Cold Grave by Kathryn Fox Page A

and more enjoyable.’
    It was true to an extent, Anya thought, but the practice and study schedule left no time for socialising with peers, movies, and things that would become topics of conversation in years to come. With no focus on social skills and empathy, she had seen the lack of compassion doctors and lawyers could show, and this upbringing did nothing to encourage imagination or lateral thinking. Being a good doctor required infinitely more than rote learning and diagnostic skills. Finding common interests with others was important. Some knowledge of popular culture was a significant part of that.
    ‘You said your sister has a rebellious streak?’ It seemed kinder to discuss Lilly in the present tense.
    Jasmine lowered herself to her knees and sat back onto her feet. ‘Let’s say she doesn’t like all the rules. She fights Mother every day. They argue and shout at each other over the tiniest things. It started as soon as she was born. I remember even though I am only two years older. If Lilly didn’t want to do something, she would refuse, kick and throw things. But Mother would not give in.’
    Anya sat back on the chair, book still in hand. In some ways, the family situation was similar to her own. Being the older sister by two years, she was compliant and fitted in with the routine; in particular, her mother’s work as a solo doctor and her father’s legal practice. Then came Miriam, full of personality, headstrong and stubborn. It was the first time Anya had ever seen a tantrum.
    Jasmine stared at her bow. ‘Lilly was almost uncontrollable and used to hate the violin. She was left-handed and would hold it in the wrong hand, which drove Mother crazy until Lilly discovered the cello. She fell in love with it. I may have more prizes, but she has more natural talent. You should hear her play.’ Jasmine’s almond eyes widened. She dropped the rosin in her lap and her hand opened as if projecting the music. ‘If you shut your eyes you can hear it sing, cry. She can even make it dance.’
    No one would ever hear that again. Anya decided to do everything possible to find out what had happened to Lilly. She knew exactly how the questions would haunt Jasmine and her family for the rest of their lives otherwise.
    Jasmine’s fingers closed at the end of the bow. ‘That probably sounds strange.’
    ‘Not to me, I know exactly what you mean.’
    After a prolonged silence, Jasmine straightened, positioned her violin and closed her eyes.
    The first few bars sounded familiar. A few more and the tune was obvious, ‘Feed the Birds’ from Mary Poppins . A tear escaped, down Jasmine’s cheek, onto the chin rest, as she played the final note.
    She wiped the cheek on her shoulder. ‘That was Lilly’s favourite movie when we were little. She wanted the bird lady to come and live with us. That way, she thought we could have the birds as pets but they’d still be free.’
    Anya pulled a clean tissue from her pocket and passed it across. Jasmine flicked a strand of hair from her face. It had the same apple scent Anya had noticed on Lilly.
    ‘How could this happen? I don’t understand.’
    Anya wished she had the answers. If Jasmine wanted to keep talking, she would listen. As inadequate as that felt, it was the most anyone could do.
    ‘That’s something the people in charge are trying to work out.’ She paused and sat forward. ‘Is it possible Lilly met someone on board?’
    Jasmine shook her head. ‘No way, she would have told me.’
    There was another moment’s silence.
    ‘Mother will be back soon.’ The violin was returned to its case.
    Anya handed the book back and stood. ‘Thank you for playing. It was beautiful.’
    Jasmine clutched the bow to her chest. ‘I’m glad you were with Lilly when . . .’ The fragile voice faltered. ‘She’d like you.’
    In a way Anya was glad she had been there. Lilly Chan sounded like a remarkable young woman. Anya half-smiled and glanced around at all the spines on