Page 79

‘When did it start?’ I ask.

I don’t know how much time has passed while I was reading the diary. Ava and Ash are still crying, cuddling, arguing with Mina while Tristan stands staring out the window. Lydia, who has come in now, sits with her head between her knees on the side of the bath, even though it’s full of bloody water.

‘When did it start?’ I ask again, louder, pinning my brother with my gaze even though it’s like looking at the sun.

‘What?’ he snaps. He’s so confused I feel wrong-footed.

And that pause is the moment I need to recognise that Ash and Ava shouldn’t have to hear this. I’m so angry with them I could strangle them, but really, they’re just children.

‘Ash, Ava, could you give us a moment, please?’

‘I’m sorry, Auntie Frances,’ Ava says. ‘We shouldn’t have been mean to her – we never thought?—’

‘We’ll talk about that later.’

Ava’s face is like jelly and Ash’s is just the same. They think she’s dead, I realise. They believe the writing on the wall.

But I can’t think about that now.

They begin to protest, but Mina gives them a push and they go into the bedroom. Really, I shouldn’t be doing this. We should just get out, call the police. I should tell them what I think, not Tristan – don’t give him a chance to defend himself.

But my blood has started to boil and I think if I don’t have it out now, it will be the end of me.

‘When did your obsession with my daughter begin?’

He squints.

Lydia looks up.

‘What?’ he says again.

‘I always wondered why our kids hated her so much. But you always did like her more than them,’ Mina says.

His mouth hangs open. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen my brother speechless before. I want to reach into the gaping hole and tear his face apart.

‘I’ve never… What? And you both think – what?’

I pick up the journal. ‘“T is the only one who sees me,”’ I read, then turn the page to find another bit. ‘“He says he’ll wait until I’m ready … He doesn’t want it to be like last time … T gave me something so beautiful I almost cried. It’s just like A’s, except instead of some cheap old garnet, it’s a ruby.”’

Tristan snorts a mean little laugh. ‘Really? Both of you think this “T” is me?’ And then he goes to sit on the side of the bath next to Lydia but misjudges it and ends up on the floor, surrounded by Jenna’s things and the broken glass and shattered mirror.

‘I don’t like Jenna more than my own children. It’s just easier with her. She’s not mine. I have zero expectations.’

Mina sniffs and looks into her lap. ‘How many times have you taken her on trips to London that have ended up being overnight?’

All of the blood has drained from my brother’s face. Only his old scar blazes red. ‘She’s my niece.’

‘She’s a child, Tristan,’ says Mina.

‘What are you talking about? You think T is me? Can you think of no one else, a bit more obvious, whose name begins with a T? Mina, you do realise what you’re saying?’

Mina nods.

‘Who else do we know whose name starts with T?’ says Tristan.

My stomach drops. What have I just accused my brother of? ‘Theo,’ I say.

‘Yes, Theo. For God’s sake, you stupid, stupid women. Jenna’s “boyfriend” Theo.’

Theo, not my brother, but still a man in his thirties. ‘You knew about this?’ I say.

‘Everyone knows they like each other. Why are you getting your knickers in a twist? It’s not me, for God’s sake. Not her uncle – her family.’ He slams a palm on the floor and yelps and picks his hand up to examine it.

‘They likeeach other?’ I say. ‘He’s thirty-what? Thirty-one? He’s?—’

‘Oh, Frances, come on. They like each other. Get over it.’

I gawp. ‘You think that’s okay? You think someone twice her age is a suitable – and you…’ I remember the line I’ve just read in Jenna’s diary involving something that happened before the diary began: Ever since Bob Dylan he’s been so nice to me. Was that a concert my brother had taken her to? They’d been to a few. When was it? Surely I’d remember Dylan?

I rub my eyes. ‘For how long exactly? Because she’s only sixteen, and when was it that you took her to see Bob Dylan?’

Tristan goes quiet. ‘Okay, yes, she was a bit young then and things got out of hand, but I had a talk with the boy and since then he’s been nothing but a gentleman.’

How young? What happened at the concert? Then my stomach drops even further. I remember one concert in particular. She stayed home from school with a stomach-ache for two days after. She was fourteen.

A gentleman? The boy? Theo is a grown man.

What happened at that concert?

And then: Will she ever get a chance to tell me?

Because she isn’t here. And there’s a lot of blood. And the wall says…

I double over and clutch my thigh till I feel all of the cuts tear open and I scrunch my eyes and mouth shut to stop the pain from escaping. I feel like I’m being turned inside out but I tell myself to lock it all away.

I open my eyes again and look up.

My brother’s forehead creases. ‘How could you think it was me?’

I stare at him, his handsome face with those charming eyes and the scar that evokes both fear and sympathy. He looks so hurt. So truly, utterly gutted that we could have believed he was capable of such a thing.

But I believed it because I’ve never known what really happened that afternoon with Miss Smith. Because I believe he’s capable of anything.