Daisy Darker(18)

‘I’ve just realized that it’s Halloween,’ she says, with a weak smile. ‘Maybe this is some kind of trick-or-treat prank?’

It’s true, Nana did always like playing tricks on us at Halloween. It was her favourite night of the year for lots of reasons. She believed in the ancient Celtic origins of the festival, and would remind us of them each and every year when we celebrated her birthday. The Celts living in England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales over two thousand years ago believed that on the 31st October a portal between the living and the dead opened, allowing lost souls to return to earth. Nana was always willing to believe that ghosts were real, but it was the only time of year she believed they walked among us.

‘Do you remember when Nana taught us to play trick-or-treat when we were children? Lighting lots of candles and scaring us with her ghost stories?’ Lily says, as though expecting Nana to sit up and laugh at us all for being so gullible.

‘This is no trick-or-treat,’ says Rose, wiping a rare tear from her cheek. ‘She’s dead.’





Nana



Daisy Darker’s nana was the oldest but least wise.

The woman’s will made them all feel ill, which was why she had to die.

Nana said she loved her family, but it wasn’t always true.

The old bat was more bitter and angry with them than any of them knew.

She wished her son had been born a girl, or not been born at all,

The granddaughters were a blessing at first, but her hopes soon hit a wall.

The first was too clever, the second too daft, so the third was her only hope.

But the child was born with a broken heart, and Nana knew she’d never cope.

Nana led a rather lonely life with a dog for a best friend,

She started to fear that death was near, thanks to a palm reader in Land’s End.

When the time came, no one knew who to blame, when she was found with a blow to the head.

It was hard to grieve, for a woman so peeved; at least one of them was glad she was dead.





Ten



31 October 12:15 a.m.

less than six hours until low tide

‘Who found her?’ Rose asks, looking at everyone until her eyes come to rest on Trixie. ‘Was it you?’ Rose is better with animals than she is with children, and Trixie starts to cry again. She looks so small and vulnerable in her pink pyjamas. I have an overwhelming urge to hug her when she takes off her glasses with one hand, and uses the other to wipe away her tears. Rose adjusts her tone. ‘Can you tell us what happened?’ Trixie does her best to answer between sobs.

‘I just came down to get a glass of water. Nana was . . . on the floor. When I touched her . . . she was cold. When I said her name . . . she didn’t answer.’ She starts to cry again.

‘We need to call the police,’ says Conor.

‘What on earth for?’ asks Lily. ‘It’s obvious what happened here.’

‘Is it?’ he asks.

‘Yes. A chair is turned on its side. Nana was obviously using it to stand on while writing one of her bonkers poems on the chalk wall, and she must have slipped.’

‘I don’t think we can know that for sure,’ Conor replies.

‘Well, what I know is that you’re a crime reporter, not a detective, and nobody asked your opinion anyway,’ says Lily. ‘This is a family matter. You are not family and I don’t even understand what you’re doing here.’ Even for Lily, this is rude.

‘What I’m doing right now is wondering why an elderly woman I cared very much about is lying on the floor, looking as though someone has bashed her head in with a blunt instrument.’ He turns to Rose. ‘What do you think happened?’

She stares down at the kitchen tiles, as if she can’t look him in the eye. ‘I think Nana just died and I’m very upset. I’m sure we all are. Like Lily said, I’m a vet, not a doctor.’ She glares at him, and I’m glad I’m not Conor. ‘This is not the time for any of your conspiracy theories or wild accusations. Nana was never anything but kind to you; welcoming you into her home and our family. Try to show a little respect and compassion if you haven’t completely forgotten how.’

Rose turns away from him and hugs Lily and Trixie, both of whom are now crying. I go to stand next to them, as though silently choosing sides.

‘I’m going to miss her so much,’ I say, unable to imagine life without Nana in it.

‘I just can’t believe she’s gone,’ says Lily.

Rose holds her closer. ‘I know. Neither can I, but she lived a long and happy life and we will get through this. Someone needs to tell Dad what has happened.’ Rose has always looked at the rest of the family as a problem with no obvious solution, a problem she doesn’t quite know how to solve. When nobody else replies or makes a move, she sighs. ‘I guess that’ll be me then.’

We all watch as she leaves the kitchen and pauses in the hallway, outside the door to the music room, where our father chose to sleep. Rose’s head is as tightly tucked in as her shirt. She stares down at the floor and I can almost hear her mind whirring. The music room was one of the few places we were never allowed to play when we were young. Rose hesitates before knocking, like the little girl she used to be, the one who was afraid of getting shouted at for interrupting her father’s work.