Alys, Always Read Online Free PDF Page A

serious money, a heavy silver cuff on her wrist. ‘A friend of the family.’
    Of course I know of Charlotte Black, Kyte’s agent. She has quite a reputation.
    Kate Wiggins has been standing back, letting us get on with it. Now, in her supportive administrative role, she offers me a cup of tea or coffee. I feel too nervous to have a preference. ‘Water’s fine,’ I say.
    ‘Well, I’m having a glass of wine,’ says Laurence. ‘I think we can probably all agree this situation calls for a drink.’
    He locates a particular bottle of red in the rack under the counter, and brings the glasses to the table. While he’s doing this, his children are taking their seats at it, side by side, notlooking at each other.
They are dreading this
, I think.
They want to know
,
but they’re scared of what I might tell them
.
    Charlotte, at the end of the table, smiles reassuringly at me. ‘Kate was saying you don’t live far away?’
    ‘Down the hill,’ I say. ‘No, not far at all.’ Of course, my part of north London, maybe a mile off, is quite a contrast to this one, as it’s dominated by arterial roads, betting shops and the empty mid-rise office blocks which no tenants can be persuaded to occupy. The Kytes live in a very different London. Their neighbourhood is a sequence of broad, moneyed avenues running between green spaces – various woods and parks, the Heath – and what the locals call ‘the village’, a high street full of coffee shops, estate agents and boutiques selling organic face creams and French children’s-wear.
    Laurence uncorks the bottle and starts to pour. Kate Wiggins shakes her head when he looks at her, but everyone else accepts a glass. Finally, we’re all sitting at the table, ready. I hold the glass in my hand. It’s a solid, simple goblet. Danish, I expect. When I taste the wine, I try to concentrate on it, but I’m really a bit too on edge, waiting to see how the Kytes want to play this.
    Let them set the pace
, Wiggins had suggested.
They’ll let you know what they need to know
.
And if you can’t answer their questions
,
just say so
. I put my glass down and fold my hands in my lap. The table vibrates slightly: Edward, jiggling his foot, betraying his nerves. To my surprise, he speaks first.
    ‘We wanted to meet you to tell you how grateful we are,’ he begins, as if he’s finally delivering a speech which he has rehearsed privately many times. ‘We’ve been taken through your statement, and it has been a real comfort to know that Mum wasn’t on her own at the end. That she had someone to talk to … someone who could talk to her.’
    Polly looks up, her eyes blurring, and asks in a burst, ‘Canyou tell us what she said? We know what you told the police, but … did she sound like herself?’
    Kate Wiggins says, ‘Polly, I’m not sure whether Frances can—’ and then I interrupt her, with a firmness I don’t feel, and I say, ‘We talked. She was quite … together. She wasn’t in distress, or at least if she was, she controlled it. You know I couldn’t see her?’
    For some reason, I want them all to be reminded of this. Polly nods, her pale eyes fixed on me.
    I glance around the table. Everyone seems to be waiting for something – for me to continue, I realise. I have everyone’s absolute attention. It’s an alarming feeling, but not altogether disagreeable.
    ‘It was very dark,’ I say, my voice sounding small in that huge white space. ‘And because of that and the position of the car I couldn’t see how injured she was. I didn’t know. She told me she might have hurt her legs, but otherwise she seemed OK. She didn’t seem to be in pain. She said she’d come off the road avoiding a fox. She talked about living near by, she mentioned the car had recently been cleaned.’
    At the edge of my vision, I see Laurence suddenly drop his head, staring down at his hands, processing this reminder of a previous life.
    ‘Yes,’ I say, as if it’s all coming back to me,