‘I’m sorry,’ says Vince, in a low voice. ‘He’s a prick.’
‘I don’t know why you hang around with him.’
‘He’s an excellent drummer.’
Courtney laughs and he pulls her into his arms and kisses the top of her head. When he draws away, he says firmly, ‘What you’ve both done is amazing. I hope that bitch Kathryn gets what she deserves.’
His eyes flash above Courtney’s head and there’s something about his expression, his suppressed anger, that makes me feel uneasy.
39
Kathryn
It’s been three days since Willow left.
Kathryn was still at the house on Sunday afternoon when Willow called in to collect her stuff, accompanied by a tall pretty girl she’d met before. Courtney. Una’s best friend. Kathryn had refused to speak to them but Elspeth had been her usual sycophantic self, begging Willow to stay. ‘The police don’t think Kathryn has any involvement in the deaths of Una and Jemima,’ her mother had said, her voice reedy and desperate, ‘and neither do I. Please, this is a strange situation for all of us, but you’re in no danger.’
It had baffled Kathryn as to how her mother could have made such a grand statement on something she knows nothing about. How does she know Willow isn’t in danger?
Willow had apologized and said she felt, under the circumstances, that she couldn’t stay. She’d gone upstairs with her friend and packed all her stuff. Kathryn had hovered around on the landing outside to make sure Willow didn’t decide to take anything that didn’t belong to her.
Elspeth was practically crying as she hugged Willow goodbye. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again, pressing some money into the girl’s hand. ‘I didn’t want things to turn out like this.’
If Willow thought it was a strange thing to say, she didn’t comment on it. Neither did she mention the money. Instead she heaved her rucksack – so large it might have crushed her – onto her back, and got into the waiting taxi, Courtney close behind.
‘What am I going to do now?’ her mother had wailed, leaning back against the front door. ‘I can hardly get another companion after what’s happened.’
‘You’ve got me,’ Kathryn had said, reaching out a placatory hand.
But Elspeth had batted her away. ‘Of course I haven’t got you. How can I have you when you’ve a husband and two sons to look after?’
Kathryn hadn’t known how to answer that. Because her mother was right.
After Willow had left, Kathryn rang Ed and told him she wasn’t coming home for a few days. ‘Just until I can work something out,’ she’d said. He hadn’t shouted at her, that wasn’t Ed’s way, but she could hear the disappointment in his voice. She’d let him down. And Harry. But most of all Jacob. She thought of her eldest son’s big brown eyes, his flop of sandy hair. He needed her now more than ever.
And now, in the three days she’s been staying with Elspeth, she grasps how futile it all is. Because it doesn’t matter what she does for her mother, or how much she cares, she’s just a poor substitute for the daughter Elspeth really wants. The daughter she’s spent years pretending to forget.
It’s not until Wednesday morning that Kathryn has plucked up enough courage to tell her mother she’s going home.
Harry and Jacob had FaceTimed her last night, Harry’s beaming face filling the screen, Jacob lurking behind him, pretending to look nonchalant while Harry nattered away about his day. She could see Ed in the background, with one of her gingham aprons tied around his waist. It looked like he was cooking something, although he didn’t come to the phone. He had the radio on in the background and the scene before her was like everything she’d always dreamt of as a child. A loving family home. Ed actually cooking a meal.
She couldn’t stop thinking about it last night as she lay alone in the room that had never been hers. When she eventually fell asleep, she dreamt that Ed told her he had fallen in love with someone else and was leaving her. She’d woken up in a cold sweat, her heart pounding.
Her head still feels woolly as she sits at the breakfast table. Elspeth is tearing into one of Aggie’s freshly made croissants while holding court, as usual. She’s telling Aggie how Kathryn had failed to pick out the right clothes for her this morning. ‘That’s the thing about Willow,’ she says, her voice braying. ‘She knew instinctively what I wanted to wear. She had style, that one. Not my style, granted, but she knew how to put things together. Unlike this one here.’ She laughs. It sounds cruel and humourless.
All Kathryn can think about is Ed and the boys eating breakfast in her cosy kitchen without her. And it suddenly strikes her that she doesn’t belong here, in this posh house with her cold mother. Perhaps she never has. She could have lost Jacob to drugs. Ed might decide he’s had enough and leave her. And then where would she be? Stuck in this soulless house, which she coveted while she was growing up. It’s brought nothing but unhappiness, with a mother who is always putting her down by telling her (and anybody else who will listen) that she’s not good enough.
She can’t stand it a moment longer. She gets up from the table, her chair scratching against the tiles in her haste. Elspeth looks up, confused. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Home, Mother. I’m going home. To my husband. To my kids.’
‘But …’ Elspeth drops her croissant onto the plate, sending flakes of pastry flying across the table ‘… who’s going to look after me?’ She glances at Aggie, who quickly turns away and busies herself with washing-up.
‘You can look after yourself. You’re more than able. It was never about having a carer anyway, was it?’
‘What are you talking about? You know I need someone to look after me.’