TOM IS BY THE FRONT door, hurrying his coat on. ‘Where’s the nearest police station?’
‘Bedale, maybe,’ Rachel says. ‘Or Ripon?’
‘I’ll check,’ Gray says, reaching into his pocket, presumably for his phone. He closes his eyes. ‘Sorry, keep forgetting we’ve handed them over.’
‘Why did we agree to that again?’ Tom says, looping a scarf around his neck.
‘Because of Mum’s precious rules,’ Sara replies. ‘Rules that also say that anyone who leaves forfeits their right to the house.’
‘You can’t think we’ll carry on with the game?’ Lily asks.
‘Why would we stop?’ Sara says, eyebrows raised.
‘Philippa’s dead,’ Lily replies, as quietly as she can to avoid hurting Ronnie. She looks back to where he still sits with his wife’s head on his thigh. She tries not to see the knife, the blood.
‘And I’m sorry about that. But there’s nothing we can do for her now,’ Sara says. ‘I’m just being pragmatic.’
‘You’re being cruel and obtuse,’ Tom says. His voice vibrates with anger.
‘Maybe,’ Sara replies. ‘But I’m staying. The phone lines will be back up at some point, I’ll call the police then. By all means, the rest of you go. And then I’ll get the house.’
Rachel hovers in the hallway, stuck somewhere between Tom and Sara. Mrs Castle leans against the wall as if she needs its solidity. She stares at the picture of Liliana on the wall. Probably wondering how she got herself mixed up in this family.
‘Wait,’ Sara says, her finger raised. ‘What’s happened to the key Tom gave Philippa?’ She raises her voice, turns towards Ronnie, who still sits on the floor with Philippa’s body. ‘Ronnie, did you see what she did with that key?’
Ronnie doesn’t turn round. He’s stroking Philippa’s head as if sending her to sleep. Lily hopes he didn’t even hear Sara.
‘How can you ask that?’ Holly asks. Rachel holds her closer.
‘It’s not like she needs it, is it?’ Sara replies. ‘And, let’s be honest, Ronnie won’t have any use for it.’
‘You’re disgusting, Sara,’ Tom says.
Sara shrugs again. But Lily is standing close enough to see her shocked intake of breath. Maybe even Sara has feelings.
‘Right,’ Tom says, pulling his car keys from his pocket. ‘Anyone got snow tyres?’
Heads shake.
‘Call yourself from Yorkshire, you lot?’ Tom says. ‘All right, then – anyone got an atlas, a map, a bloody globe? I don’t care what as long as it takes me to the nearest police station!’ His voice echoes in the hall.
Mrs Castle seems to wake up at this volume. She marches over to the bureau in the reception hall and opens a drawer.
Tom’s voice gets through to Ronnie, too. ‘Ssh, Tom,’ Ronnie hisses. ‘Philippa’s sleeping.’ He strokes her hair over and over.
‘It’s all right, Ronnie, love, we’ll keep quiet,’ Rachel says, looking over at her brother with so much love it hurts.
Mrs Castle rummages through the drawer, muttering to herself.
‘Have you got satnav?’ Rachel asks Tom.
‘I use my phone,’ Tom says through a clamped jaw. ‘Only I don’t have it.’
‘I’ll get my satnav from my car,’ Lily says, wrapping her scarf around her. ‘It’s a bit old, though. Kept freezing on the way up. Doubt the connection will be better in a snowstorm.’
Tom nods, as if he wouldn’t expect anything else from a night like this.
Lily hopes she’ll be able to read the other clues later, there’s nothing in the rules to say she can’t. Right now, though, Philippa has been killed and Ronnie needs help. That’s far more important than a decades-old mystery.
Tom hugs her, really tight. She’s not sure if he’s shaking, or if she is.
Mrs Castle shouts out, ‘Ha!’ and waves a road atlas over her head. ‘I’ll come too,’ she says, smiling at Lily. ‘The map will get us where we want.’
*
Ten minutes later, Lily and Mrs Castle are in Tom’s car. Rachel and Gray shovel snow from the driveway while Tom douses the front and back windscreens with de-icer. Snow keeps falling, mocking their attempts.
‘Maybe I spoke too soon,’ Mrs Castle says.
‘Thought you were all for not tempting fate,’ Lily replies.
‘I’m hoping it’ll prove me wrong,’ Mrs Castle says, but there’s not much hope in her voice.
Tom gets in and places the keys in the ignition. ‘Come on, Kristeva,’ he says, ‘work for me, would you?’
‘What have you called your car?’ Mrs Castle asks.
‘Julia Kristeva,’ Tom replies. ‘She’s a psychoanalytic critic.’
‘I know who she is,’ Mrs Castle says, folding her arms.
Julia Kristeva revs, trying to get her tyres into the gravel. ‘Come on,’ Tom says. ‘You can do it.’
Lily huddles into the back seat. The heated seats are beginning to work. Imagine that in her old Mini. There’s a drink holder, too. She’d kill for a coffee.
No. She wouldn’t.
The engine kicks in and the car starts to move. She thinks she can hear Gray cheering but it might be the wind in the trees. Tom leans forward in his seat, trying to see out of the window. The wipers are on, but his vision must be almost zero.
‘I’m not sure this is safe,’ Mrs Castle says.
‘I don’t know what else to do,’ Tom says. There are tears backing up his voice.
‘It’s not like we’re safe in the house,’ Lily replies.
‘Aunt Liliana should never have brought us all together,’ Tom says.
‘She couldn’t have known someone would die,’ Mrs Castle replies.
But Liliana knew that someone had been killed at Endgame before. What if that has something to do with Philippa’s death?
Mrs Castle catches Lily’s eye in the rear-view mirror. She places a finger to her lips.
As they start down the steep driveway, the car slips. Tom keeps it on course, but the car slows. The snow is getting heavier and heavier. Snowflakes cover the windows like intricate lace.
On either side of them, the woods press in, as if trying to climb into the safety of the car. Maybe it’s for the best that Lily’s leaving. Even Aunt Liliana would agree that she’s given the Christmas Game a fair chance. She wouldn’t expect Lily to stay in a house where yet another person had died. After all, Liliana had left when her sister died, taking Lily with her.
And then a thought occurs to Lily. Maybe her aunt had been taking Lily to safety, away from whoever had killed Mum. But then why now bring her back into danger?
The car has stopped. Tom revs again, but the wheels are just chewing up earth, ice and gravel. They’re stuck.
Tom tries to open the car door but it’s wedged in by a snow bank. Lowering his window, he leans his head out as far as possible. The storm barges into the car, spitting sleet into their faces.
‘Can’t see much,’ Tom shouts. ‘But it looks like a tree has fallen over the road. We’ll have to shift it!’
Lily undoes her seatbelt and opens her door a fraction. ‘There’s more room this side!’ she shouts. ‘Mrs Castle, if you get out, then Tom can climb over.’
They nod, and she hopes they’ve actually heard her. The wind is trying to keep the door closed, whether to keep her out of danger or in it is not clear.
Using her legs, Lily pushes against the door. It swings open just long enough for her to get out, placing her back towards the door to protect her tummy. Her face feels lacerated. Even with her coat and layers of clothes, she might as well be out here in a nightie.
Mrs Castle bundles out of the car, followed by Tom. Heads down, huddling together, Lily, Tom and Mrs Castle edge around the car to see what’s blocking the way. Every few gusts of wind, and the fallen tree becomes visible for a moment. One of the huge oaks, severed at the knee, lies prone across the road. Its branches reach out under the wheels of the car. It creaks and rustles and flinches, dying in front of them.
‘Must have come down in the wind,’ Mrs Castle says.
Tom doesn’t say anything. Holding his arms in front of him, squinting against the sleet, looking out for roots, he works his way down to the base of the felled tree. Lily follows, twigs scratching at her limbs. Tom points to the trunk, salami sliced, rings showing its final age. She’s no tree surgeon but Lily doesn’t think a storm could cut an oak smoothly in two.
‘We can’t move that tonight,’ Tom shouts. ‘Too dangerous.’
Lily nods. The three of them turn and link arms, just as Lily did with Philippa less than two days ago. She doesn’t know if this is the best way to face the storm – three abreast rather than single file, but it feels more comforting.
Together they trudge back up the driveway. She didn’t think she’d ever be happy to see Endgame House rising through the snow. Then she remembers what she’s returning to: a murder house, that someone has stopped them from leaving.