The Black Sheep

  ‘I was devastated when I found out,’ she whispers.

  ‘I know,’ I say. ‘I really thought all that time that Mum and Dad were so happy.’

  ‘I knew they weren’t,’ Lucy says, her voice even smaller than before. ‘I knew they weren’t before Mummy died. I knew she was having an affair. I mean, I didn’t just suspect, like I said earlier. I actually knew it for sure.’

  ‘Oh.’ More secrets. The pain of it a dull weight in my chest.

  ‘Daddy doesn’t know about Dex,’ Lucy says. ‘I don’t think he even knows Mummy was seeing someone else.’

  ‘Right.’ It’s too much to take in. ‘Okay, Lucy, you need to hide. Now.’

  ‘I will,’ she says. ‘I just need to tell you one more thing. About Mummy and . . . and how she died. It . . . it wasn’t an accident.’

  My heart constricts as I guess what’s coming.

  ‘There’s no time,’ I say, not wanting to hear it.

  ‘I need to tell you this first,’ Lucy insists.

  ‘Okay,’ I sigh, bracing myself. ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Mummy was murdered. Dex did it. I was there, I saw the whole thing.’

  Even though I was half-expecting her to say it, the brutal words are still a shock. Lucy’s bedroom spins around me. I put my hand on the doorframe to steady myself.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Harry says.

  I close my eyes. On top of everything else, Dex killed Mum. And Lucy saw. Except . . . how on earth does that fit?

  Harry squeezes my shoulder and I open my eyes.

  ‘Lucy, are you sure?’ I protest. ‘Because Mum’s death was an accident. You know that as well as I do. Uncle Perry found her at the bottom of the cellar steps and said she must have fainted due to her diabetes. You weren’t even there.’

  ‘I was there. And Uncle Perry lied,’ Lucy says. ‘He faked the blood tests . . . said he’d talked to her about the faints, as her doctor, loads of times including earlier that week. It was all made up in order to avoid a post-mortem.’

  I frown. Perry is clearly evil, but I can’t imagine a reason he’d want to cover up the murder of his sister-in-law, a devout Catholic who he liked, for the sake of his dissolute nephew.

  ‘Why would Uncle Perry—?’

  ‘Dex blackmailed him about being gay.’

  ‘Oh.’ I remember the porn I found in Perry’s basement and suddenly it makes sense. Clearly Perry and Dex have had some kind of toxic contract for years: Dex using blackmail to coerce his uncle, then Perry offering hard cash to get Dex to carry out the PAAUL murders.

  Harry lets out a low whistle.

  ‘It’s true,’ Lucy goes on. ‘Dex got angry and pushed Mummy down the stairs. I was there. I saw him do it.’

  A shiver runs down my spine. Lucy isn’t safe out there. The police could still be minutes away. I have to find a way to protect her and Ruby until they get here.

  ‘Okay, Lucy, I listened, just like you wanted. And it’s good you’ve told me . . . we’ll make sure the police know about Mum. We will. But now you really have to hide.’

  ‘Look in my bedside drawer if you don’t believe me.’ She lowers her voice. ‘It’s proof. That’s Mummy’s blood on Dex’s watch. The watch. It used to belong to Uncle Graham. I’m sorry I lied about it before. I knew it wasn’t anything to do with the PAAUL murders. I remember it smashing when Dex killed Mummy. Uncle Perry must have kept it to have a hold over Dex. You know, because of the DNA on it from Dex and Mummy. I stole it off Dex earlier.’

  I exchange an appalled glance with Harry. He turns and heads over to the bedside cupboard.

  ‘Lucy, I hear you. Now go.’ There’s a short silence, then I hear her pad softly away. I lean against the door as Harry reaches into the drawer and holds up the cracked, bloodied watch, still in its plastic bag.

  ‘It’s definitely the one I found at the storage locker,’ he says.

  I grab the bag and stare at the dark stain on the watch face. I feel sick. Mum’s blood.

  The thought of Mum sends a claw of fresh panic tearing at my insides. Where is Ruby? I need to be with her, to hold her, to make sure she really is all right.

  Hands shaking, I flip the watch over to read the inscription.

  from a loving father

  ‘Shit,’ I mutter, remembering Lucy’s words and how I saw this same watch on Graham’s wrist in the photo in his flat. ‘Graham got this from his father, and passed it on to his son.’

  ‘Lucy must have known what Dex is capable of all along,’ Harry says.

  I nod. ‘God, I can’t imagine how terrified she must be of him, to have to lie all this time.’

  Harry grits his teeth. ‘Bastard, he’s really done a number on her.’

  I press my ear to the door. I can hear nothing. I lean against the wood, trying to calm the panic that roils again in my mind.

  Hold on, Ruby, I whisper under my breath. I’m coming.

  Footsteps sound across the landing. Heavier than Lucy’s. I step back, bracing myself. Harry puts a protective arm across me. The door swings open. It’s Dex. The gun still in his hand.

  He beckons us out of the room.

  ‘Up there.’ He points the gun towards the stairs. ‘All the way up to the attic.’

  Harry and I head across the landing. There’s no sign of Lucy. Hopefully she’s found a hiding place. Surely the police can’t be too much longer.

  ‘Where’s Ruby? Is she really okay?’ I demand. ‘Dex, I need to see her.’

  ‘She’s fine,’ Dex snaps. ‘As I already told you.’

  We climb the stairs to the second floor. Dex directs us past Mum’s old office and up the next short flight of steps in the far corner to the attic.

  The attic door creaks open. It was originally used to store Mum’s phenomenal overspill of rare books. Most of these are sold now but a large number are still here lining the whole of the back wall. Mum’s old Turkish rug is up here too, rolled up in front of a couple of chests of drawers I vaguely remember Jacqueline trying to sell. All of this stuff has monetary value of some sort; that’s why Jacqueline has kept it. There’s a box in the shadows which I’m pretty certain is full of ancient silverware. Other than these things, the huge attic is empty.

  Harry walks in ahead of me. He can only stand up fully in the centre of the room. Dex waits on the stairs below, still gripping his gun, while I pass. As I join Harry on the thin brown carpet, Dex follows us inside.

  ‘Why are we up here?’ Harry demands.

  ‘I want to see Ruby. Please, Dex?’ I wring my hands. ‘Please?’

  ‘She’s over there.’ Dex points towards the rug.

  My heart lurches into my mouth. I race over.

  Yes. Ruby is on the other side of the rug, hemmed in between it and a chest of drawers. She’s lying very still on the ground, her hair across her face. I drop to my knees, rolling the rug out of the way, and feel her skin. She’s warm, her breathing soft and shallow. As I touch her she murmurs.

  ‘Ruby?’ I pat her cheek lightly. ‘Ruby?’

  She grunts and makes a face.

  ‘What did you give her?’ I demand.

  ‘Rohypnol,’ Dex says. ‘It’ll wear off soon.’

  I glare at him. The date rape drug. Dex stares back at me, reading the accusation in my eyes. ‘I told you, Franny. I’d never hurt her. Or you. And I couldn’t bring myself to kill Harry either, not once I had the watch back. I didn’t think there was any need. And you’d already lost Caspian . . .’

  ‘Because you killed him,’ I shake my head. ‘How could you do that, Dex? He was my husband, your friend.’

  Dex’s expressive, handsome face registers a deep misery.

  ‘I told you that too,’ he says. ‘I didn’t have a choice.’

  ‘You mean Perry?’

  Dex says nothing. I turn back to Ruby, too disgusted to speak. She’s dressed in the same jeans and jumper she wore in the ice cream parlour. Her little blue boots are still laced right up. She doesn’t look like her clothes have been m
oved or messed with.

  Across the attic Harry is peering into the box of old silverware. What is he looking for? And where is Lucy? Has she found a hiding place? Is she safe?

  ‘Come here.’ Dex orders Harry to the centre of the room. ‘Kneel.’

  With a glance at me, Harry does as he’s told. I stiffen. For a horrific moment I think Dex is going to shoot Harry in the head. Then he shoves Harry to his knees and takes out a coil of thin rope.

  ‘What’s the plan now, Dex?’ There is fear as well as sarcasm in Harry’s voice.

  ‘Shut up.’ Dex winds the rope around Harry’s wrists.

  Harry winces.

  I stroke Ruby’s face again. She makes a soft, snuffling noise. For the first time since I received the text threatening the kids’ lives I relax slightly. I’m with her. She’s alive and Rufus is safe with Ayesha.

  ‘What are you going to do with us?’ I look up at Dex.

  He ignores me. He gives the rope a hard yank. I watch him, my heart in my mouth. ‘Are you going to kill us?’

  Dex says nothing.

  ‘Is that the plan? To murder us like you murdered Caspian? We’re your family, Dex. You’ve known Ruby since she was a few hours old.’

  Dex still says nothing, just tightens the rope around Harry’s wrists.

  ‘What about Mum?’ I persist. ‘I saw her notebook. You had an affair with her before she died. Lucy says you killed her.’

  Dex finishes knotting Harry’s rope. He glares at me. ‘Get over here.’

  ‘No.’ I put my arms around Ruby’s stirring body. No way am I leaving her, even to cross the room. ‘No, you keep saying you won’t hurt Ruby and nothing was your fault and you’re not a bad person. So if you mean that you won’t hurt us either.’

  ‘Shut up.’ Dex strides over to me, grabs my arm and spins me around. ‘I’m not going to ask again.’

  The gun metal is cold on my cheek. I drop to my knees beside Harry, fury coursing through me. The rope is rough on my skin. ‘You did it all, just like Lucy said.’ The words spit out of me. ‘You killed Mum and Caspian. And all those other—’

  I gasp as Dex gives the rope a sharp tug.

  ‘Your mother was an accident,’ Dex mutters.

  My heart seems to stop in my chest. Is he actually owning up to killing her?

  ‘How?’ I demand.

  Silence. Dex knots the rope. Gives it another tug. My wrists burn.

  ‘Yeah, right,’ I sneer. ‘So Mum was an accident. You know what I’m hearing? Everything’s an accident; nothing’s your fault.’

  ‘Your mum was unhappy with Jayson, that’s the truth. If it hadn’t been me it would have been someone else.’

  ‘And that justifies you killing her, Dex?’ I ask, ignoring the pain that shoots through my wrists as he tugs a third time on the rope. Surely the police will be here any second. I try to focus on that: the police will be here and Ruby will be okay and soon this nightmare will end.

  ‘She wanted to leave Jayson for me and I told her that wasn’t going to happen,’ Dex explains. ‘She got hysterical and . . . and fell, that’s the whole story.’

  Footsteps on the stairs. We both look up. It’s Lucy. Eyes wide with anxiety, twisting her hands over each other, she stands in the attic doorway.

  My heart constricts. Are the police here already? I can’t hear anyone in the house.

  So why isn’t Lucy hiding?

  LUCY

  I didn’t call the police like I told Francesca. I couldn’t. I know lying is a sin but I just couldn’t do it.

  I look at you and it takes all the courage I have to meet your cool gaze, to look into your ice-green eyes, so full of contempt. ‘Please don’t be angry, Dex, but I want Francesca to know the truth,’ I say.

  I can see from my sister’s face that she doesn’t care about the truth. She just wants to take Ruby and get out of here. But it’s important she knows exactly what you’ve done. What I’ve sacrificed to protect you.

  ‘What truth?’ you snap. The disdain on your face crucifies me. It’s so unfair.

  ‘Lucy?’ Francesca is staring at me, like she’s trying to read my mind. She’s on the floor, kneeling. Harry’s next to her. They look like communicants. You stand in front of them, the gun outstretched in your hand, like a priest with wine and wafers.

  ‘The day Mummy died I was up in my bedroom,’ I explain. ‘I heard Mummy open the front door, she didn’t know I was in. I tiptoed out onto the landing and peered over the bannisters. He . . .’ I point my finger at you. ‘He was in the hallway, kissing Mummy. They were practically eating each other. It was disgusting.’

  ‘Oh, shut up.’ There is more loathing in your snarl than I can bear, but I need Francesca to understand the depth of your depravity, how your third murder changed both our lives forever.

  ‘So they went into the kitchen,’ I continue. ‘And I crept down the stairs and the kitchen door was open a crack so I peered into the room. Mummy was crying, Dex was cross.’

  ‘She was hysterical.’ You wave your gun. ‘I was trying to reason with her,’ you say, clearly furious. Fear crosses Francesca’s face.

  But I’m not scared. Because I know the truth.

  ‘Mummy was begging Dex not to end it,’ I explain to Francesca. ‘She was telling him how she loved him more than anything, more than her life.’ I close my eyes, reliving the pure hurt of the words Mum had used. ‘More than us. More than her own children.’ I meet Francesca’s unhappy gaze. Now she can share in the truth with me. ‘Dex was saying mean stuff, that Mummy was too old, that it had just been a bit of fun, that he didn’t want a relationship. Mummy was crying worse and worse. It happened fast. Mummy slapped him. Then he punched her. She stumbled backwards. And . . . and he hit her again. Harder. And she flew back . . . through the open door and fell all the way down the steps to the cellar.’

  ‘I lost it, just for a second,’ you mutter.

  I cross myself. ‘I’ll never forget the sound of her body banging against the steps or that last moment when . . . when her head hit the stone flags at the bottom.’

  I keep my gaze on Francesca’s face. She’s listening, transfixed.

  ‘Then afterwards there was this moment of silence, a . . . a stillness. Dex raced down the steps to the basement. I stood there, I couldn’t take it in. Dex was calling Mummy’s name and it was like I was hearing him through a mist. And then his voice grew more urgent and I had to see what happened though in my heart I knew. So I went down the steps. I didn’t look at Mummy until I was right there, then I forced myself. At first I just looked at her foot . . . her left foot, half out of its strappy sandal.’ I glance at you, but you don’t meet my gaze. ‘And then Dex noticed me and he said: “Lucy, she’s not breathing.” Then the F-word over and over again. He was hyperventilating. I turned my head slowly and let my eyes travel up Mummy’s body. Her blue dress, the strap hanging off one shoulder, the black lace edge of her bra, the line of her make-up. I remember thinking how much make-up she was wearing. A dark pink lipstick. Her eyes were open. She looked like . . . like she had just seen something that surprised her. There was blood coming from under her head. Dex had blood on him from fumbling about, feeling her neck and her wrist. “There’s no pulse, she’s dead.” He said that, then more F-words, then he looked up at me and he said: “What have I done? Lucy? What have I done?” ’

  I pause, hands clasped, reliving that moment when you needed me, the fulcrum of our co-existence, the point where my own life truly began.

  ‘That’s enough.’ You storm over, your eyes dark like thunder.

  I’m shocked back into the present. Across the dusty attic Francesca’s mouth hangs open. Harry stares. And suddenly you are looming over me, shaking me. Furious.

  I scream. I run. Down the stairs to the second floor.

  I hear you follow. You stop for a second to slam the bolts across the attic door, locking the others in. Then you’re pounding down the steps behind me.

  Coming for me.

  FR
AN

  The bolts slam on the other side of the door.

  ‘Hey!’ I yell, pushing Lucy’s terrible story out of my mind.

  ‘Let us out!’ Harry shouts.

  But they’re gone. The rope around my wrists bites deep as I shuffle over to Ruby. She’s still asleep but her breathing is regular and even.

  ‘Fran, come here!’ Harry whispers, his voice hoarse.

  I spin around. He’s pulling a shard of broken mirror from out of his sleeve. ‘It was in there,’ he explains, pointing to the box of old silverware he was examining earlier.

  I hurry over. I turn my back so Harry can reach the rope around my wrists. He saws away at the binding and for a second I experience a dizzying déjà vu. He cut me free less than an hour ago in the summer house. It feels like years ago.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he says. ‘Do you think Lucy called the police?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘I’m certain she didn’t. God, I hope she’s all right.’

  Harry mutters something under his breath, slicing through the final bit of my rope. I rub my wrists then take the shard. I pull the sleeve of my jumper over one end of its sharp edge and position myself to deal with his binding.

  Harry’s hands are wet. I lean closer, trying to see why and catch the scent of something metallic. ‘Is that blood?’ I ask. ‘Shit, did you cut yourself when you were doing my rope?’

  He nods. ‘I had to hold it tight to get a proper grip. It’s fine.’

  I work away at Harry’s rope, keeping my jumper double-folded over the end of the mirror to protect my own hand. The edge is blunted after cutting through my own rope. My breath is coming in heaves thanks to the effort. My hands are slick with Harry’s blood. He says nothing, though it must be hurting like hell.

  At last I’m through. Harry struggles to his feet, wincing.

  ‘Let me see.’ I examine his hands, wiping away the blood with my sleeve. There’s a deep cut between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. ‘Shit.’ I reach under my jumper and rip a strip of cotton from my T-shirt. I bind it around Harry’s hand then race over to Ruby. She’s stirring, her eyes still closed.