‘WELL DONE,’ SARA SAYS, WHEN Tom and Lily come downstairs. ‘Guess you were lucky this time.’
‘Nope,’ Tom says, holding the key in the same way Gray did yesterday. Lily nudges him to stop – that will only antagonise Sara.
‘Congratulations,’ Gray says. There it is again, he’s looking into Lily’s eyes, trying to communicate something. ‘I guess I love the chapel so much it was wishful thinking.’
‘Whatever it was, it cost us the key,’ Sara snaps.
‘There’ll be others,’ Gray says. And the way he says it suggest he’s not talking about the keys.
Lily spends the rest of the day trying to talk to Gray alone. She follows him out into the kitchen garden when he goes for a smoke, and then Sara is right behind her. She stands next to him as they serve themselves lunch, but Sara pushes between them. It isn’t until Sara has to go to the toilet that Gray sidles up to Lily.
‘I’d like to talk,’ he whispers. ‘I need your help.’
‘What can I do?’ she whispers back.
‘I don’t know how to start.’ Gray’s shoulders begin to shake. She hears him struggle to control his breath. ‘It’s gone far beyond what was supposed to happen.’
‘And what was that?’
Sara’s quick footsteps tick off the tiles in the hall.
‘I’ll tell you when Sara’s gone to bed,’ Gray says. ‘We’ll meet outside. Look out your window.’ Then he slides, back to being a shadow against the wall.
*
The rest of the day passes slowly. She and Tom play charades and I spy and their old Game of Life board. They change the rules, no more pink pegs next to the blue, with two of each kind behind to show you win. Lily’s car has a blue peg in the front for her, and one in the back for Baby. ‘And which peg goes next to you?’ Tom asks, holding up both pink and blue ones.
‘Whichever one I love,’ Lily replies.
*
Sara goes to bed at nine, and Lily makes yawning noises shortly after. In her bedroom, she doesn’t get into her pyjamas, instead she puts on as many layers as possible, then pulls over her dressing gown that skims her ankles. If she’s caught, she’ll just say she needed something to eat. The potential for this to be a trap keeps rising up, again and again. She wishes she could tell Tom, but what if he gets in more trouble? He’s already been injured. She has to risk it. Gray looks like he wants to betray Sara, to make a decision between black and white. She has to trust him.
Every fox or badger crossing the snow makes her heart beat faster, thinking it’s Gray. And then he’s there. He looks up, and points towards the east of the grounds. Then slinks back into the dark.
Lily pads out of her room and goes downstairs. Borrowing Tom’s boots, she hurries out of the French doors. On the terrace, Gray’s footprints are fast disappearing under a fresh flurry of snow.
A Gray-shaped shadow appears on the lawn, beckoning to her. He runs off and she follows, across the field, through the long grasses of the wild garden that poke their noses through the snow. He’s heading towards the chapel. His sanctuary. She quickens her pace but still feels too slow. The snow is getting thicker. She can hardly see or feel her feet. The chapel, the house, all bearings are obliterated, wiped out in the white out. Nothing exists.
She should never have come out. Tom doesn’t even know she’s gone. This could all be a trap, Gray leading her to death.
Precious seconds are ticking. She stumbles on, hoping she can trust Gray and her sense of direction. At last, the wind pulls back the curtain of snow to reveal the chapel. Made of cream stone, it stands out against the slate sky. The door is already open. Light spills out onto snow.
‘Gray?’ she calls out as she enters. Her voice becomes big in this small space. She walks down the aisle, surrounded by pews. Her mum had told her that she could get married here, and Lily had said she’d never get married. At the time she couldn’t see why she could marry a man and not a woman. That was stupid. Some things change for the better, Tom, she thinks.
Half-burned votives flicker on the family altar. The censer is still warm, leeching out the last of its frankincense smoke. Next to it, an empty urn stands in tipped-out cremains. Gray has made sure Liliana is home. But there’s no other sign of him.
Maybe he’s left. Inspired by Rachel and Holly, he took his things and walked away. Well done, Gray. A rebel rebel at last.
Lily turns to walk back, then sees a foot sticking out of the far side of one of the pews. And a stripy sock. It’s Gray. Tom was OK, she says to herself as she goes to him. Maybe Gray’s injured.
When she gets to him, though, he’s not OK. And he won’t be again. In splendoribus sanctorum. He lies on stones etched with the names of Endgame’s dead. A stream of blood slows from his head. His beautiful eyes stare out but don’t see her, and his mouth is wrenched open, jaw broken. Filled with pieces of shiny silver.
Killed in his own place of safety. Punished for wanting to tell the truth. At the end, Anglican in deed, sin, if it exists, hopefully, forgiven.
She kneels next to him. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says. She takes his hand and, as she unfurls his curled fingers, finds a piece of twine, with a key attached. She looks closer. It’s the one she gave him, in the car. He was going to give it back to her. Lily gently takes the key and closes Gray’s hand.
The chapel door slams.
Lily stands, unsteady on her feet. She wants to stay with him, guard Gray as he did Philippa and Ronnie, but whoever did this to him must be close.
Outside, she sees a shadow, a figure wearing black, seem to fly across the snow. Heading back towards the house.
As she wades after them, the snow falls as if in slow motion. The whole sky grieves for Gray, wearing grey in his honour.
Lily’s lungs burn. She’d cut down her gym visits in the first twelve weeks of pregnancy, and, now she’s carrying a baby bath inside her, it’s showing. The figure stops, and looks back. Then turns towards the maze.
They know she can’t go in there. They know her. She’s too cold to know if that hurts more or less. This isn’t a stranger, or if they are, they’ve been listening to everything.
At the entrance to the maze, she stops. Hands on hips, she tries to get her breath. She can hear the figure stamping through the snow. If she stays here, they’ll have to come back past her as the entrance is also the exit. Or they could scale one of the hedges and escape over the side. She knows the maze better than anyone; she has to go in.
But she can’t. She’s paralysed. Again. If she remains frozen, Gray’s killer will get away. And she’ll be the coward Sara believes her to be.
Lily leans down, takes a scoop of snow in her hand and presses it to her face. The burn kicks her adrenaline off again, and she walks into the maze. As quietly as she can, she moves in after the figure. She has no idea what she’ll do when she gets them. She just needs to know who it is, to confirm that it’s Sara. The hedges rise into the sky around her. But she won’t go back.
Even in Tom’s boots, her feet know their way around the maze. As Lily rounds a corner, memories blizzard around her. The walls closing in when she found Mum. Twigs scratching at her as she ran out.
She moves faster, trying to outpace the memories. Turning a sudden left, she stops. Shallow breathing. A hedge away.
Lily walks forward three steps, then turns to face the stranger. The figure in black extends their arms, hood up, face concealed behind mesh. For a moment, she thinks it’s a ghost, or Death. Then the figure slams their hands into her chest. Forced back against the hedge, she stumbles. Tripping over a hidden root, she lands on the ground, pulling at the branches with snow-caked hands.
The figure stands over her. Then stamps on Lily’s foot, placing all their weight on it. And then jumps on it again.
Lily screams. Her ankle is red hot in the snow. The black figure runs down the green aisle. Lily leans back on a pillow of snow.
She has failed. Again. How can she be a good mother when she put herself and her child in danger, when she tries to help but makes everything worse? If it weren’t for her, Gray would still be alive. And maybe Ronnie. And Philippa knew something, too. She has no chance of getting the house from Sara. Or even of staying alive to the end of the game.
Snow is falling fast, covering Lily in a weighted blanket. And she could give in. Hypothermia is supposed to be one of the best ways to die. You’re so cold you get warm as your blood retreats to your central organs. At some point you drift into a snowy doze, and don’t wake up. Sleep reaches for her, and she wants it so much.
Then Bean flutters inside her.
Lily crawls forward, reaching for a root or anything to help pull herself up. Her hand closes on something hard. She grabs it, but it comes away. She lifts her gloved hand out of the snow.
In the centre of her palm is a key. There’s still a chance.
Grabbing on to the hedge, Lily drags herself to standing. Fistfuls of green leaves fall to the snow-laid ground. Her ankle screams at her, so she bends and packs more snow into the boots. Stop the swelling, shush the searing pain.
Once outside the maze, a weight lifts as the memories slink back to within its walls. She picks up the branch used to attack Tom and puts it under her armpit. Once a weapon, now a crutch.
She slowly makes her way up the back lawn. As she passes the rose garden, she has a strong urge to lie on the snow-cushioned bench and sleep like a rosehip till spring.
‘Lily!’ Tom shouts. His footsteps stomp on the terrace as he runs to the wall. And there he is. He runs down the steps, almost slipping into a snowbank. Within moments he’s next to her, slinging his arm around her, taking her weight.
‘What happened?’ he asks.
Lily sees a flash of Gray’s body lying on the memorial flagstones. She wants to tell Tom, but she should tell Sara first, if she doesn’t already know. ‘I ran after a figure into the maze,’ Lily says. ‘The one who tried to attack me. I caught up with them, then they stamped on my ankle and I lost them.’
‘Oh, Lily,’ Tom says. There’s a catch in his throat. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘At least I went in,’ Lily says.
‘Wait, you’re right. You went in?’
Lily nods. She tries on a smile.
‘That’s a-maze-ing!’
Lily groans at the pun but its silliness and familiarity warm her.
With Tom holding her, they gradually make it up to the terrace. Sara hurries out through the French doors. She hugs herself against the cold. ‘Have you seen Gray?’ she asks, scanning the grounds.
‘You really are self-obsessed,’ Tom says. ‘Can’t you see something’s happened to Lily?’
Sara focuses on Lily briefly. She frowns. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘As if you don’t know,’ Tom mutters.
‘What was that?’ Sara snaps.
‘Lily’s been attacked. Again. And I can’t see me or Gray doing that to anyone.’
Sara’s hands go to her hips. ‘You’re not accusing me of murder, are you? Because that’s libel.’
‘Slander,’ Lily says before she can stop herself. It’s as if the corset laces on her mouth are unravelling.
Sara turns to her. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Lily says. ‘Sara, I’m so sorry, but I’ve got—’
‘She means that it’s libel if written down,’ Tom says, ‘slander if spoken. So, I slandered you. Although, if you took it to court, you’d have to prove you’re not a murderer.’
Sara steps forward, nose to nose with Tom.
‘Can we please stop all this and go in?’ Lily asks. ‘There’s something I need to tell Sara.’
*
Sara’s cry reverberates around the house. From the drawing room, the grandmother clock chimes as if joining her in keening. ‘Not Gray,’ she says. ‘It can’t be.’ She keeps shaking her head as if that will make the horror stop. But nothing can.
Tom looks almost as shocked as Sara. ‘There’s got to be someone else on the grounds,’ he says. ‘Mrs Castle was in the kitchen, and I was here with Sara so it can’t be her. Besides, she’d never do that to Gray.’
Sara marches into the hall and throws on her coat. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she says. ‘You must have imagined it. I’ll show you.’ She runs towards the kitchen, with Tom following. Lily limps along behind, holding on to walls.
Sara opens the door into the kitchen garden, and another slice of cold air cuts through the house.
‘I’ll go with you,’ Tom says, trying to put his arm round Sara.
‘No!’ Sara shouts, pushing him away.
Lily puts a hand on Sara’s arm. ‘But if there’s someone out there. None of us should be alone.’
‘Stay away from me and Gray, both of you. And don’t follow me.’ She stumbles out and Tom rocks on the threshold.
‘What should I do?’ he asks, eyes wide. He looks like a little boy.
‘We respect what she wants,’ Lily says. ‘And we’re here for her when she gets back.’
‘Are you sure?’ Tom asks, looking out after Sara.
‘I’m not sure about anything anymore,’ Lily replies.
*
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Tom says, when he and Lily have changed into dry clothes. They’ve brought mugs of tea through into the orangery. It’s the best place to keep watch for Sara’s return. ‘Let’s say an outsider is behind all this, we need to find out who it is.’
Lily nods. She’d been thinking the same thing. ‘But who would have a motive? If it’s about the house, and it must be, then the only eligible people are – or were – here. Or are you thinking that the cats have enlisted Mrs Castle to kill us all so that they end up with the house.’
‘I was more thinking of someone human. A particular human,’ Tom says. He’s avoiding Lily’s eyes, staring into the gaze of the wood-burner instead.
‘Who?’
‘What if your mum had been married to your dad, without us knowing.’
‘I don’t have a dad,’ Lily says, keeping her voice level.
‘I’m sorry, Lily, but, technically, biologically, you do have another parent. What if they have a claim?’
‘Isabelle would have known about that, wouldn’t she?’ Lily asks. She can hear the anxiety flashing in her voice.
Tom nods, slowly. ‘Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ve also thought of another reason why it’s an outsider. And you’re not going to like this one either.’ He looks at her corseted belly. ‘Whoever is the killer, they clearly don’t know about your little hitchhiker. Otherwise, you’d both be dead by now.’
Lily’s hand flies to her stomach. ‘I’ve been attacked twice.’
‘But the first time you were saved, the second time they stamped on your leg – hardly fatal.’
Lily nods. It’s true. Why kill Gray and not her?
‘That could even support the thought that’s it’s your dad. He wants Endgame, but doesn’t want to kill you.’ Tom’s eyes light up here as his brain leaps. ‘Maybe he even saved you, from his accomplice.’
‘So now there are two killers?’ Lily raises her eyebrows to sceptic heights.
‘Yeah,’ Tom says. ‘Maybe I’m getting carried away. I just want answers.’
‘Me too. It’s why I came here in the first place.’
Tom isn’t listening, however. ‘What if the motive isn’t financial. What if it’s revenge?’
‘For what?’
‘God, I don’t know,’ Tom says, standing up and pacing. ‘I’m trying to think my way out of a panic attack. You’re the one who’s good at puzzles. And Gray. But you’re the only . . .’ He leaves the rest of the sentence unsaid, but it’s there in the air. Lily is the only one left.
A feeling of loneliness soaks through to her skin, digs into her bones. She turns to Tom. ‘I need to show you something,’ she says.
*
Upstairs, in her bedroom, Lily tells Tom the real reason she’s here. She shows him Liliana’s letter, explains about the coat and shyly tells him how she now believes that her mum didn’t kill herself.
Tom exhales. ‘Whoa,’ he says. He rubs his forehead as if that will help the new knowledge go in. ‘I don’t know how to feel for you. Pleased that you’re rid of the burden of responsibility you carried, or enraged on your behalf that she was taken from you.’
‘I don’t know how I feel yet either.’
They sit cross-legged on the rug, like when they played Top Trumps as kids. Only this time, they’re trading pictures of red-dotted yellow ribbons. She keeps the one of the car crash hidden away. He doesn’t need to see a close up of where his parents died.
‘What am I looking at?’ he asks.
‘That’s Mum’s ribbon,’ Lily says, pointing to the photos she found in the box of her mum wearing it in her hair. ‘For some reason, Liliana wanted me to pay attention to it. It was around the crackers; wrapped up the presents that the clues were in.’
‘So?’ Tom asks.
Lily pauses, wondering how to phrase the next part, before saying, ‘And the same type of ribbon was found in the car that your mum and dad died in.’
Tom goes pale. His hands clench round his kneecaps. He looks up at her. ‘I don’t know what any of it means,’ he says.
‘Neither do I.’ She’s about to show him the coroner’s report, then stops. She is potentially telling him that his dad killed her mum. And that would change their relationship forever. If it hasn’t already.