Page 29 of Glasshouses

“Did you have to help Amanda with the jams?” Wrigley sat a little further forward on the chair, arms on his knees to keep his body up, or so it looked.

Lily kept her gaze straight, not focusing on either of us. “I’d rather not talk about what my life was like. I’ll tell you everything I can about The Holding.”

Wrigley looked at me, taking his coffee and screwing his face up again at the lack of sugar. It translated to you ask the question.

“Can you remember any of the other adults in The Holding?” I wondered if this was too much because it was still about her. “We don’t think the group were online at all, so we’ve not been able to locate anyone to speak to.”

Lily nodded, as if she’d made her mind up about something. “The Holding believed that we were ruining the planet – which, you know, I don’t think they were wrong. They wanted to live as they would’ve done three hundred years ago; no technology, homesteads, community and promoting nature. Quite a few members were vegetarian, although not everyone and it wasn’t expected that you became veggie. There were meetings every day, including on a Sunday morning.”

“Like church?” Wrigley said.

“Yes and no. There was no service, but it was where the main food swap would happen, so more like a market but with speeches. There were a lot of old people who couldn’t get there, so afterwards people from the meetings would take food round to them. Some of the adults and some of the children would do chores for them to help them out.” She stopped speaking, almost abruptly, then focused on her tea.

Whatever we’d first thought a couple of days ago when we’d first met her had changed. Lily wasn’t okay, and this was possibly making her worse.

I glanced at Wrigley, wondering if he’d thought the same.

“Can you remember any of their names, Lily?” I pushed.

“I was fourteen and it’s over half my life away. I can’t even remember the names of the kids I was in school with. A lot has happened since then.”

The loss she’d had, whether it’d been at her own hands or not, was significantly traumatic, plus the conviction and what that had led to.

“I understand. Where was the place you met at? Was it Millthorpe?” I asked, prompting.

Lily nodded. “Yes. I haven’t thought about that place for ages. It was a farmhouse and barn in the middle of nowhere and it was huge. Lots of the members used the fields to grow on and we had some members who were paid to do the labour.”

Which meant there would be a money trail, however faint. We had all of the paper files from Amanda’s house back at the Fishbowl; I could see a long night ahead of going through them.

“How many people were involved, could you hazard a guess?” Wrigley asked quietly.

Lily shook her head. “There were different people there each time, or I didn’t remember them. I wasn’t really interested in The Holding.” She stood up, picking up the teapot and cup. “This has made me think about things I’d rather not. If you don’t mind, I’m going to call my therapist and see if she’s got time to talk to me.”

We knew when we were being dismissed. I stood up, Wrigley following suit.

“We didn’t want to upset you, Lily. You have been very helpful though,” Wrigley said. “We may have some more questions for you at some point, but we’ll do what we can to not have to bother you.”

His shift surprised me. He’d been convinced that Lily was responsible for the fire at Micky Mulligan’s as well as the Goodhew house.

“I’d appreciate that. Do you still suspect I may have been involved in Amanda’s death?” She looked to me for reassurance.

I let Wrigley answer.

“We’ve no reason to at present. You weren’t the main beneficiary of her will.” He left it there, as if this was just about money.

“I knew that. My parents were very clear that we would need to make our own way, although The Holding would support us if we followed their guidance.” She walked to the door to the hallway, still carrying the teapot and cup. “I suppose it was like a kibbutz. That’s the best way I can describe it.”

“Would you have stayed part of them as an adult?” One last question.

She shrugged, slender shoulders shifting. “I don’t know and there’s no point thinking about what could’ve been.”

I nodded, not probing for any more. “You have my contact details still, don’t you?” I’d left them for her when we’d first visited.

“I do. Thank you.” She gave me another smile but ignored Wrigley.

We didn’t speak until we got to the car, both of us computing what we’d just heard and seen, and not wanting anyone to overhear us or clock who we were.

Wrigley slammed his car door shut. “She offered her notes, didn’t she? I think we should request her file from her psychiatrist and see if there’s any mention of The Holding.”