‘But he isn’t naughty. He’s never naughty. Felix Flynn is just being cruel, and you could stop that if you wanted to.’ Verity stared for some moments, and even though Nanny Bell didn’t respond there was something in her eyes. Fear? Was she afraid of Felix too? ‘I heard you with Daddy last night,’ Verity continued. ‘Were you having sex with my father?’

The woman’s cheeks pinked, and her body twitched. She turned from Verity’s gaze. ‘Of course not.’

‘You are a disgusting woman, Nanny Bell.’ She placed a finger against her cheek. ‘You make me feel quite sick.’

‘And you are a truly horrible child, Verity Flynn.’

‘No.’ Verity shook her head. ‘I am a good girl.’ She looked again up the stairs. ‘Have you got the key to the attic room? I would like to let my brother out.’

‘Only your father has the key.’ Her eyes were back on Verity. ‘You know that. And even if I knew where it was, I would never go against your father’s instructions.’

‘Are you afraid of him?’ Verity looked about her. ‘Why don’t you leave? Can’t you feel how sad this place is? How desperately, desperately sad?’

‘Go to your room, Verity. If your father catches you wandering about the hallways, he’ll be angry.’

‘If I could get away from here, I would run and run and run. But I can’t leave Hugh. You can, though, and yet you stay.’

‘I need this job. The experience.’

‘And you’ve fallen for my awful father?’

‘No. No, I haven’t. You have it all wrong.’ Nanny Bell’s voice cracked another morsel.

Verity smiled. Had she broken Nanny Bell? ‘This isn’t experience. This. This place.’ She looked about her once more, not moving. ‘It’s extreme torture. It’s hell.’

Nanny Bell turned, and walked away without another word, sashaying down the hallway. Verity felt sure she’d broken her. But it wouldn’t matter. Nanny Bell may leave, but another would replace her.

Chapter 14

Halloween Weekend 2019

Alice

Alice stares out of the window at the rain, Leon beside her on a long, cushioned bench, thoughts of the portrait whirring around her head.

Faith is at the bar getting drinks, while Mitch holds court from a chair on the other side of the table, his broad body upright and rigid, his voice low and husky as he tells Leon about LARPing.

Alice turns to face Mitch. She knows what LARPing is. Faith told her about Mitch’s obsession with live-action role-play.

‘I love it,’ he says now. ‘Makes me feel like a real man.’ His hair is down this evening, resting on his shoulders, and there’s still that arrogance about him Alice doesn’t like.

‘We did a Hobbit battle back in August,’ Mitch goes on. ‘I played Thorin.’

‘Thorin?’

‘The lead dwarf.’

The irony that he’s so tall doesn’t go unnoticed on Alice.