Chapter 29

February, the twentieth and a few spring flowers had come up in Claudia’s garden. Weeds too, but what did that matter? Nothing mattered now, except Phoebe. And Ollie, of course, but he was an adult and should be acting more responsibly. Not true. She worried about him, wanted him to know about Phoebe, wanted to talk to him, wanted him to be safe.

At the preliminary inquest, the coroner ruled that Claudia’s funeral could go ahead. A quiet, low-key affair. Ben and Jennie came to the crematorium. Also, Ava and Kent, but obviously not Jon. Erin knew she should have tried to contact Claudia’s friends – the people at the indoor market, or anyone else who might like to have come – but because of the long gap since the accident, it had felt too difficult. And too upsetting. In spite of the anguish it caused her, Erin hoped several of Claudia’s organs had been used for successful transplants. She could have asked the hospital, but had decided it was better not to think about it. What happened? Did they remove the organs then sew up the body? Had they taken her eyes? Knowing was always better than not knowing but, in this case, that might not be true?

Ava and Kent had brought expensive white lilies – and Ben and Jennie had chosen roses. Erin’s contribution was a large bunch of the primulas that had survived Claudia’s lack of gardening. Would the gesture, that Erin found comforting, have appealed to her sister or would she have made a remark about saving money? Only joking, Erin.

Claudia had been the only person who could remember their parents, the good times they had all shared, and the not so good. Birthdays, Christmases, starting school, having chicken pox. Claudia had been born when Erin was still a baby, and the two of them had shared a bedroom during their early years, whispering to each other after the light was turned off, playing games with zoo and farm animals, and separate dolls houses – their father had been diplomatic enough to make two. Now she was alone.

After the short service, they had lunch in a pub in Totterdown. Going back to Claudia’s house had felt wrong – the pub had been Jennie’s idea and no one had raised objections – and Ava and Ben competed to tell anecdotes, and Erin and Jennie pretended to find them funny. Nothing was said about Jennie’s pregnancy and Erin certainly had no intention of mentioning it, except to Ben who she had congratulated earlier, while reassuring him she was sure it was going to be all right this time, and agreeing it was no wonder poor Jennie had been behaving oddly. Neither did she mention how ill Phoebe had been. They would have asked if she was better and Erin would have said she was “as well as could be expected” and they would have looked relieved and changed the subject. Because Phoebe was not that important to them. And it was perfectly possible she would pick up another infection. And if she did, Erin would sit with her again, all day and all night, keeping watch.

Walking up her road, the following day, Erin’s heart sank as she saw Harold Lord approaching. He was wearing a deerstalker hat and carrying his usual bag of shopping, and it was clear he was hoping for a chat.

‘A little warmer today.’ He opened the bag to show her the vegetables he had bought. ‘To make a casserole,’ he explained. ‘Keeps me going for several days.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I was hoping I’d see you. You wanted to know if I’d seen any suspicious characters hanging about. Think I may be able to help. Not an immigrant. Didn’t look like one. But not English, could have been of Mexican origin. I have Icelandic ancestors although you wouldn’t know from my appearance. If I see him again, I’ll put a note through your door, shall I?’

‘You saw his face?’

‘Not exactly. Wearing one of those hooded jackets, zipped right up to the chin. But you get an impression, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ He knew nothing, just wanted an excuse to chat. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jon standing outside Claudia’s house, and rage rose up in her. She could walk away, or drive off in her car, but it was no good, sooner or later she would have listen to his squalid explanation.

Harold had seen him and was moving on, reluctantly. ‘Could have been Turkish,’ he called over his shoulder, ‘or possibly Albanian.’

Jon hurried towards her. ‘The baby?’

‘She had an infection.’

‘A girl? I thought it was a boy. But she’s better? She’s all right? I know you don’t want to speak to me, but it’s not what you think.’

As she put her key in the lock, she remembered how she had intended to have a mortise one fitted. Tomorrow she would ask Jennie and Ben if they knew the number of a locksmith, get it fixed, without fail.

‘Five minutes.’ She jerked her head to indicate Jon could go on ahead, and he gave a long, slow sigh and started up the stairs.

Once in the loft, she crossed to her easel and began studying the rabbit painting, tracing her finger round the shape of their paws. Some were eating, one was scratching its ear, and another was lying on its side, asleep.

Jon closed the door. ‘Ollie ought to be here. He ought to know.’

‘As far as I’m concerned, he’s lost all rights to her.’ Not true. How could it be if he was the biological father? If he was the father. And if not, who was it? Did Hoshi know? Did anyone know?

Jon was telling her something but she had not been listening. ‘Go on then,’ she said, ‘but whatever it is won’t make any difference. I’m only talking to you because of Maeve.’

‘I don’t know where to start.’

At the beginning, she felt like shouting, but there was no way she was going to help him out. People found silence difficult to bear. Preferred to fill the air with meaningless small talk rather than endure the tension silence produced.

‘Diana,’ he said. ‘She’s not Maeve’s mother.’

‘What do you mean, not her mother? Maeve thinks she is. Oh, she’s adopted but you haven’t told her. No wonder she thinks you’re keeping something from her. What happened? You kept putting off telling her and then it never seemed like the right time and—’

‘She’s not adopted.’

‘All right then, she had a surrogate mother. How did you manage that? I thought they made meticulous investigations. They’d have found out—’

‘Maeve’s my daughter but Diana’s not her mother.’

‘So who is? And why haven’t you told her?’ Erin sat on the bed and leaned against the wall, hugging her knees. ‘All this past week I’ve been imagining . . . Why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘You thought it was something about Claudia.’

‘I didn’t know. How could I? You kept talking in riddles.’

‘If the hospital hadn’t phoned . . . Phoebe’s all right? I’m so glad. I checked with Ben.’

‘Hang on, I can hear Miss Havisham. I’ll have to go down and feed her.’

He made a move to accompany her, but she shook her head. She needed time on her own, time to absorb what he had told her, time to adjust. She had been unfair, but it was his own fault. He could have explained weeks ago. Why had he left it so long? But she knew the answer to that? Because if he told her he would have to tell Maeve.

‘Claudia,’ he called after her.

‘They switched off her life support.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Down in Claudia’s kitchen, she scraped meat from a tin and added it to the remains of the dry biscuits in the cat’s bowl. It had greeted her ecstatically. Cupboard love, but who cared? She wished it was one of those soppy cats that sit on your lap and purr. So Jon and Diana had looked after Maeve since she was a baby, letting her think Diana was her mother. Where was her real mother? Married to someone else? No, that made no sense. She had gone ahead with the pregnancy and Jon had stood by her. Perhaps she had other children. Perhaps she was a drug addict, or an alcoholic and Jon had used this against her.

When she returned to the loft, he was still standing where she had left him. ‘I had an affair.’ He moved a pile of clothes off a chair and sat down. ‘The pregnancy was a shock, a mistake, but we decided to keep the baby. Then, when it turned out Maeve was less than perfect . . . No, don’t look like that. I’m only telling you how her mother reacted. She didn’t stay around long enough to discover how mild her symptoms are.’

‘So where does Diana come in?’

‘She offered to help and at the time it felt like the obvious answer. She’d been working as a housekeeper, for a man with two boys, but they were going away to school so she wasn’t needed any more.’

‘Go on.’

‘We should have told Maeve.’ He was sitting up straight, staring at the window. ‘I wanted to, but Diana’s always been afraid . . . She thinks of Maeve as her own child and every time I said she ought to be told the truth . . . We didn’t have a very happy childhood.’

‘Oh, that one. No, I’m sorry, go on.’

‘After our mother died, we had to go and live with our grandfather. He did his best, but he didn’t like it if we made a noise. And he forced Diana to eat food she disliked.’

‘What about your father?’

‘He’d left when I was five and Diana was only three. Married again and moved to New Zealand. I don’t even know if he’s still alive. Our grandfather died when I was fourteen.’

Miss Havisham strolled through the door and jumped onto the plan chest.

‘Get off.’ Erin was thinking about Phoebe and how determined she was no one would lie to her. The truth – she would be told everything, all her questions answered, nothing glossed over.

Jon stood up and started walking backwards and forwards. ‘I’m going to tell her next week.’

‘Good. There’s something else you didn’t tell me about. Claudia and Kent’s scam.’

‘Oh, you know about it.’

‘Ben told me.’

‘I threatened to report them to the university. I should have done. If anyone found out, I’d be in serious trouble.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘I don’t think Kent had written very many.’

‘You know that, do you? As far as I can tell, he wrote quite a number. Or, even if he didn’t write them from scratch, he improved on what the students had produced. That’s what Ben and Jennie said.’

‘I suppose I felt sorry for the students. They come over here with limited English and—’

‘Yes, but Claudia and Kent were making money out of them. The man who phoned, and the woman who came to the door, and the man I’ve seen hanging about in the road . . . I expect they want their money back.’

Jon picked up the cat. ‘You know what Claudia was like. When I said I wouldn’t report her as long as she and Kent stopped immediately . . . She reacted just as I expected her to. Flung her arms round my neck—’

‘—and kissed you. I can just imagine. A reward for getting her own way. What was Maeve’s real mother called?’

He sighed. ‘Does it matter?’

‘It will to Maeve.’ But a new possibility had occurred to her. Supposing Jon was another of her sister’s beautiful young men. Not that he was as young as Ollie and Hoshi, but Claudia appeared to have collected a string of lovers, hapless victims, caught in her web. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to explain.’

‘You had the baby to think about.’

‘Even so.’

He should have relaxed now he had told her the truth, but he was still pacing up and down, with the cat struggling to break free. ‘I feel what happened to Claudia was my fault.’

‘You dropped a scaffolding pole on her head?’

‘She was short of money, desperate.’

‘So what were you supposed to do? Not your problem. Anyway, I have to go and see Phoebe.’

‘Erin?’ He moved towards her. ‘I just . . . I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before.’

She opened her mouth to say, yes, she was sorry too. But everything had changed and, against her better judgement, when he gave her a hug she responded as though the two of them had been set free, as though all the taboos on their relationship had disappeared. Not true, of course, but the tension between them had melted and, for the first time for weeks, she felt like something approaching her old self.