The Cellar by Minette Walters

this. You have the face and voice of a pig, and you smell from the fluids that are leaking out of you. People will say the Master was right to prefer his little piccaninny when they discover how dirty and ugly you are. They will see he married a sow and not a wife. Do you wish now you’d been kinder to little Muna?
    As always, she found it easy to read Yetunde’s thoughts. Yetunde never disguised her feelings. She believed it made her powerful when her anger inspired fear and her forgiveness brought relief. Muna watched the popping eyes swing between rage and panic – blazing one minute, pleading the next – but she saw that Yetunde’s primary emotion was despair.
    She was in the same friendless place that Ebuka had been, with the same shocked understanding that the girl who crouched before her was a stranger. The furthest her imagination had ever taken her was to accuse Muna of having demons; she’d never thought that a child, so silent and obedient for so many years, might want to kill her.
    I think you hope that Olubayo will look for you when he comes home, Princess, but he won’t. He seeks relief from your vicious tongue as much as the Master does, and will believe what his father tells him … that you had a tantrum and have gone away to sulk.
    Yetunde shook her head.
    You mustn’t wish for things that won’t happen, Princess. When you don’t come home tonight, Olubayo and I will search your room and we’ll find that your most expensive clothes are missing … along with this bright blue suitcase and everything you need to make yourself pretty.
    She gestured to the case that stood beside her.
    When the Master fell asleep, I packed it with your nicest dresses, your best perfumes and most precious jewellery. Olubayo will find it all gone … and when he tells the Master, the Master will think you’ve taken yourself to a hotel … as you did when you found the pictures of white ladies on his telephone. You spent his money for five days to teach him a lesson about squandering it on whores.
    Muna opened the Louis Vuitton handbag and took out Yetunde’s passport.
    Then the Master will look for this in the drawer of the sideboard, and discover it missing also. It’s good that you lost your temper with him today because you made him hate and fear you. He’ll believe you’ve gone to your sister in Africa – as you always tell him you will when you’re angry – and he’ll be glad. He’ll find joy again without you.
    Yetunde closed her eyes. Fresh tears oozed through the mascara.
    Ebuka was awake when Muna returned to his bedroom. She helped him into his wheelchair and pushed him to the sitting room, saying he should watch the programmes he enjoyed for as long as he wanted. Yetunde would demand to see something different when she returned, but he must stay firm. She will respect you more if you do, Master.
    He rubbed a weary hand around his face. Things have gone too far, Muna. I’ve been going through her mobile, and you’re right that she wants me dead. She’s written vile texts to her sister, saying it’s a pity I didn’t die.
    She used the same words to Mr Broadstone, Master.
    We shouldn’t be in the same house. It’s not healthy for either of us. I’m not keen to be here when she comes back.
    Olubayo will be home soon, Master. You’ll feel safer when he is. Princess won’t attack you both.
    Muna listened from the kitchen as Ebuka recounted the events of the morning to his son. The tale he told was dramatic. Yetunde had gone mad, almost killing her husband with the ferocity of her onslaught. Ebuka had managed to save himself by using the hoist to get back into the chair but there was no knowing what would have happened if he and Muna hadn’t fled the house.
    Olubayo – flattered to have his father confide in him – urged Ebuka to call the police before Mamma came home. It would take more than a day of shopping to cool her anger. When Ebuka appeared to agree with him, Muna took them bowls of