That fucking blanket. Kathryn hadn’t heard the end of it: ‘Una has such a delicate touch, she’s so talented and kind,’ her mother had cooed at the time. When Una died, Kathryn had taken the half-finished blanket and stuffed it into the back of her wardrobe. Her mother hasn’t mentioned it until now.
‘It’s so sad what happened to her.’ As Elspeth says it she darts a look at Kathryn. She knows exactly what she’s doing, thinks Kathryn. She’s trying to wind me up, make me jealous, and I’m not going to bite. It was what she had done with Viola when they were young. Not at first. But when her mother realized they were never going to get along she’d enjoyed playing them off against each other, wanting each girl to fight for her approval, especially after Huw died. Most of the time it just made Viola rebel. But not always.
‘There’s been some gossip,’ says Aggie, her face grim. ‘You know, locally. Sandra at church the other day was asking me about it.’
‘Well, I’d expect nothing less,’ says Elspeth. ‘I’ve had the police here asking questions.’
This is news to Kathryn. ‘When? When have the police been here?’
Elspeth waves her bejewelled hand in Kathryn’s direction. ‘Oh, nothing to get your knickers in a twist about. But it doesn’t look good, does it?’ This is directed at Aggie. ‘Three of my staff have died while living here.’
‘Yes,’ agrees Aggie. ‘But all in completely different circumstances. And, technically, Jemima had already left.’
‘I know. And the police don’t think there’s anything suspicious. They asked about a bag. Someone – it must have been Una before she died – reported to the police that Jemima’s bag was found in our cellar.’
Kathryn puts down her knife and fork. Any appetite she might have had suddenly leaves her. She notices that Aggie is avoiding eye contact with her.
‘I told them they had to be mistaken. Jemima took all her stuff with her when she walked out,’ continues Elspeth. She stops talking to swallow a mouthful of food. Aggie waits patiently for her to continue. She’s standing at the sink holding a mug of coffee, a grey apron tied around her large middle. ‘And they seemed satisfied with that.’
‘Does Willow know about the others?’ asks Aggie.
Did Una tell Aggie about the bag? Kathryn wonders. That would explain why Aggie has been behaving oddly around her lately.
‘Absolutely not,’ says Elspeth, firmly. ‘And I want it to stay that way. I don’t want her to worry or to feel unsafe here.’
Aggie shakes her chins. ‘I’ve not said a thing. And it’s not like anything bad happened in the house. It’s all out of your control.’ She takes a noisy slurp of her drink.
‘Exactly,’ agrees Elspeth. ‘They were grown girls. Women, really. How they lived their lives when they weren’t at work was nothing to do with me. If they wanted to take unnecessary risks, or walk back home drunk late at night, or throw themselves off the bridge, then what could I do about it? I didn’t own them. They just worked for me, that’s all.’
Kathryn wonders if her mother can hear how insensitive she sounds. She notices Aggie flinch, then try to cover it up by sipping her coffee.
They fall silent. ‘It’s sad, though,’ says Aggie, eventually. ‘I was fond of them all. I suppose I got attached to each of them. Particularly Matilde, as she was here the longest. Even Una who was only here six weeks – I used to enjoy our chats. I feel like I don’t want to get too attached to Willow.’
Elspeth, who had been cutting her toast into tiny pieces, stops what she’s doing and her head snaps up. ‘What do you mean?’ Her tone is cold. ‘What do you think’s going to happen to Willow?’
‘Nothing. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just meant …’
‘That she’s going to die too?’
Aggie looks flustered. ‘No!’
‘That there’s some curse on my young staff? Or do you mean that Kathryn or I might –’ She drops her knife in her anger and it clatters onto the table ‘– be responsible somehow?’
Poor Aggie. Kathryn almost feels sorry for her. She can see Aggie doesn’t know what to do with herself. She starts flapping, gathering up the breakfast things even though they haven’t finished, whisking the plate from under Elspeth’s nose and taking it to the sink.
‘Come on, Mother, let’s go up to the sitting room,’ says Kathryn, in an effort to dispel the uncomfortable atmosphere.
But Elspeth is in no mood to be pacified today. She refuses to take Kathryn’s proffered arm, instead, forgetting how infirm she’s supposed to be, she strides over to where Aggie stands, thrusting her cup into Aggie’s face. ‘I’d like some more coffee, please,’ she says.
Aggie nods and takes the cup, filling it from the cafetière. Elspeth’s expression is scornful, mean. Kathryn recognizes it and remembers how quickly Elspeth’s moods turn. She looks as though she’s about to say more to Aggie when her attention is diverted by someone standing at the kitchen door. It’s Willow, still in her nightwear, her long hair hanging down her back. She looks childlike in her oversized pyjamas. Elspeth’s face instantly loses its sour expression and brightens at the sight of her. ‘Good morning, Willow,’ she says cheerily. ‘You’re up early.’ Kathryn and Aggie exchange knowing looks, their previous awkwardness dissipating. ‘Aggie, please can you prepare some breakfast for Willow?’ She walks over to her companion, places an arm around her slim shoulders and ushers her to the table, like she’s a princess on a royal visit.
Una used to look embarrassed by the attention Elspeth would occasionally lavish on her but Willow is positively glowing in it. She turns to Kathryn and gives her such a self-satisfied look that it knocks the breath from her. She’s another Matilde – she can feel it in her bones. If she’s not careful her mother will have bequeathed half of her estate to Willow before the year is out.