Free Shallow Be Thy Grave by A. J. Taft Page A

relaxed. She examined Lily in a new light. “Oh,” she made the vowel sound last several seconds. “Hi. I haven’t seen Fi for ages. She promised she’d keep in touch and then, not a peep. Did someone say she’s in Amsterdam now? Is she still au pairing?”
    Jo answered as Lily’s jaw seemed to have slackened at the rich, posh tones. “We don’t know. We’re trying to find her.”
    “We thought she was going south,” said Lily. “Amsterdam’s not south, is it?”
    The au pairs stared back blankly. “Her grandfather’s died suddenly,” said Jo. “Out of the blue.”
    “Oh, sad.” The young woman raised her hand to her mouth. Her fingernails were polished, shiny, with white lines painted on their edges. “Poor Fi.”
    Jo seemed to sense her advantage. “The funeral’s next week. She’ll be gutted if she misses it. But no one knows where she is to tell her.”
    “That’s dreadful.”  The young woman with the earrings, unhooked her handbag from the back of her chair and pulled out a leather-bound address book. Lily noticed her ear lobes were red. “I think she’s in Amsterdam. That’s what I heard. I’ll give you Grace’s address - she only lives a couple of streets away. She’ll be able to tell you where Fi is.”
    She ripped a sheet of paper from the book and began writing on the blank page.
    “Thanks,” said Jo as she watched her write out the address. She took the piece of paper and said in a voice Lily didn’t recognise, “Thanks awfully.”
     
    They left the playgroup and walked along the pavement in silence for a while. Lily thought about how Nell had made several raised eyebrow expressions at them before they left, which Lily had taken as a, ‘don’t leave me with this lot’ plea. Poor Nell. That was no kind of life, and it suddenly struck Lily that it must have been no kind of life for Fiona either. True, Fiona was from a privileged background in terms of money, but she wasn’t posh, or stuck up. Lily couldn’t see her getting along with any of the au pairs they’d met, with their blonde ponytails and nervous, racehorse dispositions. Suddenly moving in with Brigitte didn’t seem too ridiculous an option – not if Brigitte was nice, which Lily found herself fervently wishing she was. She hated to think of Fiona alone in Paris with only that lot for company.
    “Weird that they all think she’s in Amsterdam,” said Lily. “That’s not south, is it?” 
    Jo was consulting the street map they’d picked up from the hotel. “Grace is only a few streets away. Let’s go and see her. It sounds like she’ll be able to tell us what’s going on.”
     
    Grace was at the address they’d been given. She fitted the au pair mould, in that she had long blonde hair, but her face was covered with a splattering of freckles that looked like someone had taken a paintbrush and flicked it across her face. And she was a little on the plump side. Altogether she looked friendly and approachable, Lily thought.
    Grace seemed overjoyed to meet Lily. “Oh my God, I’ve heard so much about you.”
    She took them through to a kitchen that was half the size of the Beaumonts’, but still spacious. “What are you doing here? You know Fiona’s not here? She’s taken off for the summer.”
    “Yeah, we know. That’s why we’re here. We need to find her,” said Lily.
    “We just wondered whether you knew where they were heading,” said Jo.
    Grace picked up a heap of clothes she’d obviously been sorting when they rang the bell, and threw them back into the wash basket. She didn’t look at either Jo or Lily as she spoke, “Oh right. No, I haven’t heard from her since she left. God, I miss her. She was my best friend here. We used to slag off all the other au pairs. And Michel.”
    “Who’s Michel?” asked Jo.
    Grace shoved the last armful of what looked like entirely pink clothing into the washing machine and shut the door with a flamboyant bang. “Who I work for. Michel Montre. His