Just Like the Other Girls(52)

Then I think of the bag hidden in the en-suite upstairs, like an unexploded bomb that could go off any second, destroying us all. I owe it to Jemima to take it to the police. If she didn’t take her own life, if something else happened that day, then her family – Peter – deserves to know. And if Kathryn did hurt her, she deserves to be punished.

‘Penny for them, ducky.’

I’m so deep in thought I don’t hear Aggie come into the kitchen until she’s right beside me. I look up at her round, friendly face. She’s known the McKenzies for ever. Can I trust her? Then I think of how much she’s gossiped to me and know I can’t. I like Aggie, she makes this job bearable, but she’s been here since Kathryn was a teenager. Surely her loyalty will lie with her. And I can’t risk her telling Kathryn. But then Kathryn will know I took the bag. Who else could it have been? Urgh, I’m doing my own head in.

‘I’m fine,’ I lie. ‘Just tired.’ I try to smile but she doesn’t look convinced.

She takes a seat next to me and lowers her voice. ‘I know working here can be …’ she glances around to make sure Elspeth isn’t creeping into the kitchen ‘… problematic, but stick with it. It’s good money, the house is lovely, the location convenient.’ She pats my hand. ‘I know it can be boring for a young girl like yourself to be stuck with old folk like us, but do it for a year and think of the money.’

I laugh in spite of the turmoil I feel. ‘Thanks, Aggie. I intend to.’ And then I find myself telling her a little about Mum and her illness, the promise I made to her.

Her face is full of sympathy and I flush when she gives me a quick hug. ‘I’m so sorry to hear about your mam. Hopefully one day you’ll go off and see the world for the both of you.’

I don’t tell her I’m hoping to do it by the end of the year in case she lets slip to Elspeth. Although I can’t think that far ahead at the moment. All I can think about is that bloody bag upstairs.

‘Aggie …’ I pause. She’s been so kind to me, so warm and understanding about my mum that I suddenly feel closer to her. ‘I found Jemima’s stuff. In the cellar.’

She looks puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’

And I explain about getting the wine last night and finding the bag, how Kathryn had come into the cellar and how I was worried she’d come back for it so I hid it in my room.

‘How do you know Kathryn put it there?’ she asks, after I’ve finished.

‘I …’ Why do I think it’s Kathryn? She’s right. ‘I don’t know. She was acting weird. And her eyes went to the bag at my feet and I could tell she knew exactly what it was. And it’s hardly going to be Elspeth, is it? She’d find it hard getting down those steep steps by herself.’ And then I remember her dancing, her surprising agility, although she did seem out of breath afterwards. Maybe those steps wouldn’t be a challenge.

Aggie shakes her head, her face troubled. ‘Maybe you should just put the bag back. Forget you found it.’

‘Aggie!’ I gasp. ‘I can’t do that! Don’t you think it’s suspicious?’

She gets up and wanders over to the Aga. I feel a thud of disappointment. I should never have told her. My initial instincts were right. She’s been with the family too long. Of course she’ll try to protect them.

I get up and go over to her. She’s busying herself making tea but I can tell her mind is working overtime.

‘What if Kathryn is responsible for Jemima’s death?’ I say.

She rounds on me, her apple cheeks pink. ‘Of course she’s not. She wouldn’t hurt a fly, that one. The poor girl. All these years playing second fiddle first to Viola, then to whatever waif or stray her mother took under her wing, or whichever new cause Elspeth had – those impoverished artists or fundraising for the local church. And then to Matilde and Jemima. Of course she’s going to be resentful. But murder Jemima? Of course not.’

‘Aggie …’ I hesitate. ‘Jemima’s brother is adamant she’d never take her own life. Something happened.’

Aggie waves her hand dismissively. ‘Of course her brother doesn’t want to think his sister killed herself. Who would want to think that?’

‘Then why would Jemima’s stuff be hidden in Elspeth’s cellar?’ My tone is harder than I intend but I’m starting to feel frustrated.

Aggie opens her mouth to speak and closes it again. She leans against the bars of the Aga, clearly deflated, and I wish I hadn’t told her. I’ve burdened her with this secret now. I can see she’s already weighed down by it.

I place a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I should never have told you.’

She shakes her head and I notice tears in her eyes. I can tell she’s struggling to speak but then she straightens up and my hand falls away.

‘I love Kathryn. I worry about her.’

I hang my head. ‘I know.’

‘She was a teenager when I first started this job and she was so … beaten.’

‘Beaten?’ I ask, horrified.

‘By life,’ she clarifies. ‘She’d had such a sad childhood and then she comes here and Viola is the golden girl. But Viola was always a free spirit, wilful. She didn’t want to conform to Elspeth’s old-fashioned rules. Kathryn, on the other hand, was so eager to please. She was like a loyal puppy, the way she followed Elspeth everywhere. And then Viola fell in love with a boy Elspeth said was unsuitable and ran away with him as soon as she turned eighteen. And it was good for Kathryn, in a way, because it gave her the chance to shine. Elspeth was so angry with Viola that she told her never to darken her door again. I think she regrets that now, of course, because Viola’s stayed away. Nobody knows where she is. And I think, on some level, Elspeth always blamed Kathryn for Viola’s disappearance.’