I wait until she has poured us both a glass, even though I don’t really want one. ‘What happened, Sadie?’
‘I don’t know. They argued, Caro and Rupert.’ She blinks. ‘They tried not to let it show but everyone knew what was going on – you know the kind of row, where you’re trying to keep a smile on your face as you’re hissing at each other – and then Caro stormed out. Rupert called me in the morning to see if she was at mine, which she obviously wasn’t, and said that if she wasn’t home by night-time he’d call the police. None of us were overly worried – she’d done it before. Three days later I got the call to say they’d found her car and that she was gone.’
‘Sadie, I’m so sorry.’ I reach out and lay my hand over hers. ‘I shouldn’t have asked you about it.’
Sadie looks down at the table and sniffs, before she tugs her hand away and gives me a brisk smile. ‘I’m OK. And now look, Rupert has you, and you’re going to fix the garden, and everything will be as it should be.’
I smile uncertainly, not sure if I am imagining the bite to Sadie’s words, and then Lola strolls into the room.
‘Oh! Rupert said he was getting you a special present for Christmas!’ Sadie leans down and rubs a hand over Lola’s back, before tucking the trousers of her silk jumpsuit out of the way so Lola can’t brush against her and leave cat hairs. ‘Isn’t he lovely?’
‘She. She’d be even lovelier if she hadn’t left me a dead bird on the doorstep.’ I wrinkle my nose and Sadie laughs, and by the time she gets up to leave I have convinced myself that she didn’t mean anything by her earlier comment. It’s just how she is, I think, but as I close the door behind her all I can see in my mind’s eye is Caro, dressed up to the nines in an expensive gown, excited to show off her new orangery, and then later, Rupert’s face when he realized she was never coming home.
Hours later, the light outside is dimming, and I stretch from where I have been curled into the corner of the sofa, Rupert’s spare laptop on my knees. He gave it to me after we were married, seeing as I didn’t have one, and I don’t think he realized just how much stuff he’s left on there, which is simple enough for the wrong person to access if they wanted.
Unable to help myself, I have spent hours scrolling through Caro’s Facebook page, a wealth of information at my fingertips. Her profile isn’t private – although I probably could have hacked in to it if necessary – and her statuses are generally upbeat, some inspirational quotes that relate to mental health, and photos of her life. There are some blank spaces – days, sometimes a couple of weeks – where she posts nothing at all, and I assume that these must coincide with her dark patches. They seem to be more frequent in the last six months of her life.
Even though it is like digging my nail under a scab that isn’t ready to be picked, I can’t stop myself from obsessively scrolling through the photographs. There are hundreds – Caro and Sadie with a drink in their hands, at a festival with flowers in their hair; Caro, Will and Amanda crowded together around a church font, clearly at a child’s christening, and then there is photo after photo of Rupert and Caro together. Holiday photos – I feel a sharp pang as I recognize Bridgetown in one – Christmas photos, charity balls, evenings out. In every picture she is clear-eyed and smiling, sometimes facing him, sometimes looking away or into the camera, but every time I am struck by the way Rupert looks at her. I don’t think he’s ever looked at me that way.
I get up from the sofa, wincing at the pins and needles that shoot through my foot, and pace the floor. Finding Rupert scrolling through Caro’s pictures means there is a chink in our closeness – a tiny gap, which if I don’t get control of, could spiral into a huge chasm, and I couldn’t bear to let that happen. I glance towards the now black laptop screen, wondering if it’s not me after all that is the problem. Maybe I need to become more like Caro. A better version of Caro. I can’t lose Rupert, not after everything that has happened. I love my life with him, and I won’t let it go without a fight, and certainly not because someone is trying to scare me off. I need to find out exactly what happened when Caro died, and do whatever it takes to lay Caro’s ghost to rest.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Excited, I spring my idea on Rupert as soon as he arrives home, but not before I guide him out into the garden. It’s dark, and mist is starting to roll in across the fields behind the house, but I’m hoping the bright glow from the security lights Rupert has installed will be enough.
‘Ta-da!’ I push him out through the back door onto the York stone patio. ‘What do you think?’
Rupert takes a moment before he answers. I suppose I should have given him a chance to get his coat off and pour a drink before I bundled him back out into the cold. ‘Wow,’ he says eventually, before slinging an arm over my shoulder.
‘Do you like it?’ A grin bursts across my face and I squeeze his waist tightly. ‘I’ve still got more to do, but just think once the summer comes…’
‘I love it,’ he interrupts, leaning down and smashing his lips against mine, his teeth bruising against my top lip. ‘You don’t need to do any more, this is perfect. I had forgotten how good it could look.’ A
