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‘I should say hello,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I should invite her to have a cup of tea after class next time.’
‘Hmm,’ Sasha said. ‘Is that a good idea?’
‘Isn’t it?’ I felt nervous.
‘I don’t love her energy,’ Sasha said. ‘She’s very competitive.’
I remembered this about Catherine. Conversation with her could be tiring because she took everything you said as a provocation to prove that her life was better. But she was also quick to laugh and sometimes good fun.
‘Perhaps she’s changed,’ I said. I was nervous about upsetting Sasha. She was so protective of me and, as she told me often, she was also fragile because she gave so much of herself to other people. But the pull of old friendships was still something I couldn’t ignore.
‘Maybe,’ Sasha said.
‘Could you mention it to her? Ask her if she’d like a cuppa?’ I said, knowing Sasha wouldn’t want me to lurk at the end of class to see Catherine.
‘Sure,’ she said. Her voice sounded strained.
I waited a week to ask her if she’d had a chance to pass on my invitation. I’d been looking out for Catherine arriving at class, thinking I might find an excuse to run into her, but hadn’t seen her.
‘Oh, Catherine?’ she said. ‘She didn’t show up again.’
I kept my disappointment to myself. ‘Do you have contact details for her?’ I asked. A week ago, I lost all my contacts when I left my phone in my trouser pocket when I put them in the wash. It was another of those terrible moments when I thought I was losing my mind because I was sure I’d checked the pockets. But when I heard an awful noise coming from the machine and I went to check, there was my phone, spinning. I haven’t got around to replacing it, yet.
‘I might have her email address,’ Sasha said. ‘But not a phone number.’
‘Could I have it?’ I asked. It felt brave. I would also have to ask to borrow Sasha’s laptop to send an email, but I was certain that would be okay.
‘Sure,’ she said. But she hasn’t given it to me and, when I reminded her, she snapped at me, saying couldn’t I see that she was a little busy trying to run a business. I’ll ask again when she’s less up against it.
Olly seems very content. He’s really settled into the study and says he’s never been so productive as he is now. Apparently,the words are flowing onto the page! I think a lot about Olly’s novel, about how exciting it is to have something potentially special written here in the Manor. I can’t help feeling that by supporting him I’m a contributor to the book (in the humblest way possible, of course).
Sometimes, I dream that Olly and Sasha might start a family here. We could raise the child between us. I wouldn’t dream of saying it, though. I think I’ve found a balance of being there for them but also allowing them their privacy, and not interfering. Time will tell!
26
WEDNESDAY
Hal
Hal watches Kitty carefully as she enters Olly’s study for her interview. Her smile is uncertain, and she sidles around the open door rather than striding through it. There’s a slight stoop to her shoulders, her head held forward a little. Her body language reads as submission to Hal. She looks like someone who has been summoned to the headmaster’s office. And yet, they know she wants to be here.
As soon as the door is shut behind her, her posture improves; she walks across the room with a straighter back and a more composed expression. She looks anything but ‘simple’, as Olly described her, though Hal wouldn’t say she looks confident. It’s more that she doesn’t seem as cowed as she did around her employers. Hal’s intrigued.
Kitty perches on the edge of the sofa cushion, as if she feels she doesn’t belong there, or isn’t going to be with them for long.She slides a handwritten note across the table. Hal reads it and passes it to Jen. The note says: ‘Every word we say in this room can be clearly overheard.’
Hal meets Kitty’s eye and nods to let her know they understand. He’s done a lot of interviews during his career and this one is already the strangest. When they spoke to Kitty briefly a few days ago, she presented as sensible and reliable, there were no nutty vibes, but this has taken a bit of a turn and he’s mindful of how her employers described her.
He wonders if her note is implying that her employers will be listening from behind the door and glances at it, to confirm that it’s a very substantial door, thick, fitting snugly into its frame. Hal doesn’t believe it would be easy to hear what they’re saying from outside this room. Olly’s study is large and they’re sitting at the far end of it from the door.
Kitty shakes her head, as if she can read his mind and is telling him that that’s not what she means.
He clears his throat and makes the decision to choose his words carefully in case they are being overheard. Better to play along for now. ‘Thank you for talking to us again. Shall we make a start?’
‘Absolutely,’ Kitty says. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap. Hal can see tension in her neck and shoulders.
‘I’m keen to go over everybody’s movements on the morning Tom Booth died and also the night before,’ he says.
‘Yes.’ She answers quickly and her tone is bright and keen in a way that reminds him of a primary-school teacher; it wrongfoots him a little. When he and Jen interviewed Kitty on the day Tom Booth’s body was found, they found her to bemousy and quiet, her voice almost a whisper. He supposes shock could have accounted for it, but it was notably different to how she’s presenting now. She seems to slip between different versions of herself.
