you want – or, at least, I could if everything wasn’t such a mess. Flora would know where they all are. But do you want coffee? I should have offered you some.’
‘No, thank you. You knew them well. Does what happened make any kind of sense, in retrospect?’
‘How could it make sense?’
‘I mean, does it feel plausible that Hannah killed her entire family?’
‘Why does it need to feel plausible? She did it. She was a pretty weird kid by the end.’
‘In what way?’
‘She and Saul used to get on really well. Saul was a bit of a shy, nerdy kind of kid, and Hannah took him under her wing when they were younger – even though he was older than her. She was protective of him, just like she was of Rory. She was never angry with Rory. I remember she once got into a fight with a boy who was bullying Saul, really went for him. But then she hit adolescence, and that fierceness turned into something scarier. Crikey, she was wild. I remember once looking out of the window and seeing into their garden, and she was tearing up the flowers Deborah had just planted. I can still see the look on her face, a kind of lit-up fury, as if electricity was running through her. Sometimes we could hear her shouting. Saul was the good boy doing his homework in his bedroom, and she was out getting drunk and throwing things through windows and taking God knows what drugs. Then, of course, she went off the rails, dropped out of school pretty much, left home. Poor Deborah.’
‘How did Deborah take it?’
‘Badly, I think. But it was hard to know. She was always so controlled. People thought she was reserved or even shy, but I don’t think she was, really, more watchful. She had a kind of steely detachment from things.’
‘That’s an interesting thing to say.’
Sebastian Tait re-crossed his long legs. ‘It just popped out. Flora’s always telling me to think before I speak.’
‘What about Aidan?’
‘Aidan? He was great.’ Frieda waited. ‘He was the opposite of Debs. He talked a lot, was extrovert and sociable to a fault, full of enthusiasms, every week a new thing. I used to play tennis with him. Keen on wine. So am I. I should show you my cellar. Had a very loud voice and a very loud laugh. Verycharming.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Very charming,’ he repeated, lingering on the words. ‘But a good guy in the end.’
‘Did he get on with Hannah?’
‘He tried. She ran circles round him. I think she was a bit contemptuous of him, really.’
‘Why was that?’
‘You’re the therapist. Because he was a man. Because he was her stepfather. Because he was what she called a reactionary. Poor sod, he wasn’t a reactionary, just a bit clueless about politics and what-not. Me too. I just like making suits and ties and hats, and the rest of the world can do what it likes.’ He looked at the watch on his bony wrist. ‘Really,’ he said apologetically, untangling his legs and levering himself out of the sofa. ‘I don’t think the boiler person is coming and I have to go.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I wish you could have met Flora. She’s better at remembering things.’
‘Perhaps another time.’
‘Then you could have coffee and look at those photos.’
Frieda took his number and keyed it into her phone. ‘And your sons,’ she asked. ‘Would they mind me getting in touch with them?’
‘I’ll give you their emails. They’re both in London. Rick’s a doctor. Saul’s in IT. They’ve both got beards, of course. They think I’m some kind of relic.’ He gave a small whoop of laughter, then reached into his apron pocket and drew out a vivid tie made of interwoven strips of silk. ‘Can I offer you one? One of my mosaic ties. I’m rather proud of them, if I say so myself.’
‘I don’t really wear ties.’
‘For your husband, then.’ His eyes flitted to her ringless fourth finger.
‘You keep it.’
He wrapped it round his thin neck, over the top of the cotton scarf.
‘I’ve enjoyed meeting
‘No, thank you. You knew them well. Does what happened make any kind of sense, in retrospect?’
‘How could it make sense?’
‘I mean, does it feel plausible that Hannah killed her entire family?’
‘Why does it need to feel plausible? She did it. She was a pretty weird kid by the end.’
‘In what way?’
‘She and Saul used to get on really well. Saul was a bit of a shy, nerdy kind of kid, and Hannah took him under her wing when they were younger – even though he was older than her. She was protective of him, just like she was of Rory. She was never angry with Rory. I remember she once got into a fight with a boy who was bullying Saul, really went for him. But then she hit adolescence, and that fierceness turned into something scarier. Crikey, she was wild. I remember once looking out of the window and seeing into their garden, and she was tearing up the flowers Deborah had just planted. I can still see the look on her face, a kind of lit-up fury, as if electricity was running through her. Sometimes we could hear her shouting. Saul was the good boy doing his homework in his bedroom, and she was out getting drunk and throwing things through windows and taking God knows what drugs. Then, of course, she went off the rails, dropped out of school pretty much, left home. Poor Deborah.’
‘How did Deborah take it?’
‘Badly, I think. But it was hard to know. She was always so controlled. People thought she was reserved or even shy, but I don’t think she was, really, more watchful. She had a kind of steely detachment from things.’
‘That’s an interesting thing to say.’
Sebastian Tait re-crossed his long legs. ‘It just popped out. Flora’s always telling me to think before I speak.’
‘What about Aidan?’
‘Aidan? He was great.’ Frieda waited. ‘He was the opposite of Debs. He talked a lot, was extrovert and sociable to a fault, full of enthusiasms, every week a new thing. I used to play tennis with him. Keen on wine. So am I. I should show you my cellar. Had a very loud voice and a very loud laugh. Verycharming.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Very charming,’ he repeated, lingering on the words. ‘But a good guy in the end.’
‘Did he get on with Hannah?’
‘He tried. She ran circles round him. I think she was a bit contemptuous of him, really.’
‘Why was that?’
‘You’re the therapist. Because he was a man. Because he was her stepfather. Because he was what she called a reactionary. Poor sod, he wasn’t a reactionary, just a bit clueless about politics and what-not. Me too. I just like making suits and ties and hats, and the rest of the world can do what it likes.’ He looked at the watch on his bony wrist. ‘Really,’ he said apologetically, untangling his legs and levering himself out of the sofa. ‘I don’t think the boiler person is coming and I have to go.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I wish you could have met Flora. She’s better at remembering things.’
‘Perhaps another time.’
‘Then you could have coffee and look at those photos.’
Frieda took his number and keyed it into her phone. ‘And your sons,’ she asked. ‘Would they mind me getting in touch with them?’
‘I’ll give you their emails. They’re both in London. Rick’s a doctor. Saul’s in IT. They’ve both got beards, of course. They think I’m some kind of relic.’ He gave a small whoop of laughter, then reached into his apron pocket and drew out a vivid tie made of interwoven strips of silk. ‘Can I offer you one? One of my mosaic ties. I’m rather proud of them, if I say so myself.’
‘I don’t really wear ties.’
‘For your husband, then.’ His eyes flitted to her ringless fourth finger.
‘You keep it.’
He wrapped it round his thin neck, over the top of the cotton scarf.
‘I’ve enjoyed meeting
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