Authors: Linda Gillard
Tags: #Mystery, #Contemporary, #Romance, #quilts, #romantic comedy, #Christmas, #dysfunctional family, #mystery romance, #gothic romance, #country house, #patchwork, #cosy british mysteries, #cosy mysteries, #country house mystery, #quilting romance
‘No, nor do I. And I like to think I know
Viv pretty well.’
‘Dare we say anything to her?’
‘In the light of Hattie being bent on
self-harm, I think we have to. I presume Alfie won’t carry on with
his impersonation now?’
‘No. I think he’s as stunned as we are. He’s
fond of Hattie.’
‘And he’s also dealing with being dumped by
his girlfriend. How much does he know about us?’
‘Only what he guesses.’
Marek’s smile was lopsided, ironical.
‘Everything, then.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Look, Gwen, I’d make myself scarce and
leave you to sort things out with Alfie, but I imagine you’d like
me around to deal with Hattie when she wakes up.’
‘Please. And I think it had better be you
who explains to Viv. She’ll be down soon. I can hear movement
upstairs. Someone’s up and I doubt it’s Frances or Deborah.’
‘Somebody should go and sit with
Hattie.’
‘It has to be me then.’
‘If she wakes up, just try to stay calm. And
keep
her
calm. We have to guard against impulsive behaviour.
Take what she says seriously, but try to act normally. If things
get difficult, yell and I’ll come and deal with it.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to wait for Viv to make an
appearance.’
‘And then?’
‘Then I’m going to ask her what happened to
her baby brother.’
‘You think she knows?’
‘She must. She was in her twenties when he
was born. If Rae ever knew what happened, she’s probably forgotten.
And Deborah and Frances were just teenagers. But Viv will have the
answers. If there are any.’
‘And you think she’ll tell you?’
‘Not necessarily. But I’ll know if she’s
lying.’
The kitchen door opened. I hoped it would be
Alfie, but Harris and Lewis trotted into the kitchen followed by
Viv, bleary-eyed in her dressing gown and slippers. She saw us both
seated at the table and stopped in her tracks, smiling uncertainly.
‘Tyler! What on earth are you doing here so early? Is there a
problem at the mill?’
‘Good morning, Viv. I’m here because... Gwen
needed some help.’
Viv turned to me, surprised. ‘Oh, my dear,
why didn’t you come and wake me? What was wrong?’
She smiled at me affectionately, then went
over to the back door where both dogs waited patiently to be let
out. I turned to Marek, feeling helpless and unaccountably
guilt-stricken. He put an arm round my shoulders briefly then, as
Viv closed the door behind the dogs, he said, ‘I think you’d better
sit down, Viv. We need to talk.’
‘Oh dear, that sounds ominous! I hope it’s
nothing serious.’ She turned an anxious face to me, then back to
Marek. ‘Oh... It
is
, isn’t it?’
‘It’s potentially very serious,’ Marek said,
in a quiet, reassuring voice, totally at odds with his words and
the cereal packet of lethal blades he’d so recently hidden. ‘I’m
concerned—’ He shot me a sideways look. ‘We’re both concerned for
Hattie’s safety.’
‘Hattie? Why? What’s the matter with her?’
Viv sat down at the table facing Marek and me. ‘Where is
Hattie?’
‘She’s asleep in her room. Or she was when I
left her a little while ago.’
Viv’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What were you doing
in her room?’
‘He was making sure she didn’t do anything
stupid,’ I said, leaning across the table, quick to defend Marek
who, despite his calm demeanour, was beginning to show signs of
strain.
‘What do you mean, “stupid”?’ Viv asked.
‘Trying to harm herself,’ Marek replied.
‘But why on earth would Hattie do such a
thing? Please tell me what’s happened.’
‘I need to go back and explain, Viv.
Then...’ Marek paused. ‘Then I think
you
need to go back and
explain.’
As realisation dawned, her bright brown eyes
clouded over and her shoulders drooped. ‘This is to do with Alfie,
isn’t it?’ Marek nodded. Viv bowed her head and stared at the
table, then, straightening her spine, she looked up. ‘How much do
you know?’
‘About Alfie? Everything, I think. He’s back
at Creake Hall now. He talked to us at length. Very frankly. He
explained... the set-up.’
‘Why did he do that?’
‘Because Gwen had guessed he was an
impostor.’
Viv turned to me. I can’t say she actually
looked surprised, more like resigned to the inevitable. ‘The
photographs?’
‘Yes. But I’d also read Alfie’s letters
home. Bits of them. They were sewn into Hattie’s quilt top. I read
them when I was working on it. Alfie was supposed to have written
them, but I found out that he had no idea of the contents.’
‘No, he wouldn’t. He didn’t write those
letters. I did.’
There was a scratching noise at the back
door and Viv got up to let the dogs in. They trotted through the
kitchen and took up their customary positions in front of the Aga,
for all the world as if this was just a normal day. I suppose for
them it was.
When Viv had sat down again, I said, ‘Were
Freddie’s letters to Rae genuine?’
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘You’ve read those
too?’
‘Only bits. They were also in the quilt.
They said the baby died. That Freddie left Rae because he couldn’t
cope any more with all the pretence.’
Viv nodded. ‘It was all very sad.
Heartbreaking, in fact... And you say you confronted Alfie with all
this?’
‘Not exactly.’ I looked at Marek, uncertain
how to proceed. He gave me a slight nod and I continued. ‘We were
trying to get the truth out of Hattie when Alfie came back. He’d
driven through the night. He told us who he really was. And he
explained the part he’s played in... all this.’
‘I see. But why is Hattie so upset?’
Out of my depth now, I turned to Marek who
leaned forward and said, ‘Hattie sees herself as responsible for
the baby’s death. She appears to have lived with a lifetime of
guilt. She didn’t need to tell us about her part in what happened,
but she chose to. Then she left the room, in great distress. I
followed and sat with her for a while. We talked and eventually she
fell asleep. But I thought it best to remove certain things from
her room - tools and so on. Things she could use to hurt
herself.’
Viv closed her eyes. ‘Oh, God...’
‘Did Hattie ever have any counselling, Viv?
For what happened?’
She opened her eyes again and looked at
Marek, puzzled. ‘You mean the accident?’
I pounced on her words. ‘So it
was
an
accident?’
‘Yes, of course. No one thought Hattie had
done it deliberately! Not even Rae.’
Marek resumed. ‘Hattie believes she was
responsible. She claims to have heard you talking about her as if
she was the culprit. She sees herself as nothing less than a
murderer, Viv. She always has. And she believes the Alfie business
is a cover-up - not just a consolation for Rae, but something to
protect the family from Hattie’s “crime”.’
‘How extraordinary! Are you sure that’s what
she thinks?’
‘Yes, I’m sure. Hattie says she has no
memory of what happened, but she seems to have a clear recollection
of a conversation in the garden that she overheard: you and your
sisters discussing whether you should tell Rae that Hattie murdered
the baby.’
Viv’s face turned grey. Never in my life
have I seen anyone look so dreadful, apart from my mother when I
found her on Christmas morning. All life and colour drained from
Viv’s face, leaving a mask of horror. After a moment, she opened
her mouth to speak, but no words came. Eventually, in a hoarse
whisper, she said, ‘Hattie
overheard
that conversation?’
‘Yes. She said she was hidden in the garden.
Behind the hedge.’
‘And Hattie believes she murdered the
baby?’
‘Yes.’
‘So... when we asked her to play the game
that Alfie was still alive... she had to pretend the baby she
believed she’d
killed
was still alive!’ Viv clapped a hand
to her mouth. I think in that moment she was struggling not to
vomit. I got up quickly, moved round the table and put my arm
around her. I looked up at Marek but he was watching Viv, waiting
for her to compose herself. Eventually, he said, ‘I take it Hattie
misunderstood? There was no question of her having murdered her
brother?’
When Viv finally answered, her voice was
faint. ‘No... Absolutely none. You see—’ Her large brown eyes
filled with tears and I took her hand. She clutched at mine and
said, ‘That poor girl! What have we
done
?’ Moistening her
lips, she said, ‘There was no question of Hattie having murdered
the baby because— because there never
was
a baby!’
Hattie stood shivering at the end of her
mother’s bed, watching her sleeping form. The room was dimly
illuminated by a shaft of grey light that entered through a gap in
the heavy curtains. Hattie had stood in the darkness so long, she
could now discern familiar features of the room: the sampler she’d
made; the patchwork cushion covers fashioned from the floral
chintzes Rae loved; the framed portrait on the bedside table of Rae
and Freddie on their wedding day; all the other family photographs
- the girls at various stages in their lives and snapshots of the
boy - or rather, boys - they’d always referred to as “Alfie”.
Rae stirred, then rolled over in bed. Hattie
looked away to a corner of the room by the window. She appeared to
stare at vacancy since there was nothing in that part of the room.
She continued to stare until Rae, awake now and struggling to sit
up, said, ‘Viv, is that you?’ She switched on the bedside light and
blinked in astonishment at the figure standing at the end of her
bed. ‘Hattie! What on earth are
you
doing here? You gave me
an awful fright, standing there like a ghost. What do you
want?’
Hattie said nothing. For a moment, her body
appeared to sway and she clasped the foot of the wrought iron
bedstead. The metal was colder even than her hands. She clung to
the iron frame and said, ‘Do you know what I did, Ma? Did they tell
you?’
Rae stared at her youngest daughter,
unnerved by the harsh note in her voice. ‘What are you talking
about? Really, Hattie, couldn’t this wait? What time is it?’
‘I want to know now. Did they tell you?’
Rae began to feel alarmed. This wasn’t a
Hattie she recognised. Hattie was simple, but harmless. A kind,
affectionate girl, just not all there. But the woman standing at
the foot of the bed was grim-faced. Her eyes bore into Rae,
accusing. But accusing her of what? She had no idea. Rae reached
for the buzzer on the bedside table to ring for Viv, but Hattie
leaped forward and snatched it from her hand, holding it aloft.
‘Tell me! Do you know what I did? Is
that
why you always hated me?’
Rae cowered against her pillows. ‘I don’t
hate you! What on earth are you talking about? I don’t understand!’
Her eyes darted around the room as if she was looking for help,
even escape. ‘I know I wasn’t a good mother to you, Hattie, but
I’ve never
hated
you! How can you think such a thing?’ her
eyes settled on Hattie’s face, pleading. ‘You must understand, I
couldn’t be expected to cope after... after my breakdown. I left
everything to Freddie and Viv. Viv was so very capable!
They
looked after you. And I—’ Rae looked away, unable to meet Hattie’s
eyes. A querulous note crept into her voice as she stammered,
‘
I
had to look after Alfie.’
‘No you didn’t! Alfie
died
. You
know
he died. You’ve always known. But we had to pretend he
was alive for your sake, because you couldn’t face the truth!’ She
approached the head of the bed and bore down upon her mother,
implacable. ‘I want to know if the truth you couldn’t face was
really about
me
.’
Rae began to whimper. ‘Hattie, I don’t know
what you’re talking about. Please - go and fetch Vivien. You’re
frightening me! I
insist
that you get Vivien!’
‘Not until you’ve answered my questions
about the baby.’
‘The baby?’
‘Yes. Did they tell you it was me? My fault
the baby died?’
‘No one needed to tell me. I knew it was
you. Who else would have left toys lying around? Frances was
fifteen. I knew immediately it was you. But I never
said
anything. I never accused you! You were only six. You couldn’t
possibly have understood.’
Hattie put a hand to her temple and rubbed,
as if her head was hurting. ‘I remember you screaming at me...
Screaming and screaming. I stood at the top of the stairs with my
hands over my ears... Then Viv took me away to my room. She said
you had to go to hospital. That Daddy was going with you... I
remember looking out of my bedroom window and seeing an ambulance
drive up... and men carrying you out on a stretcher.’
‘You
remember
all that? But you’ve
never talked about it. Ever.’
‘I thought you’d died! I thought you’d
burst
with anger! I was so frightened.’
‘Oh, my dear - I didn’t realise! I wasn’t
thinking of you, I was only thinking about myself. And the
baby.’
‘What did I do? Tell me.’
‘You don’t remember that?’
‘No. I remember being in here. And I knew I
shouldn’t have been. Daddy said I wasn’t allowed in here until
Alfie was stronger.’ Hattie looked round the room as if she could
see the scene she was describing. ‘There were no lights on and it
was getting dark... The cot was over there.’ She pointed to the
empty corner of the room by the window. ‘I don’t know where you
were. You weren’t in here. I was alone... With Alfie.’
‘But Hattie, you’re getting confused—’
‘No, I remember all this very clearly. I
stood beside the cot, watching Alfie. He didn’t wake up, he just
lay there, quite still. I remember that I... I
hated
him.
That I wanted him to go away. Back to the hospital... I remember
that I wanted to
hurt
him... So I put my hand through the
bars of the cot and I poked him. I poked him as hard as I could.
But he didn’t move.’