The House of Women by Alison Taylor Page B

wanly. ‘Like Uncle Ned, in a way. Maybe you use the same soap.’
    ‘ Maybe,’ McKenna agreed, taking a saucer from the dresser. ‘What’s upset you?’
    She wrapped her arms around the cat, and hugged him. ‘It’s silly, really. I said Annie and me were baking, didn’t I? The cake looked so nice we decided to have some as soon as it cooled, only when I bit my piece, it tasted horrible, like sawdust, but there’s nothing wrong with the cake. It’s me.’ She caught her breath again. ‘Then I realized nothing’s tasted the same since Friday, and when I went into the garden, the flowers smelled almost rancid, and it’s all cold and damp under the tree where I used to sit with Uncle Ned, not cool and fresh like it was last week. Everything’s gone flat and sad, like it’s all over.’
    ‘ You’re grieving, Phoebe. You’ve lost someone you loved very much, who’s always been part of your life.’
    ‘ It hurts,’ she whispered. ‘It hurts so much!’
    He stroked her hair. ‘Does Annie understand?’
    ‘ She hurts, too. And little Bethan keeps asking where Uncle Ned’s gone, and we don’t know what to tell her.’
    ‘ The truth is best.’
    ‘ But could she understand? Annie wants her to go to the funeral, but Mama said it’d be cruel, because she’s far too young.’
    ‘ Even if Bethan can’t understand now, she’ll remember when she’s older, and be able to put the whole picture together.’ He tapped ash into the saucer. ‘She won’t be afraid of some terrible mystery, or think people simply disappear off the face of the earth.’
    ‘ I suppose.’ Phoebe sniffed, scouring her face with her hands.
    ‘ Does your mother miss him, too? Is that why she’s so distraught?’ He heard a rustle, felt a gentle draught.
    ‘ My mother barely tolerated him.’ Annie Harris walked into the kitchen, plastic carrier bags in one hand, a small child with wispy fair curls clinging to the other. She dumped the bags on a worktop, and turned to face McKenna, the child leaning against her legs. ‘And my mother isn’t distraught. She’s retreated into drug-assisted hysteria, which is her usual response to stress.’
    McKenna rose, and held out his hand.
    ‘Michael James McKenna,’ Phoebe intoned. ‘Detective chief inspector. My sister Anastasia and my niece Bethan.’ Annie shook his hand briefly, then ruffled her sister’s hair. The child gazed up at him, blue eyes wide. ‘You’ll notice,’ Phoebe went on, ‘that Bethan’s got blonde hair, only hers is genuine.’
    Annie smiled. ‘You also have noticed it’s impossible to get Phoebe to shut up.’ Turning to her, she said: ‘I thought you’d gone for a lie-down.’
    ‘ I had, then Mr McKenna came, and the professor had a tantrum. He’s sulking in the sitting room with Solange.’
    ‘ Well, I hope they don’t plan to stay for dinner.’ Annie began to empty the carrier bags, and said to McKenna: ‘Janet Evans is still waiting on the stairs, you know, with the men in what Bethan calls spacesuits.’
    ‘ They’re forensic officers,’ Phoebe said. ‘They were here on Friday, and now they’re back to turn Uncle Ned’s room inside out for fingerprints and that sort of thing.’
    ‘ Why?’ Annie stopped emptying the bags.
    ‘ Yes, why?’ Phoebe demanded.
    Still on his feet, McK enna fidgeted with his lighter.
    ‘ Please don’t prevaricate,’ Annie added. ‘I need to know what to tell my mother.’
    ‘ Ned was killed by an allergic reaction to one of the drugs listed as potentially lethal on his SOS bracelet, which is still missing, so at the moment, we’re treating his death as suspicious.’
    ‘ I told you!’ Phoebe announced, shock draining the colour from her face. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’
    Annie sighed. ‘Yes, child, you told me. Now get the cat off the table.’
    *
    The seal around the door of Ned’s room was intact. McKenna watched as it was opened, then went in, Janet at his heels. Unaired for over four days, its