Chapter 7: What Margaret Saw
He stayed on the phone for eleven minutes.
Rosa knew because she watched the clock on the wall without meaning to, the way you watch something when you are trying not to think about what you are hearing.
She heard fragments.
"You're sure it was her car." And: "Why didn't you say anything before." And near the end, very quietly: "No, Margaret.
Thank you.
Please don't call her."
He set the phone on the table.
"My neighbor," he said.
"Margaret Ellison.
She lives two houses down.
She was gardening that afternoon and she saw Vivienne's car leave at half past one." He sat down.
"Vivienne told me she stayed until three.
That she was the one who found Claire at three fifteen."
Rosa looked at him.
"Then who found her?"
"According to the hospital record, it was an anonymous call.
The caller said they had seen a woman collapse through a window and they were concerned." He pressed his fingers against the table.
"The call came in at three twenty.
I always assumed it was Vivienne.
She never corrected me."
"She let you believe she stayed," Rosa said.
"She let me believe she was there.
That she tried." His voice was controlled but something underneath it was not.
"She built an entire story around being the person who saved Claire.
Or tried to.
And I thanked her for it.
I let her into this house because of it."
"She may have had reasons for leaving early," Rosa said carefully.
"Reasons that have nothing to do with—"
"Rosa." He looked at her directly.
"A woman left her sick friend alone and then constructed a story in which she was the loyal one who stayed.
Whatever her reasons for leaving, the lie is the same."
Rosa nodded.
"And now someone is telling me to ask her about Claire." He picked up the phone again and looked at the unknown number.
"Which means someone knows more than Margaret does."
He typed a reply to the unknown number.
Rosa watched him.
He turned the screen so she could see what he had written.
*Who are you?*
The reply came in under a minute.
*Someone who worked in the Ashworth house.
I saw what she put in the tea.*
The Father read it.
Read it again.
Set the phone down on the table face-up so that both of them could see the screen.
Neither of them spoke.
The Baby stirred on the mat and made a small sound and went still again.
"The Ashworth house," the Father said finally.
"Vivienne's house."
"She has staff," Rosa said.
"She has had the same housekeeper for six years.
A woman named Petra." He was already dialing.
It rang four times.
Five.
On the sixth ring, a woman answered.
Her voice was careful.
The voice of someone who had been waiting for a call and was not sure whether to be relieved or afraid.
"Petra," the Father said.
"My name is Daniel Hartwell.
I believe you just sent me a message."
A long pause.
"Yes," the woman said.
"I did."
"Tell me what you saw."
Another pause.
Longer.
Rosa heard the woman on the other end of the line take a slow breath, the breath of someone stepping off a ledge they have been standing on for a very long time.
"I saw her put something in the cup," Petra said.
"Before she left for your wife's house.
She thought I was in the laundry room.
I wasn't."
"What was it?"
"I don't know exactly.
A small bottle.
She kept it in her coat pocket.
I saw her tip it into the tea and stir it and then put the bottle away." Petra's voice was very quiet.
"I told myself it was nothing.
I told myself I was wrong.
I told myself it for fourteen months."
The Father's hand was flat on the table again.
Not pressing.
Just resting.
As though he needed to feel something solid.
"Why are you telling me now?" he asked.
"Because of today," Petra said.
"Because of the pool.
Because I saw the news on my phone — someone filmed it from the next garden, it's already being shared — and I saw that woman smile when the stroller went in." Her voice broke slightly and then steadied.
May you like
"And I thought, I cannot do this again.
I cannot watch her do this again and say nothing."
