‘YOU’RE SHAKING,’ HOLLY SAYS, AS Lily steps back into the house. She rubs Lily’s arms, hugs her tight. Lily looks to the floor, and finds strange joy in seeing Holly’s pompom-topped slippers.
‘All right, all right,’ Sara says, frowning. ‘It’s not Lily who needs comforting here.’
‘Her teeth are chattering, Sara,’ Holly says, snapping for the first time in Lily’s company. ‘What’s your problem?’
Sara steps back. She frowns, but doesn’t seem to know what to say.
Lily hears, then, her own molars snapping against each other, like the wind-up plastic teeth you get in crackers. She must have been this cold before. The day she found her mum, she’d walked through the snow in bare feet. Now she can’t even feel her toes, and is grateful. She raises a hand, and she can see it shaking. ‘I don’t know what’s happening,’ Lily says.
‘It’s the shock,’ Mrs Castle replies.
‘We need to get her warmed up,’ Holly says. She puts her arm round Lily and guides her towards the living room. As they go, though, Lily can’t help looking towards the library. Ronnie still sits there, on the floor. Although now he’s not moving. It’s as if he’s one of the statues in the garden.
‘He won’t get up,’ Holly says in as soft a voice as she can manage.
‘And he won’t let us take Philippa,’ Rachel adds.
‘Nor should he,’ Mrs Castle says in a whisper. ‘It’s bad enough that he held her. Don’t blame him, mind, poor love.’ Her face softens, just for a moment, then stiffens as if starched into its normal state. ‘But she shouldn’t be moved an inch more till the police arrive. Not that they’ll get here anytime soon.’
‘What happened?’ Rachel asks.
‘A tree fell across the driveway,’ Tom says. ‘No way we can get out, not by car, not tonight.’
‘Oh, no,’ Holly says as she settles Lily into a chair. Once again, Lily has a blanket tucked round her. Philippa had looked after Lily in a similar way, and now she’s dead. ‘The poor tree, it was so big. Must have been here a long time.’
‘Right. And that’s our priority right now,’ Sara says. ‘One tree that can’t take a little storm.’
‘It was cut down deliberately,’ Mrs Castle says. Her voice sharp enough to cut down the tree itself.
‘Who’d do a thing like that?’ Holly asks. Her eyes are as round as berries, red from tiredness and crying.
‘Maybe the same person who’d kill Philippa,’ Gray replies. He’s standing by the fire, his hands behind his back as if trying to stop himself gesticulating.
No one can find a reply to this. The fire fills the silence with a low-level hiss. The wind shakes the sash windows. The house creaks around them.
‘Is anyone going to get us tea? Or coffee? Preferably something stronger,’ Sara says at last. ‘Or does Mrs Castle have to do that, too, despite what’s she been through?’ She stares straight at Holly.
‘Of course,’ Holly says, looking confused. ‘I’ll do it.’ She stands up, her face a display of bafflement, and shuffles out of the living room.
Sara waits until Holly’s footsteps are out of hearing. ‘I didn’t want to say this in front of an outsider, especially a sweet and naïve one like Holly—’
‘She’s my wife, and part of this family,’ Rachel interrupts, eyes flashing. ‘And you’ve got no idea what she’s like. Although I suppose anyone seems sweet and naïve compared to you, Sara.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Sara replies, rolling her eyes.
Rachel stands. ‘You can take it and shove it right up your—’
‘I don’t think we need go into biological details, Rachel,’ Tom says. ‘And Sara, for God’s sake, just say what you want to say.’
Sara looks across at Gray for back-up, but he’s staring into the flames as if he wants to disappear with the sparks up the chimney. ‘Fine. Well, we clearly need to get our stories straight for when the police actually get here.’
‘The only reason to get our stories straight is if one of us did it,’ Tom replies.
‘One of us did, cousin dear,’ Sara says. ‘Either that, or someone broke in during a storm, killed Philippa while we all slept, and then felled a tree to make sure we couldn’t get out.’
‘That’s not impossible,’ Gray says, hope lacing his voice.
‘Improbable, though, wouldn’t you say?’ Sara says. ‘I thought you studied logic at university.’
Gray looks as if he’s about to say something, then stops. Lily knows exactly how he must feel. All those words bottled up for decades, oak-aged and waiting to be decanted.
From the hallway, Ronnie starts sobbing. Lily stands up quickly, but feels faint, darkness encroaching on the edges of her vision like an old photograph.
‘I’ll go,’ Tom says. He moves quickly out of the room. ‘Coming, mate!’
Lily takes a deep breath. If Philippa’s death is connected to both her mum and Aunt Liliana dying – and she can’t see how it isn’t, unless the house itself is cursed – then she needs to step up. Without drawing attention to what she’s doing. This is where she has to prove herself. If she can.
‘If we’re going to get our “stories” straight,’ Lily says, slowly, trying to think as she speaks. ‘Then we need to know what everyone was doing around the time Philippa died.’
‘I was asleep,’ Sara says, quickly. ‘First thing I knew about it was hearing Ronnie.’
On mentioning Ronnie, everyone is quiet for a moment, listening to his hushed crying and Tom’s reassuring whispers from the hallway.
‘And me,’ says Lily.
Mrs Castle, Rachel and Gray all state the same thing. They were asleep and were woken up by the sounds coming from downstairs.
‘So, either one or more of us is lying,’ Lily says. ‘Or Tom or Holly did it, or someone from outside.’
‘Or Ronnie,’ Gray adds.
‘Can you hear him?’ Sara asks. ‘Does he sound like he murdered someone he loved?’ Ronnie is roaring now. It sounds like his pain can’t be contained by his skin.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Gray says, meeting his sister’s eye. ‘And I’m just using logic, as you suggested.’
Lily tries to picture the driveway. ‘There might be CCTV footage on the perimeter gates,’ Lily says. ‘But we’d need to get a message to Isabelle to see it.’
‘If we could let her know, then we’d be able to contact the police,’ Rachel says.
‘There’s something else we should talk about,’ Sara says. ‘What we’re going to do with Philippa’s body.’
‘I told you, she shouldn’t be moved,’ Mrs Castle replies. ‘And we shouldn’t go near the library entrance either. Forensics won’t want anything changed.’
‘You said yourself that Ronnie already moved her.’
That’s true enough. From the blood on the floor, it looks to Lily like Ronnie dropped to the floor on seeing her lying in the doorway, and dragged her into his arms.
The low murmur of Holly’s voice comes from the hallway, followed by the slow shuffling of her slippers on the tiles. She enters carrying a tray. Her eyes fix on the stacked cups and the huge pot of tea until they are placed safely on the table. Tom follows her in with another tray – this one is topped with coffee and mounds of biscuits. Lily’s tummy rumbles. She covers the sound with a cough. Feeling hungry at a time like this feels disrespectful.
‘I’m worried about Ronnie,’ Tom says, moving back into the doorway so he can keep an eye on his brother. ‘He refuses to leave her. I mean, he’s still trying to wake her up.’
‘It’s shock,’ Mrs Castle says again. ‘Finding your wife dead.’ She shakes her head. ‘How can he possibly react any other way? It’s the most devastating thing that could happen.’ Holly moves even closer to Rachel.
‘I think we should move her,’ Tom says.
‘For once we agree,’ Sara says. ‘That’s what I’ve been saying.’
‘Now I wish I kept my mouth shout,’ Tom replies.
‘We should leave her where she is,’ Lily says. ‘Moving her could ruin an investigation. We’ve no idea what we’re doing.’
‘We can’t leave her, not on the floor,’ Holly says. ‘It’s so uncomfortable.’
‘I don’t think she’s in a position to care,’ Sara says, not unkindly. ‘But there’s another reason to remove her. Not being funny – ’ Sara adopts her ‘I’m just saying it like it is’ face. ‘But she’s going to start to smell soon.’
‘God, Sara,’ Tom says. His face is scrunched up in disgust. ‘I thought you couldn’t surprise me anymore, and then you say that.’
‘True, though,’ Sara replies. ‘We all know that it’s a fact. Tell them, Gray.’
‘Leave him alone, Sara,’ Tom says. ‘What would Gray know?’
‘Undertakers tend to know a lot about death,’ Sara answers. She smiles at everyone’s shocked faces. She loves knowing things others don’t.
‘I only started training in September,’ Gray says, staring at the carpet. Lily feels a flush of peace at the thought of someone as gentle as Gray dealing with the dead. If she were to die, she’d want Gray to be present, head bowed, hands behind his back.
Sara pokes her brother in the arm, and he recoils. ‘Tell them, Gray – how she’ll start stinking the house up if we leave her.’
Holly places a hand over her mouth and turns her head to rest on Rachel’s shoulder. Lily wishes she had someone she could do that with.
‘And you used to be such a nice little girl,’ Mrs Castle says.
‘No, I didn’t,’ Sara says. And she’s right.
From the hall, Ronnie starts crying again. Lily’s heart hurts. She needs to hold him. And that must only be a sliver of what he’s feeling towards Philippa.
Lily stands up slowly to prevent reeling. Inside her, Bean twists and turns like the conversation. It feels reassuring. Glad to leave the group, Lily walks away. Tom grabs her hand as she passes and squeezes it.
Ronnie looks up when Lily places a hand on his shoulder. ‘I know what you’re going to say,’ he says, wiping his face of snot and tears with the back of his hand. ‘I know she’s gone, but I can’t let her go.’
‘I understand,’ Lily says. She eases herself down next to him. ‘I’m not going to ask you to do anything you don’t want to.’
Ronnie leans into her. She feels his sobs shake through her. She wonders if Bean can feel them too.
‘Tell me about Philippa,’ Lily says. ‘Tell me everything you love about her.’
Lily knows not to place the past tense onto the situation. It’s up to Ronnie to do that.
‘I love all the big and little things. How she knows the end of the film before it’s hardly started. Her love of yellow roses after the rain,’ Ronnie says, gazing down at Philippa. His eyes are soft, his voice softer.
‘Tell me more,’ Lily says, stroking his head.
‘She loves Samuel with such ferocity. I always tell her that she’s not going to be any old helicopter parent, she’s going to be a Chinook. She soothes him to sleep by reading the weather forecast. She likes fruit and nut chocolate, but takes out the nuts and gives them to me. She only sits in the front row of the cinema as she likes the huge people to make her feel thin. She sucks the sugar off popcorn, she can skin a fish in under thirty seconds, she will eat the same meal I make her time and time again and still give me notes on how to make it better, and that’s good, that’s great, as I want to make it the best I can for her.’ Ronnie breaks into a sob that makes him start rocking again.
‘It’s OK,’ Lily says. ‘Keep going.’
And he does. He talks for what seems like hours on that hard floor about every tiny and massive thing he loves about the woman lying dead in his lap. He doesn’t seem to notice the knife in her back, only what he loves. Lily aches to feel this kind of love, but then look what happens when you lose it.
‘She was so excited about coming here,’ Ronnie continues, shaking his head and smoothing Philippa’s hair so it doesn’t cover her eyes. ‘She’s been studying hotel management, asking me loads of questions about the family . . . she even started doing crosswords when I told her that Aunt Liliana liked anagrams. I’d never have brought her here if I thought this would—’ He breaks off. He’s racked with sobs again and all Lily can do is hold him.
‘She told me she’d be back,’ he says. Lily has to hold on to his words, she can hardly hear him through the sobs. ‘That’s what I can’t get out of my head. If I’d only gone down with her . . .’
‘Why did she go downstairs?’ Lily asks, her heart beating faster.
Ronnie shrugs. ‘I was half-asleep. She said she wanted to check on someone.’
‘Someone? Or something?’
Ronnie closes his eyes and screws up his face. Then lets out a sigh of frustration. ‘Someone, I think. But I don’t know.’ He turns to Lily, eyes wide, nostrils flaring. ‘Why don’t I know? They were her last words to me. I should have listened harder, should’ve kissed her. Gone in her place.’
Lily can do nothing but hold him until, eventually, his tears dry up. Ronnie collapses in on himself, chin to chest. He seems small. His cracked lips move but no sound comes out as if in silent prayer to Philippa.
Hearing soft steps nearby, Lily looks up to see Gray standing by the staircase. ‘He should get some rest,’ Gray says. ‘It’s going to be a long day for him.’
Lily nods.
Ronnie’s eyes are closing. ‘Do you think you can come with me to rest for a while?’ Lily asks.
Ronnie hesitates, then nods. ‘But what about—’
‘We’ll look after Philippa for you,’ Lily says.
Gray is now standing next to her. His face as he looks down on them is full of empathy and compassion. How did he become like this when Sara has none of these qualities? Where did Liliana go so right and so wrong? Or is it nothing to do with how you are as a mother?
Lily doesn’t know whether to hope for nature or nurture as the biggest influences on Bean. Both are suspect.
‘I’ll make her comfortable,’ Gray tells Ronnie. ‘I’ll get a cushion for her head.’
‘One of the festive red ones,’ Ronnie says. ‘She loved Christmas.’