The Other People: A Novel(80)

“Well, of course, this is your house.”

“And yours.”

“Thank you.”

He moved around the bed and sat down in the other chair. “How’s Isabella?”

A pointless question, as the answer was always the same.

“She’s as well as she can be. We keep her clean and comfortable—and sometimes I pray.”

He nodded as she fingered the crucifix around her neck.

“Is that why you’re here? I noticed there were no other nurses on.”

“Often, it’s just me. I’m perfectly capable.”

“Of course. Look, Miriam, I thought you should know that there’s been a change in circumstances. It’s why I missed my visit yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“I found Izzy.”

“Your daughter?”

Her eyes widened. She clutched the crucifix tighter.

“Yes.”

“She’s alive?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my goodness. Well, that’s wonderful. But how?”

“It’s a long story.” He paused. “It involves a group called the Other People.”

She frowned and half shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve heard the name.”

“They claim to offer justice to those who have lost loved ones, who have been let down by the courts. An eye-for-an-eye, tooth-for-a-tooth kind of justice.” He paused. “Someone asked them to murder my wife and child as payback for what I did to Isabella.”

She stared at him. “Forgive me, but this all seems a little far-fetched. Who would do such a thing?”

“Someone who was angry, bitter, grief-stricken?”

“You mean Charlotte?”

“I thought so, to start with…but no, I don’t think it’s her style. She already had me where she wanted me. Besides, Charlotte died before Izzy was even born.”

“Then who?”

“How long have you worked here?”

“Over thirty years.”

“You’ve looked after Isabella all that time. Without question, with total devotion. You must care for her a great deal.”

“Yes, I do.”

Gabe nodded, his heart feeling like it might just burst with sorrow.

“Then please tell me that’s why you did it. For Isabella. Not just for the money.”





Katie woke with a start, catapulted from her dreams by…what? She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Then it all came flooding back. The living room, in the big house. She must have fallen asleep on the sofa. What time was it? She checked her watch: 10:15 p.m. Hardly late, but it had been a long day.

Gabe had told her he was going to the other wing, to see Isabella. She had decided to stay here and finish her brandy before going to bed. The glass still sat, half drunk, on the coffee table.

She sat up and listened to the house settle. Something had woken her. A faint noise, a thud? She strained her ears. Any mother becomes attuned to the nocturnal noises of their children. She knows when they are sleeping peacefully and she knows, instinctively, when something is wrong.

Something was wrong.

She heard it again. A creak of a floorboard. Faint, stealthy. Someone was moving around. Not Gabe. His steps were heavier. This was a child.

She stood up, padded out of the room and up the huge staircase. The master was to her left, the bathroom at the end of the landing. She could see a thin yellow strip of light beneath the door. So maybe that was it. Maybe one of the children had just needed to use the toilet. Still, something—instinct—told her she should check. She walked along the landing, fingers tracing the wall in the darkness until they found a light switch. She flicked it on and the landing flooded with pale yellow light.

She reached the bathroom door and knocked gently.

“Hello?”

Silence. No reply. Not even the sound of water running.

She knocked again. And then she pushed at the door. It was unlocked and swung open. She stepped inside. The bathroom was empty. But the mirror above the sink was split with a huge, jagged crack and the sink was smeared with bright red blood.

Shit.

She hurried back across the landing to the master bedroom, fear squeezing her heart. She could make out Sam straight away at the bottom of the bed, one leg poking out of the covers. Another curly blonde head poked out of the top. Katie padded across the room, up to the grand double, and gently pulled back the covers. Next to Gracie, just a faint dent in the pillow.

Izzy was gone.





“You’re wrong.”

“I really hoped I was. And I admit, it took me a while to see it. Perhaps I didn’t want to. The will was watertight. Even if something happened to me and my family, the estate went into trust.” He paused. “I called the solicitor on the way here and asked who the trustees were. That’s when it all fell into place. There’s only one. You, Miriam.”

She stared at him, appraising. Her fingers fell away from the crucifix. “I’ve devoted my life to caring for Isabella. Sacrificed so much. When Charlotte died, I thought I might see some reward for my dedication, for all those years.”

“Instead Charlotte gave her whole estate to the man responsible for almost killing her daughter.”