That was the thought that haunted her. Now, as she sat in her room, her mother gone, her life pulled from beneath her, she began to question everything she thought she knew. If he could fake that… If he could lie so completely… What else had he done? He was checking the Ring, supposedly doing his ‘man of the house’ thing – but had he checked the history and seenMagda go back? Was that what rattled him, knowing she could have overheard the row between him and her mum?
Magda had definitely heard. Her mother had told him she wanted a divorce. Stood her ground. Molly had eavesdropped on half a conversation between her mum and Nancy which indicated the same, and more. Her mum more or less told her, during their lunch, that she was planning to end things with Shane, her words clear as day,So, my precious girl, once you’re at Princeton things are going to change and everything I do will be for me.
And within days, she was dead. It might have been coincidence. A tragic fall. A terrible accident. But something didn’t sit right. And if Molly could feel it in her bones, she was certain that DCI Yates did, too.
She remembered the way the detective had looked at Shane. Not with sympathy. Not even suspicion. Just a calm, calculating curiosity. The kind of look you gave a piece of a jigsaw, wondering where it fit in the puzzle. She didn’t know what went on in Yates’ head but she had a funny feeling he wasn’t the type to give up too easily. She hoped not, because if anyone was going to find the truth, it wouldn’t be her. She was too close, entangled and ashamed.
Chapter Thirty
Everything moved in slow motion. The doorbell would chime and it would take a beat too long for anyone to answer. Food was prepared, toast or a sandwich, but hardly touched. Dee drifted around the house like a sleepwalker in her baggy pyjamas, and Shane had assumed a position that made Molly’s skin crawl.
He was acting like the man of the house. Hosting phone calls in Julia’s study, answering the door in his dressing gown, greeting the neighbours with sorrowful eyes and his arm around Dee like he was her grieving father rather than a man clinging to a role he no longer deserved. Molly couldn’t help but watch with rising bitterness. They were skirting around each other like strangers and she was glad he was keeping his distance.
Had her mother gone through with her plans, Shane would’ve been in a serviced flat, nursing wounded pride, finding solace in his divorce settlement and figuring out who to hit on next. Instead, he now ruled over a four-million-pound home and potentially, a hefty bank balance.
Neighbours and friends had started leaving flowers at the door. Bunches of lilies, tulips, and roses rested against thesandstone porch, curling their heads in the sun before Magda brought them inside. There were handwritten notes, heartfelt messages. The scent was overwhelming, a sweet perfume of sympathy and finality.
Molly had watched from the upstairs window as Adele, one of the receptionists from ClearGlass, placed down a bouquet. Adele dabbed her eyes and stood in silence for a few minutes. Julia’s death had hit the company hard. She had been more than the owner, she had been a guiding presence, a fair employer and to some, a friend. And now she was gone.
Molly had been standing by the window for ages like an expectant impatient child, watching for a taxi carrying her aunt who suddenly symbolised so much. A link to her mum.
Nancy and Julia hadn’t been identical twins but they still looked so alike, you could tell they were sisters the second they stood side by side and often, people would say that Molly looked a bit like them both. She’d loved that, sharing their genes. And growing up, as much as she adored her mum, Molly and Nancy had a special bond, taking days out together to the coast. In fact it was Nancy who taught her to swim and took her to get her ears pierced. Her mum never seemed to mind a bit, probably because she was busy with work; but not just that: she didn’t have a spiteful bone in her body. She always wanted everyone to be happy.
When Molly looked back, the photo album in her head was full of snapshots of her and Nancy, precious memories, smiling moments, cuddles and fun. After her dad died, Nancy often stayed at the house for the weekend or longer, bringing with her a change in mood, determined to lift them up. Molly had loved those girls’ weekends with the four of them. But that had changed abruptly once Shane came on the scene.
Before she knew it, there had been a row between Nancy and her mum, then the move to Toronto and the rift thatmeant separate Christmases and birthdays, polite messages and enquiries about the other’s health. Banalities to keep things civil for the sake of Gran and Granddad.
The only positive thought Molly could muster as she ambled towards the kitchen to flick on the kettle was that, since the trip in the spring, her mum and Nancy had rekindled their relationship at least. She hoped that it would bring her aunt a teeny bit of comfort in the darkness of the days to come.
And then, as steam began to pour from the rumbling kettle, Molly heard the alert on her phone saying someone had come through the gates. By the time she’d raced to the front door, Nancy was sweeping into the house like a breeze of Canadian air. Tired-eyed but purposeful, she carried only a handbag and a wheeled suitcase. Her cotton jacket undone; jeans and white shirt crinkled, chin length, ash-blonde hair tucked behind her ears. She looked weary and older than Molly remembered, as though grief had etched itself into the lines of her face on the flight over.
Molly flew into her aunt’s open arms and hugged her hard.
‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Nancy whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Her voice cracked and she pulled back to look at Molly properly. ‘Where’s Dee?’
‘Upstairs. She’s been sleeping most of the day.’ They pulled apart and Molly noticed a change in Nancy’s demeanour, her eyes narrowing as Shane entered the hallway.
He’d developed a habit of doing that in the past couple of days, appearing out of nowhere as though he’d been loitering and listening and it gave Molly the creeps.
‘Nancy,’ he said, nodding stiffly.
‘Shane.’
They stood awkwardly for a moment before Molly switched to hostess mode and led Nancy to the kitchen, wittering on about cups of tea and stiff legs while hoping that when she turnedaround Shane would be gone. Molly was learning fast that hopes were a waste of time.
He pulled out a stool from the island and settled himself in while Nancy, directing her words towards Molly, said she would just stay a night or two and then find somewhere nearby. An Airbnb perhaps.
‘You can stay here. We’ve got tonnes of room,’ Shane offered, though his tone was more duty than desire.
‘Thank you, we’ll see how it goes, then.’ Nancy stared him in the eye then refocused on one of the many flower arrangements now adorning the patio.
Molly watched the exchange with keen eyes. Polite but strained. Shane’s contribution pure performance. The verbal ping-pong match lasted an age, or what felt like it to Molly. They discussed the weather and the flight and everyone steadfastly seemed to be avoiding the word,Julia.
At last, Shane had given up and sloped off, leaving without a word. The roar of his car as it sped down the drive assured them they were alone at last.
Nancy poured herself a glass of water and leaned against the counter. ‘I can see he’s enjoying this,’ she said, not looking at Molly. ‘Being in charge.’
Molly nodded. ‘Yep, and hesodoesn’t want you here.’
