‘Louise, what on earth is the matter?’ said Millie. ‘What’s upset you?’ She looked out onto the street through the glass doors but she could see no one and nothing out of the ordinary. Louise was still fumbling unsuccessfully to fasten the pushchair straps and Millie reached over to help, but as she did so Louise gave up and collapsed onto the floor, weeping and hugging Abigail tight to her.
Millie slipped an arm around her shoulders. ‘What’s going on? Tell me.’
Gradually Louise brought her breathing under control. ‘I don’t know,’ she sniffled. ‘I was just overcome by this terrible feeling of panic and a fear that Abigail was in danger. I just had to get her out of there.’
‘You’re bound to be feeling fragile,’ said Millie. ‘You’ve been through such a lot. I’m sorry, this is my fault. I shouldn’t have made you come out today. Perhaps it was too soon after all. Come on, let’s go home.’
Together they got the children into their pushchairs and as they set off down the road Louise seemed to recover a little. ‘Oh God, I made a real fool of myself in there, didn’t I?’
‘Not at all,’ said Millie. ‘They hardly noticed — and so what if they did? You’ve had a horrible time. Losing Greg—’
‘Except I don’t think this has anything to do with Greg,’ Louise insisted. ‘I just came into the room and heard the singing and something cold crawled up my spine. It freaked me out. There’s something about that song.’
‘Which one?’ Millie tried to recall what they’d been singing.
‘You know, the one about the princess in the tower. I can’t bear it.’
Millie shrugged. ‘You don’t like the whole princess thing. You told me and I get that.’
‘But it’s so stupid,’ said Louise. ‘I don’t even understand where this aversion has come from. God knows why Greg stuck it out with me. I’m so ridiculously neurotic about everything. No wonder he—’
‘No!’ Millie was unequivocal. ‘That was not your fault.’
‘But now I’m going to pass all my anxieties and other crap on to Abigail and she hasn’t even got her daddy to try and make things right for her,’ said Louise, the tears beginning to flow again.
‘That’s not true,’ said Millie. ‘You’re a great mum.’
‘Greg was wrong, you know. I’m not a feminist. Far from it, in fact, but I hate anything to do with princesses. I find them so . . . sinister. It’s practically a phobia.’
‘Like clowns,’ said Millie. ‘Coulrophobia. A lot of people are frightened by clowns and there’s no logical reason for that either, is there? Clowns are meant to make us laugh, just as we’re meant to admire princesses for being beautiful.’
‘Yes, I suppose that must be it.’ Louise wiped her face. ‘I know I can’t stand to have anything to do with them in the house. It was fine until Abigail was born and then suddenly we were inundated with all these twee little gifts with princesses all over them, and I hated it. I got so upset that Greg separated out the worst things and stuck them in a cardboard box in the garage. I think he hoped that I might change my mind one day and let Abigail have them. I won’t though, I know it.’ She stopped and turned to Millie. ‘Would you do something for me? Would you find that box and get rid of it? Take it to a charity shop or something? I can’t face it, especially now . . .’
‘Of course I will,’ said Millie.
* * *
The following morning Millie went back to Louise’s, taking a homemade casserole in the hope that it might encourage her to eat something. Olwen greeted her at the door again. ‘Louise is lying down,’ she said. ‘She didn’t sleep well last night and is exhausted.’
‘Of course,’ said Millie. ‘I just thought that Abigail might like the company.’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ said Olwen. ‘She’s napping too at the moment but she’s due to wake soon. I’m catching up with some correspondence,’ she said, of the papers spread out across the dining table. ‘It’s old-fashioned, I know, but some of my pals and I still like to exchange proper letters.’
Olwen went into the kitchen and put the kettle on, returning with a tea tray, complete with pot — another traditional touch. ‘How did the baby group go yesterday?’ she asked, pouring a cup for Millie. ‘Louise didn’t say very much about it when she got back.’
‘It was fine,’ said Millie. ‘She got a bit upset towards the end, but that’s hardly surprising. It’s been such a difficult time. I think she was very brave to go. I wondered if I pushed too hard.’
‘Not at all,’ said Olwen. ‘I remember when Ted passed away. Sometimes it was people’s kindness that was the most upsetting.’
‘Oh, I’m not sure if it was that exactly,’ said Millie. ‘I suppose grief just comes out in funny ways, doesn’t it? Actually,’ Millie went on, ‘Louise mentioned a box of things in the garage that she wants me to dispose of. I think they’re too much of a reminder of Greg. Now might be a good time to see if we can find them, while she’s resting.’
Olwen let Millie into the garage, which clearly doubled as a storage space. Wall to wall shelving held a number of cardboard boxes of assorted shapes and sizes. ‘What is it we’re looking for?’ she asked.
‘Apparently there’s a box somewhere containing all the princessy stuff Abigail was given when she was born,’ said Millie. ‘Louise really isn’t into girly things, is she?’
Olwen smiled. ‘You can say that again. She was a real tomboy as a child.’
Millie began lifting boxes off the shelves to see what was inside and for the first time realised what a big job this might be. They contained all the sort of stuff that she and Suli kept in their loft: boxes of old china, pictures that were no longer needed, shoe boxes of old black-and-white photographs.
‘I didn’t know she’d kept all these,’ said Olwen.
It took a few minutes before Millie realised that the sensible thing was to identify the newest-looking boxes, and when she did, it took only minutes to find what they were looking for. ‘Here we are,’ she said, opening the flaps of a cardboard grocery box.
Inside they found an assortment of mainly garish pink items, from soft toys to baby clothes and a ‘princess on board’ sign for the car, complete with a hideous cartoon drawing of a baby. She could see why Louise wouldn’t want to display that. There were also several children’s picture books. Millie took them out one by one to see what their particular offence might be. One was titled Long Ago.
‘That’s strange,’ she said to Olwen. ‘This is the very thing that seemed to upset Louise yesterday.’ She flicked through the pages. ‘It’s a book of illustrations to go with the words of the song. The drawings are beautiful.’ She passed the book to Olwen. ‘But after what happened yesterday, I can understand why Greg hid it away. Now, do you think a charity shop would be glad of all of this?’ Millie looked up for a response, but Olwen was standing stock-still, and the colour had drained from her face.
‘What is it?’ Millie asked, touching her arm.
‘Louise was upset by this song?’ she whispered.
‘Yes, she had quite a startling reaction to it, but I don’t think even she understood why. I know she has this thing about princesses, but . . .’ Millie broke off. ‘Olwen, are you OK?’ She took the older woman’s arm, suddenly afraid that she might be about to collapse. ‘Let’s go back into the house and you can sit down.’
Millie took her back to the lounge and fetched her a glass of water. After a few minutes, Olwen seemed to regain her composure.
‘What’s this all about?’ Millie asked gently.
‘I’m not sure that I can tell you,’ said Olwen, flustered. ‘It was years ago. Oh, God. I thought we’d put it all behind us.’
‘All what?’ Millie persisted. ‘It might help me to support Louise if I know what the problem is.’
Olwen took a sip of water before drawing a deep breath. ‘Louise had some unfortunate experiences as a little girl,’ she said. ‘It’s all in the past. I suppose I thought — hoped — she
might have been too young to remember.’
‘What kind of experiences?’ Millie asked, with some trepidation.
‘It was her brother.’
Millie had forgotten that Louise had a brother. ‘She told me he pulled her hair,’ she said.
‘Pulling her hair was the least of it,’ said Olwen, with a bitter cough. ‘Rory’s actually Louise’s half-brother. Ted’s boy. I’ve hardly seen him since his dad died. The last time would have been at Ted’s cremation.’ As she spoke, Olwen began compulsively folding and unfolding the hem of her cardigan. ‘He was seven when Ted and I got together, and then, of course, soon after, Louise came along so I never knew if he was the way he was because of that, or if it was because of his own mother. She had what we’d now call mental health problems and eventually she took her own life. I mean, Rory was a good-looking boy, and he could be very sweet. But he wasn’t an easy child. There was something sly about him and I could never guess what was going on in his head. We made allowances, of course. He was young and at best his mother had been inconsistent in her care. The poor boy often didn’t know from one week to the next whether he would be staying with her or with us. To begin with, he was lovely with Louise: caring and protective. It wasn’t until later that I realised how unhealthy his feelings for her were.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Millie.
‘When Louise was first born Rory helped with everything: feeding and changing her, bathing her. I didn’t want him to feel pushed out or to be jealous of her, so I encouraged it. In the early days when I was still breastfeeding, he liked to sit with me and stroke Louise’s head. She had the most beautiful curls almost from the day she was born.
‘When Louise was very little we used to put them in the bath together. It made practical sense, and they loved splashing around. But then, of course, Louise began to realise that she and Rory were different. It was all very playful and innocent to begin with, but after a while it appeared to me that Rory was engineering things so that Louise would have to touch him. Ted said I was overreacting, but Rory would have been about nine or ten by now and the bathing together suddenly seemed inappropriate. When I insisted that they have their baths separately Rory got very angry. It was a turning point,’ said Olwen. ‘And he couldn’t get back at me so he began to be spiteful towards Louise. It was obvious then that he was a troubled boy. Of course he was much bigger and stronger than Louise and looking back on it, what he liked was being in control. The final straw was the babysitting. When he was older we trusted Rory to look after Louise when we went out on Friday nights, but she started to become tearful and clingy, and began wetting the bed. I took her to the doctor more than once because I thought she must have a water infection. Then she got these red marks on her arms. She wouldn’t, or couldn’t, tell me what they were, and when I asked Rory about them he couldn’t answer me. I thought he must have held her and shaken her.
‘So one evening when Ted was going out to play snooker, I said I was going to see a friend, except I didn’t. I walked round the corner to the park, waited a while and then came back and let myself into the house again. I was reassured at first. I could hear the two of them playing, singing nursery songs. I crept up the stairs but couldn’t understand why they weren’t in any of the bedrooms. Eventually I found them up in the attic room. Rory had made Louise take off her clothes, then he’d tied her to a chair and was skipping around her, singing. Louise was terrified, whereas Rory was very clearly excited. When he turned and saw me I honestly don’t know who was more shocked.’ The cardigan hem was now tightly wadded in her fist.
‘And this was the song,’ said Millie, picking up the book and looking at it again.
‘It’s about a prince rescuing the princess from the tower,’ said Olwen. ‘That was the point. Louise was the princess and Rory was coming to rescue her. Except that what thrilled him was holding her captive and frightening her. I hate to think how long it had been going on and Louise never told us because she was afraid of him. I think he’d been . . . touching her too. After that of course I made sure that Rory was never left alone with Louise, but his behaviour just got worse. There was an incident at Louise’s seventh birthday party when he exposed himself to one of the girls. He claimed that she had walked into his bedroom, but I didn’t believe that for a minute, and he knew it. It was a bad time and such a relief when he went away to school.’ Olwen turned her face away from Millie. ‘Ted had some particular tastes in the bedroom. I went along with it a couple of times to begin with. When I told him I didn’t like it, he dropped it, though I could tell that he was disappointed. It did make me wonder if Rory’s mother had been more open-minded in that respect, and what Rory might have seen, as a small boy.’
‘It explains Louise’s reaction yesterday,’ said Millie.
‘Actually,’ said Olwen, looking suddenly panic-stricken. ‘I noticed a picture of Rory among those old photographs. Do you think we should get rid of that too?’
‘It might not be a bad idea,’ said Millie. ‘Louise is very emotional at the moment. You could always return it later.’
Olwen went off to the garage, returning a few minutes later with a curled snapshot. ‘It’s a shame,’ she said, showing it to Millie. ‘It’s a lovely one of Louise. I think it was taken on holiday at Weston. Louise would have been about three or four.’
Millie’s heart was thudding so loudly, she couldn’t understand how Olwen couldn’t hear it. ‘What’s that round Louise’s neck?’
Olwen peered a little more closely. ‘Oh, that necklace.’ She smiled. ‘Ted bought it for her while we were on that holiday. He used to call Louise his little princess. She liked it then, but that was before . . .’ She tailed off.
‘Does Louise ever hear from Rory?’ Millie asked.
‘No.’ Olwen was quite categorical. ‘I think she might have sent him a wedding invitation. I mean, it’s what you do, isn’t it? But he didn’t come. We never expected him to. He was overseas somewhere at that point. I think he might have sent a gift, though.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘I really don’t know. After he finished at boarding school, he joined the army. It’s been the making of him.’
‘What would Greg’s reaction have been if Rory had made contact with him?’ Millie asked.
‘Oh, he would have discouraged it, I’m sure. Louise never really liked to be reminded of Rory.’
‘Well,’ said Millie, picking up the box. ‘I’ll make sure this goes to a charity shop.’
‘Oh, I can do that,’ said Olwen, taking it from her. ‘I’ll put it in the boot of my car and pop up to that one on the main road. As a matter of fact, Louise is running low on a few things, so I wondered if you’d mind me going to the supermarket while you’re here. I don’t really want to leave her on her own.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Millie. She was still holding the picture book. ‘Do you think it would be OK if I took this for Haroon? He really seems to like this song, and it’s an attractive book.’
‘Not at all. I’m sure she’d be pleased it’s gone to a good home,’ said Olwen.
Out in the hall, Millie tucked the book away underneath Haroon’s pushchair so that Louise wouldn’t see it.
Olwen fetched her coat and, taking the box with her, went off to the shops. As soon as Millie saw the car reverse out of the drive, she put through a call to Mariner’s mobile. Haroon had woken up and was grizzling, so resting him on one shoulder she walked through to the conservatory, trying to lull him back to sleep while she waited for Mariner to answer.
‘Hello, stranger,’ he said. ‘I was going to call you.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes,’ Mariner said. ‘The good news for Louise is that the case against Greg is looking shaky. Those dates we asked her to account for check out and mean that Greg couldn’t have taken either Grace or Dee. But we’ve picked up some odd emails. We’re still working on them, but it looks as if Greg might have been the victim of blackmail.’
‘I think I kno
w who might have been blackmailing him,’ said Millie. ‘Louise has a brother — a half-brother, that is. He used to get a buzz out of tying her up when she was little. I’ve just seen a photograph of the two of them as children. Louise is wearing a gold necklace with a letter P for princess on it.’
Mariner’s tone hardened. ‘What became of this brother?’
‘He was sent away to school, then he went into the army.’
‘Do you have a name?’
‘Rory, that’s all I know. No. Wait.’ Haroon had dozed off again so, transferring him to the crook of her arm, Millie went through to the living room table where Olwen had left her correspondence. As she’d hoped, there were several envelopes bearing her full name and address. ‘It must be Clarke,’ said Millie. ‘Rory Clarke.’
‘Jesus,’ Mariner exhaled. ‘I’ve met him.’
‘What?’
‘Dee Henderson was a nurse at the military hospital. When we went to talk to the staff, Clarke was there, both times.’
As Mariner was speaking, on the edge of her consciousness Millie heard a low clunk that sounded out of place. Keeping the phone to her ear she went out into the hall, though it was much too soon for Olwen to have returned. There was no one there. She must have imagined it. But then she heard a muffled cry from upstairs — perhaps it was Louise having a bad dream. ‘Hold on a sec, will you, boss?’ Millie started towards the foot of the stairs.
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