The Au Pair

by Emma Rous

  “Laura.” He kissed me on each cheek. His skin smelled of soap and limes; his hair was shorter.

  “Laura said something special was going to happen today,” Edwin said. “She knew.”

  “Oh, really?” Alex smiled at me, and I pulled a face as if to say, Yes, maybe I did know.

  Edwin bounced around him. “Laura only lets me get two things, Uncle Alex, but I really, really want a chocolate egg as well.”

  Alex assumed a sympathetic expression, but said to Edwin, “I think Laura knows what she’s talking about. Come on, choose your two things, and we can go and sit in the sunshine, and you can tell me everything you’ve been up to since I last saw you.”

  He held my elbow lightly as we crossed the street outside the shop, Edwin holding my hand on the other side.

  “So how’re you doing?” he asked, slowing down by the bench and frowning at me slightly.

  “I’m fine. Great,” I said.

  “Hm. They looking after you properly up there?”

  I checked his expression but found no trace of humor. “I’m the one looking after Edwin, remember?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I know. So, how’s Ruth?”

  My clockwork jumped to a halt. How could I have forgotten about Ruth and the baby? Or more precisely, his connection to Ruth and the baby. I bit the inside of my lip. Of course he didn’t miss me. I was pathetic. Edwin ran off to play, and I sank onto the bench, and after a moment Alex perched next to me, watching me.

  “She’s all right,” I said. I glanced at him. Did he know?

  “Good,” he said, nodding with raised eyebrows as if waiting for more, but I leaned back and focused my attention on Edwin, who was climbing the steps of the slide.

  “And Dominic?” he asked.

  “Yep, he’s fine.” I waited four or five seconds. “They’re excited about the baby, of course.”

  “Baby?” Alex swiveled round, his knee bumping mine. “She’s pregnant?”

  I nodded.

  “Bloody hell.” He leaned back and ran a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he added. “I mean, that’s great. One baby or . . . ?”

  “Yes, just one.”

  “Good. Okay.” He sat back again. “How far along is she?”

  “Quite far,” I said. I waved to Edwin at the top of the slide. “She’s due in August. End of August.”

  He kept his gaze on the houses at the far side of the green. An elderly man walked past us, a small terrier dragging behind on its lead. A cold sensation was spreading through my chest, and suddenly, I couldn’t bear to sit there any longer.

  “We should be getting back.” I stood and beckoned to Edwin.

  Alex rose too. “Do you think—?” he said.

  I waited.

  “Do you think Ruth would mind if I walked back with you?”

  I glanced at Edwin. “I think you probably should ring her first,” I said.

  He nodded, rapidly. “Yeah, okay, good idea. I’ll do that.”

  “Bye, Uncle Alex,” Edwin said, squinting up at him.

  Alex ruffled his hair. “Bye, Edwin. Say hi to your mama for me.” As we walked away he added, “Good to see you both.”

  We paused briefly outside the preschool for Edwin to say hello to Joel and Ralph through the fence. They were being called inside for story time. Edwin complained at me all the way home: “You didn’t let me play long enough. You didn’t let me have a chocolate egg. You didn’t let Alex come home with us.” The sun was too hot for my long-sleeved shirt, and my skin itched.

  Any thoughts I might have had about avoiding the subject of Alex when we got back to Summerbourne were instantly quashed by Edwin yelling, “Guess who we saw?” as he leaped onto Ruth’s prone figure on the sofa. She needed a glass of water before she was able to speak properly.

  “How did he look?” she asked me, and then before I could answer, “I don’t want to see him.”

  When the phone rang that evening, I heard her saying, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” in a low voice as I ushered Edwin upstairs. Feeling childish, I crossed my fingers under Edwin’s towel as I watched the water run into his bath. If Alex went back to Leeds for good, it would leave me with one less thing to worry about.

  Alex’s name wasn’t mentioned for the rest of the week, nor over the weekend. Dominic took Ruth and Edwin out for Sunday lunch at the pub in the village, leaving me to enjoy a luxurious nap on the patio.

  On the following Monday afternoon, I was on the phone to Vera when I spotted a figure lurking near the end of the drive in the lane. Vera was reeling off a list of symptoms, wanting me to say whether Ruth was suffering with them or not.

  “She hasn’t mentioned anything like that,” I said. “Hold on please, Vera. I think there’s someone outside.”

  I rested the receiver on the table and went to peer through the window. It was Alex, his hands in his pockets, staring at the house.

  “Vera, sorry. No, no one there. Yes, she’ll probably be up before teatime. I’ll get her to ring you. Bye.”

  When I opened the front door, he shuffled up the gravel, glancing at the other windows, looking like he was trying not to make too much noise.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, frowning at him.

  “I have to talk to you, Laura. Please.” His hair was unkempt, his eyes restless.

  I shook my head. “You can’t come in. And I have Edwin and Joel here. I can’t come out.”

  “Please, just—” He caught hold of my fingers, held on to them, his eyes pleading. “Please tell me, Laura. Is there something I need to know about this pregnancy?”

  I should have snatched my hand away immediately. I should have closed the door on him and walked away.

  “There is, isn’t there?” he asked.

  With me up on the doorstep and him hunched on the gravel, I was slightly taller than him. I pulled my hand free, but I hesitated. Laughter from Edwin and Joel drifted out from the day nursery. I thought about Alex’s unborn child upstairs, biding its time, growing and stretching and waiting to be born.

  “I can’t tell you,” I whispered.

  He stared at me for a long moment. “It’s my baby, isn’t it?” he said.

  I pressed my lips together. I wasn’t sure whether it was him swaying, or me. He leaned closer, his hand once more reaching for mine.

  “Laura. Tell me.”

  I held my breath. His fingers wrapped around mine. I nodded.

  He stumbled backward then, letting go of me. I expected him to show anger, or distress, or some other kind of negative emotion. But elation seemed to rise inside him, and he drew himself up, his chest inflating, his eyes shining.

  I slumped in the doorway. I was no longer taller than him.

  “I need to see her,” he said. “I need to talk to her.”

  “No.” I tried to close the door, but he put one foot up onto the threshold and stopped me.

  “I need to talk to Ruth.” His voice was louder.

  A creak of floorboards above pushed my heart rate higher. Edwin and Joel appeared in the kitchen doorway, and Edwin stepped forward hesitantly when he saw who the visitor was.

  “Uncle Alex? Why are you shouting?”

  Alex’s eyes clouded for a moment, and he stepped back uncertainly.

  I slammed the door and yanked the bolt across the top.

  “Pass me the keys, Edwin,” I said.

  Edwin’s eyes were wide, but he did as I asked.

  A floorboard creaked again, and I heard Ruth’s bedroom door open. The gravel crunched outside, and from the window I watched Alex march away toward the lane, his hands raking through his hair as he went.

  I ushered the boys back into the kitchen as Ruth plodded down the stairs. Her hands supported her bump, and she had a line down one cheek from a crease in her pillow.

&n
bsp; “Who was that?” she asked.

  “Alex.”

  “What did he want?”

  I steeled myself to maintain eye contact. “He wanted to know if—” The boys were chattering quietly in the kitchen, but I was unable to form the words. I looked at her bump.

  She sank down on the steps, her face a ghastly white.

  “What did you say?” she asked.

  I shook my head, my hands making a hopeless gesture.

  “You told him? You told him, didn’t you?”

  I closed my eyes, holding on to the doorframe.

  Ruth wrapped her arms around her abdomen and rocked back and forth.

  “What have you done?” she said.

  “I’m sorry. He asked me outright. I couldn’t lie.”

  Her gaze was unfocused as she rocked, and I’m not sure she even heard me. “What have I done?” she said. “What am I going to do?”

  23

  Seraphine

  THE POLICE ARRIVE while Edwin and Joel are still upstairs. Martin Larch and a younger officer I don’t recognize. Danny introduces Kiara to Martin, and Martin gives her a searching look, and then glances at me.

  “I knew your father, a long time ago,” Martin says to Kiara. “And he knew the lady who has just been assaulted. I’m rather interested to know why you happen to be here today?”

  Kiara is jittery. “I have no idea what’s going on,” she says, and Danny puts a hand on her arm the same way he does to me when I’m upset.

  Edwin and Joel clatter down the stairs.

  “You’re the one who found Ms. Silveira, Dr. Harris?” Martin asks Joel.

  Joel says, “Yes.” He’s had a shower and is wearing some of Edwin’s clothes. I examine him in brief glances, searching for an indication of guilt or innocence, not wanting to meet his eyes.

  “It might have been better if you’d waited before washing,” Martin remarks. “Could you bring your clothes, please?”

  Edwin starts to protest, but Joel waves a hand.

  “It’s fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I’ll go and get them.”

  The young police constable accompanies Joel back upstairs.

  Martin looks at each of us in turn. “Well, this is a bit of a mystery,” he says. “I don’t suppose any of you know what Ms. Silveira was doing here today, or who might have bashed her over the head? Anything you’d like to tell me?”

  I wait for one of the others to say, It’s Seraphine’s fault: someone warned Laura not to talk about Summerbourne, but Seraphine wouldn’t stop asking questions. I can’t tell Martin that Laura had a note from Edwin luring her here, even though I know Laura might be telling that to a police officer at the hospital at this very moment. And I’m afraid that if I tell Martin anything else he will tug on it until he unspools all the events of the past ten days, and then he too will look at Edwin and Joel with suspicion.

  There must be another explanation.

  Martin watches us, and we stand in silence. As the seconds tick by, a conviction grows in me: the signature at the bottom of that note isn’t Edwin’s. Whoever sent it had to have known about Laura’s fondness for Edwin all those years ago and used that to lure her to the isolated cliff top. I roll my shoulders back. We stand in silence. We shake our heads.

  In the end, Martin questions Joel first, and then the rest of us, and as we account for our movements during the day, I have a strong mental image of Martin placidly absorbing each detail into his elephantine memory.

  “How did you meet Miss Kaimal?” Martin asks me. “Why did you invite her here for lunch today?”

  In the air between us hangs the unspoken ending of his sentence: today, of all days?

  “I found out about Alex when I was going through my dad’s things after the funeral,” I tell him. “I met him. I thought it would be nice to spend some time with Kiara.”

  Martin’s expression doesn’t change. He looks at Kiara, then at Danny, then back at me.

  Joel’s story is that he’d gone to the cliffs to look for Michael, who had failed to return from a walk, and he spotted Laura collapsed at the base of the tower. In his medical opinion, he thinks she’d only just been hit. A team of police officers are already out on the cliffs, examining the site of Laura’s attack, and Martin alerts them to Michael’s latest disappearance. Of course, Martin and the Harrises have known each other their whole lives, and I can see the sympathy on Martin’s face as he makes the call. His colleagues on the cliffs report no sign of the old man.

  “I’ll likely need to talk to you all again in the morning,” Martin says before leaving. “Better you stay here, Miss Kaimal, please. Just until we know how Ms. Silveira is doing.”

  Kiara is visibly distressed. “I need to phone Dad,” she says as soon as the police car has gone. Edwin, Danny, and I retreat to the day nursery to give her some privacy to make her call.

  “Shit,” Danny says, throwing himself on one of the sofas. “What the hell was all that about? Why did Laura come here—and why today? What kind of maniac did that to her?”

  I’ve brought my bag through, and I pull Laura’s note out slowly and hand it to Edwin. “Laura dropped this.”

  Edwin opens it, reads it, his mouth falling open.

  “I didn’t write this,” he says, staring at the letter and then at me. “This isn’t from me.” He passes it to Danny, his eyes still on me.

  I step toward him and take both his hands in mine. His feel cold. “I know,” I say. “I believe you. But who did?”

  Edwin shakes his head.

  “Joel?” I whisper.

  “No!” Edwin snatches his hands from mine and strides over to the window, keeping his back to me, his shoulders hunched. The contents of his treasure box are still strewn across the table, and, unable to settle and unwilling to break the silence, I collect them together distractedly and pack them all back inside.

  I join Danny on the sofa then, curling up at the far end, wrapping my arms around my knees. My mind keeps returning to Joel, no matter how hard I try to stop it. Joel, who knew I had been asking questions about the day I was born. Joel, who had access to Michael’s key to Summerbourne. Joel, who knew that Ralph had a propane torch in his van and could have “borrowed” it. Joel, who was free to wander up to the folly in the middle of the day at the exact same time that Laura happened to be there.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m worried I might be sick.

  Edwin’s phone beeps from the kitchen, and he goes through to fetch it. “Joel’s found Michael, back at the cottage,” he says as he walks back in. I don’t open my eyes. Who’s to say Michael wasn’t there all along?

  Kiara appears then, eyeing us as if we’re dangerous strangers, the camaraderie of our lunch together all but forgotten.

  “My dad’s on his way,” she says.

  We acknowledge this with nods, watching her.

  She moves slowly toward the table, where Edwin’s treasure box sits, its lid now closed.

  “I wish I’d never come,” she says quietly.

  “You can stay in the annex,” Edwin says. “With your dad, tonight. I’ll show you.” But when he goes to turn the handle, he finds the door locked.

  “I hid the key,” I say. Yet again, they all look at me wordlessly. I stalk out to retrieve it from the kitchen, and hand it to Edwin without further comment. Back on the sofa, I listen as Edwin opens windows in the annex, making small talk. I can barely hear Kiara’s muted replies. I leap up again.

  “I’ll get fresh bedding,” I tell Danny.

  Later, when we’ve made up the bed and laid sheets and blankets out on the annex sofa, we have cold drinks on the patio, and it surprises me how relieved I am to see that Kiara has regained some composure. Eventually, Edwin heads into the kitchen to set about making an evening meal. I am unsettled, jumpy. I half expect the phone to ring at any moment, announcing that Laur
a has remembered who attacked her. Not Joel. Please, don’t let it be Joel.

  As we finish our supper, a car pulls up on the gravel, and Edwin opens the door to Alex. Kiara throws herself into his arms. He looks older than when I saw him a few days ago—his face taut, his eyes taking in each of us in turn as if we are the enemy.

  “I’m Edwin, sir,” Edwin says to him. “Do you remember me? I believe I used to call you Uncle Alex.”

  Alex’s face crumples slightly, and he holds Kiara at arm’s length to check that she really is all right, and then says to Edwin, “Yes, I remember you very well, Edwin. I was hoping I’d never have to talk to you about what happened back then, but . . .” He sighs. “I do see Kiara’s point, that she has the right to know where she comes from.” He looks at his daughter, and then back to Edwin. “Kiara told me about Dominic—your dad. I’m very sorry. But has Laura really been attacked? What was she doing here? What happened?”

  “We don’t know yet,” I say, watching him, watching the shifting of his facial expressions, searching for any signs of guilt. I am wondering how we can be sure that it wasn’t him up on the cliffs today, lying in wait for Laura. He stares back at me.

  “Who are you again?” he says. “I mean, who are you really?”

  I take a step back, bumping into Danny. This is basically the same question that Michael asked me three days ago—“Where did you really come from, my dear?” In one form or another, it’s the same question people have been asking me my whole life. What is it about me that makes me such a puzzle?

  Edwin clears his throat. “This is Seraphine, my sister,” he tells Alex, “and Danny, my brother. They’re twins.”

  Alex gives a strange bark of a laugh. The three of us stand very still.

  “Whose twins?” he asks eventually.

  “Ruth and Dominic’s,” Edwin says with authority, and then his eyes dart toward us and his brow creases. “Or at least—”

  “What did you mean just now,” Danny says, “that Kiara has the right to know where she comes from?”