Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
I head downstairs and hunt down Jenny. I find her in the laundry, ironing the kids’ school clothes.
I have no idea what duties she performs. It seems she takes the place of a mom.
I’m not sure if I agree with that. As their new mother figure, I should be at least assisting with their homework or reading them bedtime stories—if they still enjoy bedtime stories.
Not having children, I have no idea what kids of their age do but I can learn.
I see a basket of freshly dried clothes and smile at Jenny.
“I’ve been hunting down a room to relocate Laura’s clothes.
This house is bigger than I imagined.” I take out socks and start to match them into pairs and roll them together.
“It’s huge.” Jenny glances up at me and returns to the ironing. “I’ve only gone to the second floor once. Ava decided to run away and made it up there. She was convinced she’d seen a ghost and had nightmares for weeks.”
I pile up the socks and nod. “I’m not surprised. It’s creepy up there. I gather it’s cleaned? Most of the rooms look spotless.”
“Once a week, I believe.” Jenny smiles at me. “How are you settling in?”
I make piles of underwear on the table and shrug. “I’m fine. I’d like to be more hands on with the children but I don’t want to step on your toes. Is there anything you’d suggest?”
“Maybe start with helping them to get ready for school?” She glances up at me. “Start slow and see how you go.” She sighs. “You know, kids go along at their own rate. I’m surprised they wanted to call you ‘mom’ so soon.”
I pull out shirts and dresses and fold them. “I’m very surprised. It’s nice though. What do you remember about Laura? Have you kept her alive for them?”
“The truth? Laura was a complicated person and only liked them fresh and clean.” Jenny stops ironing and places the garment on a hanger. She glances at her watch. “Time for my break. Would you mind discussing her over a cup of coffee?”
I smile at her. “Sure. I’m famished.”
The smell of baking and coffee greets us as I follow her into the kitchen.
We collect mugs of coffee and fill our plates with food the chef has already prepared and left in the refrigerator and then head outside to a garden table and chairs.
The fragrant garden beds surround the small picnic table and closer to the back door is a large kitchen garden overflowing with fresh vegetables and herbs.
The house looms up behind us. It’s not pretty this side and resembles a prison.
The bricks have many years of moss growing all over and vines climb up the walls and surround the windows.
I lean back in my chair to look up and see the many windows, like the eyes on a fly, dark and reflecting.
I dig into a slice of cherry pie and look at Jenny. “So, was Laura always like this or did something happen around the time she died? Please don’t hold back. This is between you and me. I just want to know more about her and how she died, mainly to support Jack.”
“I arrived here when she was seven months pregnant with Ava.” Jenny peers at me over the rim of her mug.
“She was difficult to work with and hated being pregnant. When Ava arrived, she doted on her in public and in front of Mr. Hunter but she never changed a diaper and had a strict rule that both children remained in the nursery.” She leans back, regarding me as if gauging my reaction.
“I remember the fight they had when she discovered she was carrying Noah. It was around the time she’d sat for the portrait.
She had her figure back and they were out dancing the night away all the time.
Things changed after she had Noah. She became forgetful and spent long hours in her room. ”
I nod; that tallies with what Laura wrote in her diary. “Jack said he didn’t trust her with his children but won’t elaborate. I hate to push him. Do you know what happened?”
“I do.” Jenny shudders as if remembering frightens her.
“She filled the bathtub with water, not much, just an inch or two and placed Noah in the bath and then walked away. She denied it and became angry, saying someone was trying to make out she was crazy but I never saw anyone near the nursery that day. It had to be Laura.” She shook her head.
“He was only a month old, so tiny. If I hadn’t heard him crying, he’d have likely drowned.
I told Mr. Hunter and he took Laura to see a doctor soon after and he never allowed her near the children again unsupervised. ”
I stare at her in disbelief. “But she never tried to hurt Ava?”
“No.” Jenny shook her head. “They didn’t know Ava was a girl, they wanted the sex to be a surprise, but when she came along, things changed.
They argued about everything and when Ava turned one, they became close again until Laura became pregnant.
She hated Mr. Hunter for making her pregnant and, after the birth, she practically ignored Noah.
I assumed it was post-natal depression and did my best to support her and ease her gently toward caring for him.
I didn’t believe she’d try to kill him.”
I eat my pie, thinking. Nothing in the journal intimates that Laura hated her children. She seemed lost and alone. Jack obviously got help for her. I wonder how long her depression lasted. I look at Jenny, glad of her candor. “So, the night they went out for their anniversary, was she okay?”
“In front of Mr. Hunter she always acted perfectly normal. When he left for work, she spent the entire day screaming at the staff or locked in her room. She accused everyone of touching her things and one day she insisted I was having an affair with Mr. Hunter. I recall her accusing him of spending too much time settling the kids with me each night.” Jenny nibbles on a sandwich.
“The night she died, she dressed in the new dress that Ruby had purchased for her and they left to meet their friends on the yacht. She kissed the kids goodnight but Noah turned his head away and buried his face in my shoulder. She waited for her husband to leave and poked her finger at me and said, ‘If I ever hear my kids calling you ‘mommy’, you’re fired.’ That was the last time I saw her.
” She stares at me. “Do I try and keep her alive for them? No, not really. They know the portrait is their mother and Ava was upset for a time when Laura went missing but that wasn’t because she missed her mom; she reacted to Mr. Hunter’s grief. ”
I sip my coffee and mull over what she told me. “Did anyone tell you what happened on the yacht?”
“Yeah, she fell overboard and drowned.” Jenny shrugs. “I hear rumors but they’re just that. Her body was never found.”
I look at her. “Rumors? What rumors?”
“Most people will tell you, including her friends, that they believe someone murdered her.”