The Tormented

by Sarah Sheridan

  ‘I wish I hadn’t invited everyone here,’ Florence said, her face full of agony. ‘If I hadn’t, Giles might well still be alive. He and I could be enjoying Christmas like we usually do, instead of having this bloody nightmare to deal with. This is all my fault.’

  ‘No, Flo, of course it’s not your fault.’ Sister Veronica stood up and went to embrace her cousin in a tight hug. ‘All right, so if someone secretly wanted to commit a murder, then a closed family gathering provides the perfect place. But how on earth were you meant to know that someone was heinous enough to be planning such a thing? It’s not your fault at all, and you mustn’t start blaming yourself.’

  A floorboard creaked outside Florence’s bedroom door. Their heads snapped round at the same time. Soft footsteps padded away and a door closed quietly further down the passage.

  Sister Veronica strode over and flung the door open at once. She peered up and down the dark corridor. Had someone been listening to their conversation? The murderer? Now whoever it was would know everything they’d been discussing. The dashed feeling of foreboding in her reached new critical levels and a cold sweat broke out across her forehead.

  ‘You go downstairs, Flo, to see who’s there,’ she said, thinking fast. ‘I’ll go and look in each bedroom to see who’s up here. But be careful. Call out if anything happens.’

  With a pounding heart she stepped out onto the landing, watching her cousin make her way down the sweeping staircase, knowing that within minutes she may discover the identity of Giles’ killer, who was possibly the sender of the poisonous letters too.

  23

  It was a very long corridor, that travelled the entire width of the large house, with most of the bedrooms spanning off it on either side. Underneath, spreading out along the ground floor, was the large semicircular hall, the front living room, the generous kitchen, the dining room, the old creepy back living room that mad old Henrietta used to hold court in – unused by anyone nowadays – the study, pantry and various store rooms and cupboards. The lights were brighter downstairs, on the whole. But up in the corridor, the lights on the walls provided only a dim sepulchral glow.

  Sister Veronica, her heart beating fast, stopped at the first door and listened. Loud, thumping music was coming from within. She looked down and saw that there was a sign sporting the words ‘Private: Do Not Enter’ hanging from the door handle. She knocked, nevertheless, and went in. Coco was lying on her bed, staring at a sheet of paper in front of her, a pencil in her hand. Beautifully intricate drawings covered her wall, depicting magical forests, landscapes and different types of animals. They were stunning compositions showing real talent. The girl looked up.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Coco said loudly, her voice back to its petulant whine. ‘Can’t you read? It says do not enter on my door. Are you blind or something? I’ve just come up here to be by myself and get away from you losers. Go away.’ She turned her head back to her paper again, and Sister Veronica gladly shut the door.

  She approached the next room, this time on the other side of the corridor, and listened. Someone was moving around inside. She knocked, and opened the door.

  ‘Oh hello, Sister,’ Neil said. He looked flustered. A rucksack was on the bed and a messy pile of clothes lay next to it. ‘I’m going to take Ryan and Nathan home now, back to Milton Keynes. Luce and I thought it best, what with everything that’s going on here. They’re not having fun, and it doesn’t make any sense to ruin their Christmas any more than need be.’

  ‘I quite understand,’ Sister Veronica said, shooting him a quick smile. ‘Sorry for the intrusion, I’m just looking for Florence.’

  ‘I saw her downstairs a while ago,’ Neil called, as she closed the door.

  She knew who the next room belonged to even before she opened the door. The potent herby smell became even stronger after she knocked and went in.

  ‘Sorry, Magnus,’ she said to the prone figure on the bed. ‘I’m looking for your mother.’ He didn’t reply, just lay very still staring at the window. He wasn’t smoking anything, Sister Veronica saw, which was a relief. Poor Florence, the things her cousin has to put up with. The smell must be a residual one from his clothes. She closed the door and walked on.

  A huge waft of lily-of-the-valley perfume assaulted her nose as she reached the next door. It was a very welcome antidote to Magnus’ lingering cannabis stench. She knocked, and entered.

  ‘Ah, hello, Maud,’ Sister Veronica said, looking at the rosy-cheeked lady sitting in a chair by the window, a pile of pink knitting on her knee. ‘Sorry to disturb you, I’m looking for Florence. Have you seen her?’

  ‘No, dear,’ Maud said, looking up. ‘Not since that fuss downstairs with Digby. What a carry on that was.’

  Sister Veronica closed the door and walked on. Everyone was up here, it seemed, which didn’t really help narrow down who’d been listening at Florence’s door.

  The next door was open. The room inside was empty and chaotic. The bedsheets were pulled halfway off the bed, clothes were scattered all over the floor, and empty glasses and wine bottles littered all available surfaces. Ah, she thought. Looks like Rufus and Araminta’s room. They should be back from the hospital any minute now.

  She walked on, and knocked at the next door, then turned the handle. She saw Sam first, sitting on the edge of his small camp bed, his face white and serious. He looked at her. Digby was packing symmetrically folded clothes into an open suitcase laid out on the double bed.

  ‘Can I help you?’ He turned towards her, his tone cold and unfriendly.

  ‘Er, no, sorry, just looking for Florence.’ Sister Veronica backed away, closing the door. Aha, so the man is planning to make an escape with Sam. She’d have to flag that up with Florence and Ophelia in just a second, after she’d checked the last three rooms. It wouldn’t take her long to do. Walking past her own bedroom, she stopped and knocked at the next door, before opening it.

  ‘Do you mind?’ Cecily looked up. She was sitting on one of the two twin beds inside, a glass of something red in her hand. ‘It’s rude to barge into other people’s rooms, you know, Sister.’

  ‘Terribly sorry, Cecily,’ Sister Veronica said, backing out. ‘Just looking for Florence.’

  ‘Well she’s hardly going to be in my bedroom is she?’ she heard Cecily call, a sneering quality in her voice.

  A sound behind her made her turn. Ophelia had just arrived at the top of the stairs, and was making for her room. She looked like a ghost, pale and ethereal.

  ‘Are you sure you want to go in there, my dear?’ Sister Veronica called in a low voice. ‘After everything that just happened?’

  ‘I need to make sure Sam’s okay,’ Ophelia said, turning the handle to her room. She went in, closing the door quietly behind her. Sister Veronica sent out a quick prayer for Ophelia’s safety to the universe, before turning back to the last two doors. She knocked on one and opened it. There was no one there. Muddy clothes covered the twin beds in front of her and a rugby ball was balanced on the dresser. Ah, she thought, closing the door again. Ryan and Nathan’s room. They must be downstairs, or out in the garden.

  Just the last door to go. She knocked and opened it.

  ‘Hello,’ Wilfred said, sounding cheery. He was sitting at his desk, a large computer screen in front of him. ‘I’m just playing digital solitaire. Is dinner ready yet?’

  ‘Er, no, I think it’s still a bit too early for that.’ Sister Veronica smiled in spite of her fear. ‘Sorry to bother you, Wilfred, I’m just looking for your aunt, Florence.’

  ‘No idea where she is, sorry.’ Wilfred turned back to his screen as she shut the door tightly.

  Well, that’s no help, Sister Veronica thought, trundling back down the corridor towards the staircase. Nearly everyone’s in their rooms.

  Minutes later, she walked into the kitchen.

  ‘V, did you find anything?’ Florence said, turning round. Behind her was a large window, and through it lay the darkening garden. ‘I didn’t find many people
down here, just Lucie, Ryan and Nathan. Oh yes, and Barnaby, who’s asleep in the living room as usual. Mrs Hardman has just gone to the outhouse to get something. Ophelia was here, but I think she went upstairs.’

  ‘Yes, I saw her going into her room.’ Sister Veronica frowned. ‘Digby and Sam are in there. I hope she’s going to be all right. That man really is a disgusting excuse for a human being. The sooner we get him out of the house, the better. He’s packing his suitcase, Flo. I saw a teddy bear in there so it looks like he’s intending to take Sam away after all. I didn’t say anything at the time in case it made him angry again. Ophelia was right. We need to do something, we can’t let him take the boy away, he’s not fit to look after any child.’

  Sister Veronica would never forget the horror of what happened next. The yell, the sickening thump that sounded like it came from the entrance hall. Then a second crash. The sight of Digby that she and Florence encountered, after they’d hurried towards the noise, splatted like an insect on the hall carpet. He was lying on his back, Sister Veronica saw, as she walked towards him, his eyes open but very still, blood oozing from them, as well as from his nose, mouth and ears. His neck was twisted sideways. There was a look of shock on his face. One of his legs was bent backwards at an unnatural angle. Sister Veronica looked up quickly. Right above him, at the top of the sweeping staircase, was the exposed part of the landing that led to the corridor with all the bedrooms. A low rail was the only safety device along it, a cursory effort to stop people from falling. If she had to guess, it looked like Digby had fallen – or been pushed – over the rail. The suitcase he’d been packing lay wide open near his feet, its contents splayed out messily over the hall floor. That had caused the second crash, she reckoned. Someone throwing that over after him. She recognised the teddy bear she’d seen inside it, now lying next to the Christmas tree. She knelt down and tried to feel for a pulse in his wrist, then his neck.

  ‘Flo,’ she said, looking up at her cousin. ‘I think Digby’s dead.’

  24

  ‘I’m phoning for an ambulance.’ Florence’s hand shook as she retrieved her mobile phone from her pocket. ‘And I’m going to ask the police to come too.’

  She dialled three nines and turned away to speak as the call handler answered. Most of the family were emerging after hearing the noise, Sister Veronica noticed as she looked around, with Wilfred, Neil, Maud, and Cecily – still holding her wine glass – taking up shocked stances on the stairs. Ophelia had appeared at the top by the very rail her husband had just tumbled over to his death. Her face was still, unreadable, her eyes trained downwards on the body that used to belong to Digby. Her arm was stretched out, as though preventing someone from coming further along the corridor. Sam, Sister Veronica thought. Yes, don’t let the poor boy see his father like this.

  Ryan and Nathan emerged from the living room, phones in their hands. They stopped when they saw what was going on, shock freezing their expressions.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Ryan mumbled.

  ‘Right, boys, let’s go outside.’ Neil pushed past Cecily, Maud and Wilfred and jogged down the stairs. ‘It’s time we got in the car and made our way home. I don’t want you spending any more time in this house of horrors. Mum can bring the rest of your stuff with her when she comes back. You’ve got your phones, I see, that’s all you need to bring really, isn’t it? Come on, let’s go.’

  He paused next to Lucie, who had walked up the corridor from the dining room, giving her a brief kiss on the lips. For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes.

  ‘Come home soon, Luce,’ he said. ‘We need you there. But the boys have seen enough now. We’re going.’ Lucie and Neil are much more protective of their boys than anyone is over Wilfred and Coco, Sister Veronica mused. Wilfred gets to see everything that goes on in this house, totally uncensored. No wonder he’s so dissociated from his emotions, I think I would be if I lived here full time. It’s a survival strategy – holding everything at arm’s length so it doesn’t touch or hurt you.

  Lucie nodded, unable to talk, walking over to squeeze her sons goodbye. Florence retrieved the key from her pocket and threw it to Neil, who opened the front door. Rufus and Araminta were standing on the doorstep.

  ‘Hello, old chap,’ Rufus said, giving Neil a broad grin. ‘The prodigal drinker returns.’ He jabbed his thumb towards his wife. ‘Right, let’s get the mince pies out and have a sherry, shall we?’ He paused, looking around. ‘What’s everyone looking so miserable about?’ His eyes took in the scene behind Neil. His mouth opened slightly. ‘What the bloody hell’s been going on here?’

  ‘Goodbye, Rufus.’ Neil walked smartly past him. ‘Come on, lads, let’s get going.’ Muttering muted goodbyes, Ryan and Nathan followed their father out. In seconds, they’d disappeared round the side of the house, heading for the large gravelled area where all the cars were parked.

  ‘Christ.’ Araminta went a shade of yellow as she peered through the front door. She made a heaving motion as though she was about to vomit. ‘What happened to Digby? I don’t think I can handle this. I’ve been throwing up all day as it is.’

  ‘It looks like he fell over the upstairs railings,’ Sister Veronica said, standing up from her kneeling position and turning towards her. ‘Either he jumped, which in my opinion is very unlikely given that he’d just packed his suitcase and was planning to take Sam back home, or he was pushed. He’s dead. Your aunt has just phoned the emergency services. No one must touch his body, or move anything. This is a crime scene now.’ And the only person with a strong motive is Ophelia, she thought. The girl just walked into her bedroom to find her abusive husband about to take her son away from her, and minutes later the man is found dead? Seems like too much of a coincidence to me. Although Ophelia is such a slight little thing. Would she have the strength to heave him over the railings? Well, people can find resources in them they never knew they had when they’re feeling passionate enough about something. She tried not to look up at Ophelia, she didn’t want to draw any attention to the girl. Florence, having now finished on the phone, seemed to be also trying not to look up at her niece, but her head kept twitching upwards. Even if she did do it, Sister Veronica reflected, surely it would be classed as self-defence or manslaughter and she wouldn’t get in too much trouble? I mean, there are enough of us who witnessed the man’s abuse towards her.

  ‘Doesn’t look like there are many of us left now,’ Rufus said, his face now grave, as he ushered his wife in and closed the front door. ‘We started out as a party of eighteen, if my calculations are correct. Twenty if you include Mrs Hardman and sad old Romilly. What with poor Giles and Digby, and Neil and the boys leaving, we’re down to fifteen. Thirteen really, as on reflection Romilly doesn’t count, she doesn’t live here, thank God, and I can’t responsibly include Mrs Hardman in the headcount even if she is a fantastic cook.’

  Magnus appeared at the top of the stairs, his hair a mess, his paunch sticking out from under his T-shirt.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he said, rubbing his eyes.

  ‘Digby’s dead,’ Florence said. ‘Go and have a coffee, and for God’s sake, Magnus, don’t smoke any more of those disgusting drugs. The police will be here soon and we’ll need everyone as compos mentis as possible. They’ll want to interview all of us, I think. Where’s Coco by the way? I haven’t seen her for a while.’

  ‘She’s in her room listening to music,’ Sister Veronica said. ‘At least she was just before I came down to the kitchen. Maybe it’s so loud she didn’t hear the commotion.’

  ‘Let’s leave her up there for as long as possible,’ Florence said, turning. ‘The last thing we need is Coco becoming histrionic and making this already horrific situation even worse.’

  Sister Veronica nodded. She looked around.

  ‘This really is a tragic state of affairs,’ she said. ‘If he intended to commit suicide, why would he also throw his suitcase down? That just doesn’t make sense.’ She allowed her eyes to flash up to Ophelia’s
. The girl was still frozen, staring down at her husband’s body, as though in a trance. She wasn’t showing any perceptible reaction to Sister Veronica’s words. What if it hadn’t been her who’d pushed the man? What if it had been someone else? But that didn’t add up, Ophelia was the only one who would benefit from Digby being out of the way.

  ‘Who would have done it?’ Araminta said, holding her stomach. She and her husband hadn’t been there during Lucie and Digby’s spat, Sister Veronica remembered. ‘Rufie and I have only just arrived back. We weren’t here when Digby fell, so that counts us out.’

  ‘And I think we can safely say Sam is discounted,’ Lucie said, folding her arms. ‘Auntie Florence and Sister Veronica were in the kitchen talking when it happened, I heard their voices as I was downstairs, too, so were Ryan and Nathan. I’m pretty sure Barnaby is still asleep in the living room. Mrs Hardman was going to the outhouse, I saw her walk past the window, so that just leaves the people who were upstairs. Neil, Maud, Coco, Ophelia, Cecily, Magnus and Wilfred.’