by Mona Marple
One song blended into another, and then another, and as time passed, the voices in the room grew more confident.
By the time Bobby returned, Daisy and Rose had even begun to dance together in the middle of the room.
“Ooh!” Daisy exclaimed as Luke finished one song. “I’ll get my phone. We can do a quick video for the fan page.”
Rose groaned at that suggestion but Daisy was out of the room in a flash.
Luke flashed an embarrassed smile. “She’s got such a head for business.”
“She takes after her father,” Grace said with a smile. “Don’t stop, we’re enjoying this.”
It was true. The group hadn’t gone this long without an argument since arriving. Luke grinned and idly strummed at the Gretsch for a few seconds. “You’ll all know this one,” he said, and burst into a song that had dominated the charts the summer before.
Zeb clapped his hands together and pretended to play an air guitar. “Yeah, man!”
Connie heard herself laugh and wondered if perhaps these people might grow on her. Maybe she’d met them all at a bad time. Maybe they were all under unique amounts of stress. Maybe all they needed was a chance to get used to each other’s company again, and the music had allowed them to do that. It was a great idea of Bobby’s, and he seemed like a decent man. Concerned for his workers’ welfare. And Grace? She liked to martyr herself, sure, but she had made splendid meals. Rose, poor Rose, so torn up about her sexuality. For that was the reason she’d never brought a man home, Connie guessed. It would be hard to keep such a huge secret. Daisy, the sweetest of them all perhaps, devoted to her rock star husband. And Luke, with that dimple in his cheek… enough to make Connie a little weak at the knees, although she’d never admit such a thing to Taylor. Christopher wasn’t as gruff and tough as he first seemed, not really. He seemed devoted to his wife, and why wouldn’t he be! Such a catch, Lottie was, with her youth and her lithe figure and raw energy. Zeb was a comedian, an entertainer, here for the laugh.
They weren’t so bad. Not really.
Yes, Connie was aware that she’d missed Eliza out in her revised opinions of the family. She could overlook a certain amount of quarrelling and petty grievances, but Taylor’s mother took it all to another level. She didn’t have a good word to say about any one of them.
It was unfair for Connie to judge any of the brothers, considering the upbringing they must have had. To be raised by such a hateful woman must have been awful. Connie’s mother may not have had the money that Eliza Thompson did, or the opportunities in life, but she was a loving mother.
Daisy returned with her phone and began filming. The camera was focused on her husband, and Connie watched with admiration as she filmed Luke in his element. It took a strong person to run the show behind the scenes while someone else got all the glory.
“Happy New Year, y’all,” Luke drawled as he gazed into the camera lens between songs. “I just want to thank y’all for your support and wish you happiness and good vibes! I’m here with my family, just having a blast. My wife and daughter are here, and I’m grateful to my second mother Grace for preparing wonderful meals for us all. You stay safe. I love you all!”
Grace sat an inch taller in her chair upon hearing his thanks.
With the end of his message, he began to strum what Connie knew was his most recent release. It was a country ballad, full of emotion and heart, and hearing it played in the room across from her gave Connie chills. Nobody sang along, but everyone sat entranced. As Luke reached the chorus for the final time, Eliza awoke and began furiously attempting to move her wheelchair with her one good hand.
“Need a hand, mother dearest?” Zeb asked.
“Earphones!” She barked. “I can’t stand this racket!”
Zeb doubled over laughing and, not wanting Eliza to interrupt the video any more than she already had, Connie jumped up and pushed the old woman out of the room. With no earphones available, Eliza pulled a tattered old woollen bobble hat out of her handbag and struggled to pull it on her head. She looked ridiculous, but when the pair returned to the room nobody batted an eyelid.
“She spent a whole summer like that one year,” Taylor said.
“In the hat?”
He nodded. “She thought her hair was falling out and that wearing the hat would stop it.”
Connie nodded, unsure what to do with that information.
It was ten to midnight. An alarm began to beep from a device on Grace’s slender wrist and she was up from her seat, off to prepare thin-stemmed glasses with champagne and raspberries for the New Year toast.
The long day had almost finished. Connie felt herself relax. They had survived.
Christopher slapped his knees and stood up. “I’m going to see if Lottie wants to join us for the toast.”
“Tell her I’ll put the guitar away,” Luke said with a smile.
Christopher laughed. “Thanks.”
The group sat in silence, as if proving to Lottie that they could all be quiet and well-behaved. The seconds ticked by, until the quiet was punctured by an animalistic shriek. A groan, of devastation or fury. Raw emotion that sent a shudder through Connie’s body.
She had known. That was her first thought. She had known that something bad was going to happen.
“The twins!” She exclaimed, although there was no reason to imagine that the noise was anything to do with them, and in the echo of the shriek, she heard two furious cries - her babies, both of them disturbed by the noise and unhappy about it.
“Well don’t just stay there!” Christopher’s voice boomed down the stairs. “Help! Send for help! Quickly, you fools! What’s wrong with you? It’s Lottie - she’s dead!”
13
Christopher trampled down the stairs in a rage before anyone had time to reach for a phone or absorb what he had said.
He made a clear path, his target in his sights, and grabbed Zeb by his top.
“How could you?” Christopher’s face contorted from red to purple. Spittle flew from his mouth as he confronted his brother.
“Whoa!” Zeb called, but the grin had been wiped clear off his face.
Suddenly, Christopher swung back and his fist collided with Zeb’s cheek. He collapsed to the floor and it seemed for a moment that he was out cold.
“What on earth’s going on?” Dottie asked as she skulked in the doorway. She looked down at her injured husband with not a smidgen of compassion. “What did you mean about Lottie?”
“I meant she’s dead!” Christopher roared.
“Nobody ever died of a migraine, old chap,” Bobby said. “Calm down. What’s happened?”
Dottie shook her head and made her way up the grand staircase, two steps at a time in her haste. Zeb shook his head and slowly moved to a sitting position.
“Brother,” Zeb said. “She’s really...”
“Don’t you dare! “ Christopher erupted. He was pacing back and forth, his foot twitching to add a kick or stomp to Zeb’s pain. “You have no right!”
“Christopher, come on, Zeb would never hurt Lottie,” Grace said. She still held the tray of champagne glasses, as if whatever was happening would soon blow over and they’d get back to celebrating.
Christopher guffawed. “He was having an affair with her!”
Grace blinked at him.
“He didn’t know?” Luke whispered to Daisy, a little too loud.
“You didn’t know?” Grace asked at the same time. Her voice was almost maternal.
“Of course I - hold on. You knew? How many of you knew?” Christopher asked. Pairs of eyes around the room averted their gaze.
“If you’ve laid a finger on her!” Zeb grunted as he pushed himself off the floor to his feet. “Where is she?”
He left, followed his wife upstairs.
Connie sat awkwardly, wishing she’d gone upstairs to settle the twins with Taylor.
She grew aware of Eliza’s head shaking slowly beside her. It was impossible to say how much the woman heard, or und
erstood.
“Two of my sons?” She asked finally. She was speaking to everyone and no-one. “Two of them taken in by that woman? I should remove them both from the Will.”
“Gran,” Rose scolded.
“What happened, Christopher?” Grace asked. With Zeb out of the way, his face was returning to a normal tone and his panting breath was calming, but he continued to pace.
“You’ll wear a thread in the rug,” Eliza muttered.
“She’s in the bath,” he said, his voice shattered with grief. “She’s just lying there…”
Connie watched as the tears overtook him. She knew better than to judge a person by their first reaction to devastating news. People were strange and they didn’t stop being strange in strange times. But Christopher’s first concern had been to hit Zeb, not seek help for Lottie. Even a man who was sure his wife was dead would still want to try and get them help, surely?
Connie crept out of the room unnoticed. She wasn’t one of them, not really, and her outsider status allowed her to come and go as she pleased without drawing attention to herself.
She climbed the stairs carefully, passed the room that they were using as the twins’ nursery, and continued to the only open door. The bedroom claimed by Christopher and Lottie was one of the grander rooms, with a four-poster bed and a chaise longue by the window. On it was a battered copy of a book, a literary fiction novel that Connie thought she’d been assigned in school. The room was lit by an ornate lamp by the side of the bed, and the light that filtered in from the en suite. Connie approached the room and watched as Dottie kneeled by the bath. The laminate floor of the room was drenched with water, the liquid pooling beneath the sink and under the claw feet of the tub. Dottie’s shoulders were hunched, their gentle rise and fall betraying her tears. Lottie, naked in the water, looked beautiful even in death.
“Is it true?” Connie breathed.
Dottie nodded, cleared her throat, tucked away the woman she really was and returned to being the professional - the medic. “Call an ambulance.”
Connie’s legs trembled but she patted down her pockets, realised her phone was with Taylor. A silly, romantic habit of theirs, carrying each other’s things around. She walked across to the nursery room and pushed open the door. It creaked, and Taylor winced.
“They’ve just gone back down,” he said. “What’s happening?”
“She’s really dead,” Connie said. Her voice wobbled and she collapsed into Taylor’s arms. She wouldn’t cry. She hadn’t known the woman and the little she did know, she disliked. But to be so close to death was still a shock.
“I’m sorry I left you downstairs,” he said. “I thought you’d come up with me.”
“I should have,” Connie agreed. “I don’t know why I didn’t. I just saw her, Taylor. Dottie’s in there with her.”
“Lottie’s really dead?”
Connie nodded. “She’s drowned. I mean, that would be my guess.”
“Suicide.” Taylor shook his head. “I wouldn’t have predicted that.”
“She left a note,” Connie said. She’d noticed the piece of paper on the side of the sink and although she hadn’t read it, she could guess its purpose.
“Let’s go down,” Taylor said.
“Oh!” Connie exclaimed. “I nearly forgot. Dottie asked me to call an ambulance.”
“A little late for that, surely?” Taylor said. Connie frowned. He knew the procedure better than most. Someone had to confirm the death, record the time. Paramedics were used to attending hopeless scenes, not to save lives but to announce deaths. “Are you okay?”
He blew out a breath and handed the phone across to her. “This family is full of poison. It kills everything good.”
She stroked the side of his face. “Not everything, darling. Not you.”
She dialled, asked the operator to send an ambulance, ended the call. The twins slept peacefully and Taylor gazed down at them.
“You stay here and gather your thoughts,” Connie whispered, then left the room.
She arrived downstairs and sat back down in the chair she had vacated earlier. Nobody appeared to show any interest in her.
Zeb had returned downstairs and stood gazing out of the window, into the darkness.
“Well?” Christopher demanded, and all eyes followed his. Dottie stood in the doorway.
“We’ve called for an ambulance?”
Connie nodded.
“But yes, Lottie has died.”
Grace gasped as if only now could she believe it were true. “How?”
“It would appear she committed suicide,” Dottie said. She shifted and twisted and looked thoroughly uncomfortable in her skin.
“She wouldn’t,” Zeb offered from the window. “She had everything to live for.”
“Don’t you say a word about her!” Christopher roared. “None of you knew her! None of you accepted her! You thought she was too young, a gold digger, you didn’t give her the time of day.”
“That’s just the way this family is,” Grace said. “You’ve never accepted me, either. Or Dottie!”
Connie didn’t even get a mention, not that she was bothered. She was happy to continue being unnoticed.
“How did she do it?” Eliza asked from her wheelchair. Connie glanced at her, shuddered at the smile on her face.
“Mother!” Christopher shouted. “What is wrong with this family?!”
“Dottie?” Eliza asked.
“I don’t know,” Dottie said.
“You don’t know? You’re meant to be a doctor, aren’t you?”
“I don’t decide cause of death, Eliza,” Dottie said, then her eyes narrowed. “As well you know.”
“Humph,” Eliza snorted. “Someone needs to get me to bed.”
“She can’t be serious?” Grace muttered. She finally placed the tray of drinks down on the coffee table, as if even she realised there would be no champagne drinking.
“I’ll take you,” Bobby volunteered. He offered a shrug in Grace’s direction and pushed Eliza out of the room. Lynn followed behind him. The ding of the lift rang out a few seconds later.
“Aren’t you going to help?” Daisy asked her mother. Grace considered the question, then sighed.
“Your father can do a thing or two himself, you know.”
“Yeah, but getting her ready for bed? That’s a bit weird,” Daisy said.
“She’s his mother and she has a nurse! I might be the one who does everything for this family, but let’s remember they’re not actually my family at all!” Grace said through gritted teeth. She spotted Connie watching and gave a dramatic eye roll. “Grown kids! You have this all to come, Connie, with Taylor’s babies.”
They’re my babies too, Connie wanted to say. But she didn’t want to cause a scene. A woman lay dead in the bathtub upstairs and so far not a single person had had a normal reaction to that news.
14
The paramedics arrived with no sirens, their expressions dour as soon as Dottie opened the door for them. Two bulky guys, both younger than they looked. The job took its toll, and it was clear they’d had some shifts from hell, some patients who died when they shouldn’t have and others who refused to die when that was probably the kindest option.
Connie followed them upstairs and sat on the bed as they reviewed the scene in the en suite. Dottie averted her gaze, a medic with a nervous stomach it would appear, or perhaps she just didn’t want to see her love competition naked.
“Declaring as life extinguished, 00:45,” one paramedic said to the other, who made a note on an electronic tablet.
“Copy that,” the second said. He took a look around the room, spotted the paper by the sink. “Suicide note?”
Dottie shrugged. “It would appear to be.”
The first paramedic shook his head. “Waste of a life, huh? We can take it from here.”
“What was the cause of death?” Dottie asked. Her arms were crossed in front of her sparrow chest. She looked brittle and ready to snap.
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“Drowning,” the second paramedic said.
Dottie nodded and left the room. She didn’t even glance in Connie’s direction, her gaze was so focused on the floor, on placing one foot in front of the other.
“What’s the note say?” The first paramedic asked.
“That’s not your business,” the second said with a laugh. It wasn’t an unkind laugh, not really. It was the kind of laugh they’d had to develop in order to survive such a career. “But let’s just say she announced an affair.”
“In the suicide note? Ouch!”
“Right? Why do people do that? Like they need a clear conscience for Heaven or something?”
“It’s called confession.”
Connie closed her eyes. The whisper of a thought was knocking at her mind but she couldn’t quite reach it, couldn’t quite let it in.
She didn’t know enough about Lottie to try to understand any of her actions, but revealing an affair in a suicide note didn’t make sense. Unless she wanted Christopher to suffer for some reason. Maybe the marriage wasn’t as happy as it looked. Well, clearly it wasn’t, or her eyes wouldn’t have wandered and found Zeb.
“Excuse me?” Connie asked.
Her voice disturbed the paramedics, who had drained the bath of water and wrapped Lottie’s body. They had a stretcher set up on the floor, ready to carry her corpse out of the house.
“You probably shouldn’t be in here, miss,” one of them said. She saw a panicked look pass between the two of them as they wondered how much of their conversation she’d heard.
“Is it unusual that she’s naked?” Connie asked.
“Well,” one of the two began, then stopped to scratch his head. “That’s not really something we can comment on.”
“But you must have seen dozens of suicides. Don’t people keep their clothes on?”
“Look, lady, your relative here, she left a note. She drowned herself. I’m sure it’s an awful shock to you, but trust me, when people’s heads are in this kind of space, nothing they do makes sense.”