Free Mind Games by Hilary Norman Page B

there.’
    ‘Why do you think I would have?’ Becket asked.
    ‘To get closer to the truth,’ Grace answered.
    ‘Isn’t that what you’re hoping to do, Dr Lucca?’
    ‘In a way.’
    The house was a big, but not too grand, mock Tudor, with plenty of landscaped space around it. Grace noted three different kinds of palm trees, bougainvillaea, jasmine, roses,
a smooth, immaculately maintained front lawn – the image of tranquillity – until the partially torn crime-scene tape and careless litter of soft drink cans and discarded coffee cups
reminded her of the brutal reality.
    They entered from the side, moved through the kitchen and into the hallway. Grace didn’t need to watch Cathy’s face; the tension was coming off her in palpable waves. The first pangs
of self-doubt and guilt hit Grace hard.
    ‘Where do you want to go to feel safe, Cathy?’ she asked.
    Her answer was instant. ‘The backyard.’
    ‘Let’s go.’
    Grace followed her back through the side entrance and around to the rear of the house, and right away she understood. It was the kind of backyard any teenager would like to live with. It was big
and private, its perimeters lined with shady palms and a lovely Jacaranda tree. The lawn was good-sized, there was a great, tempting pool with a diving board, a stone barbecue, table and chairs, a
couple of swing-seats with canopies and a hammock. There was also a pool-house at the end of the garden with a second barbecue, and Grace guessed that Cathy had spent a lot of time down there with
friends. If she had friends. Grace realized, abruptly, that she’d seen or heard no evidence of any youngsters coming to her aunt’s house, or calling. Not that that proved much; Grace
knew very well that death of all kinds caused some people of all ages to keep their distance.
    ‘This is a great backyard for parties,’ she said, softly, watching Cathy’s face, glad that here, at least, the memories seemed to be happy.
    ‘My parents threw a few,’ she answered, ‘when Arnie wasn’t working at the restaurants. He loved parties.’
    ‘What about your mother?’
    ‘Not so much. Mom was quieter, you know?’ Cathy paused. ‘No, I guess you don’t.’
    ‘I’d like to hear, if you want to tell me.’
    ‘Can I take off my shoes, dunk my feet in the pool?’
    ‘It’s your pool,’ Grace said. ‘You don’t need permission.’
    ‘I feel like I need to ask before I do anything these days.’
    ‘Not with me.’
    Cathy took off her sneakers without untying her laces. Grace did the same, and they both sat down on the edge of the pool. Cathy was wearing shorts and a halter neck top; Grace wore tan slacks,
but wished she’d put on a pair of shorts instead. The water felt great. Cathy gave a long sigh. It sounded like relief.
    ‘What?’ Grace asked.
    ‘It feels the same,’ she said.
    ‘It is the same.’
    ‘Nothing’s the same,’ she said.
    Grace couldn’t argue.
    They sat silently for a while.
    ‘I would like to hear about your mother,’ Grace said, at last.
    ‘What do you want to know?’
    ‘Anything.’ Grace knew better than that. ‘Were you good friends?’
    ‘I guess.’ Cathy stared into the blue water. ‘Mom wasn’t really fun, you know? Though she could be, sometimes, when she let herself go. Arnie was fun. Mom was
quieter.’ She paused. ‘I said that already, didn’t I?’
    ‘That doesn’t matter.’
    ‘She worried a lot,’ Cathy said.
    ‘What about?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Didn’t she confide in you?’
    ‘Did your mom tell you private stuff?’ It was the same kind of retaliatory question she’d come back with near the start of their last session, before she’d started to
settle down a little.
    ‘My mother only told me private stuff when it suited her.’ Grace was still sure that straight was the only way to go with Cathy. One of her first tutors had taught her that it was
okay to refer to her own life experiences with a patient so long as the focus remained