Читать книгу Her Sister’s Secret - E. V. Seymour - Страница 11

“When did you last see Scarlet?” We sat in the shade with homemade lemonade. The citrus tang hit the back of my throat like a blade.

Zach scratched his belly. “Last year, maybe.”

“That long ago?”

“Christmas,” he said emphatically.

“Not around her birthday?” Four months previously.

Zach tweaked his moustache, shook his head, dreads swinging. “She was going to come over at Easter but there was a change to her rota.”

“Speak to her much on the phone?” I sounded like a Grand Inquisitor, but Zach had always been an impressive liar – rather came with the drug-ridden territory. Directness reduced his wriggle room.

“Now and then. Seemed okay.”

“She didn’t mention a disagreement?” I tried to sound casual. The root cause of my row with Scarlet was not about money, although to an outsider it might look that way, but about favouritism and the way she, according to me, sucked up to our parents. If Scarlet had confided in Zach, he’d probably pass it off as a scrap between sisters. Cash, or the lack of it, had never featured heavily in Zach’s life, because he was so adept at sponging off others.

Zach’s brow furrowed. “Who with?”

“Doesn’t matter. According to Dad, there’s going to be an inquest,” I said, not so skilfully deflecting.

Zach nodded thoughtfully. “How is he?”

I hiked an eyebrow. “Apart from being devastated?”

Colour spread across Zach’s high cheekbones, shame and anger in his expression, most of it aimed at me. “I meant in general. No matter,” he said. Waspish.

“He’s doing his best to look after Mum.” I kept my voice soft and conciliatory.

“God, yeah, how is she?”

“Taking it very hard.”

Zach nodded, met my eye. Unlike me, he said it how it was. “Scarlet was always her favourite.”

“Which is why it’s important we rally round. It’s what Scarlet would have wanted.”

His answer to my lousy suggestion was to take a gulp of lemonade and top up his glass. “What happens next?”

“Post-mortem.”

Zach visibly shivered, the hairs on his arms standing proud. There was an irony that Scarlet had danced with death every day in her professional life as a nurse, and would probably be matter of fact about lying on a slab and being pored over by a stranger, but the thought completely did me in.

“Dad wants to visit the scene to lay flowers,” I said.

Zach gave a silent respectful nod. I could see that me trying to draw him out wasn’t going to cut through or penetrate his lassitude.

“Zach, what did you mean earlier when you asked me what Scarlet had done?”

He let out a laugh, dry and arid. “Jesus, Molly, you’re like a dog with a bone.”

“Well, it was a peculiar—”

“Nothing. I meant nothing.”

Odds on, from my set expression, Zach recognised my bullshit detector had flicked on. I might not have a degree, but I had an honorary in truth finding. I was like my dad in this regard.

We fell silent. I couldn’t take any of it in. Not Scarlet. Not the surreal conversation I was having with my big brother.

Zach drummed his fingers on the table, searching around for something to say. When he spoke next, he was quick to change the subject and asked about business. He had as much interest in my shop as he had in earning a living. I read it as his cue for establishing that my time with him was up and gave a bland reply. Zach reciprocated with one of his own.

“Saw Chancer last week.”

Chancer or Tristram Chancellor was Zach’s oldest friend. They’d been at school together. Unlike the rest of Zach’s mates, Chancer had stayed in touch, I suspected to keep a benevolent eye on my brother to ensure that he stayed on the straight and narrow. Weird really because Chancer was the opposite of my brother in every respect: successful, moneyed and happily married. The thought made me curdle inside. Long ago, I’d been smart enough to recognise that Chancer was way out of my league.

“He and Edie are having problems,” Zach continued.

As surprised as I was, I couldn’t give a damn. Exasperated, frustrated, I wished I could grab my brother and shake a normal emotional response out of him.

“Think the marriage is on the rocks, to be honest,” Zach said. “Needy Edie certainly seems to think so.”

“Don’t be horrible.” Edie was Chancer’s wife. She wasn’t simply in Chancer’s league; she sat astride it. The daughter of a wealthy investment banker, she came from a stocks and shares, Ascot, Wimbo and a jet-setting lifestyle. “What about the kids?”

Zach pulled a face and shrugged. I drained my glass and stood up.

Zach stood too. I read everything in his expression: Off the hook. She’s going. Thank Christ.

I could have asked him to reconsider his decision, to change his mind and come back with me right now, this minute, but knew it would only make us both angry. I had to face it. Even an event as momentous and monstrous as the sudden death of our sister was not going to drag Zach home, or turn him into the prodigal son.

He slung an arm around my shoulder, clumsily drew me close and kissed the top of my head and walked me to the van. “Give my love to Mum and Dad.”

I gave it one last shot. “Think about coming home, Zach.”

He looked down, scuffed the dry ground with a bare heel, kicking up dust. Not a chance in hell, I thought, climbing into the Transit and bumping back along the drive.