‘Come on.’ Tony led Alex to sit between them.
‘It was the reverend and his wife who told me you put this here.’ Juste smoothed the arm beside him. ‘Sibyl, Mrs Davis was distraught and Reverend Ivor wanted to get another to replace it at once, but I’m afraid I thought you should both know and make your own decision. You are not people who hide from the truth.’
Clearing her throat, Alex glanced at Tony to see if he might think, as she did, that Juste assumed her baby was his.
Tony smiled. ‘Little Lily was the baby Alex lost during her first marriage. I wish she had been mine.’ Color spread across his cheekbones and his very blue eyes deepened to almost navy.
The silence that followed wasn’t long, but it was uncomfortable, although Alex very much wanted to kiss Tony.
Juste patted Alex’s hand. ‘Children are a blessing – not that they aren’t also a pain in the neck sometimes, as you British say. I should like to have my own one day, just as I will pray that you have yours – both of you,’ he said with an impish smile.
The sound of a car engine spoiled the moment. Tony leaned to see past the lychgate to a tiny overflow car park beside the row of cottages on Pond Street, two of which comprised Leaves of Comfort, Harriet and Mary Burke’s tea rooms. A dark car, very new looking, pulled in but the engine remained running.
Alex glanced up at the back windows of the sisters’ flat but was relieved to see the curtains were still closed.
‘Who is it?’ Juste asked. ‘You know the car?’
‘I think they’re lost,’ Tony said, and promptly the engine was cut and the driver and front passenger doors opened. Bill Lamb got out of the driver’s side and Dan O’Reilly stood up beside the car with a mobile to his ear.
‘When did the police start driving Jags?’ Tony said. ‘Nice car. I’ve always liked dark gray – especially when it’s clean.’
Lamb walked through the lychgate first and O’Reilly followed at a more leisurely pace. When Bill got close he grinned at Alex and Tony. ‘I’m not surprised to find you here. But I didn’t expect you to interfere, Juste.’
‘That was not my intention,’ Juste said. He moved away a little and stood quiet and unmoving.
‘He’s not interfering,’ Alex protested. ‘Don’t forget he’s the one who found the plaque had been taken, not that I think it’s important other than as an example of how unruly the kids are getting around here.’
‘Whatever you say.’ Bill waited for Dan to catch up. ‘Surely you know we aren’t the ones who usually bother with petty vandalism?’
Just what she’d been thinking. She didn’t answer.
‘Who else knew about the bench?’ Dan asked, although he smiled, softening the atmosphere. ‘I agree we’ve got an upsurge in unruly youngsters but that’s the story all over.’
‘I don’t know who knew,’ Alex said. ‘Probably … well, no, I don’t know because I didn’t talk about it. Why would I?’
‘You never saw anyone else visiting here?’
‘No – apart from a few close friends. We planted annuals and the roses will be back in bloom soon enough. We’ll start lavender this year.’
‘Very nice,’ Dan said with no suggestion of ridicule. ‘I like this little church, and the grounds.’
That surprised Alex. Dan didn’t usually go in for platitudes.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’m sure the uniforms are on the mystery of the missing plaque. That’s not why we’re here. We were told you and Tony might be here, Alex.’
Tony frowned at her. ‘Nobody knows where we are.’
She was being watched, Alex thought. Apparently every move she made which was a disturbing thought.
‘It was a guess and it was right,’ Bill said. ‘But that’s not important. We went to Corner Cottage to speak to Lily. She’s not there and she isn’t at the Black Dog yet.’
‘I should hope not,’ Alex responded quickly while she digested the idea that her mother might not be at her cottage. ‘How can you be sure she’s not at home?’
‘She didn’t answer her phone or the door, and her car’s gone from the back of the Black Dog,’ Bill said. ‘We know that’s where she keeps it. We went to ask Doc Harrison what he knows and he said he couldn’t tell us anything. That might have meant, he wouldn’t tell us anything, but we didn’t push him. He was dealing with the Gammage boys. Good man, your dad, Tony. Boys and their sports, their homework and a new cat and being the local GP, he’s something else.’
‘Yes, he is,’ Tony said.
Alex hardly dared to look at him. ‘My mother helps a lot with the boys and their activities and Naruto is a darling – the cat, I mean. We all help out and both Scoot and Kyle are capable, aren’t they, Tony?’
She heard Tony’s long, indrawn breath. ‘If every pair of teenage brothers were as reliable, it would be an easy world to live in. Kyle puts in some hours helping at my small animal clinic, which Bill probably knows from Radhika. She is very attached to the boy. Scoot works at the Black Dog. Terrific boys.’
‘Did we say they weren’t?’ Bill asked.
‘Back to Lily,’ Dan said. ‘We’d like to question her – informally, if possible. We’d appreciate it if you helped us find her.’
Alex looked straight ahead and pushed a hand under Tony’s arm. They looked toward the lychgate, watching Dan and Bill get into their car and reverse to a wide spot where they could turn around and drive away.
When they were out of sight, Alex let out a long breath and said, ‘Why would they be so interested in speaking to Lily?’
‘We should have asked them that,’ Tony said. ‘My mind was going in several directions. But I probably shouldn’t call and ask now.’
‘No, please don’t,’ Alex said. The less they gave the impression that they were concerned about Lily’s movements, the better.
Juste cleared his throat. They had forgotten he was there. ‘Perhaps I can help.’
He joined them and they stood in a huddle on the cold morning of a day that didn’t seem destined to warm up.
‘We’ll take any hints,’ Tony said. He folded a hand over Alex’s on his arm and smiled at her. ‘We aren’t making out too well in the investigating department. Some silly young churchyard kleptomaniacs can’t have anything to do with … anything, I suppose, but why would the police want to see Lily.’
‘If she was here, where she’s supposed to be, it would be easier to believe they don’t have a reason at all.’
She leaned on Tony and looked up at Juste, who was silent, but frowning in a way that didn’t help her relax. ‘What is it?’ she asked him.
Juste studied his feet – for a long time.
‘Juste!’ Alex said urgently. ‘What is it? You’re frightening me more than I was already frightened.’
‘OK. I didn’t understand when it happened and I still don’t understand. You must ask Lily why she did it, but I told her I would try not to put myself in the middle of it. This is between all of you. I am merely a bystander who wants the people I care about to be happy. And I will do anything to help with that.’
Alex reached for Juste’s hand and he took it firmly.
‘Will you listen to me when I tell you this small thing, and may I rely on you to do nothing about it until you have thought it through?’
‘What would we do?’ Tony sounded bemused.
‘Nothing, of course. I had the terrible little thought that you might tell the detectives if you knew, but that is foolish of me. If it is important, Lily will explain herself. When the detectives came just now I was afraid they already knew, but now I’m sure they don’t. They were here for a reason we don’t know.’
Alex’s legs felt weak. ‘I would never tell the police anything about my mother.’
He inclined his head. ‘C’est ça. Of course that’s the way it would be. And I’m certain this was unimportant. It was Lily who took the plaque from the bench.’
‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ Alex said. ‘How do you know?’
THIRTEEN
Lily tromped through clumpy, wet grass to an overgrown path close to the Thames. From there Windsor Castle was massive atop it’s chalky bluff and she could make out the Union Jack snapping above the royal residence. No monarch in residence today, if she remembered the rule properly.
A mossy bench beneath the leafless branches of a weeping willow glistened with moisture. She took a croissant and bottle of Starbucks Frappuccino from a plastic bag and used the latter to keep her coat from getting too wet on the seat. The canvas tote she carried was heavy enough to make red marks on her wrist and she balanced it on her lap, keeping her elbows propped where they guarded the bag against her.
Her car was parked on the other side of the river, the Eton side. Only foot traffic was allowed on the Windsor Bridge and although she barely remembered much about it, this, or somewhere around here, must have been where her mother brought her on one of the rare times she’d taken Lily out from her foster home for a day.
They would be serving the lunch crowd at the Black Dog. Lily’s hands were cold. She blew on first one, then the other. The mountain of overwhelming guilt at having run out on the people who relied on her had become a numb place in her mind. James knew where she had gone, as closely as she could explain, and he would manage to cover for her – or at least stop Alex from panicking too badly.
Angela had brought her seven- or eight-year-old daughter Lily here. They had looked up at the castle and gone by bus to Runnymede where Angela had read aloud a memorial commemorating the signing of the Magna Carta, although it had meant nothing to Lily who couldn’t really concentrate on anything anyway. Being with her mother was all that mattered to a little girl who spent so much time waiting for such a day.
There was a house, a big house with tall trees and lawns, flowers, and water fountains spraying into pools. Lily remembered people riding by on horseback, laughing and talking. They took no notice of Lily or Angela. Immediately after that Angela had held her hand while they ran through trees again to a big gate.
Where had that house been? Quite close to Eton and Windsor, Lily thought. And it had a name but she didn’t remember that, either.
She must eat. The croissant was still faintly warm – probably from clutching it too tightly. When she unwrapped the flaking pastry it was squashed and pieces sprayed her coat but she started eating and found she was ravenous. The creamy coffee tasted good cold. Lily drank it down quickly and put the empty bottle on the bench.
Ducks swam closer, light catching emerald green feathers on their heads. They nattered and fussed and Lily broke off bits of the croissant to toss among the birds. The flapping and bustling brought her an instant’s smile before she looked down at the tan bag she held tightly on her lap.
Angela had come to see her once more, when Lily was ten. They went only as far as the playground beside the tall block of flats where Lily lived with foster parents and four bigger children who weren’t interested in her. They did leave her alone when they were at home and they weren’t mean.
It rained that afternoon but Lily didn’t care. She and Angela sat side-by-side on swings that creaked and screamed with every small move.
‘Do you remember when I took you to look at Windsor Castle?’ Angela asked. ‘You were really little then so you’ve probably forgotten.’
Lily looked at it again now. ‘Of course, I haven’t,’ she’d told her mum. ‘I never will. Cross my heart.’ Grown-ups didn’t seem to understand how little kids had good memories for happy stuff.
‘Would you like to go there again—?’
‘Yes, yes!’ Lily jumped off her swing. ‘Can we go now? I can go and get my mac.’
‘No, Lilababe, not now.’ Mum hadn’t called her that for ever so long. Lily liked hearing it again. ‘I was thinking that it would be a lovely place to go back to one day. For something special.’
Lily kept her head up and smiled. She wouldn’t look disappointed, or cry like a little kid might. ‘I’d like that,’ she said, climbing back on the swing.
‘We need to go in,’ Mum said. ‘My friends are waiting for me.’
With hurt in her throat, Lily nodded and frowned as if she was thinking hard about something serious. ‘Do I know your friends? Are they some of the ones we lived with sometimes?’ She must not let her voice wobble or her mum wouldn’t come back ever.
‘I don’t think you met these friends,’ Mum said. ‘Come on.’ She got up and reached out a hand.
Lily held on tight and smiled her very best smile. She had all her teeth again now and sometimes she was told they were nice.
All the way back to the block of flats where her foster family lived Lily skipped. Was she too old to skip now? She wasn’t sure but she stopped and lifted her mum’s hand to kiss it. Mum stood still and gave her a hug, rested her face on top of Lily’s curly hair.
They took the smelly lift to the right floor and walked to the black front door with all the kick marks.
‘Remember,’ Mum said, ‘for something really special I’ll take you to see Windsor Castle again – and sit by the river. We’ll take a picnic.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Lily had said.
Her mum went away quickly and didn’t look back to wave once. Lily couldn’t swallow at all. Tears escaped and ran down her cheeks. They tasted salty on her lips.
This probably wasn’t the actual bench they’d sat on but it was close enough for Lily’s memory to make it so.
Angela had not returned, not to the awful flat, or to the two other homes where Lily had been placed before, at fifteen, she was taken by a couple who were so kind she thought she had finally found her forever place.
The bag on her lap wasn’t really heavy, just awkward. Her mother had promised her that they would come back to this place for something special and in a way, they had. In the bag were two wooden boxes and several sealed envelopes of various sizes. These things were all she would have of Angela, and a past Lily had never known – her mother’s past, or that’s what she expected to find. Lily had brought them here because it seemed the right thing to do.
She put a hand into the bag and pulled out a box. Perhaps two inches deep, it had enough weight to make her wonder if it could have only papers inside. The second box, cheap but carved and painted in garish colors, looked as if it was one of many the same, perhaps from a market. Lily had a fleeting memory of Notting Hill. How could she remember when she must have been no more than five? And Portobello Road Market, her hand held tightly. Big girls like her mother in long, colored skirts. They shrieked with laughter and strands of beads clicked from their necks and wrists. Their hair was long and so was the hair of the men with them. They all laughed and they tickled her until she laughed, too. And they bought her ice cream and candy floss, and toffee apples.
The colored boxes, of all different sizes and shapes, were piled on a table covered with a bright yellow cloth that flapped in the wind. One of the big girls took a box and put it in Lily’s hands …
She looked at the box she held now. Had this been the one she was given? Lily didn’t remember. She put both boxes on the bench beside her.
The envelopes did contain papers. One held a child’s crayon drawings and she knew they were hers, that Angela had kept them. Childish notes in big, rounded letters: ‘I’m being good, Mummy?’
The second envelope bulged with photographs, a lot in black and white, a scrap of faded lace, a small envelope of fragile pressed flowers. Inside pieces of creased tissue paper lay a tarnished silver frame containing the black and white photograph of a young couple smiling at the camera. The man had a rose in his buttonhole and the girl held a bunch of flowers.
Inside the final envelope were several sheets of paper folded together with a notecard paperclipped to them. Lily eased the card free and read:
I understood that you should know these things
, but not when would be the right time to give them to you. When you get this, the decision will have been made for me. I can’t tell you what to think or feel, but I can ask you to understand that we are all no more than human and we are weak sometimes. I love you. I always have and I wish I could have been better at finding a good path for both of us.
With love,
Mummy (Angela Picket Devoss)
Devoss?
There was folded paper, lined, torn from a notebook. Lily’s hands trembled as she pulled off the paperclip and opened the sheets out flat.
I am Angela Picket Devoss. My parents worked for the Devoss family on their estate in Windsor. That’s where I was born and grew up.
Simon Devoss was the youngest of three sons and my friend for all of my childhood. We played together as children, but as we became teenagers Simon was told he must not be around me. He was not someone who did as he was told unless he thought it was the right thing. Simon thought, as I did, that friends as close as we were should be together.
I was eighteen, Simon was twenty – we knew we would always be in love. We ran away and married in a registry office. Two of Simon’s friends were our witnesses. Afterwards we tried to tell our families. Simon’s parents wanted to take him home and send him back to university, but said I would never be welcomed by them. They wanted our marriage annulled. My parents wouldn’t see me.
We lived in a little flat in Slough and Simon got a job as an accounting clerk. He intended to be a lawyer but we knew it would be hard to find a way to do that with little money. I worked in a sweet shop.
It wasn’t a sad time. It was very happy, the most happy in my life.
Four months after we married, Simon was killed by a car that overtook a bus when he was crossing the road. His family held his funeral but wouldn’t speak to me. I understand they thought it was all my fault. In a way it was. But for me, Simon would never have been near that bus. I couldn’t change any of it.
Whisper the Dead Page 9