The Burning (18 page)
‘I’ve got all the radiators on because it’s so unbelievably cold in this house, especially with this weather, I mean, my God, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be warm, but if it’s too hot, let me know, or if you want a hot drink or anything, just say, because I can easily make some tea. I mean, I would like some tea myself, so it’s no trouble to make you some.’
She gabbled on and on and I shrugged at Rob as she led the way into her flat, which was tropical. Rob immediately ripped off his coat and suit jacket and had one hand on his tie knot when he noticed me glaring at him.
‘I’ll have a glass of water, thanks,’ he said to Tilly, who darted off to the kitchen at top speed. I took the opportunity to look around the room, which was crammed with old, dark furniture that was too big for it – a triangular cupboard looming in one corner, a square tapestry-covered ottoman that barely left any room to move around it, an elderly Knole sofa and two fat, sagging armchairs. The rest of the place was decorated in a style that I recognised from those friends of mine who had spent a lot of time travelling, picking up bits and pieces magpie-style to remind themselves of where they’d been – batik fabrics, embroidered panels, odd bits of pottery and glass. It made for a weird combination.
‘My parents gave me most of this stuff when I moved to London.’ She had come back with Rob’s water and was watching me when I turned around. ‘It was all stuff they didn’t want at home. I think they thought I might have a bigger flat than this.’
‘It’s nice.’
‘It’s not,’ she countered. ‘But at least the furniture was free.’
‘Makes up for a lot, doesn’t it?’ Rob said with a grin that got him a swift, winning smile in return. Then her face became serious.
‘You wanted to talk to me about Rebecca. How can I help?’
I went into my little spiel about wanting to build up a picture of Rebecca so that I could understand her better and Tilly nodded.
‘It’s like acting. You have to understand the character before you can know how she would behave.’
‘Are you an actress?’ Rob asked, ignoring the fact that I was glowering at him for drawing the conversation off course.
‘I have been. And a waitress. And a receptionist. And a temp. A dog walker. A pastry chef. A shop assistant.’ She beamed. ‘More things than you can imagine, basically. I still haven’t worked out what to do with my life.’ Again, the smile ebbed away and she looked pensive. ‘I thought I had plenty of time. This thing with Rebecca – being murdered – I mean, it’s just so weird. So completely wrong. But then, she always said it would happen, so I shouldn’t be surprised.’
I sat up, electrified, and Rob leaned forward. ‘What did you say?
‘She always said she would die young,’ Tilly said matter-of-factly. ‘Something really awful happened and she said she was responsible. I don’t know what it was – she never told me and I wasn’t in touch with her at the time it happened anyway. I was living in Prague when she was at university, and it was around then, I think. I was studying sculpture,’ she explained, seeing Rob looking quizzical. ‘It didn’t work out.’
I tried to drag her back to the subject I was really interested in. ‘So something happened. Why would that mean she was going to die young?’
‘The only time we talked about it, she said …’ Tilly screwed up her face, remembering. ‘She said she owed her life for someone else’s and that she’d have to pay sometime.’
‘And didn’t that strike you as odd?’ I demanded.
‘Not really. She could be quite intense. But she really believed it. And now I realise of course that she must have had a premonition,’ she said calmly.
‘Do you believe in that sort of thing?’ I had the faintest inkling that Rob’s interest in Tilly was waning.
‘Sure. Why not? Past lives, second sight, destiny, fate – all that stuff.’ She must have seen us both looking sceptical. ‘OK, but who was right this time? I mean, Rebecca did die like she’d said she would. It was her destiny, and you can’t fight your destiny.’
‘When did she tell you about her – um – destiny?’ I was afraid to catch Rob’s eye.
‘About two years ago. New Year’s Eve. A girl I knew had a party and we got totally shitfaced on gin cocktails and ended up sitting side by side in the bath with our legs over the side, crying our hearts out over nothing, while some guy was sick in the sink. I possibly wouldn’t have remembered it but she said it again in the morning when we were trying to get over our hangovers by eating a cooked breakfast in the greasy spoon down the road. God, that was a mistake. The day went horribly wrong from then on.’ She shuddered.
‘Speaking of things going wrong, what can you tell me about Gil Maddick?’
‘Gorgeous Gil. What do you want to know?’
‘What happened with him and Rebecca?’
‘The usual story. They were a great couple, really happy together, and then one day, they weren’t. He wanted out and she had to let him go.’
‘I’ve heard he was possessive – that he shut people out of Rebecca’s life.’
‘Where did you hear that?’
I didn’t answer, waiting for her to respond to my question first. She sighed.
‘He wasn’t possessive, exactly, but there wasn’t a lot of room for anyone else in the room when they were together. He did kind of absorb her light, if you know what I mean. He was always what she focused on, when he was there. And if you were hanging around with them, pretty soon you felt as if you were in the way. Not because of anything they said, but just the way they looked at one another. I always thought it was a sign of how much they loved each other. It just goes to show, you can’t always tell which relationships are really going to last.’
‘Did you ever get the impression that the relationship was abusive?’ I asked baldly, and she looked affronted.
‘No way. Never. Not in a million years.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive. She’d have told me.’ She sounded certain and Rob shifted in his seat in a way that I interpreted to mean
move on
.
‘Did you know Rebecca had left Ventnor Chase?’
She looked troubled. ‘Yes, but I wasn’t supposed to. I only found out by chance. I was at a job interview two months ago, just down the road from Rebecca’s office, and it finished around lunchtime. I thought I’d pop in – see if she wanted to grab lunch somewhere. I really wanted to see her, just to catch up. And the receptionist told me she’d left. I couldn’t believe it.’
‘Did you talk to her about it?’
A nod. ‘I mean, I tried. I rang her as soon as I walked out of there. But she wouldn’t tell me what had happened, really – she just kept saying it didn’t matter, and she was fine, and it wasn’t a big deal.’ She looked at me earnestly. ‘It really bothered me. Because I’m always unemployed. I just can’t seem to find a job that I want to do for longer than a month or two, even if I think it’s interesting at the start. Rebecca wasn’t like that. She’d found her niche. She really, really loved her job. I don’t think she could have been OK about not working there when she didn’t say anything about it, do you?’
‘Someone helped her to clear out her things. Do you know who?’
Tilly’s lips tightened. ‘I bet I can guess. Rebecca’s slave.’
‘By which you mean …’ I was fairly sure I knew what name she was going to say.
‘Louise North. Now there’s someone you should talk to about being jealous. Talk about obsessed.’
‘What do you mean?’ I was interested in Tilly’s views on Louise.
‘She’s not my favourite person. Rebecca was far too loyal to her. She wouldn’t listen to any criticism of her, so I never bothered saying anything to her about it, but I just couldn’t get on with Louise.’
‘Why not?’ I was interested.
‘You know how in a group of people there can be three or four conversations going on at once? Well, Louise would always listen to Rebecca’s. Even if you were supposed to be talking to her, she would just ignore you and concentrate on what Rebecca was saying. It was rude.’ Tilly blushed. ‘You probably think that sounds stupid. It’s just an example. Mainly, I didn’t get on with Louise because she made it clear that she wanted to get rid of me. She’s one of those people – you know, you can’t be friends with anyone but me. She wanted to keep Rebecca to herself. It would have driven me mad, but Rebecca never minded. She just used to say that they had more in common than you’d think, and then she’d change the subject.’
I felt a little bit sorry for Rebecca. It must have been hard work trying to keep the peace between her two competing friends. I couldn’t think of two more different people than Tilly and Louise and I wouldn’t have wanted to argue with either of them, or be around when they were fighting among themselves.
Tilly didn’t have much more to say that was of any interest, and as we drove away I sighed deeply.
‘Didn’t find out as much as you’d hoped?’ Rob asked.
‘Actually, I found out a little bit more than I wanted to. Why couldn’t she just make my life simple and tell me that Gil Maddick was a violent thug who’d threatened Rebecca’s life when they split up? Mind you, it does sound to me like he was the controlling type.’
‘What do you think of Rebecca’s premonition?’
‘I think that if she could really see into the future, she should have done a better job of not being murdered.’
‘But it was her destiny. You can’t fight your destiny,’ Rob quoted.
‘Oh yeah. And what’s your destiny?’
‘A pint, a pie and an early night.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, you’ve got to aim high, haven’t you?’
‘Live the dream, Rob. Live the dream.’
L
OUISE
I stayed in a B&B in Salisbury the night before Rebecca’s memorial service so I could visit the Haworths on my own, without the distraction of other people around. If speaking to them on the phone was hard, the thought of seeing them was much worse. I spent the train journey staring out of the window, too tense to read or work. I had taken a few days off on compassionate leave, and I was glad of the time to myself; I would have been useless in the office in any case. When I got off the train I made myself go straight to the Haworths’ house, knowing that if I put it off I would find an excuse not to go.
Gerald saw the taxi pulling into the drive and came out before I had got out of the car, his wallet in his hand.
‘I can pay for my own taxi,’ I said, pawing through my handbag in search of cash, but he had already done it. He brushed off my thanks.
‘Don’t worry. My pleasure. I’d have picked you up if you’d told me you were coming by train. Is there something wrong with your car?’
‘Something pretty fundamental. I’ve scrapped it. I decided I needed a new one.’
‘About time too. The Peugeot was a breakdown waiting to happen.’ He drew me into his arms for a quick hug. ‘Thank you for coming to see us, Louise. Avril and I appreciate it.’
‘How are you?’ I scanned his face. ‘You look tired.’
‘I was just going to say the same to you.’ His arm was heavy on my shoulders as he wheeled around and guided me into the house, to the big warm kitchen where Avril was sitting in a wicker chair near the Aga, her hands in her lap, gazing into space. She looked up when I said her name and her face lit up.
‘Oh, Louise! You’re here already. How are you?’
‘Fine,’ I said automatically, although I wasn’t and she could see that I wasn’t. It was acutely painful to be in those familiar surroundings without Rebecca, to know that she wasn’t going to breeze through the door and sit down at the table. I had eaten countless meals there with her over the years, talked, laughed, drunk tea and baked cakes. Her shadow was everywhere around me and I couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t see her there ever again. It was awful for me; it must have been unbearable for her parents. This was the house where Rebecca had grown up, where she had taken her first steps, said her first words, learned about the world. This was the place where she became the person I’d met as a teenager, and these were the people who had loved and encouraged her every inch of the way. She had grown up surrounded by love, but in the end, love hadn’t been enough to keep her from harm, and the knowledge of what the Haworths were experiencing brought tears to my eyes.
‘Don’t.’ Avril stood up and came over to me to hug me. ‘If you start crying, I’ll start, and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.’
I swallowed and nodded, trying to smile. Without really thinking first, I found myself saying, ‘I wanted you to know, I always wished you were my parents. I know no one could ever replace Rebecca, but if you could think of me as another daughter, I’d be so happy …’
I trailed off, seeing the shock on Avril’s face before it was replaced with a polite smile. I had chosen the wrong time and used the wrong words. Avril was far too kind to say it, but I knew rejection when I saw it.
‘Before we forget,’ Gerald said from behind me, where he was putting loose tea into the teapot, ‘we wanted you to choose something of Rebecca’s. I don’t think she’d made a will, but I’m sure she’d have wanted you to take something that’s special to you as a keepsake. We thought you could choose first, before anyone else, since you’re here tonight.’
‘I don’t need anything––’ I began, but he held up a hand to forestall me.
‘Just run up to her room and make your choice. We’ve left out everything on her bed. It doesn’t matter to us what you take. Anything you like.’
‘Really, we mean it,’ Avril said, smiling again – but it was a real smile this time. ‘We don’t want to throw them away, but we don’t have any use for them ourselves. And we have plenty of things around us that remind us of her.’
It was easier to go along with it than to argue with them, though I wanted less than anything to go into Rebecca’s room. I felt as if I was wading through knee-high water as I left the room and dragged myself up the stairs. I stood on the landing for a moment with my eyes closed but in the end I pushed open the familiar door, painted somewhat inexpertly with pink roses by the fourteen-year-old Tilly, and stood in the doorway. Someone – Avril? – had spread a linen sheet over the bed, and on the sheet there were little piles of clothes, jewellery, knickknacks of various kinds. The rest of the room was the same as ever. Pale blue curtains at the high windows, walls papered in a pretty floral print, a thick-piled grey carpet on the floor with a stain by the dressing table where a bottle of nail varnish had spilt, once upon a time. A tall Georgian chest of drawers against one wall, the top covered with the silver-lidded cut-glass perfume bottles that Rebecca had loved to collect. An armchair in the corner with her beloved toy rabbit on it. He had been too precious to take to university, or to London, she had once explained to me. He lived in her room, where it was safe.
