We fall silent, but I can tell Aggie hasn’t finished. She pours hot water into a cup and dunks a teabag. ‘There’s something I’ve never told anyone,’ she says ominously.
I’m still reeling from the Viola revelation. ‘Okay,’ I say, as she hands me a mug. We’re talking in hushed voices even though nobody else is around.
‘The day Jemima left. I came back into the kitchen because I’d forgotten the potatoes. Elspeth said I could take them home for my tea. My Stanley dropped me off so I could pick them up. And I heard them.’
‘Who?’
‘Kathryn and Jemima. They were in the hallway and I could hear them screaming at each other.’
‘What time was it?’
‘Well, it was already dark, so I’d say about five. Five thirty.’
‘And what were they arguing about?’
She picks up her mug and clasps her meaty hands around it, but doesn’t take a sip. ‘That’s the thing. It was hard to tell, exactly. I’d come in halfway through but I heard the words “will” and “gallery”。 Then I heard the front door slam and silence.’
My heart picks up speed. ‘Silence? Do you think they both went out?’
‘I can’t be certain, but I think so.’ She sips her tea thoughtfully. ‘And that was the last time I saw Jemima. I turned up for work the next day and Elspeth said Jemima had gone, taking her belongings with her.’
‘When really her belongings were in the cellar,’ I say.
Aggie nods gravely, then puts a warm hand on my arm. ‘Take the bag to the police, ducky. I can’t see what else you could do.’
25
Una
I’m alone in my room, eating a packet of Cheddars from my snack drawer. Elspeth is in bed and Aggie has left for the night. I keep mulling over what she said about Kathryn arguing with Jemima on the day she died. I wonder what happened. Did Kathryn follow Jemima that day? Did they continue their argument? How did Jemima fall off the bridge? Did Kathryn push her? Was it an accident and Kathryn was too scared to tell anyone, so she hid Jemima’s stuff and pretended she’d moved away?
I get out my phone to ring Courtney when a text comes up from an unknown number.
This is Peter. My phone broke so I had to get another, hence the new number. I’m in Clifton. Would you meet me at the bridge? We need to talk.
I look at the clock. It’s nine thirty. Does he mean now?
When? I text back.
His reply is instant. ASAP.
Adrenalin surges through me. Could I do this? Leave Elspeth in bed and sneak out? It’s one of Elspeth’s rules. She doesn’t like being in the house on her own at night. But I’d be gone half an hour at most, I reason. She’s asleep. She’ll never know. But it’s unprofessional. I begin pacing my ‘rooms’。 I don’t know what to do. I glance out of the front window. It’s so dark and fog rolls over the hills in the distance, obscuring the top of the suspension bridge. It’s only a stone’s throw away. Maybe I could go and meet him, then sneak him into the house. We could go into the kitchen and if Elspeth does wake I can answer her, but she won’t see Peter. It’s not something I would normally contemplate doing, but this is important. It’s not like I’m sneaking out to meet a boyfriend. I have to tell him about his sister’s bag. And then – my heart beats faster when I think of it – he could take it to the police. Which means I don’t have to hand in my employer’s daughter. Kathryn need never know I had anything to do with it. She might suspect, yes, but she can’t prove it. I’ll be off the hook.
I’ve lost my appetite so return the Cheddars to my drawer. Then I pull a brush through my hair and grab my maroon coat from the wardrobe, slipping it on and pressing my furry hat onto my head. I hesitate. What am I doing? Is this safe? Do I really want to be walking to the bridge alone in the dark? Jemima died there. I stand in the middle of the room, deliberating. It’s Peter, I reason. He can hardly come to the house to meet me. I grab my phone and decide to text Courtney. It’s something we’ve always done since we were teenagers if we were about to go somewhere alone. It was drummed into us by our parents: Tell Someone Where You’re Going. I’ve heard from Peter. He wants to meet. I’m going to tell him about the bag （which I’ve hidden） and he can go to the police. I’m about to meet him now. Xx
And then I leave the house, mobile in hand like a weapon.
It’s cold outside, the sky moonless. The fog gets thicker and more dense as I head to the bridge. The road outside Elspeth’s house is empty on this cold Friday evening in February, and as I walk across the green, the grass snapping underfoot, I almost turn back. Am I crazy? I’m meeting a near-stranger at night on my own. But it’s only nine thirty, I reassure myself. It’s not late. People are still about: a man’s letting his dog sniff the bench over there, and a couple are strolling towards the pub at the end of the road. There aren’t many cars but that’s because it’s so foggy. It’s fine. It’s fine. I repeat this to myself, like a mantra, as I step onto the bridge.