by Kate Morton
Chief Inspector Rawlins pressed me for any further details I might have, but I told him nothing more. And it was true, I didn’t know more. Percy had told me one thing, Juniper another. I believed that Percy was covering for her sister, but I couldn’t prove it. And I wasn’t going to tell, either way. The truth had died with the three sisters, and if the foundation stones of the castle whispered still about what had happened that night in October 1941, I couldn’t hear them. I didn’t want to hear them. Not any more. It was time for me to go back to my own life.
PART FIVE
ONE
Milderhurst Castle, October 29th, 1941
The storm that had pushed its way in from the North Sea on the afternoon of October 29th, 1941, had rolled and groaned, thickened and furrowed, before settling finally over the tower of Milderhurst Castle. The first reluctant rain drops broke through the clouds at dusk and many more would follow before the night was done. It was a stealthy storm, the sort of rain that eschews clatter in favour of constancy; hour by steady hour fat drops pounded, poured down the roof tiles and sheeted over the castle eaves. Roving Brook began to rise, the dark pool in Cardarker Wood grew darker, and the skirt of soft ground around the castle, a little lower than that beyond, became sodden, collecting water so that a shadow of the long-ago moat appeared in the darkness. But the twins inside knew none of that; they knew only that after hours of anxious waiting a knock had finally come at the castle door.
Saffy got there first, laid a hand on the jamb and drove the brass key into the lock. The fit was tight, it had always been tight, and she struggled for a moment; noticed that her hands were shaking, that her nail polish was chipped, that her skin was looking old; then the mechanism gave way, the door opened, and such thoughts flew away into the dark, wet night, for there was Juniper.
‘Darling girl.’ Saffy could have wept to see her little sister, safe and well and home at last. ‘Thank God! We’ve missed you so!’
‘I lost my key,’ said Juniper. ‘I’m sorry.’
Despite the grown-up raincoat, the grown-up haircut revealed beneath her hat, Juniper looked such a child in the half-light of the doorway that Saffy couldn’t help but take her sister’s face between her hands and plant a kiss upon her forehead as she’d used to do when June was small. ‘Nonsense,’ she said, gesturing at Percy, whose dark mood had retreated into the stones. ‘We’re just so glad to have you home, to see you in one piece. Let me look at you . . .’ She held her sister at arm’s length and her chest swelled with a wave of gladness and relief she knew would be impossible to express with words; she drew Juniper into an embrace instead. ‘When you were so late we began to worry – ’
‘The bus. We were stopped, there was some kind of . . . incident.’
‘An incident?’ Saffy stepped back.
‘Something with the bus. A roadblock, I suppose; I’m not exactly sure . . .’ She smiled and shrugged, let her sentence trail off, but a thread of perplexity tugged briefly at her features. Only a moment’s shift, but it was enough; the unspoken words echoed in the room as clearly as if she’d said them. I can’t remember. Three simple words, innocent when uttered by anyone but Juniper. Unease dropped clean as a sinker through Saffy’s stomach. She glanced at Percy, noticed that same familiar anxiety settling on her too.
‘Well, come on inside,’ said Percy, reviving her smile. ‘There’s no need for us to stand out in the weather.’
‘Yes!’ Saffy matched her twin’s cheer. ‘You poor dear; you’ll catch a chill if we’re not careful – Percy, go downstairs, will you, and fetch a hot water bottle?’
As Percy disappeared along the darkened hall towards the kitchen, Juniper turned to Saffy, took her wrist and said, ‘Tom?’
‘Not yet.’
Her face fell. ‘But it’s late. I’m late.’
‘I know, darling.’
‘What could be keeping him?’
‘The war, darling; the war’s to blame. Come and sit by the fire. I’ll fix you a lovely drink and he’ll be right along, you’ll see.’
They reached the good parlour and Saffy allowed herself a moment’s pleasure at the pretty scene before leading Juniper to the rug by the hearth. She gave the largest log a prod as her sister produced a case of cigarettes from her coat pocket.
The fire sparked and Saffy flinched. She straightened, leaned the poker back where it belonged and dusted her hands, even though there was nothing on them to clean. Juniper struck a match, drew hard. ‘Your hair,’ said Saffy softly.
‘I had it cut.’ Anyone else’s hand might have gone to their neck, but not Juniper’s.
‘Well, I like it.’
They smiled at one another, Juniper a little skittishly, it seemed to Saffy. Though, of course, that made no sense; Juniper did not get nervous. Saffy pretended not to watch as her sister wrapped an arm across her middle and continued to smoke.
London, Saffy wanted to say. You’ve been to London! Tell me about it; paint me pictures with words so that I might see and know everything that you do. Did you dance? Did you sit by the Serpentine? Did you fall in love? The questions lined up, one behind the other, begging to be spoken, and yet she said nothing. She stood instead like a ninny, as the fire warmed her face and the minutes ticked by. It was ridiculous, she knew; Percy would be back at any moment and the opportunity to speak alone with Juniper would be gone. She ought just to leap in, to demand outright: Tell me about him, darling; tell me about Tom, about your plans. This was Juniper, after all, her own, her dearest little sister. There was nothing they couldn’t talk about. And yet. Saffy thought of the journal entry and her cheeks warmed. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘How remiss of me! Let me take your coat.’
She took up position behind her sister like a housemaid might, unthreaded first one arm, then, when Juniper shifted her cigarette, the other; slipped the brown coat from the thin shoulders and took it to the chair beneath the Constable. It wasn’t ideal to let it drip all over the floor, but there wasn’t time to do otherwise. She fussed a bit, straightening the fabric, noting the needlework of the hem, as she wondered at her own reticence. Chastised herself for letting ordinary familial enquiries stale on her tongue, as if the young woman standing by the fire were a stranger. It was Juniper, for God’s sake; home at last, and likely with a rather important secret up her sleeve.
‘Your letter,’ Saffy prompted, smoothing out the coat’s collar; wondering vaguely, in the random fleeting manner of thought, where her sister had acquired such an item. ‘Your most recent letter.’
‘Yes?’
Juniper had crouched before the fire as she’d liked to as a child and didn’t even turn her head. Saffy realized with a thud that her sister was not going make it easy. She hesitated, steeled herself, then the slam of a distant door reminded her that time was of the essence. ‘Please, Juniper,’ she said, hurrying to stand closer. ‘Tell me about Tom; tell me everything, darling.’
‘About Tom?’
‘Only that, I couldn’t help but wonder whether there was something between you – something more serious than you suggested in your letter.’
A pause, silence, as the walls strained to hear.
Then came a small noise from Juniper’s throat, a breath. ‘I wanted to wait,’ she said softly. ‘We decided to wait till we were together.’
‘Wait?’ Saffy’s heart was flickering like a captured bird’s. ‘I’m not sure what you mean, darling?’
‘Tom and I.’ Juniper dragged hard on her cigarette then leaned her cheek against the heel of her hand. On an exhalation: ‘Tom and I are going to be married. He’s asked me and I’ve said yes, and oh, Saffy – ’ for the first time she looked behind to meet her sister’s gaze – ‘I love him. I can’t be without him. I won’t.’
Though the news itself was just as she’d supposed, Saffy was bruised by the force of the confession. The speed of its delivery, its potency, its repercussions. ‘Well,’ she said, heading to the drinks table, remembering to smile. ‘How wonderful, dearest; then tonight is a c
elebration.’
‘You won’t tell Percy, will you? Not until—’
‘No. No, of course not.’ Saffy eased the stopper from the whisky.
‘I don’t know how she’ll . . . Will you help me? Help me make her see?’
‘You know I will.’ Saffy concentrated on the drinks that she was pouring. It was true. She would do whatever she could, there was nothing she wouldn’t do for Juniper. But Percy was never going to see. Daddy’s will was clear: if Juniper were to marry, the castle would be lost. Percy’s love, her life, her very reason . . .
Juniper was frowning at the fire. ‘She’ll come round, won’t she?’
‘Yes,’ Saffy lied, then drained her glass. Topped it up again.
‘I know what it means, I do know that, and I regret it absolutely; I wish that Daddy had never done what he did. I never wanted any of this.’ Juniper gestured at the stone walls. ‘But my heart, Saffy. My heart.’
Saffy held out a glass to Juniper. ‘Here darling, have a – ’ Her other hand clapped against her mouth as her sister stood and turned to take it.
‘What is it?’
She couldn’t speak.
‘Saffy?’
‘Your blouse,’ she managed, ‘it’s – ’
‘It’s new.’
Saffy nodded. It was a trick of the light, nothing more. She took her sister by the hand and pulled her swiftly towards the lamp.
Then buckled.
It was unmistakable. Blood. Saffy urged herself not to panic; told herself there was nothing to fear, not yet, that they had to remain calm. She searched for suitable words to say as much, but before she found them Juniper had followed her gaze.
She pulled at the fabric of her shirt, frowned an instant, then she screamed. Brushed frantically at her blouse. Stepped back as if the horror might that way be escaped.
‘Shh,’ said Saffy, flapping her hand. ‘There now, dearest. Don’t be frightened.’ She could taste her own panic, though, her shadow companion. ‘Let me take a look at you. Let Saffy take a look.’
Juniper stood inert and Saffy undid the buttons, fingers shaking. She opened the blouse, ran her fingertips over her sister’s smooth skin – shades of tending Juniper as a child – scanning her chest, her sides, her stomach for wounds. Breathed a great sigh of relief when none was found. ‘You’re all right.’
‘But whose?’ said Juniper. ‘Whose?’ She was shivering. ‘Where did it come from, Saffy?’
‘You don’t remember?’
Juniper shook her head.
‘Nothing at all?’
Juniper’s teeth were chattering; she shook her head again.
Saffy spoke calmly, softly, as if to a child. ‘Dearest, do you think you might have lost some time?’
Fear lit Juniper’s eyes.
‘Is your head aching? Your fingers – are they tingling?’
Juniper nodded slowly.
‘All right.’ Saffy smiled as best she could; helped Juniper out of the spoiled blouse then draped her arm around her sister’s shoulders, almost wept with fear and love and anguish when she felt the narrow bones beneath her arm. They should have gone to London, Percy should have gone and brought June back. ‘It’s all right,’ she said firmly, ‘you’re home now. Everything’s going to be all right.’
Juniper said nothing; her face had glazed over.
Saffy glanced at the door; Percy would know what to do. Percy always knew what to do. ‘Shh,’ she said, ‘shh,’ but more for herself than for Juniper, who was no longer listening.
They sat together on the end of the chaise longue and waited. Fire cackled in the grate, wind scurried along the stones, and rain lashed the windows. It felt as if a hundred years had passed. Then Percy appeared at the door. She’d been running and held the hot-water bottle in her hand. ‘I thought I heard a scream – ’ She stopped; registered Juniper’s state of undress. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
Saffy gestured towards the bloodstained blouse and said, with ghastly cheer, ‘Come and help me, Perce. Juniper’s travelled all day and I thought we might draw her a lovely warm bath.’
Percy nodded grimly and, one on either side, they helped their little sister towards the door.
The room settled around their absence; the stones began to whisper.
The loose shutter fell off its hinge, but nobody saw it slip.
‘Is she sleeping?’
‘Yes.’
Percy exhaled relief and stepped further into the attic room to observe their little sister where she lay. She stopped beside Saffy’s chair. ‘Did she tell you anything?’
‘Not a lot. She remembered being on the train and then the bus, that it stopped and she was crouched down on the roadside; next thing she knew she was on her way up the drive, almost at the door, her limbs all tingly. The way they get – you know, afterwards.’
Percy knew. She reached to run the backs of two fingers down Juniper’s hairline towards her cheek. Their little sister looked so small, so helpless and harmless, when she was sleeping.
‘Don’t wake her.’
‘Not much chance of that.’ Percy indicated the bottle of Daddy’s pills beside the bed.
‘You’ve changed your clothes,’ said Saffy, tugging lightly on Percy’s trouser leg.
‘Yes.’
‘You’re going out.’
Percy nodded shortly. If Juniper had left the bus but still found her way home, it meant, presumably, that whatever it was that had caused her to lose time, that was responsible for the blood on her clothing, had happened close to home. Which meant that Percy had to check immediately; take the torch, walk down the drive and see what she could find. She refused to speculate as to what that might be; knew only that it was her duty to remove it. In truth, she was grateful for the task. A solid purpose with a clear objective would help keep the fears at bay, stop her imagination from running ahead unchecked. The situation was troubling enough without that. She looked down at Saffy’s head, the pretty curls, and frowned. ‘Promise me you’ll do something while I’m gone,’ she said, ‘something other than sitting here, worrying.’
‘But Perce—’
‘I mean it, Saffy. She’ll be out for hours. Go downstairs; do some writing. Keep your mind busy. We don’t need a panic.’
Saffy reached up to knit fingers with Percy. ‘And you look out for Mr Potts. Keep your torchlight low. You know what he’s like about the blackout.’
‘I will.’
‘Germans too, Perce. Be careful.’
Percy took her hand back for herself; softened the fact by driving both inside her pockets and answering wryly, ‘On a night like this? Any brains and they’re all at home tucked up warm in bed.’
Saffy attempted a smile, but couldn’t quite complete it. And who could blame her? The room was hanging with old ghosts. Percy stymied a shiver and headed for the door, saying, ‘Right, well I’ll—’
‘Do you remember when we slept up here, Perce?’
Percy paused; felt for the cigarette she’d rolled earlier. ‘Distantly.’
‘It was nice, wasn’t it? The two of us.’
‘As I remember it, you couldn’t wait to get downstairs.’
Saffy did smile then, but it was full of sadness. She avoided Percy’s gaze; kept her eyes on Juniper. ‘I was always in a hurry. To grow up. To get away.’
Percy’s chest ached. She steeled herself against the pull of sentiment. She didn’t want to remember the girl her twin had been, back before Daddy broke her, when she’d had talent and dreams and every chance of fulfilling them. Not now. Not ever, if she could help it. It hurt too much.
In her trouser pocket were the scraps of paper she’d found quite by chance in the kitchen while preparing the hot-water bottle. She’d been hunting for matches, had lifted a saucepan lid on the bench, and there they’d been: the torn pieces of Emily’s letter. Thank God she’d found them. The last thing they needed was to lose Saffy to old despair. Percy would take them downstairs now, burn them on her way outside. ‘
I’m going now, Saff—’
‘I think Juniper will leave us.’
‘What?’
‘I think she plans to fly away.’
What would make her twin say such a thing? And why now? Why tonight? Percy’s pulse began to race. ‘You asked her about him?’
Saffy’s hesitation was long enough for Percy to know that she had.
‘She intends to marry?’
‘She says she’s in love.’ Saffy spoke on a sigh.
‘But she’s not.’
‘She believes that she is, Perce.’
‘You’re wrong.’ Percy set her chin. ‘She wouldn’t marry. She won’t. She knows what Daddy did, what it would mean.’
Saffy smiled sadly. ‘Love makes people do cruel things.’
Percy’s matchbox slipped from her fingers and she reached to collect it from the floor. When she straightened, she saw that Saffy was watching her with an odd expression on her face, almost as if she were trying to communicate a complex idea, or find the solution to a plaguing puzzle. ‘Is he coming, Percy?’
Percy lit her cigarette and started down the stairs. ‘Really, Saffy,’ she said. ‘How am I supposed to know?’
The possibility had crept up on Saffy softly. Her twin’s glowering mood all evening had been unfortunate but not without precedent, thus she’d given it little thought other than to attempt its management so the dinner event wouldn’t be spoiled. But then there’d been the lengthy disappearance down to the kitchen, ostensibly to obtain aspirin, the return with a marked dress and a story about noises outside. The blank expression when Saffy asked her whether she’d found the aspirin, as if she’d quite forgotten having needed it in the first place . . . Now, Percy’s determination, her insistence almost, that Juniper would not be marrying –
But no.