Daisy darker, p.15
Daisy Darker, page 15
I can’t believe any of this is really happening, and can’t think of anyone who would hate my family enough to do this to us. I look around the room. Everyone in it had a reason to be upset with Nana because of the will. My mother and Lily both hated my father for a long time after the divorce, but nobody here would want to hurt Trixie. Surely I must be right about that?
The power comes back on, making us all jump, and light floods the room.
‘Well, that’s a good sign,’ says Lily.
‘Is it?’ replies Rose, before examining Trixie again to make sure she is really okay.
I can’t help noticing the handgun in Rose’s leather bag as she packs her things away, and I’m not the only one. Trixie’s eyes are wide as saucers, and her face writes a question mark on itself.
‘Why do you have a gun, Aunty Rose?’ she asks.
‘I thought you said that was somewhere safe?’ Lily says.
Rose sighs at Lily. ‘It was, but after everything that has happened, I feel safer having it with me.’ She turns back to Trixie. ‘Sometimes vets need guns. They probably look a lot like the guns you see on TV – because they are – but vets use them for different reasons. It’s very sad, but if an animal is seriously poorly, then—’
‘You shoot it?’ Trixie asks.
‘Sometimes. But only if that’s the only option . . . if the animal is in lots of pain.’
‘Would you shoot one of us if we were in pain?’ my niece asks without a hint of irony.
‘You should try to get some rest. We’ll all leave as soon as the tide lets us. You’re going to be okay, I promise.’
Trixie’s face attempts a smile, but it doesn’t take. She’s old enough, and clever enough, to know that we haven’t told her everything about what has happened here tonight.
Rose goes to leave the lounge.
‘Where are you going?’ Lily asks, sounding afraid.
‘I’ll be back in less than a minute. I just want to check something.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Conor offers.
Rose stares at him for a long time, but leaves without giving a reply, which I suppose is an answer in itself. The rest of us sit in silence as the fire spits and crackles. Shadows dance around the walls and across our faces, the thoughts inside our individual heads so loud that I can almost hear them. Conor gets up to leave the room a few minutes later. I follow him, watch from the doorway, and see him standing too close to Rose out in the hall.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks her.
‘No. Of course not,’ Rose whispers back. ‘I came to get the key from the cupboard door,’ she says, patting the pocket of her jeans. ‘I think it’s a master key. If I’m right, we can lock ourselves in the lounge until the tide goes out. Someone here tried to kill Trixie, and I don’t think this is over.’
‘I think you’re right. But who? And why?’
‘I don’t know. But until we figure this out, we’re all in danger,’ Rose says.
‘It started with Nana, so it has to have been someone who was upset with her. I don’t think it was just about the will either. Somebody trashed her studio looking for something, so my guess is it’s someone who didn’t like the idea of her writing one last novel about this family. Someone with a secret.’
‘We all have secrets,’ says Rose.
‘Yes, but we don’t all go around killing people in order to keep them.’
Rose stares at him when he says that, but Conor is too lost in thought to notice.
‘Who had a motive to kill Frank?’ he continues. ‘And why would someone try to kill Trixie? Did she see something she shouldn’t have last night when she came downstairs and discovered Nana’s body? Something which might identify the killer?’
‘Whoever it is, they’re someone who likes to tidy things away, out of sight,’ Rose says, staring at the cupboard under the stairs.
Conor opens the cupboard door a little wider. It still has all of our names and ages, and a ladder of a line with our heights written inside it. I read the top three.
Daisy, aged 13 – 5 feet, 1 inch
Rose, aged 10 – 4 feet, 7 inches
Lily, aged 9 – 4 feet, 2 inches
It’s the only place in space and time where I was ever taller than them.
‘At least we know where the missing bodies are,’ Conor says. ‘And that explains why Poppins was scratching at the cupboard door. That dog could never bear to be away from Nana for more than a minute.’
Rose closes the cupboard door and locks it. ‘I don’t want to see what’s in there anymore. And I don’t want to talk about it.’
They start walking back towards the lounge, and I retreat inside the room. I’m not sure why, but I’m glad they didn’t see me. I feel like I’m missing a piece of the puzzle, and it’s increasingly difficult to know who to trust.
Everyone is afraid now and they are right to be.
Someone is killing the Darker family one by one.
And I fear it’s only a matter of time until it happens again.
Twenty-three
31 October 2:40 a.m.
less than four hours until low tide
Back in the lounge, Lily and Trixie are still sitting huddled together on the sofa, trying to keep warm. Rose slots the cupboard key into the lounge door, and she’s right: it is a master key.
‘What are you doing?’ asks Lily.
‘Locking us inside until the tide goes out. To keep us all safe.’
‘But what about Nancy?’ Lily asks. ‘She isn’t safe. She’s out there somewhere, she didn’t just vanish. Am I the only one who cares about our mother and is worried about her?’ Nobody answers. ‘Are we just not going to talk about it? I suppose that is what we normally do in this family, as though pretending something bad didn’t happen will mean it never did. I know what you’re all thinking, but Nancy wouldn’t do this.’
‘Do what?’ Trixie asks. She doesn’t know what really happened to her. She doesn’t even know that Dad is dead. As far as she knows, Nana had an accident and we’re all just waiting for the tide to go out.
‘Maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation in front of Trixie,’ I say.
But Lily ignores me. My sister is always a stranger to any point I try to make.
‘I’ve been thinking about everything that has happened tonight, and the only explanation is that someone else is here, at Seaglass,’ Lily says. ‘Someone else has been here the whole time, since before we arrived, waiting for us to go to bed and then picking us off one by one. Someone close to the family. Someone who knew about Nana’s eightieth birthday, and that we’d all be here to celebrate it.’
‘Everyone knew that Halloween was Nana’s birthday. She made us celebrate it every year,’ says Rose.
Conor nods. ‘And everyone knew that she believed it would be her last, because of that premonition by the palm reader in Timbuktu—’
‘Land’s End,’ Rose corrects.
‘Whatever. They said her eightieth birthday would be her last . . . which it was. She was literally found in a puddle of her own blood just after midnight.’
My niece starts to quietly cry.
‘I’m sorry, Trixie,’ Conor says. ‘That was very insensitive of me. This has been a terrible night for all of us, but you must be so upset about Nana and Frank.’
Trixie frowns. ‘What’s wrong with Grandad?’
‘Nothing,’ Lily lies. ‘He’s just very upset about Nana, so he’s having a lie-down.’
‘Is Nancy having a lie-down too?’ Trixie asks.
Nobody knows what to say, including me, but Lily isn’t the only one to think that Nancy isn’t responsible for any of the things that have happened here tonight. And she’s right to be worried about her. My mother can be many unpleasant things – sometimes all at once – but a killer isn’t one of them. I’m certain of that.
There is a picture on the mantelpiece above the fireplace, which I often find myself staring at. It’s of three generations of Darker family women: Nana, my mother, my sisters and me at Seaglass, posing like the happy family we rarely were, here in this room. I’m guessing it would have been 1983, when I was seven, because of the matching blue dresses my sisters and I are wearing. I remember the day Nancy and I went to town to buy them. I lied to my mother that day, and I don’t think she ever found out the truth.
The trouble with little white lies is that they sometimes grow up to become big dark ones.
Twenty-four
SEAGLASS – 1983
My mother always dressed up to go shopping; for her it was like putting on a show. I remember that she was in a good mood that day – it was a rare and therefore memorable thing. Nancy sang along to the car radio as we drove along the coastal road into town – completely out of tune – to a song called ‘Stayin’ Alive’. She had a video of a film that had the same song in it, something about a man called John Travolta who had a fever on a Saturday night. Her favourite shop in the whole wide world was called Debenhams, and that was where we were headed.
We were at Seaglass for the Easter holidays, but Nana didn’t come with us. She hated all forms of shopping. ‘Material things only matter to material people,’ she would say. But Nancy loved to shop. The only problem with her spending habits and expensive taste was that we rarely had any money in those days. The divorce settlement was generous, but after paying the mortgage on our tiny house in London, and my sisters’ school fees, there was very little left over. Which was why the start of the sales was very important to Nancy. We had to get there on day one, as soon as the shop doors opened, even if that meant queuing. The only thing my mother loved more than shopping was believing that she had paid less for something than it was worth.
I loathed being dragged around department stores. They were too big and I was too small, and I was always afraid of getting lost. I preferred the smaller shops we used to visit on our old high street. I always loved Woolworths because of the pick ’n’ mix; the memory of all those cola bottles, cherry lips and flying saucers still makes me smile. Lily’s favourite shops were Our Price – where she went to buy the latest cassettes and music posters – and Tammy Girl and C&A, where she and Rose shopped for clothes. I always enjoyed our trips to Blockbuster Video – even if I was rarely allowed to choose which film we would rent – and visits to the little independent bookshop with Nana were my favourite outings. Buying books was the only form of shopping she ever enjoyed. It makes me sad to realize that none of those shops exist now. So many high streets are more like ghost towns these days.
Nancy pushed through the crowds and headed straight up the escalator to the children’s department in Debenhams, where she quickly chose two new dresses for Rose and Lily. I had to run to keep up with her walk, but I remember the navy blue velvet dresses with white collars, and how much I wanted one of my own. My mother always liked to dress my sisters in matching clothes – as though they were twins – but I rarely had anything new to wear.
We went up another floor to women’s fashion, so that Nancy could buy a little something for herself. My mother always walked up the escalator in her hurry to find a bargain. The moving steps were very big, and seven-year-old me found it difficult to keep up. I’ve been scared of escalators ever since. I always felt as though I was going to slip, or trip, or fall through the cracks. I had to jump when we reached the end, to avoid the gap and certain death.
On arrival in women’s fashion, Nancy started to browse the reduced-price clothes like it was a sport. I remember the ugly sound of hangers screeching across the metal rails. If other shoppers dared to get in her way, Nancy would tut until they moved. My feet started to ache in my second-hand shoes, which were pretty but too small. So, while I waited for Nancy to find the things she thought would make her happy, I sat down and collected the coat hanger size cubes that had fallen to the floor. There were different colours for each size in those days: orange for 10, green for 12, blue for 14. Nancy has almost always been a size 10, and I wonder if that’s why I hate the colour orange.
Everything was fine until we got to the changing room. My mother had taken in the maximum number of dresses to try on, but started to get upset almost right away because the first dress didn’t seem to fit.
‘Just pull the zip up,’ she said, glaring at me in the mirror as I tried, and failed, to help.
‘It won’t budge,’ I replied, tugging on the zipper, and she tutted and shook her head at me as though it was my fault.
‘There must be something wrong with the sizing of this dress,’ Nancy said, pulling it off over her head and dumping it on the floor. But the next dress, another size 10, didn’t fit either. Nor did the next one. That’s when Nancy started to cry.
‘Having children ruined my body. Ruined it. The sacrifices I have made for you . . .’
‘I think you look beautiful,’ I said, shoving my hands into my pockets, not really knowing what to say or do. ‘I could just go and get you a bigger size?’
I was so scared by the look my mother gave me then, I ran out of the changing room without waiting for a reply. Some of the size cubes I had picked up earlier were still in my pockets. Feeling them gave me an idea. I found the dress my mother liked the most out on the shop floor, went on tiptoe to select it in a size 12, then changed the green size cube on the hanger for an orange size 10. I ran back to the changing room.
‘I already tried that one,’ Nancy snapped, staring at the dress as though it had offended her.
‘But maybe this one will fit?’ I said, holding it out in both hands like a fabric peace offering. ‘It did look very pretty on you.’
She snatched the dress and started to pull it on. When I helped zip it all the way up at the back, she smiled at herself in the mirror. Then she smiled at me.
I don’t know whether Nancy ever looked at the size label sewn into the inside of the dress she bought for herself that day. All my mother ever really cared about was what was on the outside, what other people saw and how they viewed her. I still think it’s a very sad way to live. But we stopped off in the children’s department again before we left Debenhams that afternoon, and my mother bought me the same dress she had bought for my sisters. It was the first and only time she dressed me the same way as them. Sometimes the things that make one person sad are the same things that can make another person happy.
Nancy sang along to the radio again as we drove home. There were big bags full of half-price dresses in the boot of her little red Mini. All of them with the wrong size on the hangers. I never told her what I did because sometimes keeping secrets is the kindest thing to do. I still remember how happy she was, until we saw a boy walking alone along the coastal path near Seaglass. I guess Conor would have been thirteen at the time. That awkward stage where he still looked like a boy but was starting to think and behave like a man. He was limping. My mother pulled up beside him and gasped when she saw his face. He had a black eye and a bloody lip.
‘Stay here,’ she ordered, yanking the handbrake as though it were to blame.
She got out of the car and rushed over to Conor.
‘Did your dad do this to you?’ Nancy asked.
Our whole family knew about Conor’s dad, and my parents did not approve of Nana getting involved. They viewed spending what they saw as their inheritance on Conor’s father’s rehab as a waste of time and money. My mother had been waiting for the moment when she would be proved right. Conor looked away and stared at Blacksand Bay down below the cliffs. Nancy tried again, softening the edges of her words.
‘You don’t need to say it out loud if you don’t want to, but I do need to know what happened, Conor. Did your father do this to you? Nod or shake your head.’
Conor stared at her, but he didn’t move his head or even blink.
‘Jump in the back seat,’ she said, and he did as he was told, sliding in beside me. He stank of blood and sweat.
My mother was more than capable of hurting her own children behind closed doors – albeit only with words – but she could not tolerate the thought of any other child coming to harm. The car’s brakes squealed as we pulled up outside Conor’s dad’s cottage, the one Nana had lovingly renovated a couple of years earlier. Sadly, people can be harder to restore than places.
‘Stay there, both of you,’ Nancy ordered.
She got out of the spotlessly clean Mini and tutted at the state of Conor’s dad’s blue Volvo. It was so dirty, I couldn’t read the number plate, even though we were parked right behind it.
‘He’s going to kill someone driving drunk along that cliff road one day,’ she muttered, and I watched, with my face pressed against our car window, as Nancy marched up to Conor’s house. I started whispering under my breath, waiting for my mother to strike like lightning.
One Mississippi . . . Two Mississippi . . . Three Mississippi . . .
I didn’t have long to wait.
‘Open this door,’ Nancy yelled, banging her fist on it. ‘My mother-in-law might have been taken in by you, but I know people like you never change. You are a disgrace of a man. Your son is sitting in my car looking broken, and I thought you might want to say goodbye before I take him back to Seaglass and make sure you never see him or hurt him again.’
Nancy had fallen for Conor by then, just like the rest of the women in the Darker family. We all wanted to protect him. It was instinct. Not something any of us thought to question, or knew how to explain. Like if you found an abandoned puppy: you couldn’t help wanting to protect him and give him a home.
I looked at Conor but he just stared at the floor of the car, his hands forming two little fists in his lap. The cottage door opened, and I could feel my heart beating so fast I thought it might burst right out of my chest. Then a man I didn’t recognize appeared in the doorway.
