There’s an uncomfortable silence and I eat, not knowing how best to break it. Aggie is busy wiping the worktops, humming quietly to herself, seemingly oblivious to any tension.
‘I think there’s something you should know,’ says Elspeth, after a few moments.
‘Mother!’
‘Kathryn, she has a right to know. I’d rather Una hear it from us rather than through idle gossip …’ Her head inclines towards Aggie, who appears not to notice, although her shoulders tense slightly and she stops humming as her cloth slides along the marble worktops.
Kathryn’s brows form a V and she puts her knife and fork down with a clatter, sighing theatrically. But she doesn’t say anything – she doesn’t need to: her body language is speaking volumes. She obviously doesn’t want Elspeth to tell me whatever it is she’s about to say.
Elspeth clears her throat, as though she’s an actor or a politician about to give an important speech. ‘Jemima, the girl who worked for me before you, has been found dead.’
I sit up straighter and widen my eyes in surprise, hoping my expression doesn’t betray that I’ve already found this out.
‘The police were here yesterday to tell us. Until then we didn’t know a thing about it, did we, Kathryn?’
Kathryn shakes her head vigorously but doesn’t speak. In fact, she’s turned slightly green.
‘The police think she took her own life. We didn’t realize she was depressed. It was only that last day …’ She shoots a glance at Kathryn, who gives her a warning look. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter about all of that. She was evidently depressed and, well, she jumped from the suspension bridge, the same day she left here.’
‘The same day?’ I say, surprise in my voice. I hadn’t read that in the newspaper.
‘It would appear so, yes. She took all her stuff and left. I thought she’d had enough. This job isn’t to everyone’s taste. But …’ she puts her mug down ‘… I thought she was happy here.’
There are so many questions I want to ask. What time did she leave? What did she do with all her belongings before she jumped? Did they have no clue she was so unhappy? But I’ve already learnt that Elspeth and her daughter don’t like to be asked too many questions. So I just say how sorry I am to hear this and that it must have been a shock for them.
Kathryn gets up, straightening her skirt and carrying her plate to the sink. Aggie eagerly swoops in, taking the plate away from her and stacking it in the dishwasher.
‘I’ve got to get to work,’ she says. ‘Please excuse me.’ She smiles at me stiffly and plants an obligatory kiss on her mother’s cheek before disappearing out of the room. Nobody speaks until her footsteps have receded and we hear the front door close behind her. Then the three of us take a collective breath as the tension in the kitchen eases. Aggie joins us for breakfast and we spend the next half-hour talking about neutral subjects, mainly Aggie’s pregnant daughter, who’s married to a vicar and lives in a village outside Bristol. She’s got a two-year-old boy whom Aggie dotes on. Elspeth sits back in her chair, relaxed for once, an indulgent smile on her face as Aggie describes her grandson’s visit to the zoo at the weekend.
Just as I begin to feel at ease for the first time that morning, Aggie has to go and ruin it. ‘Who was that handsome young man I saw you with last night, then?’ she says, helping herself to some toast and plastering it with butter.
Elspeth turns to face me, her eyes cool. ‘Who’s this?’
It was gone eleven thirty when I arrived home with Vince. What was Aggie doing here this late? She doesn’t live in. ‘Oh, an old boyfriend. He just walked me home.’
‘An old boyfriend, eh?’ laughs Aggie, winking at me. I can feel the blood rushing to my face. ‘He’s a bit of a dish. Is a reconciliation on the cards?’
‘We’re never getting back together,’ I insist, even though Elspeth is dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin, no longer looking in my direction, as though she couldn’t care less what I do. ‘He … well, he stole from me.’
Elspeth’s eyes soften as she turns to me. ‘Stole from you?’
‘He used my credit card to buy some expensive amp equipment without telling me. I only found out when the credit-card company wrote to me to tell me I’d exceeded my limit.’ I don’t mention the row or how he’d pinned me against the wall by my throat.
Aggie tuts. ‘That’s awful. I’m sorry, pet.’