Poison Heart (19 page)

‘We still have fun … don’t we?’

She put her head down, playing with the button on her pyjamas top.

This was awful. If Nat felt that being with me was a drag, then what must everyone else think?

‘I know the past few months have been difficult for you, Katy – and I know you rub each other up the wrong way – but I think you’re too hard on Genevieve.’

‘Thanks for telling me what you really think,’ I muttered moodily.

She ran one hand through her mussed-up tresses. ‘It doesn’t matter what she does – you see the bad in it, and when you talk about her it’s like she’s a different person, a person no one else sees.’

‘I know that,’ I admitted, ferociously chewing my lip.

‘Last night wasn’t her fault, but you immediately blame her without any evidence. And it isn’t the first time.’

‘I don’t need evidence … I just know.’

Nat pointed to one corner of her bedroom. ‘Look at that. Genevieve made it for my birthday. It’s amazing and must have taken her forever to paint.’

It was a panelled screen, almost as tall as me, made up of three different sections hinged together, and each panel was hand-painted with a different flower in the softest colours: pink, lavender, pale blue and ivory. It was utterly gorgeous and I hated Genevieve all the more for it, especially after the lies she’d told me about having no idea for a present. My cushion paled into insignificance beside
it. I saw my future stretching out in front of me and it was frightening. Genevieve would never stop, and every week would bring some new torment to exclude me or make me look bad. I’d thought that I was strong enough to withstand her taunts, but I wasn’t, and if I had to make my friends choose between us, then maybe that was a chance I had to take …

I licked my dry, cracked lips and could feel my heart thumping like a drum inside my chest. ‘There’s something you should know about Genevieve. I didn’t want to tell everyone, but I think it’s time.’

Nat immediately came back with, ‘There’s something
you
should know, Katy. She told Hannah, Merlin and me a secret last night, and it’s really big.’

I was desperate to discover what new lies she’d been telling so I urged Nat to go first, but she jumped up and announced, ‘I’ll get us both a drink. Wait here for me.’

I walked over to the window and ran my hand across the screen; it was tactile, intricate and fabulously unique. Something like this would sell for hundreds of pounds in an art shop, and it was obvious why Nat was so pleased with it. I peered through the blind at the ordinary scene below – Nat’s dad washing his car, her mum raking up the soggy leaves, and her little sister riding her bike through a puddle. This was a turning point for me. I might never sit here again doing normal everyday stuff with Nat because what I was going to say about Genevieve couldn’t be taken back. I was preparing to call her a murderer and say that
I had evidence to prove it. Genevieve’s secret might be big, but mine was even bigger.

Nat returned five minutes later with two mugs of steaming hot tea. Her face was still shiny with make-up remover and she’d put a giant clip in her hair, making it look even more out of control. She was so cuddly and funny I nearly backed down, but I steeled myself – I had to do this. Nat slipped into a fuzzy dressing gown that was hanging on the back of her door and wedged her feet into a pair of pig slippers.

‘Genevieve’s parents didn’t die in a car crash,’ she began, and my ears immediately pricked up. ‘They died in a house fire and she was in it too.’

‘So why did she lie?’ I asked with a horrible sinking feeling.

‘She’s still haunted by it,’ Nat answered defensively. ‘Knowing they were burnt alive and only she escaped. And that’s not all …’

‘There’s more?’

‘Genevieve went to live with an aunt and uncle after the fire, but they were cruel and spread lies about her.’

I felt light-headed with disbelief at the way things were unfolding. ‘What sort of lies?’

She gave a deep incredulous laugh. ‘That she was dangerous and needed some sort of professional help. She was only eight at the time.’

My mind was inwardly screaming but I couldn’t articulate my fears because it was obvious that Nat didn’t doubt her story for a moment.

What if the accusations were true and Genevieve really was evil and no children would go near her and even adults were afraid of her but now she’s learned to disguise her real nature and I’m the only one who can see it?

‘There’s worse to come,’ she continued, and I died a little more inside. ‘Genevieve had been adopted when she was a baby because her real mother took her own life, so she was left with no one.’

I covered my face, trying to collect my thoughts. This had the added advantage of making me appear traumatized and sympathetic at the same time.

Nat’s voice was unusually grown-up. ‘I knew how upset you’d be.’

‘It’s dreadful,’ I replied, wondering how to pump her for information without looking callous. ‘I suppose Genevieve must have changed her name at some time.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Just an idea,’ I fibbed, wondering if she’d picked a beautiful lyrical name so that people would remember her.

‘She wouldn’t say, but she did insist the person she used to be was dead forever.’

‘I guess I haven’t been very understanding
again
,’ I said woodenly, ‘but the way she behaves with Merlin gets to me.’

Nat nodded vigorously. ‘I’d be exactly the same if I was dating someone like Merlin, but they’re really just friends. She’s been helping him with something … a present for you.’

‘Really?’ I cringed.

‘The truth is, Katy, Hannah and I have both noticed … just lately … you’re as prickly as a hedgehog.’

So they had been discussing me and how suspicious I’d become. I was glad that Nat had the guts to tell me, but it still hurt. ‘Sorry it’s been so uncomfortable for you,’ I muttered. ‘It’s under control now, especially after the things you just told me.’

Yet again Genevieve had somehow anticipated everything I intended to do and got there first. She was pushing me to the limit now. She told me when we first met that I didn’t deserve the life I had and she was going to take it from me. I had to make certain to disappoint her. I gave Nat another hug and said goodbye.

‘The problem with Genevieve,’ I began as an afterthought, ‘is she’ll never find what she’s looking for and be happy.’

‘That’s the weirdest thing ever,’ Nat breathed.

‘Why?’

‘Because that’s exactly what she said about you. By the way … what
did
you want to tell me about her?’

I smiled wanly. ‘It doesn’t matter now … it wasn’t anything important.’

I prowled around my bedroom like a caged tiger. There was no way that Genevieve could have known about Luke and me being held up last night, because we hadn’t known it ourselves. It was downright unreal, and I was keen to see how Luke would explain this away with his usual logic. How did she do it? And that stupid pendant had turned up again like a bad penny, this time wrapped in a note from Mum telling me not to be so careless. It must have slipped out of one of the ventilation holes in the burner. I stared at it as Genevieve’s words came back to haunt me.
I don’t need to follow you, Katy … you’re marked
. I jiggled the green glass about in my hands, wondering why it felt weightier, and then lost my temper and threw it against the wall. When I examined it, the pendant was completely intact but it had made a hole in the plaster. Hastily I moved one of my posters to cover the damage.

I worked so hard and in such a frenzy that afternoon it was a miracle the paper didn’t burst into flames. My phone
didn’t stop ringing and beeping with incoming texts, but I studiously ignored everyone, trying to work off the pent-up rage inside me.

‘I’m a good listener,’ Mum told me discreetly, when I eventually came down for a late lunch.

My face seemed to be set in a permanent scowl and I remembered how Gran used to warn, ‘If the wind changes, Katy, you’ll stick like that.’

‘Thanks for asking, Mum, but it’s something I have to work out myself.’

‘Is it that girl again?’

I was determined not to tell her anything because she hadn’t believed my story so far and I was exhausted just thinking about Genevieve.

‘I’m here when you want to talk,’ she said, and pressed her lips together.

Mum hadn’t even reached the kitchen door when my resolve weakened. ‘Honestly, we’ve got the same taste in everything, we like the same guy, and now we say the same things about each other. We’re merging together so much I don’t know who I am any more.’

‘She must have very low self-esteem,’ Mum replied diplomatically. ‘It might not feel like a compliment, but she must admire you.’

‘She doesn’t. She despises me and, anyway, she’s better than me at everything.’

‘I’m sure she isn’t. You need to have belief in yourself.’

The red mist was descending again and, once it had
started, I couldn’t pull back. ‘She looks like a cat, with her big creepy green eyes. Everyone thinks cats are attractive, but they’re really horrible … cold, selfish, snooty, superior, vain and predatory … Only out for themselves …’

Gemma gave a reproving miaow as if she understood every word and idly flicked her tail at me.

‘She’s really under your skin,’ Mum commented sadly.

‘She calls herself Genevieve,’ I ranted, ‘but she’s changed her name, although her real name doesn’t suit her at all – it’s far too nice.’

Mum gave an indulgent chuckle. ‘Why? What is it?’

‘It’s Grace.’

I must have looked away for a second. Mum’s cup slipped out of her hand and smashed on the kitchen floor, breaking into a hundred pieces. Her face looked so shocked that I was rendered speechless and temporarily unable to react. Our eyes locked together for what seemed like ages until she quickly bent down, with trembling hands, to start picking the cup, cutting her finger on a shard of china.

I took her over to the sink, cleaned the wound and then wrapped some gauze and a plaster around it, all the time trying to ignore the feeling of disquiet lurking somewhere inside.

‘I won’t go out,’ she murmured. ‘You shouldn’t be left alone like this.’

I felt a pang of guilt. Mum had arranged to help at the church bring-and-buy, her way of trying to get out more
and meet people. It might not sound like much, but it was a big thing for her and now I’d ruined everything.

‘I’m absolutely fine,’ I reassured her. ‘Just go and enjoy yourself, and don’t hurry back.’

Mum was still a little pale, but she set off with a determined face, not even going through her usual obsessive routine of checking doors and windows before she left. And she hadn’t asked how I knew Genevieve’s real name. For some reason I had the distinct feeling she wanted to get as far away from our house as possible.

I went back to work, counting Merlin’s missed calls and taking a perverse pleasure in the number and frequency, especially when they reached thirteen. There it was again – a horrible niggle that wouldn’t go away. I had to do as Luke advised, stop clouding my mind with all the hocuspocus stuff and apply reason to the problem of Genevieve. I took a deep breath, remembering Mum’s reaction to the name Grace, and Luke’s words spun around in my head.

‘Genevieve knows you from somewhere … she’s targeted you because of something she believes has happened …’

The same expression of fear had been etched on the face of the old woman, the vicar’s wife and now my own mother. Was she somehow part of Genevieve’s tangled web? It was impossible not to act on this so I sent Luke a text. Five minutes later he knocked on my front door with his usual just-rolled-out-of-bed look.

‘You didn’t have to come straight away,’ I apologized, ‘but there’s no one else I can run this by.’

‘Tell me everything, Kat,’ he said eagerly, and it seemed as if, although he didn’t like to see me hurt, he was enjoying this game of cat and mouse.

I told him all about the party and Genevieve’s revelations, plus Mum’s reaction when I mentioned the name Grace. Luke messed with his hair, then stood up and boiled the kettle. He put two heaped spoons of coffee in a mug with three sugars, tipped the kettle with the plume still rising, stirred vigorously and took a sip. Then he raided our biscuit tin, dunked two chocolate digestives in his cup and looked at me thoughtfully.

‘Why don’t you just ask her?’

‘Mum doesn’t like talking about the past,’ I reminded him. ‘She never talks about my dad, or where she used to work, and I only see my grandparents once a year. It’s like she deliberately cut herself off.’

‘You could do it gently … don’t rush in.’

I exhaled noisily. ‘She’s making an effort and I don’t want to ruin it. Any upset and she’ll be back where she started … almost a recluse.’

He raised his eyebrows at me. ‘Then I don’t see what we can do.’

‘There is one thing … It’s just a thought and is probably way off the mark, and I’ll need some help …’

Luke groaned and covered his ears. ‘I know it’s going to mean trouble or something worse. What is it?’

‘The attic,’ I told him quickly. ‘It’s where Mum keeps all her photos, letters, books, furniture … all kinds of stuff from the past.’

Luke looked doubtful. ‘She wouldn’t keep anything secret if she thought you’d root about up there.’

‘But that’s the thing … we used to have a pull-down ladder, and once when I was about ten I climbed up there and she went ballistic …’

‘She was probably worried you’d fall.’

I gave him my best sinister stare. ‘Or she’s hiding something. After that the ladder mysteriously disappeared almost overnight …’

‘Attics are horrible,’ Luke grumbled. ‘I hate dust and cobwebs and creepy stuff like bats and skeletons …’

‘There aren’t any skeletons up there.’ I laughed and looked at my watch. ‘Mum won’t be back for at least another two hours. Are you up for it?’

He nodded grudgingly and rolled up his sleeves. But now that he’d agreed I was stumped because there were loads of things I hadn’t thought through. In an embarrassing climb-down I was forced to voice my concerns.