Lyrebird Hill Read Online Free PDF Page A

girls used to visit her when you were little. You went through a stage where you spent more time at her place than you did at home. She was very kind. To all of us.’
    I did vaguely recall those early visits, but only one memory stood out. I thought of the flash I’d had while talking to Esther – the half-remembered room with its cluttered bookshelves and aroma of hot chocolate, and the cosy feeling of wellbeing.
    ‘She told me something about Jamie. It freaked me out.’
    Mum paled, and her fingertips went to her throat. ‘Ruby, please,’ she said in a half-whisper. ‘Now’s not the time. Why don’t you drop by my place tomorrow, we can talk then.’
    ‘We’re going back to the coast tonight. I’m sorry, Mum, I know it’s inconvenient, but I really need to—’ I hesitated, glancing across the gallery. Rob was nowhere to be seen, and the room was emptying fast. Mum was probably anxious to catch people before they left, to thank them for coming and say her goodbyes, but I simply couldn’t stop myself asking.
    ‘Esther said Jamie’s death wasn’t an accident. Is that true?’
    Mum seemed to deflate. For an instant, I glimpsed not the porcelain-skinned artist at the centre of everyone’s attention, but the broken soul she’d been after my sister’s death: ashen-faced, old beyond her years, engulfed by sadness.
    ‘Oh, Ruby,’ she said. ‘You do this every time we see each other, poking and prodding about Jamie. No amount of digging up the past is going to bring her back. Why can’t you let her rest?’
    She glanced across the gallery. The crowd had begun to thin, and people drifted towards the exit, calling their goodbyes and complimenting my mother on her wonderful exhibition. It should have been a crowning moment for her, a triumph to savour.
    ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ I said quietly, looking back at her. ‘I don’t want to wreck your night, but I really need to know.’
    Mum drew air through her nostrils, and finally, with what seemed like a great effort, she looked at me.
    ‘There was an investigation. As it turned out, Jamie’s injuries were not caused by a fall, but police forensics couldn’t confirm that anyone other than you and Jamie had been on the rocks that day. You see, it had been raining – any evidence that might have led us to the person responsible was washed away.’
    I tried to breathe, suddenly lightheaded amid the cavernous gallery with its pockets of intense light, the vibrant paintings, the taste of wine on the back of my tongue . . . and the sight of my mother’s face, pale now, her eyes huge and dark, her lips raw where she’d bitten them.
    ‘Person responsible?’ I managed.
    Mum nodded.
    My pulse began to hurtle, then abruptly slowed. The words drifted from me, as if from far away. ‘They thought I did it, didn’t they?’
    Mum shook her head. ‘No, Ruby. No one ever thought that. No one ever blamed you.’
    You did , whispered a voice in my mind. You blamed me .
    I shook my head to clear it. ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me?’
    ‘I wanted to spare you the grief. You were just a kid. You idolised Jamie, and losing her was traumatic enough.’
    ‘So you let me think it was an accident.’ I stopped, distracted by the sudden din of my thoughts. I was angry that Mum had kept the truth from me, but it came as no real surprise. All these years I had sensed there was more lurking beneath the still waters of my amnesia; I’d instinctively known my sister’s fall wasn’t an accident.
    The police could find no trace that anyone other than you and Jamie had been on the rocks that day.
    Suddenly I wanted to be outside in the cool air, away from the chatter and clink of glasses, away from the paintings that stirred to life a past I had no desire to remember. And away from my mother who had, with her years of silence, just resurrected my darkest fear.

    ‘Earth to Ruby . . . Anyone home in there?’
    We were standing in the car park outside the gallery. The only car