‘I have two questions about that. One I’ll ask you now, one I’ll save for later. What do you think their desire for privacy meant to you at the time?’
Laura ponders that. ‘I could see that they were happy with each other’s company. They talked and laughed all the time. They worked together, lived together, they’d stay up late, drinking and chatting, until the early hours. They always had something to do, a project, whether it was a dress, or a recipe. They liked planning, discussing, looking at a bigger picture. They were patient, they had long-term plans, so many going on at once because if they did that it meant that something was always happening, a project or an experiment was always coming to its end, like being given a gift. They would marinate beech leaves in vodka for months, they’d have bottles and bottles of it in the pantry,’ she laughs. ‘Then they’d have late nights drinking and dancing, singing and telling stories.’
It reminds Solomon of his family, no different.
‘They didn’t need anyone else,’ she says softly, yet it doesn’t sound as though she felt left out, merely that she recognised it was a glorious thing. ‘They were enough company for each other. I think they had a kind of a love affair together. Just the two of them.’
This reminds Solomon of the Toolin twins. Perhaps Isabel and Tom had more in common than anyone thought.
‘Would you sit up late into the night with them? Would you take part in these parties?’ Bo asks, her eyes shining, loving the picture Laura is painting.
‘Sometimes I would stay up late with them. Even when I wasn’t supposed to be there, I was listening. It’s not exactly a large house, as you can see, and they weren’t exactly quiet.’ She laughs, that beautiful musical laugh. She bites her lip and looks at Solomon.
He looks up at her from the grass, beautiful big blue eyes that glint, a strand of hair comes loose and it falls across his eyes, over his long black eyelashes. He looks down at his equipment, moves a dial one way then back again.
‘Tell us some of the stories they told,’ Bo asks.
‘No,’ Laura says pleasantly. ‘That’s between them.’
‘But they’re not here now,’ Bo jokes, conspiratorially.
‘Yes they are.’ Laura closes her eyes and breathes in again.
Solomon smiles. He looks down at Rachel and sees her beaming, teary-eyed. Bo gives Laura a moment before continuing.
‘You were home-schooled,’ Bo prompts.
‘Gaga was home-schooled too. Her dad thought it was a waste of time to have girls educated, so he’d forbidden her from going. Her mother taught her secretly at home. She did the same with me.’
‘Do you regret missing out on the school experience?’
‘No,’ she laughs. ‘I think a lot of people are missing out on the joys of home-schooling. I remember Gaga chasing a frog around the stream; she said that Mum’s school dissected them, to teach students how they looked when they were dead. She wanted to show me how it lived.’ She bites her bottom lip again and Solomon eyes that lip, before swallowing. ‘She was a sight, running around after it. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend an afternoon. I still know the anatomy of a frog.’
Bo laughs with her. Then. ‘Did you know at the time that you were a secret? That nobody knew you existed?’
‘Yes, I knew. I always knew that I was a secret. They didn’t trust people. They were wary. They said if we stuck together, we’d be okay.’
‘What do you think they were protecting you from?’
‘People.’
‘Did people hurt them?’
Silence while Laura searches for a way to answer. ‘Gaga and Mum were different people on their own. When the customers arrived, I’d hear their voices, sometimes watch from the window, and I’d barely recognise them. They wouldn’t laugh, they were robotic and to the point. There was nothing magical about them. They weren’t funny like they were at home, singing and laughing. They were serious. Sombre. Like a guard went up. It wasn’t just because it was a business; they protected themselves. They were wary of people.’
‘Your mother dropped out of school when she was young. When she was fourteen. Do you know why?’