‘Look,’ I say, and one by one, everyone in the room turns to read it.
Daisy Darker’s family were as dark as dark can be.
When one of them died, all of them lied, and pretended not to see.
Daisy Darker’s nana was the oldest but least wise.
The woman’s will made them all feel ill, which was why she had to die.
Daisy Darker’s father lived life dancing to his own tune.
His self-centred ways, and the pianos he played, danced him to his doom.
Daisy Darker’s mother was an actress with the coldest heart.
She didn’t love all her children, and deserved to lose her part.
Daisy Darker’s sister Rose was the eldest of the three.
She was clever and quiet and beautiful, but destined to die lonely.
Daisy Darker’s sister Lily was the vainest of the lot.
She was a selfish, spoilt, entitled witch, one who deserved to get shot.
Daisy Darker’s niece was a precocious little child.
Like all abandoned ducklings, she would not fare well in the wild.
Daisy Darker’s secret story was one someone sadly had to tell.
But her broken heart was just the start of what will be her last farewell.
Daisy Darker’s family wasted far too many years lying.
They spent their final hours together learning lessons before dying.
Nana must have been writing it when she fell.
‘Why would she write such horrible things about all of us?’ Lily asks. I watch Rose and Conor staring at the chalk poem, but they don’t have an answer to the question. None of us seem to know what to say or do. Lily, who always finds silence too uncomfortable to wear, dresses it with the sound of her own voice again.
‘I’ve just realized that it’s Halloween,’ she says, with a weak smile. ‘Maybe this is some kind of trick-or-treat prank?’
It’s true, Nana did always like playing tricks on us at Halloween. It was her favourite night of the year for lots of reasons. She believed in the ancient Celtic origins of the festival, and would remind us of them each and every year when we celebrated her birthday. The Celts living in England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales over two thousand years ago believed that on the 31st October a portal between the living and the dead opened, allowing lost souls to return to earth. Nana was always willing to believe that ghosts were real, but it was the only time of year she believed they walked among us.
‘Do you remember when Nana taught us to play trick-or-treat when we were children? Lighting lots of candles and scaring us with her ghost stories?’ Lily says, as though expecting Nana to sit up and laugh at us all for being so gullible.
‘This is no trick-or-treat,’ says Rose, wiping a rare tear from her cheek. ‘She’s dead.’
Nana
Daisy Darker’s nana was the oldest but least wise.
The woman’s will made them all feel ill, which was why she had to die.
Nana said she loved her family, but it wasn’t always true.
The old bat was more bitter and angry with them than any of them knew.
She wished her son had been born a girl, or not been born at all,
The granddaughters were a blessing at first, but her hopes soon hit a wall.
The first was too clever, the second too daft, so the third was her only hope.
But the child was born with a broken heart, and Nana knew she’d never cope.
Nana led a rather lonely life with a dog for a best friend,
She started to fear that death was near, thanks to a palm reader in Land’s End.
When the time came, no one knew who to blame, when she was found with a blow to the head.
It was hard to grieve, for a woman so peeved; at least one of them was glad she was dead.
Ten
31 October 12:15 a.m.
less than six hours until low tide
‘Who found her?’ Rose asks, looking at everyone until her eyes come to rest on Trixie. ‘Was it you?’ Rose is better with animals than she is with children, and Trixie starts to cry again. She looks so small and vulnerable in her pink pyjamas. I have an overwhelming urge to hug her when she takes off her glasses with one hand, and uses the other to wipe away her tears. Rose adjusts her tone. ‘Can you tell us what happened?’ Trixie does her best to answer between sobs.
‘I just came down to get a glass of water. Nana was . . . on the floor. When I touched her . . . she was cold. When I said her name . . . she didn’t answer.’ She starts to cry again.
‘We need to call the police,’ says Conor.
‘What on earth for?’ asks Lily. ‘It’s obvious what happened here.’
‘Is it?’ he asks.