Chapter Thirty-Eight
There were so many flowers in the apartment, Venetia had run out of places to put them. As kind as everyone had been to express how sorry they were about Bon-Bon, she really would have preferred to be left alone. She had felt the same when her husband, Lawrence, died four years ago.
The steady stream of neighbours calling at her door had begun late that morning.
Some of them she had exchanged no more than a few words with since she’d moved in, but they had wanted her to know that they were thinking of her.
One or two admitted that they wouldn’t object to a rule change and that people should be allowed to have a well-behaved pet if that’s what they wanted.
Their thoughtfulness had been well-meant but just the sheer act of being polite to them had made the day even more emotionally draining than it already was.
After returning from the woods where they’d buried Bon-Bon at first light that morning, Cassie had offered to stay with Venetia, to keep her company, but she had declined the offer because she desperately wanted to be alone.
As she had last night when Nina had been so reluctant to leave her.
But she saw now that she’d made a mistake, for if Cassie had stayed with her, her friend would have dealt with the neighbours and the weight of their sympathy.
It was the horrible manner in which Bon-Bon died that really upset Venetia; it was just too awful.
She couldn’t understand why he’d gone into the river; he’d never once been tempted so much as to dip a paw into the water whenever they’d walked along the bank, and in the very same spot where he’d drowned.
In fact, he’d hated to be wet. Whenever she had washed him in the bath, he’d looked at her with such sad, reproachful eyes, even though she made sure the water was warm.
His body would shake with disapproval at such ignominy.
He would only cheer up when she was drying him with a towel and a hairdryer on a lowish setting.
For some reason, he’d loved the hairdryer, perhaps because it restored him to his beautifully fluffy state.
The memories were suddenly too much for her, especially combined with the thought of how she’d dried him last night before wrapping his lifeless body in his favourite blanket and putting him in his basket.
She had to fight to retain her composure, but it was no use and collapsing into the nearest armchair and covering her face with her hands, she rocked back and forth, the tears flowing.
She rocked and cried, rocked and cried until her tears finally gave way to a different emotion: anger.
Anger was something she rarely succumbed to, but whenever she thought of Finlay sneaking out of her apartment with Bon-Bon and literally taking the dog to his death, she wanted to seize that boy by his shoulders and shake the truth out of him, to make him tell her exactly what had happened.
Was it simply an accident, or … or had the boy forced Bon-Bon into the water?
Had he imagined it would be fun to see if the dog could swim?
Could a child of his young age be so sickeningly cruel?
Forcing herself to get a grip on her emotions, Venetia dried her eyes and took a deep inhalation of breath. Tormenting herself with these thoughts wouldn’t help in the slightest, Bon-Bon would still be dead, and her heart would still be broken. She had to accept that she might never know the truth.
Cassie had promised that she would try to get to the bottom of what happened. ‘It might take a bit of time,’ she’d told Venetia in the woods this morning, ‘but I’ll do my best to speak to Finlay when he and his mother have calmed down.’
Venetia found it hard to imagine Rosalyn ever calming down.
After Finlay and Bon-Bon had been found, everyone had gathered in the communal hallway.
For Rosalyn it should have been a moment to thank her lucky stars that her son was safe, but holding him so tightly he complained that she was hurting him, she had screamed at Emily that if Finlay had drowned as well as the dog, it would have been her fault.
The colour had drained from Emily’s face, and she had fled up the stairs, her sobs loud enough for them all to hear.
‘That was unnecessary,’ Cassie had said to Rosalyn. ‘I don’t care how upset you are, you have no right to speak to my daughter that way.’
Perhaps embarrassed and not wanting to witness a scene that might turn nasty, people had drifted away, one or two giving Venetia sympathetic looks as she carried the bedraggled body of Bon-Bon upstairs to her apartment, Nina following closely behind.
The loud ringing of her phone had Venetia glancing around her for it. She eventually located it over by the kettle where she’d made herself a cup of tea but had forgotten to drink it.
She answered the phone with a gruff ‘Hello.’
‘Venetia, it’s me, Ronnie. I’ve just heard the terrible news. I’m so very sorry.’
Venetia was stunned. ‘How?’ she said. ‘How have you heard?’
‘Cassie sent me a message. She thought you might need, well, you know, a friend to talk to.’
For a moment she couldn’t speak, so touched was she by Cassie’s thoughtfulness, Ronnie’s too.
‘You still there, Venetia?’
She forced the words out. ‘Cassie shouldn’t have bothered you when you have so much going on there with your hotel.’
‘Quit all that nonsense!’ he said hotly. ‘I know how much that little dog meant to you and that means more to me than dealing with a bunch of useless lawyers and accountants here. Is there anything I can do?’
‘That’s very sweet of you, but there’s nothing anyone can do. I just need to pull myself together. And don’t you dare say otherwise or I’ll start blubbing again, and I’ve done quite enough of that already.’
‘Is this the bit when I say, that’s the spirit old girl, stiff upper lip and best foot forward and other assorted phrases designed to buck one up?’
She had to smile at that. ‘Maybe not. But I do appreciate you taking the time to call me.’
‘Look, here’s a suggestion you might like to mull over.
Why don’t you hop on a plane and come here for a break?
Getting away for a few days might help. Give you something else to think about.
A change of scene and all that. I can’t guarantee the weather will be that good, but I’ll wager it’s better than Cambridge right now. What do you say?’
‘I think that’s a lovely thought on your part, but I’d rather stay here. I don’t think I’d be very good company right now.’
‘Okay, I shan’t press you, but if you change your mind, you only have to give me a call. Promise?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Did you have your fingers crossed behind your back as you said that?’
‘Are you accusing me of lying?’
‘Damned straight I am!’
Again, she smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘What for?’
‘For doing the impossible, making me feel slightly better.’
‘In that case, I’ll give you another tinkle tomorrow.’
No sooner had she said goodbye to Ronnie than there was a ring at the doorbell. Dreading yet another neighbour bearing flowers and condolences, she was tempted to ignore whoever it was, but good manners forbad her from being so rude.
When she opened the door, it was the last person on earth she wanted to see standing in front of her.
‘Can I come in?’ asked Rosalyn.
‘No,’ Venetia said, holding the door firmly in place. ‘I’m not at home to visitors.’
The young woman frowned. ‘What do you mean? You are at home. You’re standing right in front of me.’
‘I mean,’ said Venetia very slowly as though she were dealing with a very stupid child, ‘I don’t want to see anyone right now.’
‘Oh. Well. I get that. But I just wanted to say, you know, I’m sorry about your dog.’
‘I don’t want your apology. And if you want to apologise to anyone, say sorry to Emily. You were wrong to blame her for what your son did. He’s your responsibility, not Emily’s.’
Rosalyn looked aghast. ‘I had every right to blame her,’ she fired back loudly.
‘She should have been keeping a better eye on Finlay and apart from anything else, I was out of my mind with fear and panic! Do you have any idea what it’s like to lose your husband and then discover your child is missing and all the time be terrified that his body might be found in the river?
Do you have the slightest understanding of what that might feel like? ’
‘I’d appreciate you not raising your voice at me,’ Venetia said sternly. ‘Or giving me a lecture on how I might feel. Thanks to your son, my dog is dead.’
‘It’s hardly the same thing,’ Rosalyn responded. ‘You can easily buy another dog! My son is irreplaceable.’
‘Then maybe you should take better care of him. What’s more, you should teach your son that it’s not right to steal someone’s beloved pet.’
‘He didn’t steal your dog.’
‘What would you call it, then?’
‘He thought it would be nice to take the dog for a walk instead of it being cooped up in your apartment, where he shouldn’t have been in the first place!’
Steadying herself and her left hand gripping the door firmly, Venetia said, ‘For a person who came here to apologise, you don’t sound the slightest bit sorry.’
‘You didn’t want my apology, so what else can I do?’
‘I want to know the truth. I want to know what your son did with my dog. Bon-Bon would not have gone into the river, he hated water, so tell me why he ended up drowning in the river.’
Rosalyn’s eyes blazed and she looked like she might actually strike Venetia. ‘If you’re suggesting what I think you are, then you’re deranged! It was a dreadful accident. Finlay isn’t even five years old, he wouldn’t harm a fly, never mind a dog. What you’re implying is disgusting!’
‘I still want to know what happened. Something, or someone, made Bon-Bon go into the water and your son is the only person who knows the truth. If he’s told you anything, you should tell me. You owe me that much because if it wasn’t for your son, my dog would still be alive.’
Her face flushed, Rosalyn said, ‘This is harassment. You need to stop saying these awful things.’
‘And you need to leave.’