Just Like the Other Girls(12)

I jump. Kathryn is striding into the kitchen. She reminds me of the terrifying headmistress I had at school. She has on a navy wool coat and is wearing the frumpy skirt and sensible shoes she seems to favour. I look down at my jeans and jumper, feeling underdressed.

My cheeks grow hot and I’m annoyed at my body for betraying my feelings. ‘I … just made a coffee.’

‘Helped yourself to breakfast, too.’ She glances across at the empty plate on the kitchen island and the tea-towel I’d tossed aside.

I smart. Hasn’t her mother told her how the food situation works? ‘Actually … no, I didn’t eat that. It had my name on it but …’ I don’t know how to explain it. She might think I’m accusing her.

She folds her arms across her chest and juts her chin. ‘There’s no need to lie about it.’

I blink at her. Is she serious? Why is she being so antagonistic? ‘I’m not lying,’ I splutter. ‘I’d never lie.’

She pushes her glasses further up her nose and assesses me silently for a few minutes. ‘Okay. I just don’t want to see my mother being taken advantage of, that’s all.’

‘I’d never take advantage of her,’ I mumble, wondering where all this is coming from.

‘Well.’ She clamps her lips together. ‘Some of the other girls weren’t quite so honest.’

I wonder who she’s talking about. Is that why Jemima left so suddenly? I think of the necklace I’d found upstairs. I’d completely forgotten to give it to Kathryn. What if she sees it and thinks I’m trying to steal it? It can’t be worth much. It’s doubtful it’s even silver, but I’d hate her to think I’m dishonest in any way.

I push my coffee mug away. I’m used to instant coffee but I have a feeling this is that cafetiere stuff. ‘Um, talking of the other girls, I found a necklace in my room.’

She stands up straighter. ‘A necklace?’

‘Yes. It’s in my bedside table. I think it must have belonged to that last girl … Jemima, was it?’

She looks taken aback that I know the name of my predecessor. I shouldn’t have said it. Now it looks like I’ve been gossiping and I’m worried I’ll get Aggie into trouble.

‘Would you mind fetching it for me? I can post it on to her.’ She’s trying to be nonchalant but I can tell from the way her fingers scratch at her wrist that she’s anxious about something. Bertha, one of the residents of the care home, used to do it when she was stressed. Her arms were always a mass of scratches, like she’d been attacked by a cat.

I stand up. ‘Sure. I’ll go and get it now.’

Kathryn’s presence has sucked all the air from the room and I rush out of the kitchen, relieved to get away from the oppressive atmosphere. Why does she care so much about a manky old necklace anyway? I wonder, as I climb the stairs. Aggie said something about Jemima leaving in a hurry one evening. It didn’t sound like she’d left a forwarding address. Anyway, it’s not my business. Kathryn is my boss’s daughter, she wants the necklace, end of story. I’d learnt at the care home not to ask too many questions when my bosses asked something of me.

It’s curled in the corner of the top drawer of my bedside table and I take a while to unpick the knots. Then I turn the locket over in my hand, trying to find any distinguishing features, but it’s quite plain. It looks old – maybe it’s an antique. I’m conscious of Kathryn waiting for me downstairs but I’m intrigued enough to try the lock again. This time, to my surprise, I manage to prise it apart and the little door pings open.

Inside is a coloured photograph, not more than 2 cm tall. It appears to be a recent shot of a girl around my age, although it’s hard to tell because you can see only her head and shoulders. Her hair is long and ash blonde, like mine, and there’s something familiar about her face. It takes me a while to figure out why, but then it hits me.

The girl in the photograph looks uncannily like me.





5





Kathryn

Kathryn watches from the upstairs bedroom window as Una saunters down the street in her maroon coat with the black velvet collar turned up against the cold. She’s wearing one of those furry Russian hats in black. She reminds Kathryn of a young Julie Christie.

She hates to admit it, even to herself, but Una seems decent. Not like Jemima. Certainly not like that snake Matilde. No, Una seems genuine. Quite na?ve. Young for twenty-two in some ways, unworldly and innocent, despite what she’s obviously been through with her mother’s death. But then again, what does she know? Una could be a first-class manipulator. After all, Kathryn’s been wrong before. And even if Una is a good person, she knows she can’t allow her to stay. Matilde stayed for too long and look how that turned out.

Her mother has to stop all this. Kathryn hoped Elspeth would get the message after the other two, but obviously not. Typical, really. As much as she loves Elspeth she knows her mother has a tendency to be arrogant and stubborn.

Kathryn examines the necklace in her hand. As soon as Una told her she’d found it, she’d known straight away who it belonged to. How could she have overlooked it? She slides it into the pocket of her coat and moves away from the window. Her mother will have finished at the hairdresser’s soon and will expect to be picked up. Since her fall, Elspeth doesn’t like going anywhere by herself. Kathryn had to drop her at the salon first thing and promised to be back within the hour to fetch her. Her mother used to be so active, so independent, running the gallery, setting up the foundation for impoverished artists, being interviewed for the Bristol press as some kind of local philanthropist. It’s important to her that others think well of her, even though she hides her true self underneath her upper-class twin-set veneer. But Kathryn knows. And Kathryn’s kept quiet. Because, despite how easily her mother can drive her mad, she loves her and will never forget how much she owes her. And, in a lot of ways, she feels sorry for her.