Dead to Me Read Free

middle-aged woman who had come to work for the Woods when they first bought this house. Verity had been about three then. Thatshe came from Cambridge was the limit of Verity’s knowledge about her background; she never divulged anything about herself.
    Even her mother found the woman chilly. Verity had overheard her talking to a friend about Miss Parsons. She’d said she thought most housekeepers working for a family for so long would become almost like an aunt or a cousin, especially towards a child they’d watched grow up. She was quick to add that Miss Parsons ran the house superbly, and she couldn’t manage without her, but she just wished she wasn’t so stern and had the ability to chat in a friendly manner.
    Verity had ventured up to her room in the attic a few times, when she knew the woman was out for the afternoon, in an effort to discover something more about her. But she was always disappointed. The room was as neat and tidy as the housekeeper was, the white counterpane smoothed as if she’d taken the flat iron to it, her navy-blue uniform dress hung on a hanger behind the door, her stout, highly polished black lace-up shoes tucked beneath the dressing table. Beside her narrow iron bed were a few library books and an alarm clock. Verity hadn’t been rude enough to look in drawers or open the wardrobe, but she had hoped to see a few photographs or something which might suggest the woman had family and friends.
    ‘Yes, she was looking for you. She wanted you to accompany her to Selfridges. She wasn’t best pleased, Verity,’ Miss Parsons said, pursing her lips in disapproval.
    Verity knew she would get a lecture later, and it wasn’t fair because whenever her mother went to Selfridges she only wanted to look at dresses or try on hats, and her rolewas to just stand there and be admiring. There was no point in even trying to get Miss Parsons on her side, she always seemed to relish Verity being in trouble.
    ‘I’ll go and read in my room,’ she said, and walked quickly up the backstairs to the entrance hall.
    Meeting Ruby had made a huge impact on Verity. It wasn’t just that she was from a completely different way of life, however fascinating that was, but it felt as if she’d been intended to meet the girl for some specific reason as yet unknown to her.
    That was why she paused in the hall; she was trying to see her home as Ruby might see it. She thought her new friend would be awed by the large semi-detached, three-storey house with a basement. Even from the front gate it looked rather grand, with the manicured front garden, the stone lions on each side of the wide stone steps, and the impressive front door at the top of them.
    Once inside, the entrance hall was spacious, the floor tiled black and white like a chequerboard. A glass door opened on to the front veranda, with her father’s study next to it. Then, at the back of the house, overlooking the garden, were the drawing and dining rooms. The staircase was wide with polished wood banisters and a beautiful stained-glass window at the turn of the stairs, halfway up.
    At Christmas time her father always had a big tree delivered for the hall, and her mother made garlands of holly and red ribbon to decorate the banisters. All the presents, including those for people who joined them for Christmas Day lunch, would be arranged around the tree. Until last Christmas Verity had thought it a completely magical time, and that she was lucky to have such a wonderful home.
    But on Christmas Night something had happened that spoiled that belief for ever. Verity had tried to blot it from her mind, but she couldn’t, and she lived in fear of it happening again. Once she wouldn’t have dreamed of going out alone, but now outdoors – even alone – seemed a great deal safer, even if she did incur her mother’s wrath by going out without permission.
    She moved on then, turning to run up the stairs to her bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was beautiful – a