‘Still here, Jasmine?’ I ask lightly, and see my cousin’s look of surprise. ‘Oh, of course. You’re scrounging off us for another few days, aren’t you? Just until your parents come home from holiday. Because poor little Jazzy can’t be left alone over Christmas. That would be too mean.’
My mother’s eyes are wide. ‘Catherine, for goodness’ sake.’
‘What?’ I drain the wine glass and pour myself some more. It’s not bad, this. A cheeky little number with a bold aftertaste. ‘Did I say something untrue?’
My mother blinks.
Jasmine’s face is stiff with hurt and offence. My two favourite reactions. ‘I offered to pay my way,’ she says. ‘Your parents didn’t want anything.’
‘Of course not. Because they’re loaded and you’re the poor relation.’ I smile at her. ‘It’s like a scene out of Jane Austen. Or is it Charlotte Bront?? I forget which. You get the gist anyway.’
Dominic catches my elbow. ‘Hey,’ he says, a bite in his voice, ‘what do you think you’re doing? That was totally uncalled for. Apologise to Jasmine at once.’
‘Or what?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Or what?’ I repeat, arching my eyebrows in polite enquiry. ‘How exactly are you planning to enforce that manly command, Master Dom? Put me over your knee? Like you did upstairs?’ When he says nothing, staring at me with a face that is beginning to flush with anger, I laugh. ‘The second time, that is. The first time, you were a little too preoccupied to bother with good old-fashioned punishment.’
‘Fucking hell.’
Behind him, I see Mum suck in her breath in silent protest at his swearing. Which tells me I must have got to him. Dominic’s normally so careful to be polite in front of his mother-in-law. How marvellous. The dominant’s cage has been well and truly rattled. I want to clap my hands in triumph, but it might spoil the moment.
I haven’t finished with them yet.
‘That’s enough,’ Dominic tells me, standing very straight, his shoulders back, as though he still believes he has some kind of power over me. ‘What the hell’s the matter with you tonight, Cat? It’s almost as if you’re . . .’
‘Yes? What is it like?’
‘As if you’re a different person.’
I smile.
My father stands up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly in the silence. ‘Cat?’
‘Yes, Daddy darling?’
Oh shit, that’s torn it. Now he’s staring at me the same way as Dominic, frowning and suspicious. The two of them are a couple of bookends. With my mother squeezed between them, staring at me too, pale and restless. She’s twisting her silver necklace between her fingers, and I can tell what she’s thinking.
My mother shakes her head. ‘No . . . no.’
I take a long, easy swallow of wine, then murmur, ‘Yes, Mummy dear. I’m afraid so, yes’, and see her take a few faltering steps backwards.
Jasmine looks up at everyone, still hurt and confused by my comments, to judge by the way her lower lip is quivering. She’s put GAGGED on the board, her five letters joined to a ‘D’, and has been writing down her paltry score. My father’s going to blow her out of the water with his KUMQUAT.
‘Did I miss something?’ Jasmine says. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Exactly what I want to know.’ I pour the last of the wine into my glass. ‘And I intend to find out.’
‘Find out what?’ Dominic’s gaze has not moved from my face. He’s tenacious, I’ll give him that. Poor sap. ‘Catherine?’
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘Shit,’ says my father.
‘Oh, Daddy. That wasn’t very polite, was it?’ I turn to him with a mock frown, and tut. ‘Remember what Mummy always used to say. Pas devant l’enfant, Papa.’
My mother collapses back onto her chair, a shaking hand at her mouth.
‘But what I really want to know,’ I continue blithely, since nobody else seems to be jumping in to break the silence, ‘is who the hell was in that urn? Because those weren’t Rachel’s ashes, were they?’
Chapter Forty-Four
I sip my wine in a contemplative way, pleasantly aware that every eye in the room is on me. I’m enjoying being in the limelight at last. God knows I’ve had little enough of it this past decade or so. Ever since Daddy decided enough was enough.
I have their full attention now though.
‘Shit,’ my father says again.
‘Exactly, Daddy. “Shit” is the correct word, and you’re up to the eyeballs in it. I ought to have smelled the manure a long time ago. But of course I was distracted, because I was playing the game too. A key player, in fact. Not just on the sidelines like you, dear little Jasmine.’ My voice sharpens. ‘Only I was playing blindfold.’
There’s a faint mew from the other side of the room.
I turn, quickly seeking the source of the sound, and I catch my breath. ‘Oh my, little Panther. I’d forgotten all about you.’
The sleek black kitten Dominic gave me as a Christmas present steps out from the utility room and into the kitchen. His huge green eyes are on me. As if he too has caught the mood of the room.
I click my fingers. ‘Isn’t he gorgeous? Here, kitty kitty.’
Mum gasps.
Dominic grabs my wrist. ‘No.’ His voice is like steel. ‘Leave it alone.’
It’s as if he thinks I’m going to launch myself on the defenceless little thing and tear it to pieces with my bare teeth.
I glance at Dad, hoping for something equally dramatic. But he’s staring at me with that part-shocked, part-bemused look on his face, like someone just slapped him and he still can’t quite believe it.
‘What the hell do you think I’m going to do?’ I ask lightly. ‘Strangle the cat? For pity’s sake . . .’
Dominic hesitates, then releases my wrist.
‘Ouch, so unnecessary.’ I give my wrist a shake. It hurts, but no more than what we did earlier. I sneak him a dirty sideways look, and stage-whisper, ‘Better save that kind of kinky shit for bedtime, yeah?’
Dominic says nothing but there’s a flicker in his face. I’m guessing it’s fear. But it could be surprise.
I crouch down, holding out a hand, and Panther comes to me trustingly. As if he knows exactly what to do to horrify everyone else in the room. Gently, I stroke the short black fur behind his ears. At once Panther purrs, half closing his eyes with delight, tipping his throat back for more.
A willing sacrifice.
‘Look at that,’ I say softly. ‘Dear little kitty loves me stroking him. In fact, he’s practically gagging for it. Wouldn’t you say so, Jasmine?’
I smile up at my cousin, who sits frozen in shock, staring at me with her big wide eyes.
‘Do you like his name?’ I ask nobody in particular. ‘Panther.’ I smooth a hand along his thin back. ‘He’s still quite small, of course. A helpless little thing, really. But he looks like he’ll be a panther when he grows up, don’t you think? It’s the black fur. And the eyes, always watching . . .’
I stop stroking Panther, and my mother rushes forward to grab him. She backs away, watching me, clutching the kitten to her chest so hard he begins to struggle.
‘Look out, you’re the one strangling him now,’ I tell her.
‘Shut up,’ my father says.
I make a tutting sound under my breath. ‘Nice.’
Dad glances at Mum. I know that look. It means business. Nasty, unpleasant business. The kind that comes with pills and physical restraints.
‘That’s it,’ he says, ‘I’m calling the doctor.’
‘Doctor Holbern, by any chance?’ I ask sweetly.
‘But, darling, it’s Boxing Day,’ Mum says to Dad in a small, trembling voice. She has put Panther down on the floor at last, much to the kitten’s relief. ‘He won’t come out. He won’t be available. No one will be available.’
‘He’ll come.’
‘But darling . . .’
My father is frowning, very much the man in charge. ‘Would you get me the phone, please?’ he asks, turning to Dominic as his second-in-command, his voice strained but polite. He’s preserving the niceties at all costs. Because that’s what diplomats do. ‘I want to keep an eye on her.’
I watch as Dominic leaves the kitchen.
‘Got the good doctor’s number on speed dial, have you?’ I say. ‘In case of emergency. How very convenient.’