‘Are we?’ I bristle. Maddie is not part of our family. How could she possibly know how we feel? Whether we are coming to terms with things? Which I’m not.
‘When … when did you lose Caroline?’ Rosamund’s voice cracks, her watery eyes glancing at the empty chair where Mum sat a year ago.
‘Five months ago,’ Dad says.
‘I’m so sorry, Robert.’ She leans across the table, and places her gloved hand on his. He snatches his hand away as though burned, leaving hers redundant on the table.
‘It’s not like we didn’t know,’ he says.
‘It doesn’t make it any easier.’ She withdraws her hand too, and removes her gloves, tucking them into her coat pocket, and sits down.
The door from the kitchen opens. It’s Finn. He looks different – slimmer, healthier, his hair short. ‘Can I get you a drink, Rosamund?’ he says, and then smiles at each of us in turn. It’s good to see him.
‘Please,’ she says, removing her coat and hanging it up. ‘An orange juice will go down a treat.’
‘How were the roads?’ Finn asks, as he pours juice into a crystal-glass tumbler.
‘Horrendous. I skidded twice. Elise got quite panicked and feels a bit sick from the journey. But we got here in one piece, that’s the main thing.’ She glances at the window. ‘I can’t believe the rate it was falling earlier. Thank goodness it’s stopped for now.’ She smiles. ‘Elise wants to build a snowman in the morning. I’m sure there is still a small girl in there somewhere, even though she’s taller than me now.’ She’s babbling. Perhaps it’s us being here. Maybe we make her feel awkward – nervous. Well, she can’t feel any more uncomfortable than I do.
*
‘I’m going to head back to my cottage,’ Dad says as he finishes his last mouthful, and puts down his cutlery. Throughout the meal, the tension was tangible, and I realise now I’ve drunk too much wine.
‘I won’t be long,’ I say, picking up on a slight slur in my voice. ‘I’ll be up at the crack of dawn, I expect, so will need a few hours’ beauty sleep.’ Truth is though: I barely sleep at all anymore.
‘You’re an early riser too, are you?’ Finn says, smiling my way from where he’s propped against the bar, long legs splayed out in front of him. ‘I get up for a run around six – maybe you could join me.’
‘Not if you paid me a million pounds,’ I say with a laugh, and he laughs too.
Dad gets up, and puts on his coat.
‘Well it looks as though that’s my lift,’ Thomas says, smiling. And once Maddie has wrestled into her ski suit, and Thomas has put on his fur-collared jacket, Dad heaves him up, and carries him through the door, Maddie following behind.
I don’t move. Truth is, I’m not ready to leave quite yet. I hope to get more out of Rosamund before the evening is over. Ask her why she never contacted Mum before she died. Why she didn’t come to her funeral. Why she is here now.
‘I normally close the dining room by nine,’ Ruth says coming through the door from the back of the house, her tone spiky. She’s been popping back and forth clearing the table for the last ten minutes, huffing – making it clear we’ve outstayed our welcome. ‘Can’t you take your chatter to one of your cottages?’
‘Or,’ I say, ‘you and Finn could join us.’ I beckon them, take a gulp of my fourth glass of wine, knowing I shouldn’t drink any more.
Finn looks at his mum as though for approval.
‘For Christ’s sake, Finn, you must be in your thirties. Surely you don’t have to ask your mum for permission.’
Ruth narrows her grey eyes.
‘I’m so sorry, we’re holding you up,’ Rosamund says, smiling at Ruth, and goes to rise. I need to strike now. I lean across the table with a jolt, grab the sleeve of her jumper, and stare into her eyes. ‘Why exactly are you here?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Here at Drummondale House on the anniversary of Lark’s disappearance? It’s no coincidence. It can’t be.’
She lowers her head. ‘No, you’re right, Amelia.’
The door that leads to the back of the house slams shut, and I look up to see Finn and Ruth have left.
‘Well?’ I say, eyes back on Rosamund.
‘If you let go of my jumper, I’ll tell you.’
I realise my knuckles have turned white, and unclench my fingers.
‘I heard on Maddie’s vlog that you were all coming here. I wanted to see you. Put things right.’
‘But you never once contacted my mum after Lark vanished. She needed a friend, and you weren’t there for her.’
‘No, and I’m sorry. The truth is I couldn’t cope with watching her die.’ Her eyes fill with tears. ‘I know I was selfish then, and I’m selfish now, but … well … I need closure. Her loss haunts me.’ She dashes a tear from the corner of her eye with her finger. ‘I thought if I was to see you all, ask you to forgive me, it would help. I wasn’t there for her, and I can’t forgive myself.’ She looks at her watch. ‘Oh God, I should get back to Elise,’ she says, grabbing her coat, and putting it on. She fumbles in her pocket and brings out her gloves. She’s about to put them on when I pick up on the low ring of her phone. She pulls it from her pocket, and presses the screen.
‘Hello, darling,’ she says, pinning the phone to her ear. ‘Calm down, sweetheart, talk slowly, the line’s dreadful.’ Another pause, longer this time. ‘Oh, Elise, please, not this again, you know what your father said. You have to stop—’
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ I say.
Rosamund raises her eyes as though in desperation. ‘OK. Keep the door locked,’ she continues into the phone. ‘I’m on my way.’ She ends the call, and I stare, my curiosity piqued, waiting for her to explain. ‘It’s Elise,’ she says.
