“There,” Leonora said, standing back. “Perfect.”
I felt detached from my surroundings as I sat in the drawing room with Leonora and Markus, waiting for Markus’s father to arrive. My thoughts meandered up two flights of stairs, to the turret room, where Nina lay. I should have rushed up to see her when Leonora told me she was ill, but instead, I’d spent too long staring at my own reflection in that stupid mirror, puzzling over another odd aspect of this game. Why the plaits? Nina never wore plaits. I considered asking the question aloud, but I thought better of it.
“He’s here,” Leonora said tightly, from her position at the window. I smoothed down my skirt. I would do this calmly and properly, for Leonora and Markus’s sake, and for Nina’s.
This time, when Leonora tried to hold me back in the hall, Markus’s father snapped at her. “Let the girl come in with us.”
I followed him into the drawing room and took a seat next to Markus on the sofa. The two men ignored me for the first few minutes, and I didn’t pay too much attention to their conversation. Markus’s father grumbled about wanting Markus to help him run his business in the States, but I knew Markus would never do it—Leonora and Markus would never agree to leave Raven Hall. And I, as Nina, was ready to back up that sentiment.
Leonora brought in the tea tray more promptly than on the last visit, and once we’d finished our tea and cake, Markus’s father turned to me.
“So, Nina, will you humor an old man and play for me again today?”
I’d never shared Nina’s love of drama lessons at school, but I felt a strange calmness slide through my veins as I drew the role of Nina over myself this time, as if I were stepping inside her skin. I knew Nina inside out; she was almost a sister to me now, and in that moment, I almost believed I was her.
“Of course,” I said, rising to take my violin from Leonora’s trembling hands. “I’d be happy to.”
I played for him—much better than last time, thanks to the months of teaching that Markus and Leonora kindly paid for at my school. This time, I didn’t turn my back on him, and he smiled at me through his tears. When I finished, I sat down next to him, and his expression seemed genuinely apologetic.
“I’m sorry I raised my voice at you last time.” He patted my hand awkwardly. “Your playing brings back so many memories, I may have become a little . . .”
“Emotional?” I met his gaze straight on.
He blinked. “Well, that’s a strong word, but—”
I laughed then, and he gave me a puzzled smile in return. He wasn’t scary at all, I realized. He just didn’t know how to deal with his feelings. I felt suddenly, surprisingly, sorry for him, and for the trick we were playing on him.
“So,” he said, clearing his throat, “have you thought any more about my offer?”
In my peripheral vision, I saw Leonora reach for Markus’s hand; their faces were tense. I almost smiled at how easy it would be to say yes—Yes, please, Grandfather, take me back to America with you. But instead, I frowned gently.
“I appreciate the offer,” I said. “I really do. But you know—my life is here; my friends are here; I have exams at school next year . . .”
He bowed his head. “I understand. But”—when he looked up again, his eyes were glittering fiercely—“I won’t stop asking you.”
I smiled. “Okay. ’Til next time, then.”
After his chauffeur had driven him away, Leonora and Markus seemed unnerved, casting me odd, anxious looks.
“Did I do all right?” I asked, suddenly worried I’d messed it up.
Leonora said nothing, merely staring at me, but Markus pulled himself together and patted me on the back.
“You were great,” he said. “You kept him happy; you clearly know how to handle him.” As he headed for the door, he gave Leonora a pointed look that I was unable to decipher. She turned away. I unraveled my plaits with my fingers and headed up to see Nina.
* * *
* * *
“You don’t need to hide it,” Nina said.
I was pouring her a fresh glass of water from a jug on her bedside table, and the handle slipped, sloshing liquid onto the wooden surface. I hurried to dry it with a tissue, hoping my cheeks weren’t growing as red as they felt. Was she talking about her grandfather’s visit or about Jonas?
“Your dress,” she said sadly. “And your hair’s all wavy. Did Mum plait it again? What was he like?”
I sank back onto her bed. “You know I couldn’t say no, don’t you? I mean, after doing it last time . . .” I sighed. “He was here less than an hour. He’s—he’s grumpy, I suppose, but underneath that, he’s quite nice, I think. He goes back to the States tomorrow.”
Her dark eyes were enormous. “Did he like you?”
“Why do they do it, Nina?” I searched her gaze, desperate to find an answer. “Why didn’t they just tell him the first time that you were ill? It’s just—I don’t understand . . .”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “I don’t know. How am I ever going to meet him now, if he thinks you’re me? My own grandfather . . .”
My heart squeezed with sympathy, and I leaned forward and hugged her, despite the risk of germs.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry about everything.”
But she didn’t reply to that. She merely asked me to leave so she could go back to sleep.
* * *
* * *
Remembering the cautious air of celebration after Markus’s father’s last visit, I went back downstairs, half expecting to find Leonora and Markus drinking wine, but they were nowhere in sight. I carried Nina’s empty water jug into the kitchen and set it down next to a couple of mugs by the sink. I was already thinking of Jonas again, wondering whether I might ring him at his mum’s B and B—I felt bad for thinking it, but Nina’s illness was an ideal opportunity for Jonas and me to spend a whole evening alone together. I don’t know what made me notice the mugs—perhaps the novelty of the faint chocolate aroma, as we hadn’t drunk hot chocolate since the end of the winter. I almost moved away, and then I leaned back over them.
One mug was the standard Raven Hall china, and the other was Nina’s own—a custom-made, satisfyingly chunky mug with her name painted on. Both had the usual thick chocolate dregs at the bottom. But Nina’s held an extra layer—a thin, oily layer that didn’t look like anything I’d ever seen before. I picked up the mug tentatively and tilted it to the light, and my skin prickled. There was definitely something unusual in there. What on earth was it?