Percy nodded shortly. If Juniper had left the bus but still found her way home, it meant, presumably, that whatever it was that had caused her to lose time, that was responsible for the blood on her clothing, had happened close to home. Which meant that Percy had to check immediately; take the torch, walk down the drive and see what she could find. She refused to speculate as to what that might be; knew only that it was her duty to remove it. In truth, she was grateful for the task. A solid purpose with a clear objective would help keep the fears at bay, stop her imagination from running ahead unchecked. The situation was troubling enough without that. She looked down at Saffy’s head, the pretty curls, and frowned. ‘Promise me you’ll do something while I’m gone,’ she said, ‘something other than sitting here, worrying.’
‘But Perce-’
‘I mean it, Saffy. She’ll be out for hours. Go downstairs; do some writing. Keep your mind busy. We don’t need a panic.’
Saffy reached up to knit fingers with Percy. ‘And you look out for Mr Potts. Keep your torchlight low. You know what he’s like about the blackout.’
‘I will.’
‘Germans too, Perce. Be careful.’
Percy took her hand back for herself; softened the fact by driving both inside her pockets and answering wryly, ‘On a night like this? Any brains and they’re all at home tucked up warm in bed.’
Saffy attempted a smile, but couldn’t quite complete it. And who could blame her? The room was hanging with old ghosts. Percy stymied a shiver and headed for the door, saying, ‘Right, well I’ll-’
‘Do you remember when we slept up here, Perce?’
Percy paused; felt for the cigarette she’d rolled earlier. ‘Distantly.’
‘It was nice, wasn’t it? The two of us.’
‘As I remember it, you couldn’t wait to get downstairs.’
Saffy did smile then, but it was full of sadness. She avoided Percy’s gaze; kept her eyes on Juniper. ‘I was always in a hurry. To grow up. To get away.’
Percy’s chest ached. She steeled herself against the pull of sentiment. She didn’t want to remember the girl her twin had been, back before Daddy broke her, when she’d had talent and dreams and every chance of fulfilling them. Not now. Not ever, if she could help it. It hurt too much.
In her trouser pocket were the scraps of paper she’d found quite by chance in the kitchen while preparing the hot-water bottle. She’d been hunting for matches, had lifted a saucepan lid on the bench, and there they’d been: the torn pieces of Emily’s letter. Thank God she’d found them. The last thing they needed was to lose Saffy to old despair. Percy would take them downstairs now, burn them on her way outside. ‘I’m going now, Saff-’
‘I think Juniper will leave us.’
‘What?’
‘I think she plans to fly away.’
What would make her twin say such a thing? And why now? Why tonight? Percy’s pulse began to race. ‘You asked her about him?’
Saffy’s hesitation was long enough for Percy to know that she had.
‘She intends to marry?’
‘She says she’s in love.’ Saffy spoke on a sigh.
‘But she’s not.’
‘She believes that she is, Perce.’
‘You’re wrong.’ Percy set her chin. ‘She wouldn’t marry. She won’t. She knows what Daddy did, what it would mean.’
Saffy smiled sadly. ‘Love makes people do cruel things.’
Percy’s matchbox slipped from her fingers and she reached to collect it from the floor. When she straightened, she saw that Saffy was watching her with an odd expression on her face, almost as if she were trying to communicate a complex idea, or find the solution to a plaguing puzzle. ‘Is he coming, Percy?’
Percy lit her cigarette and started down the stairs. ‘Really, Saffy,’ she said. ‘How am I supposed to know?’
The possibility had crept up on Saffy softly. Her twin’s glowering mood all evening had been unfortunate but not without precedent, thus she’d given it little thought other than to attempt its management so the dinner event wouldn’t be spoiled. But then there’d been the lengthy disappearance down to the kitchen, ostensibly to obtain aspirin, the return with a marked dress and a story about noises outside. The blank expression when Saffy asked her whether she’d found the aspirin, as if she’d quite forgotten having needed it in the first place… Now, Percy’s determination, her insistence almost, that Juniper would not be marrying -
But no.
Stop.
Percy could be hard, she could even be unkind, but she wasn’t capable of that. Saffy would never believe such a thing. Her twin loved the castle with a passion, but never at the expense of her own humanity. Percy was brave and decent and honourable; she climbed into bomb craters to save lives. Besides, it wasn’t Percy who’d been covered in someone else’s blood…
Saffy trembled; stood suddenly. Percy was right: there was little to be gained by keeping silent vigil while Juniper slept. It had taken three of Daddy’s pills to calm her into slumber, poor lamb, and there was little chance she’d surface now for hours.
To leave her as she lay like this, small and vulnerable, went against every maternal instinct Saffy had, and yet. To remain, she knew, was to invite descent into abject panic. Already her mind was addled by ugly possibilities: Juniper didn’t lose time unless she’d suffered trauma of some sort, unless she’d seen or done something to excite her senses, something to set her heart racing faster than it should. Combined with the blood on her blouse, the general air of unease that had followed her into the house -
Saffy pressed the heels of her hands hard against her chest. Tried to ease the knot that fear was tying there. Now was not the time to succumb to one of her panics. She had to stay calm. So much was still unknown, yet one thing was certain. She would be of little use to Juniper if she couldn’t keep her own jagged fears in check.
She would go downstairs and she would write her novel, just as Percy had suggested. An hour or so in Adele’s lovely company was just the thing. Juniper was safe, Percy would find whatever there was to be found, and Saffy Would. Not. Panic.
She
Resolved, she straightened the blanket and smoothed it gently across Juniper’s front. Her little sister didn’t flinch. She was sleeping so still: like a child, spent from a day beneath the sun; the clear, blue sky; a day beside the sea.
Such a special child she’d been. A memory came, instant and complete, a flash: Juniper as a girl, matchstick legs with white hairs shining in the sunlight. Crouching so her haunches supported her, knees with scabs, bare feet flat and dusty on the scorched summer earth. Perched above an old drain, scrabbling in the dirt with a stick, looking for the perfect stone to drop through the grille -
A sheet of rain slid across the window, and the girl, the sun, the smell of dry earth turned to smoke and blew away. Only the dim, musty attic remained. The attic where Saffy and Percy had been children together; within whose walls they’d grown from mewling babies into moody young ladies. Little evidence of their tenure remained, the sort that could be seen. Only the bed, the ink stain on the floor, the bookcase by the window that she’d -
Saffy clenched her fists. She noticed the bottle of Daddy’s pills. Considered a moment, then unscrewed the lid and shook one into her hand. It would take the edge off, help her to relax.
She left the door ajar and crept carefully down the narrow stairs.
Behind her in the attic room the curtains sighed.
Juniper flinched.
A long dress shimmered against the wardrobe like a pale, forgotten ghost.
It was moonless, it was wet, and despite her raincoat and boots, Percy was drenched. To make matters worse, the torch was being temperamental. She planted her feet on the muddied drive and gave the torch a whack against
