Page 21 of Worse Than Murder

‘It’s work-related,’ Philip says.

‘So was mine. I had a maths test.’

Suitably chastised, both parents put down their tablets.

‘How long have you been waiting to say that?’ I ask Carl.

‘The best part of a year,’ he smirks.

‘You’ve raised a smart cookie,’ I say.

‘Too smart, sometimes,’ Philip says. ‘I may have to give you my tax returns, see how smug you are then.’

‘I don’t think so. I’m not putting my fingerprints on your receipts. That would make me an accomplice, wouldn’t it, Mat?’

Philip’s face begins to blush.

‘It certainly would.’

‘He’s learning a lot of bad habits from you since you arrived,’ Sally says.

‘You mean bad habits like the law?’

‘Can we change the subject?’ Philip asks, looking uncomfortable. ‘I know we’re only joking but I get nervous when it comes to all things tax related.’

‘Is that the sign of a guilty conscience, Mat?’ Carl asks me.

‘Fine, Carl, you win. If you want to bring your tablet to the breakfast table in the future, you’re more than welcome to. Now, let’s move on, shall we?’

I smile as both Sally and Carl make fun of Philip who blushes at being made the butt of the joke. It feels warm and heartening to be around a happy family for a change. It’s not long, though, until the darkness returns, and I realise I’ll never have that again. Six months ago, I had a full table at Christmas. Now, three are dead, my sister hates me, and my best friend is in Africa.

I hear Carl and Sally talking, but I don’t register what they’re saying.

‘Matilda? Matilda!’

‘Sorry?’ I ask, looking up. Carl has gone. When did that happen?

‘Everything all right?’

‘Yes. Fine. I was just… thinking about something. Listen, you don’t happen to know of anyone round here who’s lived here for a long time, do you?’

‘May, one of our cleaners, she was born and bred here,’ Philip says. ‘Why?’

‘I had a visitor yesterday, a police constable. Alison Pemberton.’

‘She came about the attempted break-in the other day. Did she want me?’

‘No. She came to ask me a favour. Apparently, when she was five, her twin sisters went missing. Never seen again. A few months later, her father couldn’t cope and walked out into the lake. His body was never found. She asked if I could help her.’

‘Are you going to?’ Philip asks.

‘I’m not sure. I don’t really think I’m in a position to help anyone at the moment. I can’t even help myself.’

‘It might help you to have something to concentrate on,’ Sally says as she begins to clear the table.

‘Maybe. I just thought I’d feel out the story, see what the local gossip was.’

‘How long ago did all this happen?’ Sally asks.