I don’t tell her I’m hoping to do it by the end of the year in case she lets slip to Elspeth. Although I can’t think that far ahead at the moment. All I can think about is that bloody bag upstairs.
‘Aggie …’ I pause. She’s been so kind to me, so warm and understanding about my mum that I suddenly feel closer to her. ‘I found Jemima’s stuff. In the cellar.’
She looks puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
And I explain about getting the wine last night and finding the bag, how Kathryn had come into the cellar and how I was worried she’d come back for it so I hid it in my room.
‘How do you know Kathryn put it there?’ she asks, after I’ve finished.
‘I …’ Why do I think it’s Kathryn? She’s right. ‘I don’t know. She was acting weird. And her eyes went to the bag at my feet and I could tell she knew exactly what it was. And it’s hardly going to be Elspeth, is it? She’d find it hard getting down those steep steps by herself.’ And then I remember her dancing, her surprising agility, although she did seem out of breath afterwards. Maybe those steps wouldn’t be a challenge.
Aggie shakes her head, her face troubled. ‘Maybe you should just put the bag back. Forget you found it.’
‘Aggie!’ I gasp. ‘I can’t do that! Don’t you think it’s suspicious?’
She gets up and wanders over to the Aga. I feel a thud of disappointment. I should never have told her. My initial instincts were right. She’s been with the family too long. Of course she’ll try to protect them.
I get up and go over to her. She’s busying herself making tea but I can tell her mind is working overtime.
‘What if Kathryn is responsible for Jemima’s death?’ I say.
She rounds on me, her apple cheeks pink. ‘Of course she’s not. She wouldn’t hurt a fly, that one. The poor girl. All these years playing second fiddle first to Viola, then to whatever waif or stray her mother took under her wing, or whichever new cause Elspeth had – those impoverished artists or fundraising for the local church. And then to Matilde and Jemima. Of course she’s going to be resentful. But murder Jemima? Of course not.’
‘Aggie …’ I hesitate. ‘Jemima’s brother is adamant she’d never take her own life. Something happened.’
Aggie waves her hand dismissively. ‘Of course her brother doesn’t want to think his sister killed herself. Who would want to think that?’
‘Then why would Jemima’s stuff be hidden in Elspeth’s cellar?’ My tone is harder than I intend but I’m starting to feel frustrated.
Aggie opens her mouth to speak and closes it again. She leans against the bars of the Aga, clearly deflated, and I wish I hadn’t told her. I’ve burdened her with this secret now. I can see she’s already weighed down by it.
I place a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I should never have told you.’
She shakes her head and I notice tears in her eyes. I can tell she’s struggling to speak but then she straightens up and my hand falls away.
‘I love Kathryn. I worry about her.’
I hang my head. ‘I know.’
‘She was a teenager when I first started this job and she was so … beaten.’
‘Beaten?’ I ask, horrified.
‘By life,’ she clarifies. ‘She’d had such a sad childhood and then she comes here and Viola is the golden girl. But Viola was always a free spirit, wilful. She didn’t want to conform to Elspeth’s old-fashioned rules. Kathryn, on the other hand, was so eager to please. She was like a loyal puppy, the way she followed Elspeth everywhere. And then Viola fell in love with a boy Elspeth said was unsuitable and ran away with him as soon as she turned eighteen. And it was good for Kathryn, in a way, because it gave her the chance to shine. Elspeth was so angry with Viola that she told her never to darken her door again. I think she regrets that now, of course, because Viola’s stayed away. Nobody knows where she is. And I think, on some level, Elspeth always blamed Kathryn for Viola’s disappearance.’
A chill runs down my back as I let Aggie’s words sink in. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, she felt it was Kathryn’s fault Viola left. And she began to resent her. And the more she resented her, the more Kathryn tried to please. It broke my heart to see it.’
Aggie pauses, a wariness in her eyes as she assesses me. ‘You know, when Matilde started here it was obvious as soon as I saw her.’
I frown. ‘What was?’
‘How much she looked like Viola.’
The breath has been knocked out of me.
‘And Jemima. And you. You all look like her.’
The realization hits me. ‘So you’re saying Elspeth chose us because we look like the daughter who ran away?’
She nods. ‘I think so. Yes.’
‘But that’s – that’s messed up.’
We fall silent, but I can tell Aggie hasn’t finished. She pours hot water into a cup and dunks a teabag. ‘There’s something I’ve never told anyone,’ she says ominously.
I’m still reeling from the Viola revelation. ‘Okay,’ I say, as she hands me a mug. We’re talking in hushed voices even though nobody else is around.
‘The day Jemima left. I came back into the kitchen because I’d forgotten the potatoes. Elspeth said I could take them home for my tea. My Stanley dropped me off so I could pick them up. And I heard them.’
‘Who?’
‘Kathryn and Jemima. They were in the hallway and I could hear them screaming at each other.’
‘What time was it?’
‘Well, it was already dark, so I’d say about five. Five thirty.’
‘And what were they arguing about?’
She picks up her mug and clasps her meaty hands around it, but doesn’t take a sip. ‘That’s the thing. It was hard to tell, exactly. I’d come in halfway through but I heard the words “will” and “gallery”. Then I heard the front door slam and silence.’
My heart picks up speed. ‘Silence? Do you think they both went out?’
‘I can’t be certain, but I think so.’ She sips her tea thoughtfully. ‘And that was the last time I saw Jemima. I turned up for work the next day and Elspeth said Jemima had gone, taking her belongings with her.’
‘When really her belongings were in the cellar,’ I say.
Aggie nods gravely, then puts a warm hand on my arm. ‘Take the bag to the police, ducky. I can’t see what else you could do.’
25