Daisy Darker(76)

‘What?’ asks Conor. ‘Why would you think something like that, let alone say it?’

‘People have been killing each other with perfume for centuries. Everyone in this family knows that Lily is constantly spraying herself. Look at those marks on her neck and wrists . . . and the perfume bottle has been tied to her hand. You don’t have to be Poirot to work it out.’

‘What could possibly have been in a perfume bottle that would have killed her?’ Conor says, almost as though he is accusing Rose.

‘I don’t know. I’m a vet, not a chemist. My sister has just died. Someone is killing my whole family. Stop asking me stupid questions!’ she says.

Conor frowns, backs off a little. ‘I’m sorry.’

Rose doesn’t reply. I’ve always thought that the best way to truly know a person is to listen to them. Not just to what they say, but to what they don’t. All sorts of secrets are neatly tucked inside the silent gaps between words. The simple act of listening is a forgotten art in our loud world. I don’t think Conor has ever really forgiven Rose for breaking up with him after what happened that night, and I don’t think she has ever forgiven him for what he did.

I don’t mean him sleeping with Lily.

‘I said, I’m sorry,’ Conor repeats, and Rose turns on him.

‘Are you? Which part are you specifically sorry for? And why are you even here? Nobody in this family has spoken to you for years except for Nana. She might have still cared about you, but the rest of us don’t. You were dead to me, to all of us. Whenever people are stupid enough to care about you, bad things happen. You should have stayed away!’ Rose leans over Lily’s body and holds her close before crying again. ‘You should have stayed away,’ she repeats as her tears continue to free-fall.

They both seem oblivious to the child in the room who has just lost her mother. Trixie is trembling, and sobbing so hard she can barely breathe. I try my best to comfort her.

‘I think whoever has been killing off the family is in this room,’ says Conor, looking at Rose. ‘It’s the only option that makes sense now.’

‘Is that so?’ she replies. ‘And who do you think did it? Me?’

‘Well, who else could it be? Do you think it was a fifteen-year-old child? Or perhaps sweet little Daisy has decided to finally get revenge for what happened that night,’ Conor says, looking wilder than I’ve ever seen. I ignore them both because looking after Trixie is more important than their childish accusations at the moment.

‘It’s going to be all right,’ I tell my niece, who is still covering her ears with her hands.

I don’t know what will happen to Trixie now – who she will live with or who will take care of her – but I’m determined to do everything I can to play my part in keeping her safe. None of us know who Trixie’s father is, Lily never told us, and I sometimes wonder whether that was because she didn’t know.

‘You’re going to be okay. Sit down here with me,’ I say, and Trixie does. ‘I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise.’

She nods, but doesn’t look up. I don’t think she believes me. Given everything that has happened tonight, I worry whether it is a promise I will be able to keep. I can’t help wondering what witnessing all of this horror might do to a child long term. As Rose and Conor continue to accuse each other, Trixie hugs her knees to her chest and closes her eyes, but I can still see the steady stream of tears falling from them. I look at the Scrabble board on the table behind us, with all of our names intertwined, just like all families are in real life. Even if they wish they weren’t.

‘I agree with you,’ Rose says to Conor. ‘I also think it is only logical now that the person responsible must be in this room. My money is on you.’

‘Me?’ Conor replies. ‘How on earth did you reach that conclusion?’

‘All the terrible things that have happened took place after you appeared, unexpected and alone in the middle of the night. Allegedly by boat, not that any of us saw one. You could have been here the whole time, waiting for us to arrive, and waiting for the tide to come in so we couldn’t leave. If anyone should be under suspicion right now, I’d say it was you.’

He doesn’t get a chance to reply, because a floorboard squeaks above us.

Everything stops and we stare wide-eyed at one another, as the sound of someone walking in the room above our heads continues. Trixie stops crying, and peers at the ceiling in silence. I can’t even hear the clocks ticking out in the hallway. Time seems to pause for a little while, politely waiting for us all to catch up. Rose, Conor, Trixie and I look at one another, confusion and fear on our faces, as we try to understand who is upstairs.





Forty-one



31 October 4:15 a.m.

less than two hours until low tide

‘We’ve got to get out of this house and off this island,’ Rose whispers.

‘How? Are you going to swim to shore?’ Conor whispers back.

‘If I have to. There is someone else here at Seaglass. We just heard them walking around upstairs! I don’t plan to hang around and wait for someone else to die.’

It’s all quiet up above again now. Almost as though we imagined it.

‘Maybe it was Poppins upstairs? She’s already given us a fright tonight?’ I suggest.