat.’ Mallory shrugged off her puffa jacket and helped Stella into it. ‘My guess is that the laurel has only been used for you. I don’t think it’s what was put in the coffee as the timings don’t match – I saw someone out by the laurel tree – and I’m still trying to work out what poison killed Grace.’
‘The same poison can be used in different strengths. Have you read my book? Michael told me you’d discovered it in his room.’
‘Only an early chapter where you describe meeting Bryony for the first time.’
‘Read the beginning of chapter six. You’ll see some parallels to what’s going on here. Listen,’ Stella swallowed and grimaced in pain. ‘There’s someone else I recognise. A face from the past. They might be able to help. He’s connected to Bryony.’
‘Who?’ asked Mallory. ‘Who do you recognise?’
‘Noah. I recognise Noah Vass.’