Then a thought crossed her mind. Scarlet’s was not the only death in the Mountcastle family. Joan had died, too, and in the same year, if what Jez had told her was correct. Pip began to scroll again, more slowly this time as she didn’t know the exact date of death. The paper came out once a week so it didn’t take too long for her to flick across the headlines and obituaries in each edition, but there was nothing about Joan.
Then, in the last edition in November, something caught her eye. She stopped scrolling and read the article more carefully.
Tragedy hits family a second time
Tragedy has hit a local family for the second time in three months. Joan Mountcastle, local resident and sister of television actress Evelyn Mountcastle, has fallen to her death in the family home. Miss Mountcastle, thirty-seven, was found by her sister at the bottom of the stairs. She suffered catastrophic injuries and we understand that death would have been instantaneous. In August this year Miss Joan Mountcastle’s niece Scarlet, three, was found drowned. The police have confirmed that the death was an accident, Miss Mountcastle having lost her footing at the top of the stairs, and the coroner is expected to return a verdict of accidental death.
Pip shook her head at the screen. Poor Evelyn. To face two deaths in three months must have been devastating for her, particularly when she didn’t seem to have anyone else in her life – although, Pip thought, wasn’t there a brother? She was pretty sure there had been mention of him in the diary, and her mother had talked of a nephew, which suggested that Evelyn had another sibling. She reread the story again, but the brother wasn’t referred to.
Even though Pip knew nothing about Evelyn other than the flashes of insight that her diary had given, her heart ached for her. She thought of the pale face she had seen staring down at her from the first-floor window. Evelyn had seemed so vivacious in her diary, so full of life. It was hard to reconcile the two.
And then Pip remembered something else Jez had said. The rumour had been that one sister had killed the other, but there seemed to be no truth in that, if the newspaper article was to be believed. It was probably nothing more than local tittle-tattle, stories invented by schoolboys to scare one another. But still, it was an interesting idea.
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ said a voice, making Pip start. Instinctively, she flicked the light off on the machine so the page she had been reading disappeared.
She looked up and saw Mr Lancaster, his benevolent smile present on his face as it always used to be. Pip had no reason to hide what she was doing, but something made her guarded. This was her story and she wanted to protect it, at least for now.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, removing the cartridge from the machine and slotting it back into the box.
‘Excellent,’ replied Mr Lancaster, but he made no further attempt to pry into what she had been reading. ‘Well, I hope we see you in here again soon. Are you staying with your parents for a while?’
Pip bristled, but she kept her smile fixed and said, ‘I’m not sure, but I imagine I’ll be heading back to London in the not-too-distant future.’
He nodded, as if this was good news, and then retreated back to the shelves. Pip shouldered her bag and picked up the box, carrying it carefully back to the desk. Was she going back to London soon? She had no idea, but she realised that for now, at least, she wanted to stay where she was. She had things she needed to do here in Southwold.
29
That night Pip read to the end of the diary. It was heartbreaking. With no Scarlet to light up her days, Evelyn’s life seemed to have become even more insular than it had been before. Gone were the bubbly anecdotes of activities undertaken with her daughter, the painstaking recording of funny things Scarlet said or did. It was as if someone had turned Evelyn’s world down from vivid technicolour to black and white, and she was merely going through the motions of her life rather than living it. Her pain seeped out from every word.
Friday 2nd September
I don’t know how I can go on. Just taking a breath is sometimes more than I can manage. I wonder whether there is any point in even trying. What would it matter if I just stopped? What does anything matter now that my beautiful baby girl is gone? I didn’t know it was possible to hurt this much. People always talk about their heart breaking, but I thought that was just a figure of speech. Now I understand. It is a physical pain. It stabs me in the chest and feels as real as if someone has actually plunged a dagger between my ribs. Every part of me aches. I can’t sleep because when I close my eyes all I see is the tiny coffin. I can’t eat – even the thought of food makes me nauseous. If I do drop off, then I wake up and for just one instant everything seems normal, like I will just go into her room and find her giggling in her bed. And then I remember.