The Girl Below(99)
Peggy half-opened one eye to the bright sun. “No, I want to see Madeline.”
Her request was ignored. “Mummy, we’ve put you in the sun so you can work on your tan—remember how keen you were to get one?”
“What have you done with her?” Peggy gave her daughter a black stare, then looked away. When she saw me, her eyes widened and she seemed to do a double take. She tried to reach for my hand. “Suki, you must know where Madeline is? I know she talks to you too.”
“The statue’s in London,” I said, backing away. “We had to leave it behind.”
A look of pure madness crossed Peggy’s face. “Why are you all lying to me?” She tried to drag me onto the bed, but Pippa intervened, pulling Peggy’s hands off. While she was doing so, Peggy turned on Pippa, grabbing a handful of her hair.
“Ouch!” said Pippa, trying to shake loose from her mother, who was snarling like a cornered cat. “I know she’s here,” she said. “I’ve talked to her. She comes to me at night and sits by my bed.”
Caught at an odd angle, Pippa flailed. “Mummy, stop it. Let go!” But still Peggy held on, surprisingly strong for someone so frail. I tried to prise Peggy off, but her hand was clamped as though rigor mortis had set in. And then, just as suddenly as she’d woken up, the old lady collapsed, and her hand, holding a few strands of her daughter’s hair, fell to the sheet.
Pippa clutched her scalp and retreated slowly from the bed. Her face was white, as though she might faint. “I can’t handle any more of this,” she said.
Just then, Harold and Elena appeared in the courtyard to see what all the fuss was about, and I gestured to them to withdraw. I put an arm around Pippa’s shoulders, and felt how shaken she was. “Why don’t you take off for a bit?” I said. “Go for a swim or a walk. The rest of us can hold the fort for a few hours.” I didn’t like the idea of being left alone with Peggy, but Pippa seemed on the verge of a meltdown.
She agreed to stay away until at least teatime, and Harold and Elena and I arranged to take one-hour bedside shifts. The main task was to make sure Peggy stayed hydrated by dripping water onto her lips from a sponge. Late in the afternoon, I took over from Harold, who went to the village in search of an English newspaper. He told me Peggy had slept most of the time he was with her, and I sat by her bed with a book, hoping she’d continue to do the same. Elena was somewhere in the villa, praying or cleaning or chopping vegetables. At half past four, Peggy’s eyelids flickered and she woke up. She scanned the courtyard, disoriented, and I took her cold, frail hand and gently squeezed it.
“It’s okay, Peggy, I’m here. You’re safe.”
Her eyes locked on mine. “Suki, I’m so glad it’s you. Where’s Pippa?”
“She’s gone for a walk, but she’ll be back soon.”
“I hope she’s gone for longer than that,” Peggy said. “Quickly. Bring me my fur coat. And my photographs.” When I wavered, she snapped, “And don’t make a meal of it.”
The suitcase we’d brought from London was in Pippa and Ari’s room, and had been unpacked and hastily restuffed, so that items were bursting out of its sides. Carrying the fur coat back to Peggy, I read on its label: GENUINE MINK; BY APPOINTMENT TO HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, and felt how heavy it was—more than the two photograph albums put together.
Peggy was waiting expectantly for my return, but when I offered to help her put on the mink, she said, “I don’t want to wear it, I want you to unpick it.”
Following her instructions, I fetched a pair of scissors, and began to unstitch the satin lining of the coat, starting near the hem.
“Not there, farther up,” ordered Peggy, grabbing the scissors and stabbing them near an inside pocket. “There, look.”
Where she had indicated, the lining bulged and, hands trembling, I began to unpick the nearest seam. Propped next to me on her elbow, Peggy wheezed heavily, from either excitement or exertion, it was hard to tell which. Under the lining, I found an envelope glued to the pelt.
“Rip it off,” urged Peggy. “But don’t look inside.”
I tried to do as she instructed, but the old, yellowing envelope tore and a wad of pound notes cascaded to the floor.
“Well, don’t just sit there, pick them up!” Peggy said.
I got to my knees and scooped up the bills. They were all fifty- and hundred-pound notes, and I realized I had thousands of quid in my hands. The envelope was in pieces, but I did my best to patch it together, and Peggy pulled me close and wheezed in my ear, “There’s a pocket in the back of the photo album, behind the last photo.” She paused to gasp for air. “Don’t let Pippa see. She’ll try and take it.”