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Daisy Darker(32)

Author:Alice Feeney

‘Thank you,’ he said when he stepped inside the bungalow and saw how much work we had all done to make their house a home. ‘For everything. How can I ever repay you?’

‘Just stay well,’ Nana replied.

Then she shook hands with him, kissed Conor on the cheek, and we left them to try again.

‘Everyone deserves a second chance,’ Nana said when we were alone.

‘Even bad people?’ I asked.

‘Everyone you know is both good and bad, it’s part of being human.’

I think I was too young to understand at the time.

‘Can you bring some matches as well as logs?’ Lily calls, sticking her head out of the lounge door, snapping me out of the past and back to a present that is no less upsetting.

‘I think you should come and see this. All of you,’ Conor replies.

Lily tuts – one of many bad habits she inherited from our mother – then tells Trixie to stay behind while the rest of the women in the family join us in the kitchen.

‘Where’s Nana?’ asks my mother, staring at the floor where Nana’s body used to be.

‘Exactly,’ says Conor, and we all look at one another. ‘Did somebody move her?’

Everyone shakes their heads.

‘Well, someone left this VHS tape and this note on the kitchen table,’ he says. ‘The words didn’t write themselves.’

Nancy picks up the scrap of paper and reads out loud.

‘Trick-or-treat the children hear, before they scream and disappear. What does that mean?’

‘WATCH ME?’ says Lily, picking up the tape and reading the Scrabble letters stuck to its cover. She puts it straight back down, as though it might hurt her. ‘What is this? A sick version of Alice in Wonderland?’

‘Nana disappearing isn’t the only thing that’s changed in here,’ says Rose, and we turn to see what she is staring at on the kitchen wall. The poem written in chalk is still there, but four of the lines have been crossed out.

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.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Lily says, looking at our mother.

‘Why are you asking me?’

‘You came out here, alone, to make tea. Who else had time to do all of this?’

Nancy looks flustered for a second, but soon recovers. ‘I think you’ll find we all left the lounge alone at one stage or another. Rose went to the jetty – only to find that the boat was gone. You went to get jumpers from upstairs. Conor just went outside to fetch logs – maybe he moved the body . . .’ she says.

‘Or maybe it was Frank,’ Conor says in a hushed voice. ‘He’s very upset, and he’s had a lot to drink. Maybe he crossed out his own name so that—’

‘So that we’d all think he killed Nana?’ interrupts Lily. ‘Why would the murderer implicate themselves?’

‘So you admit that a crime might have taken place here tonight and that your nana may have been murdered?’ Conor replies. ‘From what I can tell, you all had a motive to kill her because you all needed her money and would have been furious about not getting a penny more of it. Money is why you’re all here. Rose’s veterinary practice is in financial trouble, Frank’s orchestra costs more than it makes these days, Nancy’s divorce settlement has dried up, and Lily has always sponged off the rest of the family—’

‘You arrived after Nana read us her will,’ interrupts Rose. ‘So how did you know none of us were going to get the money?’

‘And why are you here?’ Lily asks.

Conor glares at her. ‘I have my reasons.’

Having your reasons is fine unless they are someone else’s. I wish I could say it out loud, but I’ve never been as brave as people who say what they really think.

‘That’s enough, Conor. You can’t go around accusing people of things you know nothing about. You don’t know Frank the way the rest of us do. He was my husband and is still their father. But I do think we need to talk to him,’ Nancy says. She starts walking towards the music room. ‘Together,’ she adds, when none of us follow.

The piano music gets louder with every step we take towards the door.

My mother gently knocks on it. ‘Frank?’

There is no answer, so she knocks again, but the piano music continues to play. Nancy tries the door handle, but it’s locked.

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