Child's Play (D.I. Kim Stone #11)(50)

‘Why?’ Kim asked, simply.

‘So she could understand herself.’

‘I don’t get it,’ Bryant said, ‘She was educated, had a good job, was well presented, well adjusted…’

‘You call this place well adjusted?’ Veronica asked, waving her arms around at the mess. ‘You think this is normal? When they died Belinda kept every possession our parents owned and surrounded herself with them. Every item had a memory for her. She wanted to recapture it all.’

Kim had been watching the woman as she spoke.

‘What was it like having a genius sister?’

Veronica turned hard eyes upon her. ‘Totally off-limits, Inspector, and no help to you at all. But what I can tell you is that no family is ever the same again.’

‘Go on,’ Kim urged. ‘Tell me something that will help me understand how things changed when Belinda came along.’

Veronica thought for a moment before a sad smile settled on her face. ‘There was a doll. My doll. She was nothing special, made of cloth with a cotton dress sewn on, painted facial features and a few strands of yellow wool for hair. A present from my parents when I was two.’

And what a detailed description that was for a toy given to her more than sixty years ago, Kim thought.

‘Belinda had colic when she was a baby and the only thing that seemed to calm her was when I waved Jemima in front of her. She would watch as I danced the doll, scrunching up its face and waving its arms. It worked for everything. She loved it and whenever she was feeling poorly or sad she’d point to Jemima and smile at me. By the time Belinda started school my doll was named “Mima” and still settled my sister when she was unhappy.’

A brief nostalgic smile fleeted across her mouth before the lips hardened.

Kim found herself fearing the eventual fate of Jemima.

‘Until one day when Belinda had earache. She didn’t feel well and was easily distracted from the studies our father had set her. She cried out constantly for “Mima” while rubbing at her ear. She pointed to the toybox in the hallway and wouldn’t concentrate on her work. Frustrated, my father removed it from view. I found it that night, ripped up and in the bin.’

Kim now began to understand the significance of Jemima and the story that Veronica had shared.

Just like her parents, Jemima had been all hers until Belinda came along and she had shared and then lost completely.

‘This is why you said if Belinda had been born first they would never have had you?’

‘Who wants average after they’ve had perfection?’ Veronica snapped.

‘And was she?’ Kim asked. ‘Perfection, I mean.’

The woman regarded her coolly. ‘It doesn’t matter how many times or how many different ways you ask the question, I’m not going to tell you every detail of our past.’

‘Okay, just talk to me about Belinda. Tell me the effect her past had on her present.’

Veronica hesitated as though trying to decide whether to physically throw them out or humour them.

She sighed heavily.

‘You ever have your parents come to your sports day, Inspector?’ she asked.

‘Every year,’ Bryant answered for her. ‘Bean bag race champion,’ he added lightly.

Veronica’s expression didn’t change. ‘And, did you see their faces when you won?’

Bryant nodded.

‘I’m sure they looked delighted, proud, as though the sun shone from your very backside.’

‘Suppose so.’

‘It’s a heady feeling. Addictive even. We all want our parents to be proud, and when you can do it every day with very little effort, why wouldn’t you?’

‘But?’ Kim said, hearing the word ‘but’ in her voice.

‘How amazed would you be to see a two-year-old performing complex multiplication sums?’

‘I’d certainly be impressed,’ Kim agreed.

‘And a teenager?’

‘Still pretty special.’

‘A twenty-six-year-old Oxford graduate?’

‘Less so,’ she said, honestly.

‘There’s the problem with child geniuses, officer. Eventually they grow up and the shock factor wears away. The ability is no less unique or special, as few people can do it, but the interest is. It is no longer odd or freakish or even remotely interesting.’

‘Your parents bored of her?’

‘As did everyone else. Child geniuses are fascinating, adult ones are not. So, of course the attention dies away. The circus eventually leaves town.’

‘But the need for attention remains,’ Kim realised.

‘Correct.’

‘And how does that tend to manifest in… gifted children?’ Kim asked.

‘Drugs sometimes, alcohol others, the need for sex, validation, anything that brings attention and approval.’

‘All of the above?’

‘Occasionally,’ Veronica answered.

‘I’d imagine that such individuals may need close supervision, a safety net, possibly for most, if not all of their lives.’

‘Yes, Inspector, some probably do.’

Kim wondered if she was beginning to understand this woman a little better.

‘And you both changed your name to Evans?’