The Things You Didn't See(39)

She looks at me in surprise. ‘You can’t think Janet is involved? She made those scones for your mum . . .’

I prickle with defensiveness. ‘She’s our housekeeper – she’s just doing her job! She’s like a table or a chair or . . . What I mean is, she’s always here but that doesn’t make her family. Mum and her have lived on top of each other all these years, but they’re not friends. Mum is educated and cultured. She got saddled with this place, so she married Dad because he could work the land and she needed him.’ I can’t help but shiver.

There’s a pause. I can feel her eyes drilling into me. I know what she’s thinking: It’s usually the husband.

‘Do your parents have a good marriage?’

‘I used to think it worked, despite their differences. But Dad seems more concerned about Ash than Mum right now. Which isn’t right, is it?’

Holly sips her water. She seems to be reviving. ‘Maybe not.’

‘Mum wasn’t happy on Friday and I was too wrapped up with my own problems to ask her why. But now I think I know. Dad told me today that he wants Ash to take over the farm, but Mum didn’t want that. She was in his way.’

‘Ash seems heartbroken by the attack on your mum,’ Holly says in a measured tone, so neither of us loses sense of where this conversation is leading. ‘And very shocked.’

‘That’s what he’d like you to believe.’

‘You don’t think it’s true?’

My thoughts are muddled again. It’s hard to say what I think, but I have to try. She’s the only person I can tell. ‘People always think Ash is slow but he can be manipulative. Living with just his mum all these years, he sees the world in a very narrow way, as if nothing exists beyond the farm and the handful of people he cares about.’

‘In what way is he manipulative?’

‘He plays on his limitations, pretending to be less intelligent than he really is. Like he did when he assaulted that boy who just wanted to put up a tent for the night. Once the police arrived, he played the dumb card and walked away with a caution.’

‘You’ve seen Ash do this?’

‘Many times. When we were at primary school he was a pest, hanging around, and if I tried to distance myself, Janet would be here, telling tales to Dad about poor Ash. Maybe if she’d had a husband she wouldn’t have been so over-protective – it’s not normal. Dad always said I should be kind to Ash, but he didn’t understand that being friends with Ash meant being called “weird”. No one wants to be an outsider, do they?’

There’s a moment, a space in the room. I think Holly understands everything I’m trying to tell her – she knows what it is to be different.

‘I had . . . an accident.’ My hand strays towards my collarbone, but I pull it back into my lap. ‘It was thought best I should be sent away. I hated Oakfield but at least, I thought, I’m away from Ash and all his strange stalking. Then he started helping Dad around the farm and I couldn’t get away from him again. He was here every holiday, every half-term. As the years have gone on, he’s become more and more involved in the business and I’ve become the outsider. Now it’s like I’m a child again, forced to play with someone I have nothing in common with, just to please our parents. I used to think Janet wanted us to marry.’ I laugh at this thought – it comes out as a mad cackle. ‘I jokingly said that to her once when I was about twelve, and she looked so horrified I realised I was wrong. She just wants him to have the farm.’ I wait while Holly registers this.

‘Did you ever tell your dad how you felt?’

‘He wouldn’t have listened – he was just glad to have someone to help out. People round here want to work down the docks or at British Telecom in Ipswich. There’s no money in farming.’

‘What about your mum?’

‘I didn’t need to tell her any of this, she knows, but Dad will never see any wrong in Ash – he’s blind to his faults. But I’m not. And I want to make sure that the police aren’t either.’

Holly pushes her empty glass aside and leans forward. ‘What is it you’re really saying, Cassandra?’

‘I’m telling you what happened on Friday.’

Holly’s face is frowning with attention, and I realise she could be my only hope of discovering what really happened. ‘Tell me,’ she says, ‘what happened on Friday after you came home.’





19

Cassandra

Friday 31 October

‘Mum?’ I wander through the farmhouse, calling your name. My brain is slipping again, the delusions are back. I need help.

I find you in your study, seated at your desk before a pile of papers to one side and an account book. You don’t look up: you’re too engrossed in your sums to notice my tear-soaked face, but point with the nib of your pen at the numbers.

‘The copse isn’t bringing in much rent and the supermarkets are always trying to get the lowest price they can, despite the quality.’

‘Mum?’

You throw your pen on top of a glossy document that has the Port Authority logo on the cover.

‘They’re offering a lot of money, Cass. More than its market value.’

‘You can’t sign that,’ I say, slowly tuning in to what you’re saying. ‘What about the Spa?’