Chapter 41
Beth
And in an instant, I’m back floundering under the ice.
It’s her voice that does it. Despite her stranger’s face—harshly lined, bordering on gaunt in the wash of sickly yellow light from above the front door—I know it’s her from the way she says my name with such wounded disbelief.
Nina.
I haven’t seen her for almost three decades. My last memory of her is a hazy one—rough hands tugging me to the surface, Nina’s dark eyes reflecting my own shock, staring at me, as we’re each carried away toward the swirl of blue lights on Raven Hall’s drive . . .
“Nina.” My voice is a croak.
Somehow, I close the gap between us, but my heart is pounding, because—what will she say to me? I ran away from the hospital the next day; I never went back. I left her there, with Leonora. I didn’t take her with me.
I stop in front of her, and we gaze at each other.
“Is it really you?” she whispers.
I try to smile. “How are you?”
Something flickers in her expression, and I prepare myself for an accusation, but instead, she reaches out tentatively for me.
“Oh, Beth.” She touches me lightly, as if to check I’m real, and then she flings her arms around me. “It really is you. I’m so happy to see you.”
I return her hug, feeling dizzy. “What are you doing here?”
Finally, she lets go of me, and she steps back, and then she gives a small laugh. “I might ask the same of you. What’s going on?” She glances at Leonora, and then at the fire-ravaged staircase. “Seriously. Tell me what happened. Is anyone hurt? Have you called the police?”
“Someone’s gone for help on foot,” Sadie says cautiously, as if not quite sure whether she believes her own words. “They’ll call the police when they get to the village.”
I reach for my daughter’s hand. “Sadie, this is Nina. She was—” I hesitate, weighing my delight at being reunited with Nina against my long-term sense of guilt at leaving her behind. “She was like a sister to me . . .”
Sadie says nothing, merely staring at Nina. I don’t notice Leonora drawing closer until her voice cuts across us.
“A sister?” Leonora snaps. “How dare you? After what you did to our family. After what you did to Markus . . .”
My chest tightens. “That wasn’t my fault.”
“Mum?” Sadie says.
Leonora spits her words out at me. “You took Nina out onto the ice, that night. You knew Markus would follow. You knew the risks, but you lured him out there anyway . . .”
“No,” I say. “It wasn’t like that . . .”
“He was trying to save you,” she says. “And when he fell through . . .” Her voice cracks. “They couldn’t save him.”
And suddenly I’m back there, in the lake, and I can’t breathe.
Fingertips clawing at the edge of the ice, fire roaring in my chest .
. . When I finally haul my face up into the air, there’s a single yell from Markus, somewhere close by.
Next to me in the dark, Nina’s gasping, coughing.
Somewhere in the distance, Leonora is screaming.
And then I’m waking in the hospital, Leonora looming over me, her face gaunt. “This was all your fault, Beth. Markus died because of you . . .”
I shake my head, forcing myself to return to the present and blinking back tears. “I didn’t know the ice would break . . .”
Nina is frowning at Leonora. “Mum, you can’t keep blaming Beth. We went out onto the ice together, that night; she didn’t drag me out there. I followed her, even after she told me to go back.”
I shoot Nina a grateful look. It’s true.
That is what happened. I want Nina to say more, to explain to my daughter that I’m not the terrible person Leonora is accusing me of being.
But a door creaks at the back of the house, and a moment later, Nazleen comes into view, carrying a tea tray and looking at us in mild astonishment.
“What’s going on?” Nazleen says. She raises her eyebrows at Nina. “Oh, it’s you.”
Nina draws herself up as if waking from a dream. “Oh, you’ve made tea. What a good idea. Shall we go and—?” She indicates the drawing room door.
Sadie and Nazleen look pointedly at me, and I summon my courage.
“Nina, we—actually . . .” I grimace. “We asked Leonora to wait in the study until the police get here. We think she . . .” I glance at the blackened staircase. “We’re concerned that she might be responsible for the fire.”
Nina begins to smile, and then she seems to realize I’m being serious.
“No way.” Her eyes widen, and she turns to Leonora and studies her as if seeing her in a new light. “No, come on. There must be another explanation . . .” But we can all hear the doubt in her voice. Leonora’s expression remains closed, tight-lipped.
“She was downstairs,” Sadie explains to Nina. “When the fire started. While we were asleep in our beds.”
“And someone drugged us,” Nazleen adds. “We’ve all felt ill tonight, and . . .” She glances at me. “Well, Beth told us that Leonora poisoned her own daughter, years ago, so we think . . .”
Nina draws her breath in sharply.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly to Nina, acutely aware that Nazleen has no idea Nina is Leonora’s daughter.
Images I’ve tried to suppress for years are crowding into my mind: the blue checked dress; the oily residue in the mug; Leonora accusing me of starting the fire in my bedroom when I knew it wasn’t me . . .
Nina’s voice is faint. “How much longer do you think the police will be?”
“Not long,” I say.
There’s a pause, and then Nina makes a gesture of defeat. “Well, okay, then. Put her back in the study if you have to. I’ll come and wait with you, until the police get here.”
Leonora stalks away and shuts herself in the study again. Nazleen turns the key on her this time, and the tension in my shoulders eases slightly as I follow Nina into the once-familiar drawing room, where Zach and the old man are huddled by a modest fire in the grate.
Sadie is safe. The police are on their way. And not only is Nina here, she’s chosen to come with me rather than wait with Leonora. Despite everything, Nina still trusts me.