Sadie
Zach gazes at Nina as they take their seats, and his expression slides from bemusement to surprise.
“Oh, hi,” he says to Nina. “I thought you’d left.”
Nina accepts a cup of tea from Nazleen, and she smiles at Zach.
“Yeah, I was hoping for a good night’s sleep, but I had a bad dream, and when I got up for a glass of water, I looked out the window and saw smoke . . .”
Finally, Sadie recognizes her. “You were the photographer last night, weren’t you?” Her gaze roams over Nina’s hair and face. “You looked different, then. Your hair was covered . . .”
“Keeps it out the way of the lens.” Nina gives Sadie a puzzled look. “Didn’t you recognize me when you opened the door just now?”
Sadie shakes her head, frustrated by the sluggishness of her thoughts. “Did you drive back?” she asks. “Maybe we could overtake Joe, bring help back sooner . . .”
But Nina sighs. “No, I had a drink when I got back. It helps me sleep, you know. I have nightmares fairly often . . .”
Nina looks distressed for a moment, and Beth reaches across and squeezes her hand. Sadie’s surprised to feel a twinge of jealousy. She’s never had to share her mother with anyone before.
“So I walked back,” Nina says.
“You live that close?”
“Not usually, no. I’m just staying there tonight, for the photography job, you know. The thing is, when I . . . when we . . . got the chance . . . Well, it’s strange but—suddenly I really wanted to come back and see the place . . .” She glances at Beth again.
Sadie nods slowly. “How did they hire you? Did you meet the owner in person?” She looks around at the other guests. “Who is the owner of the murder mystery company? Does anyone know?”
She’s met with blank expressions.
“Do you think . . . ,” Nazleen says. “I mean, if it was Mrs. Shrew who started the fire . . .”
Zach’s eyes widen. “You don’t think she’s the owner, do you? I mean, why would she join in as a guest without telling us? And why would she . . . ?”
Sadie feels nauseated again. Yes, why would Leonora want to hurt them?
Everett’s voice rumbles from the depths of his armchair. “Because she’s deranged, that’s why. The woman needs locking up.”
Nina ducks her head, but not before Sadie catches a flash of emotion in her eyes, and Sadie feels desperately sorry for her suddenly.
The others clearly don’t know that Nina is Leonora’s daughter, and whatever Leonora has done isn’t Nina’s fault.
Does Nina think Leonora is capable of it?
Sadie rubs her temples. Her thoughts are like darting fish sparking across her mind and slipping out of reach.
Despite the hot tea and the flames in the grate, she still feels cold all over.
Nina gets to her feet. “I need something stronger than tea. Anyone else? I saw whiskey in the pantry earlier.” The others sit in silence while she’s gone, and she returns quickly with a bottle tucked under her arm and a stack of crystal glasses.
Everett leans forward eagerly. “Good girl.”
“Yes,” Nazleen says, smiling. “This might warm us up a bit.”
Nina clatters the glasses onto the coffee table, and she sloshes generous servings of whiskey into each of them. As Sadie watches, she finally catches hold of one of the questions that have been niggling at her. She takes the glass offered and sits back.
“If you saw the fire,” she says slowly to Nina, “from your window . . . why didn’t you call the fire brigade?”
Nina’s condescending expression reminds Sadie so strongly of Leonora, it’s almost amusing.
“Well, I tried to, obviously, but you know how the phones can be, out here in the Fens . . . Cheers.” Nina knocks back the contents of her glass, tucks her chin into her neck, and shivers.
“Gosh, that’s good.” She nudges Beth’s arm next to her. “Drink up.”
Sadie is frowning. “But the landline, surely . . .”
Nina’s tone has a distinct coldness in it now. “Well, yes . . . That’s a funny story, actually . . .”
Sadie makes eye contact with Beth. Something’s not right here. But Beth lowers her gaze and stares down into her glass, and Sadie’s heart sinks. Yet again, her mother seems to be withdrawing, refusing to engage.
“So, I’ll tell it to you from the beginning,” Nina says, refilling her glass. “Anyone for a top-up?”
The guests murmur politely and shake their heads; they haven’t started on their first servings yet. They settle back in their seats to hear Nina’s story, lifting the glasses of golden liquid to their lips.