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“You don’t work for Mr Bexley anymore,” she says. She’s loyal to the man who treats her worse than a dog, unwilling to jeopardise her pension so close to the finish line. “I’ve got nothing to say.”
We continue to follow her. She tries to hurry, but her swollen ankles slow her down.
“We just want to know one—”
“Show her,” I interrupt him. “Show her the picture.”
“Can you tell us whether you recognise this woman?” Seb holds up his phone to show her the photograph of Rose and Spencer.
She freezes, even as her gaze softens. She knew her—even liked her—then the walls crashed down.
Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “What’s this about?”
I slam on the brakes. Seb’s gentle approach failed, so it was my turn to step in.
“You’ve been talking to someone in a moving car. What would Spencer think if he found out? We all know his paranoia is getting worse.” I take no joy in frightening her, but she bites her lip, weighing her options and knowing I’m right. “We’ll give you a lift home, okay? All we want to know is who she is.”
She hesitates, glancing back over her shoulder, then makes a harumphing noise before getting into the backseat. We drive for a few minutes before coming to a stop. She fidgets, growing more anxious as time passes.
Seb turns to ask, “So, you know her?”
The woman nods. Her hands tremble as she clutches onto her bag tightly.
“What’s all this about?” she asks. “Why are you dragging up the past? All of this happened years ago.”
“How did Spencer know her?” I demand.
She shifts under my scrutiny.
“She was his girlfriend before…” The woman drops her voice. “The accident.”
“A car crash?”
“Were they happy?” Seb butts in.
“Mr Bexley was,” she replies. “Well, they both were at the start, and then…”
“What happened?” I press.
“I’ve said enough.” She shakes her head. “Why are you asking about what happened to that poor girl? It doesn’t matter to anyone now.”
“It matters to us,” I reply fiercely. “You said they were both happy at the start. What happened after that?”
“She moved into the mansion early on,” she recalls wistfully. “She was kind, even helped me clean up sometimes. I thought he’d finally found someone who could help him. Someone he could settle down with, you know? Besotted with her, he was. He doted on her. But Mr Bexley loved her too much.”
We all know that’s code for him being a possessive, controlling bastard.
“What did he do?” Seb asks gently. “We won’t tell anyone. Everything you say stays in this car.”
“She couldn’t stand it anymore, his rules and tempers, so she left him after they had a big argument,” she says. “She waited until he left and snuck out of the staff entrance. Mr Bexley was furious when he found out. I’ve never seen him so angry. Not long after that… a week maybe… they found the car and those two girls.”
My head spins. It doesn’t make sense. Rose told us Matteo Santiago was responsible for her sister’s death.
“I told Mr Bexley I wanted to go to the funeral.” She sniffs and dabs her eyes. “The only time I ever stood up to him, that was. But it didn’t happen. Neither of those girls had a funeral. No family to pay for it. Ivy deserved better than that.”
Seb cocks his head to the side. “Ivy?”
“Yes.” Her brow dips in confusion. “Ivy Penrose. The girl in the photo you showed me. That’s her name.”
