The Tormented

by Sarah Sheridan

  Neil wore the same expression of resigned defeat Sister Veronica feared had been on her own face during dinner, as he chatted to his wife by the grand piano. It was a look that said, ‘I’m here and I’m going to put up with your insane relatives for as long as I can, Lucie, because I love you, but I’d rather be at work, or watching paint dry, or on the moon, or literally anywhere else away from your family.’ Every now and again his eyes flicked over to the loudly braying Araminta who was sitting on a pouf by her husband, at which point he ran a hand through his short black hair, a gesture of frustration, if Sister Veronica was correct.

  Rufus was now the picture of drunken bonhomie, the top buttons of his expensive paisley shirt now undone. He was in the middle of telling a story about a friend of his who’d gone clubbing with his son and had got so drunk he’d ended up dancing on a podium in a nightclub, and Sister Veronica reflected that no one on earth would guess that he’d had such serious angry words with Giles just an hour before. Maud and Digby, sitting on a sofa nearby, were smiling politely at Rufus’ monologue. Maud had her usual knitting in her hands, she’d already explained to Sister Veronica that she liked to knit babies’ booties and jackets and donate them to her local charity shop. A worthy cause. Hopefully all the babies in need of footwear were female as blue wool didn’t appear to be part of Maud’s repertoire, Sister Veronica mused. Cecily, near to them, was looking less amused at Rufus’ tale and Barnaby had nodded off in an armchair, his mouth now sagging open.

  Another large Christmas tree stood by the window, its golden lights sparkling across the tastefully arranged decorations. For a moment, Sister Veronica felt a surge of contentment. Perhaps the festive season would be enjoyable after all, she thought. Seeing her family together like this near the tree, laughing and sipping drinks, had sparked a little warm feeling in her insides. Yes, they all had their peculiarities, but didn’t everyone, when it came down to it? Perhaps they’d got all their arguing out of the way over dinner, and were now settling down to some quality family time. Maybe she’d judged many of them too harshly. After all, everyone had light and dark in them and now she was seeing more of the light and love coming out. Big personalities? Certainly. But people with good in them too. She couldn’t hear what Coco was saying to Magnus on the opposite side of the room, which was a blessing, as the girl’s voice was so gratingly relentless. Perhaps she’d calmed down now and wasn’t demanding something for once. For the first time in days, the feeling of impending doom inside of her ebbed slightly.

  Florence came bustling into the room holding a tray of glasses containing a pale-yellow liquid. She looked a bit brighter than at dinner, Sister Veronica thought. Perhaps the very fact she’d begun to share her troubles had lifted a small weight from her mind.

  ‘Who’s for vermouth?’ Florence said as she proffered the drinks forward. Several glasses immediately found themselves in the hands of assorted guests. Even Wilfred took one, to no objection from his father. ‘Has anyone seen Giles?’ Florence continued, looking around. ‘I need him to help me fix the lock on the back door. It keeps sticking and he’s usually the only one who can get the key to turn.’

  Met with no new information on her husband’s whereabouts, Florence turned and left the room, the now empty tray tucked under her arm. Sister Veronica hugged her apple juice to her chest, having been the only person not to have taken a glass. Memories of her time in Somerset – when the baby in her charge had been abducted as she sipped elderflower champagne – still kept her awake some nights, and she’d vowed not to touch a drop of alcohol since. With Wilfred now concentrating on his beverage, the dinosaur tutorial apparently over, she took the opportunity of heaving herself up and padding out of the room after her cousin.

  ‘Flo,’ she called down the corridor to the kitchen. ‘Do you have a minute? Perhaps we could have that chat now?’

  Florence’s scream, she later reflected, was a sound she’d never be able to erase from her memory. It was high-pitched and animalistic, a noise filled with terror and pain. Bombing into the kitchen as fast as she could, she took in the scene within seconds.

  Giles, his eyes rolling back in his head, was staggering around the room, his movements jerky and uncontrolled. Suddenly, a huge stream of vomit exited his mouth and he spun round on a downwards vortex, crashing heavily on to the floor. By the time she’d reached him he was prostrate on the kitchen tiles, his face turned to the side. His mouth was open and only the whites of his eyes were showing. The twitching died away and in seconds he was lying very still. Florence, her hands to her mouth, was completely frozen a few feet away from him. Sister Veronica bent down, grabbing Giles’ wrist.

  ‘I can’t feel a pulse, Flo,’ she muttered, pressing hard between the bone and the tendon. Multiple footsteps came pounding along the corridor and soon Lucie and Neil’s shocked faces were at the door, with Cecily’s soon joining them.

  ‘I’ll call an ambulance,’ Lucie said quickly, reaching for her phone, retrieving it with dexterity from her pocket and punching in the nines.

  Ten minutes later Giles and Florence had been whisked away by paramedics to Northampton Hospital. The remaining party sat silently in the living room, or stood quietly in the kitchen, waiting for news.

  ‘Could be a heart attack,’ Rufus said gruffly as he leaned over to switch the kettle on. Sister Veronica eyed him, saying nothing. ‘Old boy eats far too much fatty food, always has done. Aunt Florrie said his blood pressure went through the roof last year.’

  Yes, but you would say that wouldn’t you, she thought, watching his face. When only a little while ago I heard you threatening the man. But you were in the living room when Giles was found in the kitchen. And so were Cecily and Barnaby, who very much want Giles out of here. I felt in my old bones that something was very wrong in this house the moment I arrived, and now this has happened. Dash, why did that feeling have to be right? And why has it not gone now, in fact, it seems to have become stronger? I’ll be keeping an eye on all of you from now on. Surely nothing else can happen. Poor Florence, this is quite enough awfulness for one Christmas.

  She turned away from him, busying herself by collecting mugs together, hoping she was wrong to have suspicions about the family members and that Florence would call soon with good news.

  5

  ‘I’m bored,’ Coco said, her voice gratingly whiny. She kicked the leg of the piano stool underneath her, then carelessly bashed out a few notes. Sister Veronica winced. ‘Daddy, listen to me. I’m really bored. Can you give me your credit card so I can do some online shopping? Daddy! Can you even hear what I’m saying?’ Her hair, drawn up today in an elaborate design on top of her head, fell down in ringlets around her kohl-blackened eyes.

  Sister Veronica stared at the girl, wondering if she would successfully keep her disbelief from showing. It was the day after Giles’ collapse, and a group of them sat in the living room, trying to absorb the terrible news that despite the paramedics’ and doctors’ best efforts, Giles had been pronounced dead shortly after his arrival at hospital. Coco had showed no signs of sadness at the departure of her grandfather other than a shrug and a comment about what a pity it was, and was managing to still be entirely self-absorbed. It was almost fascinating, the fact that she tried to make every situation about herself and seemingly had no care for anyone else. Sister Veronica thought it might be best if she sat on her hands in case she tried to strangle the girl.

  Florence had rung the house to impart the news of her husband’s death the previous evening, hardly able to speak, her words constricted as though it hurt to utter them. Neil had gone straight to the hospital to collect her, being the only person with a car who was not immensely drunk, and Sister Veronica had gone, too, desperately wanting to comfort her cousin. Florence had stared into space during the journey back to Chalfield Hall, and the tears had come the minute the front door was closed behind her. Sister Veronica had stayed up until the early hours of the morning, her arms round her cousin, saying anything she could think of th
at might soothe the shock and pain. At some point they’d both fallen asleep on the sofa, and when she’d opened her eyes shortly after half past seven, Florence was no longer there.

  Now, Sister Veronica blinked, her eyes stinging with tiredness. Through the window she could see Neil and his boys practising rugby throws on the front lawn, yelling to each other and laughing when one dropped the ball, never seeming to run out of energy, apparently unable to feel the freezing air. Ryan and Nathan were nice boys, shy in front of adults, but with good hearts and very healthy, she thought, what with their near continuous exercise. Even if they were a bit mollycoddled by their parents, who were always running around making sure they had enough to eat and drink. So normal life carries on amidst a crisis, yet again. And a good thing too. It’s the day before Christmas Eve today. The children should all be excited, not that there’s much chance of that with this motley crew. I wonder if any of us have enough energy to give them some sort of Christmas now? We’ll have to, I suppose, one way or another.

  Watching the boys’ activity made her think of the still-sleeping Maud. When on earth is that woman going to get up? she wondered. Lucie had told her that Maud loved lie-ins and rarely rose before midday. Mrs Hardman was due to arrive any minute to start the lunch, and she would want to know how many she was cooking for. Giles’ cousin’s slovenly habit irritated her; goodness gracious, at the convent one only stayed in bed all day if one was suffering from the direst of illnesses. Failing one of them you went to morning chapel every day or faced Mother Superior’s wrath.

  Turning back to the room, she watched as Coco, having received no response from her father – who was in an inert heap on the sofa, his glazed eyes staring into the middle distance – stood up from her perch on the piano stool and walked towards him, her eyebrows raised and her eyes bulging.

  ‘Hello?’ she said, her voice getting louder. ‘Is anyone at home? Earth to Daddy?’ In one swift movement she hit his head with the palm of her hand, the force being sufficient enough to push his head right back against his neck.

  ‘What?’ Magnus murmured, looking up at her, his hand immediately going to his throat.

  ‘I said, give me your credit card,’ Coco’s words were loud, harsh.

  ‘You silly little spoilt brat.’ Lucie leaned forwards from her place on the sofa, a tray of steaming mugs on the coffee table in front of her. ‘Is it possible for you to think about anyone else other than yourself for just one minute? Do you have any idea that your father’s dad has just died? Imagine how he must be feeling. And we have no idea what caused it yet, one minute Giles was fine and the next he was lying on the kitchen floor. Do you think that perhaps, just for one day, you could leave your father alone and go and do something by yourself instead?’ Lucie’s eyes were gleaming as she leaned back. ‘And I never want to see you hit anyone like that again.’

  ‘But he’s ignoring me.’ Coco’s voice became a shrill wail. ‘I was just trying to get his attention. No one ever listens to me in this house. I hate you all, I wish I lived somewhere else.’ With that, she turned and left the room, the habitual slam of the door marking her exit.

  ‘The feeling’s mutual,’ Cecily muttered. She and Barnaby were sitting on another sofa, willingly drinking all the tea and coffee Sister Veronica and Lucie were making in tag-team style, without offering to make a round themselves. Sister Veronica glanced at her. The terrible thing, she thought as she heaved herself up, is that if we hear news that Giles’ death was not due to natural causes or accidental, then we all have to face the fact that one person among us is a murderer. And that is not a thought I relish at all. But let’s cross that bridge if we come to it. As Rufus said, Giles did not lead the healthiest of lifestyles, and a heart attack may well have got him last night. I’m sure we’ll find out soon.

  Making her way to the kitchen in the hope of finding Florence, she passed Rufus and Araminta in the hallway. They were standing very close together, talking quietly. Araminta was wearing sunglasses, despite the dull December day. Probably hungover, Sister Veronica concluded. Rufus took his wife’s hand and led her up the spiral staircase. Perhaps they’re going to sleep off the after-effects, she thought. I’d be in a hospital bed if I ever drunk as much as they did last night. They must have built up a high tolerance to it.

  The only person in the kitchen turned out to be Wilfred. She glanced at the clock; it was nearly midday.

  ‘Are you making something?’ Sister Veronica approached the counter, now strewn with piles of paper, cardboard, glue, paint and an overflowing box of material scraps.

  ‘Yes, I’m making dinosaur Christmas tree decorations.’ Wilfred turned, pushing his glasses further up his nose. ‘Everyone’s so depressed today, I thought it might cheer them up.’

  ‘What a lovely idea.’ Sister Veronica eyed the very detailed and savage-looking Tyrannosaurus Rex depiction that Wilfred was gluing to red cardboard. ‘You’ve certainly done the teeth well. Did they really have so much slobber coming out of their mouths?’

  ‘It’s quite possible,’ Wilfred said. ‘T-rexes were carnivores, and I’m a realist. I want to show them looking as natural as possible.’

  ‘Well, I can see you’re very busy, I’ll let you get on.’ Sister Veronica turned towards the door. ‘Actually, I’m looking for your granny, have you seen her anywhere?’

  ‘She’s in the garden, crying.’ Wilfred picked up a piece of tinsel. ‘The phone rang and she answered it, and whatever the person said made Granny start doing loud snotty sobs.’

  ‘Right.’ Sister Veronica changed course and headed for the back door, marvelling at the boy’s apparent dissociation from the current crisis and his grandmother’s feelings. Oh well, at least he was trying to make people happy with his ferocious drawings.

  She found Florence in the herb garden, surrounded by pots of sweet-smelling rosemary. She looked up as Sister Veronica approached, her face tear-stained and blotchy.

  ‘There you are.’ Sister Veronica sat down beside her on the small stone bench. ‘You poor thing, Flo, it’s all so much to take in. What a shock.’

  ‘But that’s not the worst of it.’ Fresh tears sprang to Florence’s eyes and her face crumpled. ‘The coroner just phoned, V. Oh, this is so awful, I can hardly believe I’m going to say it. The autopsy was done early this morning and they found that the manner of death was poisoning. High levels of abrin were found in Giles. I’m not sure what that is but apparently it’s deadly, very toxic. It seems that my husband was murdered, V. And it must have been by someone in the family, as we were the only ones here last night. The police will be arriving soon to investigate.’

  Sister Veronica stared at her cousin, her mouth open, her worst fears confirmed. Skin-crawling chills crept along the inside of her brain and she felt her heart begin to pound. So there was evil in the house. She’d suspected as much, felt some strange and worrying tensions as soon as she’d arrived, but had been hoping for the best, wanting her instincts to be wrong. She’d tried to ignore the awful feeling of impending badness, but now that this had happened she felt shaken to the core. Giles had been murdered and it justified her instincts. No, she did not like this one little bit, and the enormity of the danger they were all in with a killer in their midst hit her. She shook her head and reached out to hold her cousin’s hand. She mustn’t let on to Flo how terrified she felt, her cousin was already dealing with enough. The grief about her husband’s demise seemed to have cushioned Florence’s perception of the fact that one of the family was most likely a murderer. But why? Why would anyone go to such extreme lengths? It was important that she – Sister Veronica – outwardly displayed a sense of calm and clear-headedness, while inside she worked out the best way forward.

  A rustle in some bushes near the house caught her attention. Footsteps ran up the path and the back door slammed. Sister Veronica’s heart leapt so hard it hurt.

  ‘Flo,’ she said. ‘I think someone was just listening to us. Now, if they heard what you just said this could be very s
erious. We may be in danger. You need to tell me everything you know about anyone who had a reason to harm Giles immediately. Don’t leave anything out.’

  6

  Ophelia took the cup of tea Lucie was offering her and sat down. It was strange, she thought, settling back into the armchair and staring out of the window at the long drive, that Digby was spending so much more time with Sam nowadays. The two of them had left the house an hour earlier, with Digby saying the boy needed more fresh air and that Ophelia was stifling him with her overprotective motherly ways, not allowing him to romp about in the mud enough. Ophelia had thought it an unfair comment, particularly as she and Sam went for daily walks when Digby was at work, and spent a lot of time playing in the garden. She took the little boy to the Mini Shooter football club on Saturday mornings in term time, and in January he was due to start at a forest school where the children were encouraged to be outside as much as possible. But, as with most of Digby’s taunts, she realised that replying and defending herself was futile. Because he wasn’t interested in fact, he probably didn’t actually care how much fresh air Sam got. His main aim was to belittle her in every way possible. And because of the bind Digby had her in, she had to find ways to bear this as well as she could.

  ‘Isn’t this all awful?’ Lucie said, leaning forward. ‘Giles could be a brute sometimes, but no one deserves to die just before Christmas. It’s just too sad.’

  ‘I know, I couldn’t believe it when I woke up and Digby told me.’ Ophelia was glad of the distraction. Too much of her time was spent trying to work out how to keep things calm for Sam and she often suffered from stress headaches. She turned and placed her cup down on the side table. It was nice being with other people for a change, even if it was under these awful circumstances. She felt safer, as though her relatives’ presence diluted the atmosphere between Digby and her. It was why she’d wanted to come to Chalfield Hall so badly, just to be in a different place, with other people who wouldn’t treat her the way her husband did. ‘I must have fallen asleep with Sam, I’m always doing that. I missed everything that went on last night. Poor Giles.’