Page 31 of The Good Girl
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 the sandstone 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 that meant 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 turned around 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 he so doesn’t want you here.’
‘I know. And I don’t want to be here either, not with him. But I’m not leaving you and Dee alone right now so he’d better get used to it. I wanted to tell him to shove it when he said I could stay, like this is his house. I nearly swung for him.’
Nancy’s hands trembled slightly as she placed the glass down.
She looked around the kitchen then said, ‘This house was your mum and dad’s dream home and they thought they’d live here forever,’ her voice wobbled slightly, ‘and after Ronnie died I hoped that their love for it and each other would sustain her, you know, keep his memory alive and give her comfort.
‘But once Shane moved in, it was like he was tainting it, erasing Ronnie. It was subtle at first, then all-guns blazing, changing things, making his mark. Your dad built the foundations and the walls and your mum had made it beautiful, made it a home. But Shane… he never really belonged and he has no right to be here anymore.’ Nancy turned quickly and took a sip of water, the shaking of her body giving away her tears.
Molly hesitated. ‘She was going to leave him, wasn’t she? Or throw him out. Once I’d gone to Princeton.’
Nancy turned, her eyes glassy, then she nodded.
‘Yes, that was the plan. She would never have sold this house, though. She wanted it back and him gone, so she asked me to help her prepare. The paperwork, move some assets, that sort of thing. We were sorting through her affairs in secret. She was scared, Molly, convinced that he would ruin her life.’
The seriousness of her mum’s predicament settled heavily between them then hearing movement, they spotted Dee standing in the hall, staring at Nancy as if she’d seen a ghost.
The hysteria descended almost immediately, Dee crumpling to the floor, sobbing as Nancy rushed through the kitchen and lounge and took her in her arms. Once she had calmed and they managed to get her to her feet, they moved into the lounge where Dee sat curled on the sofa, staring out of the window at the conifers that lined the front lawn.
She didn’t communicate with either of them or seem to be aware of their presence.
‘She’s barely spoken since,’ Molly murmured.
Nancy sat beside her. ‘Shock can present itself like that.’
They left her to rest, and after Molly showed Nancy to her room and helped her unpack, they sat in the garden with mugs of tea. That was when Nancy brought up the farewell party.
‘I cancelled it. The golf club were really kind actually. I asked if they’d be able to contact anyone involved, you know, the band and the florist and they couldn’t have been more helpful.’
‘I’m glad,’ Nancy said. Then, ‘What about Princeton?’
Molly looked up. ‘What about it?’
‘I can call them. Explain what’s happened. You could defer a year. No one would think less of you.’
Molly blinked. Her future felt so far away. ‘Maybe,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t think about it yet. But I suppose I have to let them know I won’t be going right now. How can I?’
Nancy reached across and squeezed her hand. The doorbell rang and Molly rose to answer it. The long hallway felt cavernous and each step echoed against the hardwood floor. She opened the door to find DCI Yates and DC Stone standing solemnly beneath the porch light.
Yates spoke first. ‘Miss Lassiter. May we come in? We have some news.’
Molly’s breath caught in her throat. She stepped back and nodded. The detectives crossed the threshold and as the door clicked shut behind them, the temperature seemed to drop another degree, like a portent of bad news.