Page 59 of The Perfect Guests
Nazleen’s tone softens. “Go and sit down. I’m sure Joe won’t be long. We’ll be out of here soon.”
Beth doesn’t reply. Nazleen hurries off in the direction of the kitchen, and as soon as she’s gone, Beth turns to Sadie.
“I’ve got to talk to Leonora. I need to know why she did it, why she brought you here. Honestly, Sadie, if I’d had any idea...”
“I know, Mum.” Sadie gives Beth’s hand a gentle squeeze, taking care not to hurt her. “Okay, let’s do it. We’ll go and talk to her together.”
But Beth still doesn’t move, and Sadie feels a familiar stir of frustration. This is what she remembers, growing up: this closed, fearful expression on her mum’s face. At the first mention of the past—or any other emotionally difficult topic—Beth would retreat into herself, refuse to engage.
With effort, Sadie keeps her voice gentle. “You can’t run away from things forever, Mum...”
“I know.” Beth nods tightly. “You’re right.” But she trudges toward the study as if she’s been summoned there, as if it weren’t her own idea at all.
Beth unlocks the door and walks in. Sadie hangs back in the doorway, watching Beth approach the green-topped desk. Leonora sits on the far side of it, her expression one of haughty contempt.
“What do you want?” Leonora snaps.
Beth’s voice is strained. “Why did you bring my daughter here? I know you blame me for what happened, but to take it out on my daughter...”
Sadie frowns. What’s this about blame? What did her motherdohere, all those years ago?
“I’ve already told you.” Leonora’s reply is icy. “I didn’t know she was your daughter until just now.”
Beth draws in a shaky breath. “What happened to Markus... It wasn’t my fault...”
A loud bang in the hall sends Sadie spinning around, heart pounding. Someone’s knocking at the front door, but it’s too soon to be Joe returning with the police, surely? She glances back at Beth and Leonora, but they both seem as startled as she is. Nazleen is still in the kitchen, and the drawing room door is closed, so when the door knocker crashes again, Sadie hurries to answer it.
A woman stands on the top step, her dark hair hanging in front of her shoulders like limp curtains, her face sallow in the yellowish light from the overhead lamps. She stumbles over her words, and Sadie can’t tell whether it’s from cold or from fear.
“Is everyone okay?” the woman says. “I saw fire, from across the fields, and I was worried—” She glances beyond Sadie, into the hall, and her tone softens. “Oh, I see you’re all right...”
Bemused, Sadie turns around. Leonora is approaching, her hands outstretched to the woman as if she’s half-angry to see her and half pleading with her to go away.
“Yes, we’re all fine,” Leonora says. “You didn’t need to come. You should go now.”
But the woman is no longer looking at Leonora. Her gaze has moved past her to fix on Sadie’s mother, and her eyes are enormous, her face slack with astonishment.
“Beth?”
Beth
And in an instant, I’m back floundering under the ice.
It’s her voice that does it. Despite her stranger’s face—harshly lined, bordering on gaunt in the wash of sickly yellow light from above the front door—I know it’s her from the way she says my name with such wounded disbelief.
Nina.
I haven’t seen her for almost three decades. My last memory of her is a hazy one—rough hands tugging me to the surface, Nina’s dark eyes reflecting my own shock, staring at me, as we’re each carried away toward the swirl of blue lights on Raven Hall’s drive...
“Nina.” My voice is a croak.
Somehow, I close the gap between us, but my heart is pounding, because—what will she say to me? I ran away from the hospital the next day; I never went back. I left her there, with Leonora. I didn’t take her with me.
I stop in front of her, and we gaze at each other.
“Is it really you?” she whispers.
I try to smile. “How are you?”
