‘Afraid?’ Rosamund says, looking up at me.
‘Of whoever killed Ruth,’ I say. ‘If she witnessed what happened, she could be hiding anywhere.’
‘Of course, yes. Oh God, the poor child.’ Rosamund shoves her face into her hands and lets out a painful cry. ‘Whatever is Neil going to say?’
I look at everyone in turn as Rosamund continues to sob, shadows flickering across their faces. Did one of them kill Ruth? Am I in a room with a killer?
I splash more gin into Dad’s glass, and another for me.
‘Jeez, Amelia, this isn’t Friday night at the local pub,’ Thomas says, rubbing his forehead. ‘You need to keep your wits about you.’
I put down the bottle, guilt rising.
‘We need to do something, for Christ’s sake,’ Thomas goes on. ‘Why aren’t we checking Ruth’s cottage? The farmhouse? Trying to get a signal so we can call the cops? This is bloody ridiculous.’
‘I had to walk as far as the gate before I could get through to the cops earlier,’ Dad says. ‘The signal is awful around here at the best of times, but with this weather it’s almost impossible.’
‘Yeah, well someone needs to try again,’ Thomas says.
‘You’re right.’ I rise. ‘We must do something.’
‘OK, then shall we start by checking Ruth’s cottage?’ Maddie’s eyes are on me. ‘And then walk towards the gate until we get a signal. Use my phone to call for help?’
‘OK.’ I would much rather go with my dad, but she’s up and clambering into her ski suit before I can suggest it. I pick up my phone and shove it into my pocket.
‘Dad, why don’t you build some sort of fire outside,’ Thomas says. ‘Elise or Finn will spot the flames if they’re lost in the forest.’
‘Finn knows these woods, Thomas,’ I say. I’m tetchy. It’s not only everything that’s happened, or even thoughts of being alone with Maddie. I just feel we should all stay together to be safe. ‘And you really think wood will burn in this weather?’
Rosamund’s on her feet too, dashing her sleeves over her eyes. ‘You stay here, Thomas; Robert, you light a fire; and I’ll go with Maddie and Amelia.’
‘No.’ I shake my head. Despite wanting her with us as extra security, I’m worried about her unborn child. ‘Stay. You’ve been in the cold far too long already. You need to think of your baby.’
She rubs her stomach. ‘OK,’ she agrees. ‘Maybe you’re right.’
Maddie’s now in her super-warm ski suit, and I notice, as I shuffle into my not-so-warm padded jacket, Dad grab a box of matches, some dry logs from next to the wood burner, and a pile of magazines from the coffee table. I pull my woolly hat down over my ears, wrap my scarf around my face, and flick on my phone torch. ‘Let’s go,’ I say, opening the door.
Heads down, Maddie and I battle against the weather, stomping through the deep snow towards Ruth’s cottage. The squally wind makes it almost impossible to talk, for which I’m thankful. Although Maddie’s and my differences seem minuscule compared to what is going on right now.
We reach Ruth’s cottage, and I try the conservatory door. It’s open, as I hoped it would be.
‘Elise!’ I call, stepping inside. I flash the torch around the room, the light bouncing off the windows, and onto the pine table where we sat this morning.
Maddie sniffs the air, as she steps in behind me and closes the door. ‘Something’s burning.’
She’s right. We head across the conservatory, the torchlight guiding our way, and through into the main house. As we creep down a narrow hallway, the throat-cutting smell gets stronger.
Once in an old-fashioned kitchen, I turn off the oven where a beef Wellington has been charcoaled, feeling a jolt of sadness that Ruth always took such pride in her cooking, imagining how upset she would be.
I flash my phone torch around the room, picking out the sparklingly clean butler sink, the double fridge, and the floor-to-ceiling pale-green tiles. I step towards the window, lean my head close to the glass, and peer out into the darkness. Outside is Finn’s quad bike, parked up against a wooden shed. I could have sworn Rosamund said he’d gone to get it.
Maddie flings open the door of a larder, and I turn to see inside tins stacked high, and more vegetables than I could eat in a lifetime. But there’s no Elise crumpled in the corner scared for her life, or worse.
Back in the hallway, I call Elise’s name again. Maddie does the same as we step into the lounge. It’s small. Cosy. I peer behind the sofa, behind the curtains, before leaving the room and leading the way up the staircase.
There are photos on the walls – two or three of Drummondale House at varying angles, at different times of year, and several of a wide-eyed young boy. There’s no doubting it’s Finn.
Two bedrooms and a bathroom lead from the small landing. The bathroom seems empty – a shower curtain pulled across the bath. I step into the room, as Maddie hovers on the landing, take a deep breath, and yank the shower curtain back. I sigh with relief to find it empty.
‘Elise?’ I call again, as I leave the bathroom and we enter the first bedroom.
There’s a TV and a single bed, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. This is Finn’s room. It feels bare. There’s nothing here that tells us who he is – nothing to reveal his true personality. It’s as though he doesn’t plan to stay – that he’s waiting for the right moment to break the news to Ruth that he’s leaving. A wave of anxiety I can’t quite explain clouds my thoughts, followed by a tug of sadness at the thought of him discovering his mother’s been murdered.
We check the room thoroughly, before entering Ruth’s bedroom.
‘Elise,’ we continue to call, but it’s useless. She’s not here.
I flick the torch around. It’s a pretty room, decorated mainly in yellow, with pine furniture, and duck-blue
