Pip was barely breathing, and her mouth hung slack in disbelief. ‘She locked her out of the house?’ she repeated, although Evelyn had been clear enough.
Evelyn nodded. She held her head high, as if she were testifying in court. ‘She did. My sister was responsible for the death of my only child and for that I knew I could never forgive her.’
And so, thought Pip, what happened next? She thought she knew, but she had to hear Evelyn say it. ‘And then . . .’ she prompted, giving Evelyn the opportunity to finish the sentence for her.
Evelyn stared straight into her eyes as if challenging her to argue with her.
‘And then,’ she said, ‘I killed her.’
41
Evelyn had done it now. The words were out of her mouth and there was no taking them back. A chill ran down her spine as she watched the expression on Pip’s face change from shock to comprehension.
Had she completely miscalculated? Had she just released her terrible secret to entirely the wrong person? What did she actually know about Pip, anyway? All she had to go on was a gut feeling that she would be on her side, nothing more. How stupid was she, that based on something as arbitrary and flimsy as a feeling, she had thrown herself entirely on to another’s mercy? Until a moment ago, the only threat to her safety had been the diary and she had been planning to leave that for someone to find after her death, by which point it would be too late to do anything about what it contained.
Now she had confessed to a virtual stranger, and it was too late to go back and reclaim it.
‘What do you mean, Evelyn?’ Pip asked, interrupting her train of thought. ‘What do you mean that you killed her?’
Evelyn hung her head. ‘What I said. I was so angry. I screamed at her, she took a step backwards and she fell down the stairs.’
She could still picture the scene as clearly as if it had happened yesterday – Joan stepping back into space, her arms windmilling as she desperately tried to save herself, the sound as she tumbled down the long straight staircase and the thud when she finally landed at the bottom, her body lying, quite still, in an unnatural shape. And then the silence.
‘Did you push her?’ asked Pip gently.
Evelyn shook her head. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t touch her.’
‘Then it was an accident, surely?’ said Pip.
‘But if it hadn’t been for us arguing she would never have fallen,’ Evelyn insisted. ‘It was my fault. I screamed at her and she stepped backwards and missed her step.’
‘But that doesn’t mean you were responsible for her death,’ said Pip. ‘It was just a horrible and very tragic accident, but you can’t blame yourself. You mustn’t feel responsible.’
Pip reached out and put a hand on her forearm, resting it there. Evelyn could feel the pressure of it through her clothes, warm, comforting, secure.
‘It’s all right. I’ve never regretted what happened,’ she said, her voice and her eyes both low. ‘You might be shocked by that, but it’s the truth. She got what she deserved. It’s always felt like a kind of karma to me. My sister took the most precious thing in my life and then fate intervened and took the most precious thing in hers.’
Pip shrugged. ‘I’m not sure that’s such a terrible way to look at it,’ she said. ‘Things have a way of working out like that. I’d agree it was the universe stepping in if I believed in any of that kind of thing. I can’t say that Joan deserved to die for what she did, but I can’t say that I’m sorry.’
Evelyn gave her a grateful little smile. ‘She might have fallen and just walked away with cuts and bruises,’ she said.
‘Well, precisely,’ replied Pip. ‘It was an accident. Nobody’s fault, and least of all yours.’
Evelyn lifted her eyes to meet Pip’s. ‘You know, I could say much the same to you, Pip. It was just chance that that little boy ran out in front of your car. It could have been anyone that hit him, but it just happened to be you. I suppose the only difference between the pair of us is that you are tortured by a sense of guilt about what happened, and I am not. Two sides of the same coin.’
Pip frowned and looked as if she was about to object, but then she nodded. ‘I suppose so,’ she said.
They sat in silence for a moment, the bustle of the café carrying on around them.
‘What did you think?’ Evelyn asked after a moment. ‘When you read what I wrote in the diary?’
‘The part about you being glad that she was dead?’ Pip replied.