Just Like the Other Girls - Claire Douglas Page 0,15

stairs. Aggie said something about Jemima leaving in a hurry one evening. It didn’t sound like she’d left a forwarding address. Anyway, it’s not my business. Kathryn is my boss’s daughter, she wants the necklace, end of story. I’d learnt at the care home not to ask too many questions when my bosses asked something of me.

It’s curled in the corner of the top drawer of my bedside table and I take a while to unpick the knots. Then I turn the locket over in my hand, trying to find any distinguishing features, but it’s quite plain. It looks old – maybe it’s an antique. I’m conscious of Kathryn waiting for me downstairs but I’m intrigued enough to try the lock again. This time, to my surprise, I manage to prise it apart and the little door pings open.

Inside is a coloured photograph, not more than 2 cm tall. It appears to be a recent shot of a girl around my age, although it’s hard to tell because you can see only her head and shoulders. Her hair is long and ash blonde, like mine, and there’s something familiar about her face. It takes me a while to figure out why, but then it hits me.

The girl in the photograph looks uncannily like me.

5

Kathryn

Kathryn watches from the upstairs bedroom window as Una saunters down the street in her maroon coat with the black velvet collar turned up against the cold. She’s wearing one of those furry Russian hats in black. She reminds Kathryn of a young Julie Christie.

She hates to admit it, even to herself, but Una seems decent. Not like Jemima. Certainly not like that snake Matilde. No, Una seems genuine. Quite naïve. Young for twenty-two in some ways, unworldly and innocent, despite what she’s obviously been through with her mother’s death. But then again, what does she know? Una could be a first-class manipulator. After all, Kathryn’s been wrong before. And even if Una is a good person, she knows she can’t allow her to stay. Matilde stayed for too long and look how that turned out.

Her mother has to stop all this. Kathryn hoped Elspeth would get the message after the other two, but obviously not. Typical, really. As much as she loves Elspeth she knows her mother has a tendency to be arrogant and stubborn.

Kathryn examines the necklace in her hand. As soon as Una told her she’d found it, she’d known straight away who it belonged to. How could she have overlooked it? She slides it into the pocket of her coat and moves away from the window. Her mother will have finished at the hairdresser’s soon and will expect to be picked up. Since her fall, Elspeth doesn’t like going anywhere by herself. Kathryn had to drop her at the salon first thing and promised to be back within the hour to fetch her. Her mother used to be so active, so independent, running the gallery, setting up the foundation for impoverished artists, being interviewed for the Bristol press as some kind of local philanthropist. It’s important to her that others think well of her, even though she hides her true self underneath her upper-class twin-set veneer. But Kathryn knows. And Kathryn’s kept quiet. Because, despite how easily her mother can drive her mad, she loves her and will never forget how much she owes her. And, in a lot of ways, she feels sorry for her.

But it’s more than a sense of duty. Even though Kathryn tries to convince herself otherwise, she’s only too aware that she’s her mother’s puppet, unable to do anything without her pulling the strings. Too much depends on it. And if the strings are cut, Kathryn will fall and the life she’s built for herself will be over.

She glances at her watch. If she’s even a minute late Elspeth will be furious, demanding to know where she’s been. It’s only a short walk to Elspeth’s favourite salon and Kathryn knows her mother could make that journey on her own, especially with the walking stick she refuses to use, even though she visits the salon once or twice a week and has been doing so for as long as Kathryn can remember. Her mother isn’t particularly frail, despite being nearly eighty, but Kathryn understands the fall two years ago has knocked her confidence. She has tried to persuade her to use the walking stick, just so she’d feel less wobbly on her feet, but Elspeth refuses. No, Elspeth would