by Agatha Frost
“She knew?”
“Of course.” He forced a laugh. “Diane showed them to her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she showed Opal first. She was always trying to poison Opal’s mind against me, and those pictures seemed like the final straw. I thought Opal was going to fire me – honestly, I’d have welcomed it –but she decided to punish me, instead.”
“How?”
“Blackmail.” Colin rolled his eyes. “Or, at least I let her think she was blackmailing me. It seemed to be the only thing keeping her entertained. She said if I stayed on as the gardener until her death, she would keep the images private. She kept my ‘secret’, and everything stayed just as it was. I wasn’t planning to make Jane’s life any more difficult by letting the gossip get out. When Eric disappeared, I was upfront and honest with the police about my connection to Eric, but they never seemed interested in pursuing me as a suspect until today.”
“And yet Jane knew the whole time.”
“I still can’t wrap my head around it,” he said, frowning at the road. “All those years and she never said a thing.”
“Maybe she wanted to forget.”
“You’re probably right,” he said, offering a smile. “I never liked sneaking around behind Jane’s back, but for what it’s worth, she and Eric never once slept in the same bed.”
“And the will?”
“Opal flat out told me she no longer trusted Diane as far as she could throw her,” he explained. “She’d been receiving weekly postcards from Jane, you see. After Jane’s death was revealed, she realised she’d only ever heard the postcards being read to her. She never touched one. Why would she?”
“Diane read the mail.”
“Exactly.” Colin exhaled. “Opal told me then and there that she suspected Diane had a hand in Jane’s death.”
“Of course she did,” Claire said, almost to herself, “she’d promised the house to Diane if she outlived the other heirs.”
“Opal needed her playthings,” he said, glancing up at the sky. “I was one of them for years, but right at the end, she showed a little humility. She apologised for thinking she’d seen me commit murder.”
“Seen?”
“She wasn’t always completely blind,” he said. “Her sight really started to deteriorate around the time she battled cancer, but she used to have some vision. She wouldn’t tell me who she thought she saw me kill, but now that she knew I wasn’t the murderer, she said I should tell the police to dig up the rose beds for a body if the heat began to focus on me.”
Opal probably hadn’t seen Diane murder Eric in the kitchen at Starfall House, but she could have seen her burying him in the rose beds in front of the house from her chair by the now-smashed window.
“Opal didn’t say which beds or whose body,” he continued, “but I suspected what she was hinting at. I agreed to help her update her will if only to get one over on Diane. Idiot thought she was getting the lot, and Opal couldn’t wait to stick it to her.”
“You must have been shocked when she left you all that money.”
“I almost had a heart attack when she said it,” he said with a laugh. “In her words, ‘she had no one else to leave it to, and she owed me one’ for thinking I was a murderer for so many years. I wasn’t too proud to turn it away. I took the will to the solicitors, and that was that. She died the next day.”
Claire spared a moment’s thought for Opal, smothered under a pillow the way she’d smothered so many of the lives around her for so long. She hadn’t deserved death at Diane’s hands, of course, but the symbolism was oddly fitting.
“And what about Jane’s clothes?”
“Ah, the clothes.” He glanced in the direction of Starfall Park. “Perhaps if Em had asked instead of accusing, I might not have reacted like I did, but I couldn’t get the words out. I found the bags of clothes in the observatory. Diane must have thought it was a good enough hiding place. I had no idea they were Jane’s. I assumed some passing vagrant who’d broken in for some shelter left them behind. I took them to the charity shop without thinking twice. Jane and I avoided each other; I certainly didn’t know her well enough to recognise her clothes.”
Another of Diane’s little lies bubbled to the surface; Colin had never been obsessed with Jane, of course. Quite the opposite.
“What will you do now?” Claire asked as they stood. “Run off into the sunset with your cash?”
Colin closed his eyes and faced the sun and nodded before saying, “That’s the plan. Eric wanted to travel, to finally see the world after what he referred to as his ‘middling boring life’, so maybe that’s what I’ll do.”
“That sounds awfully tempting.”
“You’ve got a candle shop to open, Claire.” Colin stepped off the pavement into the road and tipped his head at her. “According to Eric, Jane hated every second of running that place.” He shrugged. “But for the sake of the tales they’ll tell of Jane’s Tearoom for years to come, it’s probably best to keep that between us. I sincerely hope you have better fortune there.”
Colin headed off in the direction of the park without looking back.
“Yeah,” she whispered as she pulled the shop keys from her bag, “me too.”
This time, Claire didn’t hesitate. She unlocked the door and walked straight inside. The orchid was where she’d left it on the windowsill, somehow still alive even though it hadn’t been watered since put it there; it could wait one more day.
Instead, she went straight through to the kitchen and up into the flat. The smell had entirely gone. The attic door had been fitted, and the new key was attached to the end of a long metal rod. Claire could reach up to the door on her tiptoes without having to repeat Sally’s climb onto the sink. How Jane had managed to get up to the door was one mystery she’d never solve.
After unfolding the ladder, she climbed up, surprised to see the light had been left on. She looked around, but no trace of the scene from her previous visit had been left behind. Fresh chipboard covered the attic floor, and there wasn’t a fly to be seen.
Though Jane had continued Opal’s cycle with Em, she had still deserved her retirement. Even if some of her hospitality was forced, she’d served the village for most of her life. Claire intended to carry on that legacy with her candle shop as best she could.
Reaching into her bag, she pulled out one of the black cherry candle jars and placed it in the spot where she’d found Jane. She’d intended to lay it on her grave, but Fiona had ensured they hadn’t got that far. She smiled sadly. In the end, perhaps this spot was the most appropriate of all.
“Goodbye, Jane,” she whispered as she turned the light off and clambered down into the beginning of her new life.
Chapter Eighteen
One Week Later
“Wasn’t that fun?” Janet exclaimed as she ripped off her pink rubber gloves. “Isn’t it a shame we’ve finished every room?”
“A shame?” Claire pulled off her gloves and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm. “We’ve been here cleaning all day!”
“And I’m very grateful for it,” Ray said as he walked into the kitchen holding a teacup, with Sheeba trailing slowly behind him. “I promise I’m going to keep on top of it from now on.”
“And if you don’t, I suppose I could come around again.” Janet ran her finger across the gleaming stainless-steel hob. “I could barely sleep when Claire told me about the state of the place.”
“This is her being nice,” Claire whispered with an apologetic smile.
“No, your mother is right.” Ray rinsed the cup and put it on the draining board. “Jane’s departure sent me into the deepest depression I’ve experienced in many a year. When you get in that place, it’s easy to just give up.”
They moved into the hallway just as Em came downstairs dragging two bags stuffed with clothes. She’d been up there for hours sorting out the mass of clothes covering the bedroom floor. When Ray had referred to it as his ‘floordrobe’, Janet had nearly expired on
the spot.
“I’ll be around with your shopping in a couple of days,” Em said, kissing her father on the cheek. “Stay out of trouble, okay?”
“I always try to, love.” He pulled open the front door. “Thanks again; I really do appreciate it.”
After they loaded the car with the mountain of cleaning supplies and equipment Janet had insisted they bring, Claire found herself stood in front of the window of her old cottage at the end of the row.
Her avoidance of looking in on her previous visit felt silly. Inside, a young couple watched their small child crawl around the toy-strewn floor. The décor hadn’t changed, and yet Claire didn’t feel any attachment to the place.
Not only had she moved on, but she’d also let go of the idea that losing her house had been a failure – especially now that she had a flat full of cardboard flatpack to assemble. She had never been more determined to push herself beyond her comfort zone and succeed.
The Claire who had lived in the dark cottage at the end of the dark row had been content to coast along. She’d done a lot of wishful thinking without ever following up with action. The Claire stood looking at the young family through the window had, for the first time in her life, grand ambitions for her future and plans in place to get there.
Janet drove home, but Em and Claire walked into the square and straight to the shop. Claire had spent much of the past week stripping wallpaper, ripping up floors, and painting walls, and while the shop wasn’t quite ready to open as Claire’s Candles yet, Jane’s Tearoom’s physical presence had definitely left the village. However, as Colin had said, through stories and memories, it would live on in local history for years to come. Whether Claire liked it or not, her involvement in the uncovering of Jane and Eric’s murders had made her a significant footnote in that history.
“I can’t feel her anymore,” Em said as she floated around the stark white, empty shop waving her burning sage. “She’s at peace.”
“It’s not too late for Em’s Tearoom to debut,” Claire said as she followed her into the kitchen. “I haven’t ordered my sign yet, and you do own the place.”
“I appreciate the offer.” Em winked. “But absolutely no way. Marley’s Café is more than enough for this village – and to be quite honest, it’s much more my speed.”
“Then I suppose I’ll have to settle for you being my landlord.” Claire chuckled. “Please don’t raise the rent.”
Em opened the door in the kitchen and walked up the narrow staircase, leaving behind a trail of smoke. Claire followed, sensing Em was avoiding something.
“Unless you’re selling the shop?”
“I’m not selling.” Em swirled the sage around the living area, gracefully dancing around the many boxes they’d transported over the past week. “But I’m not going to be your landlord, either. You’re not going to have a landlord.”
“I don’t understand.”
Em wafted the sage around the kitchen area before slipping past Claire into one of the bedrooms.
“I’m giving you the shop, Claire,” Em said in a rush. She paused to rest a hand on Claire’s shoulder. “And because you’re a kind, good-hearted soul, you’re about to insist rather forcefully that you can’t accept such a gift, but I’m going to insist that you do. If you know me at all, which I think you do by now, you know this isn’t what I want. I still haven’t figured out what I’ll do with that ghastly old house and the observatory, but at least I’ve reached a decision about the shop.”
“Em, I can’t—”
Em smiled an ‘I knew it’ smile. “It’s already done.” She kissed Claire on the forehead. “Fiona has drawn up the paperwork. It just needs your signature. What else was I going to do, Claire? I haven’t a care for the money a sale would raise. Why would I sell it out from under you just as you’re about to embark on your dream?”
Claire gawked around the flat, unable to speak and feeling unable to accept. How could she suddenly be a property owner after so many years of renting?
“I only have one caveat,” Em said when Claire couldn’t form a single word in her throat. “I want you to sell your candles and enjoy your journey here, but the moment it stops being fun and fulfilling, pass the building to someone else – and make sure that person is as passionate about using this space as you are. A dark cloud has lingered over this building for far too many years, and the saddest part is nobody noticed because nobody knew the real version of my mother. I don’t even think I did.”
Em burnt the last of the sage in the bathroom, giving Claire almost a full minute to try and figure out how to make her voice work again.
“I don’t know what to say,” was all she could come up with.
“Don’t say anything at all.” Em held open the door to the stairs for Claire. “Nod, and I’ll sort the rest.”
Claire forced herself to nod, and Em let out a relieved sigh. Somehow, Claire suspected, Em thought she was the one doing her a favour, but Em had done far, far more than that.
“You’ve just given me a future,” Claire said when they were back in the kitchen. “Em, thank you so much.”
“My sweet child.” Em pulled her into a tight hug. “You’re more than welcome. Believe it or not, I just want to get back to my simple life.” She smiled so brightly her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Although I’m awfully glad to be adding a new friend to that life. Even if she can’t visit my home without losing her lunch.” She paused before adding, “Speaking of friends.”
Em pulled away from the hug and nodded through the doorframe into the empty shop. Beyond the orchid, Ryan stood with his hands up against the glass, peering inside.
“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” she whispered, wrapping her hand around Claire’s as they walked through the shop, “but I think you need to start having honest conversations.”
Claire gulped. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t need a clear third eye to see the way you two look at each other when you think the other isn’t looking.” Em winked as she pulled open the door. “I’ll be on my boat if you need me.”
Em kissed Ryan on the cheek before strolling in the direction of the canal, leaving them alone. Claire wanted to chase after her to demand more details. How did Ryan look at her when he thought she wasn’t looking? Her heart stomped in her chest, the sudden rush too much to take in.
“Things are coming together,” he said, nodding through the window. “Still on to tackle the furniture tomorrow night?”
“Only if you’re sure?”
“I promised I’d help, didn’t I?”
Claire smiled. Much of the previous week had been spent with Ryan. Everyone else had offered vague promises to help with the decorating. Damon had put in a couple of hours of wallpaper stripping, and her mother had given the flat the deepest clean it had likely ever seen, but most evenings, Ryan had been right by her side. She hadn’t even needed to ask; he’d just turned up ready to work after he’d finished at the gym.
“The help would be great,” she admitted, still no idea which beige cardboard box to tackle first. “How did you know we were here?”
“I could smell Em’s sage burning a mile off,” Ryan said with a grin, the tops of his ears prickling red, just as they’d done since childhood. “From the stunned look on your face, I’m guessing she’s finally told you?”
“You knew?”
“Everyone knew. I’m only surprised the gossip didn’t reach you.” Ryan half-shrugged. “All week she’s been trying to figure out the best way to tell you without you freaking out. I wanted to tell you so badly, but it wasn’t my place.”
Claire shook her head, still caught in disbelief. If Ryan weren’t looking right at her, she’d have pinched herself to be sure she wasn’t dreaming.
“It means you don’t have to pay rent again, mate,” he whispered. “I’d say you should consider yourself one of the lucky ones, but I think you helped Em more than you could possibly know.” He gestured with his chin in the va
gue direction of Sally’s part of town. “How’s Sally doing, anyway?”
“Considering how much of a workaholic she is,” Claire said, their arms looping naturally as they set off towards the pub, “I think she’s enjoying the downtime more than she expected to.” She grinned, bumping her shoulder lightly into his. “C’mon, I just became a property owner, so drinks on me, I guess.”
“Now we’re talking.”
As much as Claire wanted to waste the rest of the day in the pub drinking Hesketh Homebrew with Ryan, he had to head off to collect his kids from school after a single pint. Claire almost accepted his offer to tag along, in hopes of catching ‘the look’ Em had spoken of. She declined on the grounds that Ryan’s children, Amelia and Hugo, were about as friendly with her as Sally’s kids – which wasn’t friendly enough to put them in her path voluntarily.
After parting ways with a one-armed hug at the bottom of the lane, Claire walked home, unable to think of anything but Em’s gift to her. She’d never expected Em to keep the estate, but a tiny sliver of Claire’s mind had wondered if Em might want to have a go at continuing her family legacy after all. Handing over the deeds to the building with no catch had never crossed Claire’s mind, and yet now that she thought about it, it made perfect sense. Em wouldn’t have done anything else. With or without the gift of property, Claire had gained a friend for life in Em.
In the cul-de-sac, Mrs Beaton sunbathed in the middle of her garden in a plastic chair, her small army of multi-coloured cats lazing around her in the overgrown grass. Claire waved, but Mrs Beaton glared over her sunglasses like she had no idea who Claire was despite their having been neighbours for so long.
“Mum?” she called out as she closed the door behind her.
No response came, so Claire walked through to the kitchen. The tropical scent of last night’s coconut candle batch hit her, stirring her excitement for the oncoming summer. Janet hadn’t commented over breakfast about the mess Claire had made. She hadn’t made many cutting comments to Claire at all since her hospital meltdown. Sensing the effort her mother was making, Claire had been trying her hardest to keep things tidy – although she knew Janet would have given the kitchen a going over before Claire even awoke, regardless.