Four Silences Broken, page 14
“Oh please do,” said Meera, “as far as we’re concerned they belong to you now, right?” She glanced over to Ben, who nodded his agreement. She was a little taken aback when Sarah immediately threw her arms around her and hugged her tight. They had all made an effort to be friendly to Rachel’s girlfriend, but she’d always seemed rather distant.
“Thank you so much, both of you. Honestly, you don’t know how important this could be to our research.”
“You’re very welcome,” said Meera politely.
In truth she would be rather relieved to see the dusty old trunk go. Although the romantic in her had appreciated discovering the love letters, there were quite a few grubby marks on her new carpet where Ben had dragged it down from the attic and it was beginning to give the place a distinctly musty smell. She watched from the window as Rachel and Ben carried the trunk carefully to her car outside, while Sarah excitedly telephoned her team to share the news. No sooner had Meera waved Rachel and Sarah off, than another vehicle pulled up. It was Nish in one of the estate vans.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “And why are you driving that?”
“I’m delivering the Christmas tree you ordered from the estate?”
“Oh, thank you. You seem to be fitting in well at the estate. Are you thinking of making a move here?” she asked as Nish went to the rear of the van and pulled out the netted six-foot tree.
“Nah, it’s been good fun helping Lucy, but I’m really only here for Becky.”
“No offence taken,” replied Meera sarcastically.
Nish grinned at her. “You and Krish too of course, but you know me—I’m more of a bright lights, big city kind of guy.”
“Good. I think Mum and Dad would be upset if we both left them.”
Nish rolled his eyes. “There are more big cities than Bradford you know, Meera. I’m not planning on staying there forever. And talking of parents. Have you spoken to Ben about his mother yet?”
“How do you know about that?”
“Mum told me. Remember we all agreed, after the whole Dev thing, no more secrets. You need to be honest with Ben.” He gave her a meaningful look. “Get everything out in the open. I like being the cool uncle—don’t leave it too late to make me one again.”
Meera felt herself blush. She was about to tell her brother to mind his own business, but at that moment, Krish came charging out of the door.
“Uncle Nish, I didn’t know you were here.”
“Good timing, Krish mate. You can give me a hand.”
Meera watched fondly as her son struggled under the weight of his end of the tree with a determined look on his face.
“Where do you want it, Mum?” he called over his shoulder.
“The drawing room, I think. Do you agree, Ben?” she called out, as she followed them in the house. Ben appeared from the kitchen where he’d been washing off the dust from the attic, but there was still a streak of dirt across his nose.
“Yes, sounds like a good idea. We could stand it in the bay window and sit round it to open our presents. The fireplace in there is perfect to hang stockings on.”
They had already agreed that rather than go away on honeymoon, they would prefer to stay in Hartwell and spend their first Christmas together in their new home. Nish helped Ben put the tree in position and turned down Krish’s offer to stay and help them decorate it.
“Sorry, mate. I’ve got more trees to drop off at the pub, school and church. I’ll come and see it another day, okay?”
Then with a quick kiss goodbye for Meera, a high five for Krish and a slightly more awkward one for Ben, he headed back to his van.
“Can I go and get the box of decorations?” asked Krish excitedly. “I know where they are.”
“Yes, of course,” replied Meera.
“Would you like me to help you?” Ben called after him.
“No, I can manage,” he shouted as he hurtled out of the room. Ben smiled as he wrapped his arm around Meera’s shoulder and pulled her close.
“This Christmas is going to be great. I think I’m more excited than when I was a kid. And who knows, maybe one day there will be four stockings up there,” said Ben inclining his head towards the carved wooden fireplace. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
“Yes, it really would,” replied Meera quietly.
*
Unfortunately, Meera had been to many funerals. She made a point of attending the final farewell of any of her patients. However, today’s had to be the strangest. The ancient Celtic skeletons that had been found at the Hayloft were being returned to their graves. Rachel, who had thrown herself into learning about Druid culture over the last few months, had invited her friends to show their respects.
“After all,” she’d said on more than one occasion, “it could well be our ancestors that we’re laying to rest.”
Although Meera was fairly confident she had no connection to the ancient bones that were about to be returned to the soil, she, Jo and Lucy still wanted to support their friend. They were joined by a handful of other villagers who were inquisitive or simply had nothing better to do. Sarah had also invited some local journalists in the hope of gaining some early publicity for the heritage centre, but they seemed far more interested in Lucy.
Meera usually enjoyed an opportunity to be part of her new community. Today, however, she was beginning to doubt her decision. There was an icy wind blowing and heavy drops of rain began to fall from the leaden sky. To make matters worse, it looked like it wouldn’t be over with quickly. Sarah had tracked down a Druid priest to conduct a ceremony. Meera had been interested to see what she imagined would be a mystical figure; however, the small bald-headed man, wearing cords and a V-neck sweater, who had arrived in a dark brown hatchback, didn’t look very inspiring. He had disappeared into the village hall to get changed and had appeared a few minutes later in white flowing robes. He carefully laid a circle of leaves around the grave and encouraged the mourners to form a circle too. Then he began the ceremony by calling for peace to the North, South, East and West.
As she observed this strange but quite moving ritual, Meera’s thoughts drifted to her wedding. She’d had a productive morning, managing to book the string quartet she wanted, and had delivered her mother to Hartwell Hall. Her mother had insisted on helping Joan with the catering for the wedding. Although she appreciated her mother wanting to be involved, Meera had been a little anxious. She wasn’t at all sure her mother would approve of Lucy’s old-fashioned, chaotic kitchen or the three dogs who spent most of their time in there. Nor was she sure how Joan would take to having a stranger in her domain. On her way to the internment, she couldn’t resist texting her mother to see how things were going. The response had been more positive than she could have hoped for.
Joan is lovely. We are getting on very well. The dogs are very smelly.
Finally, the internment ended and much to Sarah’s obvious irritation the press surged forward to get a quote from Lucy. Meera turned away only to find herself face to face with Nora. The older woman seemed a little subdued and she couldn’t quite look Meera in the eye.
“I’m sorry if what I said upset you the other day, Dr Kumar. I didn’t mean any offence.”
It sounded like she had been practising those two sentences many times and Meera was aware that they were being watched by the other villagers.
“Thank you for apologising, Mrs Parkin. Let’s put the matter behind us, shall we?” she replied with a polite smile.
Nora gave a quick nod of her head and quickly scurried away.
“Now I’ve seen everything,” murmured Jo who was standing next to her. “Maybe people have been boycotting the shop and her profits are hurting.”
Lucy joined them, her coat collar turned up and her long blonde hair blowing in the wind.
“I heard Belinda, who was in the shop when it happened, had a quiet word and suggested a public apology might be in order.”
“Good for Belinda,” said Jo.
“She seems nice, doesn’t she? Freddie said that the assembly she took at school was fun and her sermons are much shorter than the rev’s. As fond as I am of him, I’m keeping my fingers crossed she’s on duty for midnight mass.” A sharp gust of wind blew in their faces, making them all gasp. “Why don’t we head back home and sample whatever delicious things Joan and Meera’s mum have been creating?” suggested Lucy.
“Good idea,” replied Jo through chattering teeth.
“Are Rachel and Sarah going to join us?” asked Meera watching as the two of them tried to gain the interest of the journalist who was already heading back to his car.
“No, Sarah said they were busy when I asked them.”
“That’s a shame. I’d like to get to know Sarah better. We have invited them to dinner a couple of times, but Sarah always says she’s busy with work.”
Jo shook her head and tutted. “She must be mad to miss out on your cooking.”
“Maybe she’s shy. I know she’s very clever and probably gives amazing lectures, but you saw how she was at the village hall. Interacting isn’t really her thing.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of seeing the best in people?” demanded Jo.
Lucy laughed good-naturedly. “Fortunately for you, no! I know I often get it wrong, but sometimes people can surprise you, like Nora just now. So generally, I give everyone the benefit of the doubt and hope they don’t disappoint me.”
At that moment, a Land Rover with a megaphone blaring out “Vote Devizes” drove by. The three of them watched the smug face of the leading candidate as he smiled and waved.
“I might make an exception for him,” said Lucy.
Jo laughed, but Meera wondered if she should start following Lucy’s example when it came to dealing with Agnes. After all, if Nora could be shown the error of her ways, anything could happen.
Chapter Fifteen
“I feel like a princess,” declared Lucy, twirling around. Meera’s wedding was drawing ever closer, and they were at the final fitting for their bridesmaid dresses. Jo exchanged a glance with Rachel in the mirror they were both stood in front of. It was obvious from her expression that Rachel did not share Lucy’s enthusiasm.
“It’s all right for you,” she grumbled. “You’re tall. You look good in anything.”
“Sorry, Meera. I think they are going to have to let my dress out. I can’t breathe let alone move,” gasped Jo, who was finding for the first time in her life she was putting on weight everywhere, not just her newly round stomach. Meera lifted her arm and peered at the seam of her dress.
“I think an inch on either side should do it. I’ll let the seamstress know. Do you think the bonnets would be too much?”
“Meera, don’t take this the wrong way, but if you make me wear a bonnet, I’ll turn up in breeches and a frock coat like Ben and Jack,” said Rachel.
Jo snorted and Meera looked crestfallen.
Lucy diplomatically stepped in. “Rach may have a point, Meera. The bonnets are quite large. I think the photographer might worry about our faces being hidden.”
“Okay, you might be right,” she agreed, “but I so want everything to be perfect. For a while everything seemed to be going wrong. Not being able to find a venue, then Ben’s mother not being what I expected. I thought it was the universe’s way of telling me I was going too fast.”
Lucy wrapped her arm around Meera’s shoulder. “You are allowed to have a wobble. You’ve moved house and got divorced, two of the most stressful things we can go through in life.”
“When did you get so wise?” asked Rachel.
“I’ve always been wise,” retorted Lucy flicking her hair back, then she grinned. “I just hid it well. Actually, I had a bit of a wobble recently and Rob helped me see I was getting things out of proportion.”
“What was your wobble about?” asked Jo.
“The Hartwell curse. When Sarah talked about it at the village hall, I started panicking and thinking about taking Freddie away from here. I thought me doing well in the polls was a sign we should move to London.”
“You aren’t going to, are you? Krish would miss him terribly,” said Meera.
“No. I was only being silly. Freddie would hate to leave Hartwell.”
“Good. We’d miss you too and goodness knows how Bill and Joan would cope.”
“Oh, speaking of Joan,” said Lucy, “it’s her sixtieth birthday next week. She’s adamant she doesn’t want a fuss, but I can’t not celebrate it. Bill is taking her out for lunch at their favourite restaurant, then I thought I’d do a girls’ afternoon tea for her and her friends. I’d love it if you could come as well—and don’t worry, I won’t attempt to bake. I’ve already ordered the cake.”
At that moment, Lucy’s phone rang. She looked at the screen. “It’s Alison from the Rosemary Centre. Do you mind if I take it?” she asked and hurried over to the far corner of the room.
Meera produced a tape measure and turned her attention back to Jo’s dress. “I wonder if different underwear would help?” she mused.
Jo rolled her eyes at Rachel. “I’m already wearing massive granny knickers and I’ve gone up a bra size.”
Suddenly Lucy let out a squeal of excitement and punched the air. “That’s fantastic news! Thank you so much for telling me. Let’s get together soon and celebrate!”
“Well?” asked Jo, who like the other two had been watching in bemused silence, when she finally put the phone down.
“They’ve got the money,” said Lucy breathlessly.
“From central government?” asked Rachel.
“No. It came from an anonymous donor. Their accountant got a call this morning from a merchant bank in London. They had instructions from their client to make a transfer into the Rosemary Centre account. They’ll still need to keep fundraising, but there is enough to allow them to move to Moorhead Farm and operate from there for at least the next five years.” She paused to catch her breath as Meera and Rachel both began congratulating her.
“What does this mean for your election campaign?” asked Jo, whose suspicious mind had just gone up a gear.
Lucy frowned and shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I withdraw. All I ever wanted to do was secure the future of the Rosemary Centre.”
“Really?” asked Rachel. “Because it looks like you could win, you know.”
“Yes, and for a little while I thought that was what I wanted, when I was having my wobble, but even after everything that’s happened here, I don’t want to leave Hartwell. So, I’ll be one of those rare politicians who keeps their word. What’s with the frown, Jo?”
“Devizes is from a family of merchant bankers,” replied Jo. “You are inching ahead of him in the polls. Could it really only be a coincidence?”
“Actually, there was a rather unpleasant incident with him on the day I gave evidence. He had the copies of the photos you found in Guy’s safe.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” demanded Jo.
“I guess I got distracted with the verdict and everything else. Besides nothing came of it. He was only making empty threats.”
“What photos?” asked Rachel.
“They show me arguing with Rupert on the night he disappeared. I’m holding the spade,” explained Lucy.
“Oh my God, Lucy!”
“It’s fine. Jo found them months ago and nothing has happened. Guy’s trial is over; the investigation into Rupert’s death is closed.”
“Are you sure? Because Sarah said there was some guy hanging around the Hayloft. He was asking questions at the dig the other day.”
Jo’s ears pricked up. “Did he have a London accent? Driving a BMW?”
“Sarah didn’t mention a car, but yes, she said he was from down south.”
“It’s DS Simon Spencer. He’s up here trying to find a connection between two armed robbers he arrested and Rupert. And before you ask, I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want to worry you and I don’t think there is a connection other than they used Rupert’s shotguns.”
“How did they get those? Did he sell them for drugs?” asked Lucy.
“No, Caroline sent them to an auction house and they were stolen from there. Sorry, I thought she might have told you by now.”
“Caroline never tells me anything. Oh well, as she and Alexander bought them, I suppose they were hers to sell.”
“Other bridesmaids talk about flower arrangements and seating plans when they’re trying on their dresses. Mine talk about guns and armed robbers,” grumbled Meera as she unzipped a relieved Jo.
“Sorry, Meera,” apologised Lucy.
“At least you can’t accuse us of being boring,” replied Rachel. “Let’s just hope none of us are arrested before the big day.”
*
As Jo drove to Northallerton, later that afternoon, she thought about Devizes and what Lucy had told her. The whole thing made her feel very uneasy. Only a few days ago, she’d seen him sitting with Simon Spencer in one of the pubs in Northallerton. She’d thought it was strange at the time. Apart from both living in London, she couldn’t imagine what the two men would have in common, but she had managed to find out why Spencer was so keen to get involved in the Hanley case. She’d made a few phones calls to old colleagues, who confirmed what she suspected. Wallace was due to return to her position as head of the team, replacing Palmer. Spencer had never seen eye to eye with Wallace and wanted to impress her with a murder conviction, so she wouldn’t try to shift him to vice along with Palmer.
Jo had been back at work for over a week. As Meera and everyone else had promised, now she was a little further into her pregnancy, she felt she had new lease of life. However, after her fainting episode she was still desk-bound while Spencer swanned around the place. Dawson had been assigned to assist him. Most of the time Dawson drove her mad. Since he’d found out she was pregnant he kept bringing her cups of milky tea and chocolate biscuits and despite her complaints, he’d insisted on decorating her desk with tinsel and a white plastic Christmas tree. However, seeing him willingly trot after Spencer and listen open-mouthed to all his tall tales had stung. She didn’t know where they had disappeared off to now, but Spencer had left her a note.
