‘I agree with you,’ Rose says to Conor. ‘I also think it is only logical now that the person responsible must be in this room. My money is on you.’
‘Me?’ Conor replies. ‘How on earth did you reach that conclusion?’
‘All the terrible things that have happened took place after you appeared, unexpected and alone in the middle of the night. Allegedly by boat, not that any of us saw one. You could have been here the whole time, waiting for us to arrive, and waiting for the tide to come in so we couldn’t leave. If anyone should be under suspicion right now, I’d say it was you.’
He doesn’t get a chance to reply, because a floorboard squeaks above us.
Everything stops and we stare wide-eyed at one another, as the sound of someone walking in the room above our heads continues. Trixie stops crying, and peers at the ceiling in silence. I can’t even hear the clocks ticking out in the hallway. Time seems to pause for a little while, politely waiting for us all to catch up. Rose, Conor, Trixie and I look at one another, confusion and fear on our faces, as we try to understand who is upstairs.
Forty-one
31 October 4:15 a.m.
less than two hours until low tide
‘We’ve got to get out of this house and off this island,’ Rose whispers.
‘How? Are you going to swim to shore?’ Conor whispers back.
‘If I have to. There is someone else here at Seaglass. We just heard them walking around upstairs! I don’t plan to hang around and wait for someone else to die.’
It’s all quiet up above again now. Almost as though we imagined it.
‘Maybe it was Poppins upstairs? She’s already given us a fright tonight?’ I suggest.
Poppins, having heard her name, appears from behind the sofa, where she sometimes likes to sleep. She stares in my direction and wags her tail. The dog never stopped loving me, despite what happened. Animals don’t know how to hate or hold a grudge.
‘At least we have the gun to defend ourselves,’ Conor says.
‘That’s true,’ I say, but Rose turns a paler shade of white.
‘What?’ Conor asks.
Rose shakes her head. ‘I . . . I left the gun in the library when I changed into some dry clothes. It was in my jacket pocket. I don’t have it.’
‘Well, that’s just great,’ Conor mutters.
‘I put it on the chair. Then I took off my wet things. I must have put them on top of it and then I just . . . forgot. You knocked on the door when I was still getting changed and distracted me.’
‘Of course it’s my fault,’ says Conor.
‘We should get out of here anyway. We’re sitting ducks if we stay in this room. Nana’s library is smaller, safer. We can lock ourselves in there and I can get the gun. We need to move. All of us. Now,’ says Rose.
She takes the master key from her pocket and opens the little door that joins the lounge and the library. All the downstairs rooms have these doors connecting them – it reminds me of the times when Lily used to open them up and roller-skate through the house, lap after dizzying lap. But I don’t remember seeing any of the internal doors open since we were children. It amazes me how Rose can still think so quickly and clearly, and stay so calm.
‘Maybe whoever is out there doesn’t know about these doors?’ she whispers.
‘Or maybe they do,’ says Conor. ‘It must be someone who knows the place pretty well. How else would they be able to sneak around Seaglass all night without being seen?’
We stop for a moment, as if thoughts can only surface when we are still.
‘The sound of the storm would have drowned out the noise of someone creeping around the house. But who would be familiar enough with this place to know it so well? Nana was super private, she rarely had visitors,’ I whisper.
Rose nods. ‘The only people I can remember Nana ever inviting here, for years now, were the people she thought of as family.’
‘What about her agent?’ Conor says.
‘Yes. She trusted him, and there’s the Scrabble connection . . .’ Rose replies, almost to herself. ‘What makes you think a man is behind all of this?’
‘Your dad. Frank was a big guy . . . moving his body from the music room to the cupboard wouldn’t have been easy. I think even I would have struggled to lift him. Remember how hard it was for us to move Nancy? And she weighed nothing at all.’
‘You have a very morbid sense of logic,’ says Rose. ‘I understand your theory about Nana’s agent, but we all know she hasn’t written a new book for years. I don’t know if they are even still in touch.’