‘But I do want to know why Amy wanted you to talk to me. Can you tell me that?’
Another nod. ‘So I could have a new life. So I could have a future.’
‘Right. And how was this future going to happen?’
‘You were going to talk to me and then you were going to tell them that I wasn’t mad and then I was going to be given a lot of money.’ He shrugged. ‘And we were all going to be happy.’
Marina nodded. ‘Right. So … was there a will, Stuart? Was that it? Did I have to declare you sane so you could inherit the Sloanes’ money along with the brother and sister?’
Stuart shuddered at the mention of the brother and sister, but nodded.
‘And how much money were you going to get, Stuart?’ Franks’s Welsh baritone cutting in.
Stuart smiled, put on a bad cockney accent. ‘“You stick with me, this time next year we’ll be millionaires.” That’s what Jiminy said.’
‘Right.’ Franks nodded. ‘And this was the Sloanes’ money?’
Stuart said nothing.
Franks leaned forward. ‘So they killed their father? Is that what you’re saying? You didn’t do it, they did?’
He frowned. ‘I hate guns.’
‘Good,’ said Marina. ‘That’s good. And you wouldn’t use one?’
He shook his head.
‘Good. And then what? You were going to sue for wrongful imprisonment, something like that?’
Stuart looked at the ceiling once more. ‘We were all going to be happy.’
Marina could tell his concentration was slipping, that she was losing him. She kept going. ‘And Amy? What would she get out of this?’
‘She would be rich as well. She wanted to spend the money with Jiminy, but he got killed. So she would spend it on her own.’
‘And,’ said Franks, clearing his throat, ‘did she want to be your sister again?’
‘Pretend,’ said Stuart.
‘Pretend to be your sister again?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t want her to.’ He yawned. ‘I’m Stuart.’ He nodded once more. ‘Stuart Milton.’
‘Right,’ said Marina. ‘You are.’
‘Stuart Milton.’
‘Yes.’
‘Not Sloane.’
‘No. Not Sloane.’ Marina leaned forward once more. ‘Where is Amy now, Stuart? Where is she?’
‘She went home.’
‘Where’s home, Stuart? Where would her home be?’
Stuart stretched, arms up in the air, then yanked down suddenly. ‘I’m tired now. Want to sleep.’
He closed his eyes.
Marina wanted to scream.
100
Amy put the phone down, looked at it. One call made. One more to go.
The house was creaking and groaning; a noise made in one place would be answered by something in another. It was carrying on a conversation with itself that she couldn’t be part of. And she wanted to be, like she used to be. When she was part of it. And it was part of her. She wanted her old life back. But she couldn’t. She knew that.
But she could try.
She pulled the wig off, threw it on the floor. No point in hiding any more. Not here. Not in this house. She could never hide anything from this house. It was the place where she had always been most truthful. She rubbed at her face, wiping away what make-up was left. She wanted to be herself once more. For her own sake. For the house.
But it wasn’t enough.
So, ignoring the cold, the shivering from her body, she began to remove her clothes. She would hide away no longer. She would face herself. Now. Truthfully. Not as she used to be, or as she wanted to be. But as she was. Now.
No more lies, no more hiding. It was the end of that. And the beginning of something else.
She kicked the pile of clothes away. Stood naked in what used to be the living room. Where the bodies had been blown apart by the shotgun blasts. Where a family had ended that day. Where a life had ended. Where it would now be born again.
She picked up the phone. One more call to make. Then everything would be ready.
A new life rising out of the old.
101
‘Stuart? Stuart.’
Stuart Milton opened his eyes. He looked irritated at the intrusion. ‘I’m tired,’ he said, a note of petulance in his voice. ‘I want to go to sleep.’
‘Stuart, we know you’re tired,’ said Franks, ‘and we don’t want to keep you up past your bedtime.’
Marina raised her eyebrows at his choice of words.
Franks ignored her, continued. ‘We’ll let you go to sleep. But first you have to answer some more questions for us. Will you do that, please? We wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’
‘And then can I sleep?’
‘You can sleep.’
‘Can I go back to prison?’
Franks and Marina exchanged a look. ‘If … ’ Franks shrugged. ‘If you want to. I’m sure we could arrange it. Or something like it.’
Stuart, eyes closed again, nodded. Smiled. The right answer.
‘But you have to answer our questions first.’
Stuart reluctantly opened his eyes. He didn’t look happy. He was drifting. Marina knew they didn’t have long.
‘So Amy’s gone home,’ she said.
Stuart nodded, eyelids fluttering.
‘Where’s home, Stuart? Where’s home for Amy?’
‘The house,’ he said, irritably. ‘The house where she lives.’
‘The house? Which house?’
‘Her house.’ Even more irritable. They were starting to lose him.
Marina reached across the table, took Stuart’s hands in her own. His eyes shot open and he jumped as if he’d been given an electric shock.
‘Come on, Stuart. Just a little bit more. Help us out here.’
‘Oh … OK.’
‘Amy’s house, Stuart. Where is it?’
He looked uncomfortable, wriggled in his chair.
‘Where is it, Stuart? Where can we find it?’
More wriggling.
‘Can you draw me a map?’
