Barbara doesn’t answer. Instead she stares down at her glass.

‘Just like you sent Elspeth’s cardigan,’ I continue. ‘How did you describe having access to her things: leverage?’

‘Barbara, what is she talking about?’ says Julia shakily.

‘Nonsense, that’s what,’ says Barbara, running her finger round the rim of her brandy glass. ‘Don’t listen to her, Julia, she’s a very disturbed woman.’

‘I’m a very disturbed woman?’ I cry. ‘You used the death of my child to taunt me, to scare me off, and you call me disturbed.’

‘You have no idea,’ says Barbara. ‘No idea at all.’

‘Oh, I do, Barbara,’ I reply, holding her gaze. ‘I have a very good idea. You have always wanted to control people. Harry, Ben, now Julia, and when people can’t be controlled, when they get in the way of your perfect order, you get angry, don’t you?’

‘Barbara, tell me she’s lying,’ says Julia, her eyes bulging. ‘Tell me you sent her those letters when I asked you to. You promised me.’

Barbara doesn’t answer. Instead she stares at me.

‘What were you doing at the river the night of the accident?’ I say, my voice steady though my heart is pounding with rage. ‘Why did you run away?’

‘You’re a fantasist, Margaret,’ she says. But she looks scared. ‘Always have been, always will be. Your poor mother had her hands full with you, no wonder she killed herself.’

‘Tell me the truth,’ I say. ‘What were you doing at the river that night? Did you follow Ben, is that it? You were keeping tabs.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Ben had nothing to do with it,’ she cries, slamming her fist on the table. ‘He wasn’t even there.’

‘What did you say?’

‘Look, just untie her, Julia, and get her out of this house.’

Julia doesn’t move. Instead, like me, she sits watching Barbara.

‘I’ll ask again,’ I say. ‘What were you doing there?’

She stares back at me, her eyes glazed with alcohol, then she leans forward and takes another sip of brandy.

‘I wanted to stop you,’ she says, putting the glass down on the table. ‘I knew he’d been in touch and I couldn’t let it happen again; couldn’t let you ruin his life.’

‘So, what? You read his texts? You followed him. Is that it?’

Barbara shakes her head.

‘Then what, Barbara? For God’s sake, just tell me.’

‘It wasn’t Ben who wrote that text asking you to meet,’ she says. ‘It was me.’

56

I sit in silence for a few moments, trying to take in what she has just said. Beside me, Julia has put her head in her hands. I can hear her quietly sobbing.

‘You texted me from Ben’s phone?’ I say, unable to conceal the hatred in my voice. ‘And then you watched as my little girl drowned? You fucking watched?’