‘There is a small amount of dried blood between her toes,’ Rose says, almost to herself.
‘What does that mean?’ asks Lily.
‘I . . . can’t be sure. But my best guess is that someone has injected her with something.’
‘What? Who?’
‘I don’t know,’ Rose replies. ‘But we can’t find Nancy. Your diabetic kit was in her bedroom, and your insulin pen is now missing from it—’
Lily shakes her head. ‘You can’t seriously be suggesting that our mother did this to Trixie? She loves her grandchild, far more than she ever loved us.’
Rose sighs and seems to visibly deflate. ‘Then where is Nancy now? We don’t have time for this. I need your diabetic kit.’
Lily hands it to her, and Rose takes a small device from the bag. Nobody dares to ask what she is doing, and I feel as though we are all holding our breath. Rose pricks Trixie’s finger and squeezes a tiny drop of blood onto the machine.
‘I think she’s been injected with insulin. If I’m right, we have to act quickly or—’
‘Just do whatever you need to do,’ Lily says in a quiet voice, and it is so strange to see her crying and vulnerable. She was always the indestructible sister.
Rose runs to the library where she slept and returns with a bag of her own. It looks like an old-fashioned brown leather doctor’s bag. A gift from Nana when Rose got a place at Cambridge to study veterinary science. She opens it, takes out a large needle and a small vial.
‘What is that?’ asks Conor.
‘Glucagon. There should be some in Lily’s kit, but that’s missing too. It’s the same treatment for dogs. So if I’m right, then . . .’
‘What if you’re wrong?’ Lily whispers.
Rose ignores her and injects the drug into Trixie’s arm.
We wait for what feels like forever. Time seems impossible to tell. Then Trixie opens her eyes. They blink a few times before finding Lily.
‘Mum?’
‘Oh, thank god. Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ Lily says, sweeping Trixie up in her arms and kissing her. I’m crying tears of joy, and relief and love. Looking around, I see that we all are. Nobody who is here now would ever have hurt this child.
A short while later we are all back in the lounge, with a chair up against the door to prevent anyone coming into – or out of – the room. We have barricaded ourselves inside, and added some logs to the fire for heat. Rose has lit some old candles for light. Even in the darkness, I can see that Lily is trembling. Trixie is by her side, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the flames. We don’t have anything to eat or drink, but I doubt any of us have an appetite. It feels as though none of us want to acknowledge what is happening here tonight, as if maybe by not talking about it, we can pretend it isn’t. Nana and Dad are dead, and Nancy is missing. Either she did something very bad, or I fear something very bad has happened to her.
The last thing Trixie remembers is drinking a cup of tea – which we all know contained one of my mother’s sleeping pills – and Lily placing a blanket over her on the window seat.
She doesn’t remember being in the cupboard.
Or how she got there.
Or who locked her inside.
Or who she was in there with.
All Trixie knows is that she went to sleep on the window seat, then woke up in the hall. I know that being completely oblivious about everything that happened in between is best for her, but it’s frustrating and frightening for the rest of us. I think back to last night, when we were all sitting around Nana’s kitchen table, joking about how we would murder someone if we wanted to get away with it. Rose was the one who said insulin between the toes. Seems like someone had the same idea as her, and tried using it to kill my niece.
I can’t believe any of this is really happening, and can’t think of anyone who would hate my family enough to do this to us. I look around the room. Everyone in it had a reason to be upset with Nana because of the will. My mother and Lily both hated my father for a long time after the divorce, but nobody here would want to hurt Trixie. Surely I must be right about that?
The power comes back on, making us all jump, and light floods the room.
‘Well, that’s a good sign,’ says Lily.
‘Is it?’ replies Rose, before examining Trixie again to make sure she is really okay.
I can’t help noticing the handgun in Rose’s leather bag as she packs her things away, and I’m not the only one. Trixie’s eyes are wide as saucers, and her face writes a question mark on itself.