The Perfect Guests

by Emma Rous

  “Sadie! Are you in there? There’s a fire! You have to get out!”

  Sadie

  Sadie drags the cheval mirror aside and lurches out of her bedroom into a haze of throat-tightening smoke, lit by fierce orange flames somewhere near the stairs. She holds her arm across her face and stumbles closer, her eyes stinging. It’s on the staircase. The fire is on the staircase.

  “Fire!” she yells.

  She hammers on each door in turn, unable to remember in that moment which guest should be in which room.

  “Wake up! There’s a fire!” She opens the door next to hers and finds herself face-to-face with Nazleen.

  “What do we do?” Sadie says. “Where’s the fire exit? Where are the—the . . .” She gestures wildly, thinking of smoke alarms and sprinklers and extinguishers. Surely the company has a legal obligation?

  “Oh my God,” Nazleen says. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

  Sadie swings away and crashes into someone else. It’s a dazed-looking Zach.

  “How did this happen?” he says. “We need to get out. What’s Joe doing?”

  Sadie turns to watch Joe creeping closer to the flames, as if looking for a way through them. Sparks shoot past his head, and he pats frantically at something on his shoulder and stumbles backward.

  Everett’s voice booms over Sadie’s shoulder. “What in the name of all that’s holy . . .”

  Sadie tries desperately to think. “My window’s locked. Can any of you get yours open?” She looks from one guest to another. “Where’s Mrs. Shrew?”

  For a moment, they stare at one another blankly, and then they all hurry into different rooms, and Sadie’s left feeling dizzy. What should she do first? Look for Mrs. Shrew? Try other windows? Help Joe?

  “Sadie!” It’s Joe, right in front of her. She struggles to lift her gaze from a singed patch of fabric on his shoulder. He takes her by the arm and steers her out of the worst of the smoke, into the nearest bedroom—Nazleen’s. He tries the window, but just like in Sadie’s room, it won’t open. Joe peers through the glass, then swivels to face her.

  “Who’s the woman out there?”

  She stares at him. “I thought it was my mum, but . . .”

  He nods, seeming less surprised by the suggestion than she is.

  “She’ll go for help,” he says, “won’t she? She’s got a car. She’ll drive to the village and raise the alarm . . .” He sounds as though he’s trying to convince himself more than anything.

  Sadie curls her fists, frustrated by the fogginess in her head—she’d blame it on the smoke if it hadn’t started hours earlier, around the dinner table. She feels like she’s been drugged.

  “All the windows are locked.” It’s Nazleen, breathless. Sadie turns to look at her, wondering if they’ll all wake up from this nightmare in a minute.

  Zach stumbles in, and his words are punctuated by coughing. “I can’t find Mrs. Shrew. Dad won’t stop trying his phone. I keep telling him there’s no signal. Is there another set of stairs up at the far end?”

  Sadie remembers the spiral staircase she climbed earlier. She shakes her head.

  “It only goes up, to the top of the tower. Not down.”

  “Well . . .” Zach looks taken aback. “How do we get out, then?”

  Sadie’s surprised at how calm her voice sounds. “We’ll have to put the fire out, won’t we?” She turns to Joe. “We’ll need water.”

  Joe squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Okay, yeah. There’s debris on the stairs—it looks like someone piled up wood or something, to get it started. It’s spreading up the carpet, and the banister’s starting to burn. But”—he gives Sadie a wide-eyed look—“if we can smother it with blankets—wet blankets . . .”

  “Everyone,” Sadie says, “get the bedding off the beds. Curtains, anything you can find. Run the baths to soak them.”

  “Will it work?” Zach says.

  For a split second, Sadie feels paralyzed by his doubtful expression. Her head buzzes with a host of other questions: Can that really be her mum outside? Who started the fire? Where’s Mrs. Shrew?

  “For God’s sake,” Nazleen snaps at Zach. “We’ve got to try something. Go and fill the baths.”

  They form a ragged human chain along the corridor, passing sodden sheets and blankets along, and then they surge forward—all but old Everett, who’s still punching numbers uselessly into his phone. They take it in turns to dash closer and hurl the dripping items over the flames. It takes almost every item of bedding from eight bedrooms, but the fire is gradually dampened until they can tackle the final patches with less panic.

  “I think we’ve done it,” Nazleen says.

  But Joe urges caution. “As long as the staircase can still take our weight.”

  Sadie is the first to make her way down the stairs, her feet squelching on the still-smoking blankets. She runs to the front door and pulls back the lower bolt, but her hands are sore from getting too close to the flames, and the upper bolt is stiff and repeatedly slips in her grasp.

  “Who locked us in?” she says, her voice high-pitched, as Everett reaches the ground, puffing loudly.

  Halfway down the stairs, Nazleen holds up a big bunch of keys with a confused expression. “Not me. But I do have keys . . .”

  “It’s the bolt that’s stuck.” Sadie tries it again, panic rising in her chest like boiling water in a pan. “It’s too stiff. Can someone help?”

  Zach springs down the last few stairs behind Nazleen, and Joe is close behind him, but as they move toward Sadie, a door creaks open farther down the hall, and they all swing around. A figure hovers in the study doorway, her pale blue dressing gown lending her a ghostly appearance in the dim light.

  “What’s going on?” she says peevishly. “You woke me up.” It’s Mrs. Shrew.

  Sadie presses a hand over her heart. “What are you doing down here?”

  “I couldn’t sleep in that room . . .” Mrs. Shrew’s voice falters as she peers up the staircase. “What on earth—?”

  “There’s been a fire,” Joe says, and he sounds almost apologetic.

  Sadie grabs Zach’s arm. “Just get the door open. Please.”

  Zach yanks back the bolt and tries the handle. It isn’t locked, and the door swings wide open. Sadie is the first to run out into the freezing night air. Her attention is immediately caught by the metallic grinding of a car engine turning over and over and failing to catch. A moment later, the woman in the big coat hurtles out of the mini and sprints toward Sadie.

  “Mum?” Sadie says. She falls straight into the woman’s arms.

  “Oh, Sadie,” her mum cries. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  Sadie presses her face into her mum’s coat and hugs her hard, utterly speechless. But from somewhere behind, she hears the wonder in Joe’s voice as he greets her mother.

  “Beth, is that really you?”

  Sadie’s mum sounds equally amazed. “Jonas?”

  And Joe’s words trip over one another then. “I thought I’d never see you again. I looked for you for months, Beth. I tried everything I could think of . . . and then tonight—what are you doing here? You woke us up.” His voice takes on a new tone of wonder. “You saved our lives.”

  Sadie pulls away from her mum and studies her face. “You were throwing stones at the windows. But how did you know—?”

  “Your last letter,” Beth says. She sounds exhausted. “I tried ringing you from the retreat before I set off, but you didn’t answer. I drove all the way down to your flat—I’ve still got my key. I saw the invitation on the table . . .” Her gaze slips over Beth’s shoulder, past Joe, and on to the other guests, and suddenly she rocks backward as if she’s been slapped.

  “You,” she says. “I should have known. This is all your doing, isn’t it?”

  Leonora sways gently from side to side, soothing the ba
by wrapped against her chest. For the hundredth time, she leans forward and peers around the corner of the stable block, but nothing has changed. The front door still yawns open; the chauffeur continues to leaf through his newspaper, oblivious to her presence. She’s tempted—so tempted—to shuffle back a few meters, to let her knees unlock, to sink into the warm, damp grass and close her eyes . . . She hasn’t slept for more than two hours at a time since the baby was born. But the one thing she desires even more than sleep is to see Hendrik leave Raven Hall for good.

  Finally, voices float from the hall, and here is Hendrik stepping out, closely followed by Markus. Hendrik’s chauffeur springs up the steps to take a box from Hendrik’s arms, and all three men descend to the gravel with somber faces.

  She shrinks back against the sun-warmed wall, unseen, but listening intently.

  “I’ll keep the job open for you anyway,” Hendrik says. “For when you change your mind.”

  “Dad.” Markus sounds weary. “Will you stop staying that? I want to live here . . .”

  Hendrik makes a scathing noise. “She wants to live here, you mean.” His voice softens. “She’s taking advantage of you, Son. Can’t you see that?”

  “Dad, stop it, please. I love her. I told you.”

  The silence stretches. She stands very still. When the baby stirs, she kisses the top of her head softly. Stay asleep a little longer, Nina.

  “Well, like I said . . .” The car door clunks open, and Hendrik’s voice grows muffled. “You can join me as soon as you’re ready.”

  It takes all her willpower to stay hidden until the engine noise has faded beyond the top of the driveway. When she finally emerges, Hendrik’s car is out of sight, and Markus is already on the top step, about to retreat indoors.

  “Leonora!” He’s shocked; he thought she was staying at her lodgings until tomorrow. “Is Nina okay? What are you doing here?”

  For one awful moment, she’s convinced he’s been persuaded by Hendrik’s words after all; he’s changed his mind; she’s come this close, and now she’s going to have to leave again. But he hurries down to her, his eyes glowing with concern, his arms wide open.

  “I couldn’t stay away,” she says. “I had to come—I couldn’t bear to be away for even one more night.”

  He pulls her into his arms, the baby sandwiched between them. “I’m glad you came. I couldn’t bear to be away from the two of you either.” They stand like that, the three of them locked in an embrace, until the baby begins to wriggle.

  Then, as he leads her up the steps and into the house, she dips her head and whispers into her daughter’s hair, “This is your home, Nina. This is where you belong. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure it’s yours forever.”

  Beth

  Istare at the silver-haired woman in the pale blue dressing gown. It’s almost thirty years since I last saw her, but her eyes glitter just as brightly now, in the freezing night air, as they did that long-ago summer’s day when I first arrived at Raven Hall.

  “Leonora,” I say. “My God. I should have known.”

  Her eyes widen, and she pulls her flimsy dressing gown closer around herself. “Beth? Is that really you?”

  I pull Sadie tighter against me. What the hell did Leonora want with my daughter? I’d disappeared, changed my name, done everything I could to leave this place behind. I thought I’d be free of Raven Hall forever, so long as I never mentioned it again; I had no reason to suspect that Leonora might track me down—why would she? But it seems I’ve been so focused on burying the past, and on trying to ensure Sadie’s life turns out better than my own, that I’ve deprived Sadie of the very knowledge that might have kept her safe.

  Leonora lured me here once and made me play her game. How could I have gone away and left Sadie so vulnerable?

  My eyes are gritty with exhaustion. My knuckles are bleeding from hammering on windows and doors. My limbs are weak from the adrenaline that’s been pumping through my arteries for too long. But Leonora’s expression of faux innocence drives all this from my mind and replaces it with a cold, sharp-edged fury.

  I give Sadie one last squeeze and let her go, moving around her on the gravel to advance on Leonora.

  “What’s wrong with you?” As I move toward her, Leonora retreats up the stone steps. I pause, still on the gravel, and I curl my fists. “I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing this time, but I won’t let you get away with it again; I promise you. My daughter could have been killed in there.”

  Leonora shakes her head with that same wounded expression. “Your daughter?” Her gaze slides to Sadie. “I had no idea she was your daughter.”

  My laugh hurts my throat. “Really?”

  “No—” Incredibly, Leonora manages to look tearful. “We were introduced as Miss Lamb and”—she gestures to herself—“Mrs. Shrew. If I’d known she was your daughter . . .”

  I want to accuse her of lying, but the guilt that’s gnawed away at me for twenty-nine years dries the words in my throat. I’m not blameless here; I can’t forget that.

  I lift my chin sharply. “Well, it’s a remarkable coincidence.” I indicate the open front door behind her, the ruined staircase beyond. “I suppose this fire was just an accident too?” I turn to Jonas. “Has someone rung the police? I don’t have a signal . . .”

  Jonas pulls a face. “The landline’s not connected. And, Beth”—he glances around at the other shivering guests—“we’re all frozen. We need to get coats on, and then a couple of us can drive to the village for help.”

  I realize he’s gesturing to the ancient mini, its driver’s door still hanging open. I shake my head.

  “It overheated. I can’t get it to start again. I was lucky to get here at all—I’d have gone for help if I could.” I peer into the surrounding darkness, but I had a view of the driveway in my headlights as I pulled up, and I know there are no other cars here. “We’ll have to walk . . .” Turning back, I see Leonora has retreated to the top step. “Don’t let her back in the house!”

  Leonora holds up her hands, and her tone is plaintive. “I was only going to get my coat.”

  “I’ll get everyone’s coats,” another voice says, and for the first time, I look properly at the three other guests who came bursting out of Raven Hall behind Sadie. The wild-haired and anxious-looking woman hurrying past Leonora into the hall to fetch the coats is a few years older than Sadie. The skinny, dark-haired man standing next to Jonas is rubbing his arms and staring at Leonora. The elderly man has gone to sit on the steps to one side; he’s partially turned away from us, peering at his phone. I don’t recognize any of them.

  The wild-haired woman returns with an armful of coats.

  “Thanks, Nazleen,” Sadie says as she takes a coat at random from the woman. I help Sadie put it on.

  “Someone will have to walk to the village, then,” I say, “if there’s no other way.” I look at Jonas. “Do you think you could . . . ?”

  “Of course.” Jonas drops his voice as he comes closer. “But be careful while I’m gone.”

  “I lived with Leonora for a year and a half,” I say curtly. “Don’t worry. I know what she’s capable of.”

  The rest of the group stops murmuring, and I realize they all heard me.

  I look into Sadie’s eyes, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. Tell me, Mum. Don’t hide the past any longer. Tell me. And I don’t know whether it’s the therapy I’ve been practicing at the retreat, or the shock of seeing Leonora again after all these years, or just the pleading expression in my daughter’s eyes, but I feel a sudden surge of strength, as if I were drawing courage directly from the earth beneath my feet.

  “Certain things happened here when I was a child.” I look pointedly at Leonora. “Not just the fire. Other things too. Nina was poisoned here.”

  There’s a collective intake of breath.

  Nazlee
n glances at Leonora, then back to me. “Who’s Nina?”

  “Nina was—” For a moment, I don’t think I can go on. But Sadie reaches out and catches my hand in hers, and it gives me courage. “Nina was Leonora’s daughter,” I say. “She was four months younger than me. My best friend. We were almost like sisters.” I squeeze Sadie’s hand tighter. “And Leonora made her sick, deliberately. I’m convinced of it. Not just once. Three times, at least.”

  On the top step, Leonora shakes her head, but her expression is fearful.

  The skinny man pipes up. “Wait. I felt sick this evening. Several of us did, didn’t we?” He calls out to the old man sitting on the steps. “You did too, didn’t you, Dad? And you said you felt really tired, like you’d been drugged or something.”

  Nazleen says, “Yeah, me too. I felt nauseated, and then dizzy, like I couldn’t think straight.”

  At my side, Sadie nods. “Me too. And I don’t think it’s worn off yet. My head still feels hollow. And, Joe, didn’t you say—?”

  Jonas shuffles his feet. “Yeah, I haven’t been feeling that great either.”

  As we lift our gazes back to Leonora, she lurches toward the open door.

  “Stop her!” I shout.

  The skinny man throws himself in front of her, blocking her retreat into the house.

  “Well done, Zach,” Nazleen says.

  Leonora pokes the man called Zach in the chest. “Let me pass.” Her voice trembles. “This is my house . . .”

  I move up the steps behind her. “You say that, Leonora, but it’s not true, is it? This was never really your house.”

  She turns to glare at me. “How dare you! I took you in, when you had nobody. I was only ever kind to you . . .”

  “You made me lie,” I say. “You made me pretend to be Nina. You poisoned your own daughter. You started that fire in my bedroom . . . Why? It was all to do with the house, I know, but why . . . ?”

  Leonora presses her lips together and shakes her head.