‘Number 11,’ he whispers, folding his hands into a tight ball. ‘Everything pointed to it. Eleven was what we called this house – you remember the old joke?’
I bite my lip to stop myself from screaming.
‘There were keys in a bowl in the kitchen with a label on that said “Selina, no. 11”, and after the SatNav disaster, you thought I was shacked up with someone at number 11 – nothing I said could persuade you it wasn’t true. One day Jackie asked me if I knew how much bigger number 11’s garden was than the garden here.’ Kit jerks his head in the direction of the window. ‘I didn’t know what she was talking about. She had this strange expression on her face. It scared me. I realised then: she was halfway to being mad.’
‘She’d used the keys from the kitchen and let herself into number 11,’ I say.
He nods. ‘She wanted to check out the house where I was supposedly leading my double life. She thought it was hilarious.’
I glance down at the sheet of paper on the floor, remembering Jackie’s words: Same house, but much bigger garden, southfacing – more desirable – OBVIOUS AND UNDENIABLE – MEANT TO BE!!
‘She thought she’d found the perfect solution.’ Kit shrugs. ‘We could buy a house almost identical to the Gilpatricks’ but better, on the same street. “You’ll be able to lord it over them,” she said. “All we need to do is persuade this Selina woman to sell.” She started talking about putting shit through the letterbox, Nitromosing her car . . . I didn’t even know what Nitromose was. I told her not to be ridiculous – even if we could drive the owner out of her home, we’d never be able to afford a house on Bentley Grove, this one or number 11. I was seconds away from telling Jackie I couldn’t go on the way we were when . . .’ He breaks off.
A heavy sense of calm spreads through me, like a drug. I fight the urge to close my eyes. ‘When she explained to you exactly how it could work,’ I finish Kit’s sentence. ‘If I died at the right time, with the right price on my head, then you could afford it. What was her plan? First, get me out of the way at Nulli. All the stress I was under after finding that address in your SatNav – you were supposed to suggest to me that I stop working for a while, hand everything over to you. And then, what, sell Nulli, with Jackie passing herself off as me to sign the relevant papers? She looked like me, superficially – shoulder length dark hair, slim. With my passport, and a solicitor who’d never met me—’
‘I didn’t, though, did I?’ Kit snaps. ‘I never suggested you give up work – everything I did from that moment on was to protect you from this . . . this madwoman I’d got us involved with. You don’t have to believe that, but it’s the truth.’ He lets out a bitter laugh. ‘Jackie accused me of being the crazy one. To her it was so obvious, so simple – we sell Nulli, buy 11 Bentley Grove with a huge mortgage and a whacking great life insurance policy, with her posing as you, then . . .’ Kit covers his face with his hands. Groans.
‘Then kill me, cash in, and get a house worth 1.2 million for two hundred and fifty to four hundred grand, depending on how low Selina Gane was willing to go to get rid of her house quickly,’ I say, aware of the uselessness of my words, wishing they were knives. ‘The house where she’d been persecuted by someone she didn’t know, for no reason that was anything to do with her. So, what did you say? Did you say, “No, I don’t want Connie dead”? Did you say, “I’m going to the police”?’
‘I couldn’t go to the police. I . . . I did my best to stall her by . . .’
I wait.
Kit changes tack. ‘Anyway, her plan wouldn’t have worked,’ he says defensively. ‘Who’d have given us a mortgage for that amount once we’d sold Nulli and had nothing?’ Is he daring me to call him a liar, or has he forgotten about Melrose Cottage because it suits him to do so? He and Jackie would have got their mortgage – someone would have given it to