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“Georgina had been to a couple of the art classes Joe ran here at Larkin Lodge, but as far as I know, nothing more. But that was enough for Sally. She was convinced they were doingsomethingor that Georgina was trying to seduce Joe. I know she threatened her at the school. And then she told whoever would listen that Georgina slept with married men and danced naked at a bar in town on weekends. Ridiculous accusations, but the intent was to cause just enough gossip to get her sacked. When none of that worked to get rid of her, Sally saw her in the liquor store in the village buying beer and was convinced it was for Joe. For some clandestine meeting. I’m pretty sure Sally had taken to following her by then. Our friendship was pretty much over because it was all she talked about, and Pete and me were getting serious. I remember Sally looked terrible by that point. Thinner than ever. Not sleeping. It was eating her up.”
“What happened?” I hear a scuttering sound overhead, birds in the eaves, maybe as impatient as me to hear the rest of the story.
“She walked straight into the shop. Took the beer bottles out of Georgina’s hands, put them back on the shelf, and said very calmly and coolly—in front of Peter Lamb, the shopkeeper—that if Georgina didn’t leave Joe alone, she’d slit her throat.”
“Wow.” I stare at Merrily. “That’s quite something.”
“Yes, it is. But that was enough for Georgina. No one saw her again. She dropped in to say goodbye to Joe—and probably tell him to get rid of his crazy girlfriend—and that was that.”
“Did she move to Taunton to be closer to the school?”
“Oh, they never saw her again either.” She stubs her cigarette out on the gravel and pockets the butt. “Vanished in the night. Ithought that fiasco would be the end of Sally and Joe—because who’d stay with her after that?—and I wasn’t the only one who thought it would be the best thing for both of them. I think Sally’s mum was ready to pack her off to her aunt over in New Zealand to start afresh, she was so worried about her. But we were all wrong. Within two weeks they were engaged, and maybe he got her some professional help because she stopped with all that jealousy stuff as far as I could tell. Never showed it again, that’s for sure. I guess they figured their shit out. But I never wanted to be friends with her again. Leopards and spots.” She looks at me, wry. “She’ll always be crazy Sally Freemantle to me.”
She turns to go inside, but I don’t follow her. My head is a whir as I watch the mist spilling over the wall, a tide creeping in to drown the house in the night.
Vanished in the night.Last seen in this house. Did Sally kill her? Did she kill her in this house?
Don’t do it, I tell myself.Don’t go back down that path. The room upstairs is fine. There is no ghost. You’ve got bigger problems.
And I almost do it, I almost put it right out of my head, but then a thought strikes me and it makes me catch my breath.
Sally Freemantle. That’s what Merrily called her. Not Sally Carter. She used Sally’s maiden name.
F R E E M.The writing in the mirror steam. It wasn’tFree meat all. It wasFreemantle. That’s what the haunting was trying to spell on the bathroom mirror. The name of their killer.
51
Emily
My head is in a whirl. Could Sally really have murdered her rival, right here in this house? Maybe that’s what calmed her down. Maybe the trauma of what she’d done changed her. And what about Joe? Did he help her cover it up? Move the body?
The party has thinned right out, only Paul the vicar and our friends left, and we’re all in the poolroom. Paul’s in close conversation with Freddie, who’s now got a scarf around his neck. There’s a fire blazing, so I don’t know how he can be cold when Cat and Iso are both in thin tops and are fine. This house. This strange house.
“You all right, Emily?” Paul’s broken away from Freddie and come to join me on the small sofa. “You’re lost in thought. Something serious by the looks of it.”
“Not that serious. Not really.” I play it down, but I’m also curious to see what the vicar knows about this missing woman. He’s lived here long enough to remember it, surely. “It was something Merrily was telling me about. A woman who went missing years ago. Last seen coming to this house, back when Joe and Sally lived here. Just was weird.”
“I don’t remember anything about a missing woman. Are you thinking about your haunting?” He leans in closer. “Who was the woman?”
“A young artist called Georgina Usher.”
“I see.” He looks down at his feet. “And you think she’s haunting the Lodge?”
“Maybe she had an accident here. Maybe it’s her vibrations I’m feeling.”
There’s a long pause and then he talks, slowly and carefully. “If there’d been an accident, then the police or an ambulance would have come.”
There’s something in his tone, as if he’s testing me. I sit up straighter and look at him. Maybe he’s had his suspicions over the years. Maybe I’m the first person to say something out loud.
“Only if the people living here reported it.” I don’t use the wordmurder. And I don’t lay any accusations at anyone’s door, even if it’s all there in the subtext. The vicar looks at me for a long moment and I know he’s picked up on exactly what I mean. I’m so sure of it, I almost don’t hear what he says next.
“Emily.” He places a gentle hand on my arm. “Georgina Usher isn’t dead.”
I stare at him. “What do you mean? Merrily said she vanished. Never seen again.”
“Never seenback hereagain.” He pulls his phone out and goes to Google. “She’s a famous artist now. She lives in America. I go into that school she used to work at when the kids are getting ready for confirmation. Even though she quit without notice they’ve named their art department after her. And they have prints of her work everywhere.”
He passes me his phone. “Look.”