by Mona Marple
“She’ll come.” Bernice said.
But she didn’t.
Sandy watched the clock as more and more mourners tucked into their first, and then second, helpings. Compliments poured in for her and Bernice, for the freshness of the food, the vibrant taste of the tomatoes and the almost-angry bite of the radishes, compared with the sweetness of the warm corn on the cob pieces, each one adorned with a sliver of butter and then wrapped in foil to retain heat.
“Maybe I’ll become a vegetarian after all?” Gus Sanders, the butcher, declared noisily after a full second plate of food and several pints of beer. His wife, Poppy, rolled her eyes and told him to be quiet, which seemed to be her role at most wakes.
Tom worked the bar throughout the wake, and occasionally Sandy would glance his way and watch him work. She liked to see him lost in the pouring of a pint, or the listening to a story from a patron that he’d probably already heard and wasn’t interested in. One time, as he handed several coins of change to Benedict Harlow, he looked up and saw her watching him. His cheeks flushed a delicious shape of pink, salmon really, and Sandy had to bite her lip to stop her laughing out loud at how adorable he looked.
“There’s gonna be no food left for her.” Sandy said, later, as the platters cleared.
“She’ll come.” Bernice insisted.
But she didn’t.
Derrick, who had come straight to the wake after finishing his shift at work, raised a toast to Gurdip, to the man who had helped him when he was homeless, who had shown him kindness when many others hadn’t.
The whole of the pub raised their glass and agreed that Gurdip was a fine man.
“Taken too soon.” Derrick said, his glass held high.
“Taken too soon.” The whole of the pub repeated in unison, causing a shiver to travel down Sandy’s spine.
Gradually, the crowd thinned out, and reluctantly Sandy began to clear the remaining food into plastic storage tubs. The food had been a success. Nobody had queried why the usual buffet choices weren’t present, and the fresh food had certainly looked more bright and colourful.
“Night, Sandy.” Derrick called on his way out. Sandy waved in his direction.
It was growing dark outside.
The wake, and the part of the event that Sandy always thought of as the after-wake, for the committed mourners or the committed drinkers, had lasted hours.
She collected the tubs of remaining food in a fabric shopper bag from her handbag and turned to see Bernice emerge from the ladies.
“Can you finish up here?” Sandy asked.
Bernice smiled. “Of course. I wondered when you’d go to her.”
**
It was easy to pick out Gurdip’s house because every single light was on.
A half-full tip took up the road in front of the house.
Sandy knocked on the door, then again, and then again, until eventually Anastasia answered. Her hair was scooped up into a high, messy bun, and she wore an oversized t-shirt, grey with a cartoon man on, the caption reading “YOU’RE LOOKING AT A FUTURE DOCTOR”. The t-shirt fell almost down to her knees, her legs were bare.
“Sandy?” She rasped. “Do I owe you some more money?”
“Oh, God, no.” Sandy said, her cheeks flaming. “No, I just wanted to check on you. I brought the leftovers. Can I come in?”
Anastasia held the door open, and the sight caused Sandy to take a breath.
“Wow, this is different.”
The hallway was transformed. A new radiator sat, white and perfect, on the wall, surrounded by freshly painted cream walls. The stench of the fumes was heavy in the air, not unpleasant, compared to the thick nicotine it had replaced.
“Buyers want neutral, apparently.” Anastasia said with a shrug.
“Buyers?” Sandy repeated.
Anastasia nodded. “I can’t stay here. There’s too much I want to say and nobody to listen.”
“There’s a lot of support for you here, honestly. The wake was jam-packed.”
Anastasia sighed. “People are sad that Gurdip died, but they’re not my friends. I need to get back to the people who love me.”
Sandy nodded. “I can understand that. But the house might not sell quickly. Don’t be a stranger, hey, while you’re still here.”
“You don’t want to get to know me, okay?”
“Okay.” Sandy said, having no intention of arguing with a widow on the day of her husband’s funeral. “I just wanted to see if you were okay, that’s all.”
“But you don’t. Not really.” Anastasia said. “People are full of those stupid platitudes, but nobody can help it if you admit that, actually, you’re not okay, and you’ll never be okay again. Because that’s how I feel, okay? If you really want to know… geeze… what am I doing? Just go, Sandy. Thank you for the wake. I appreciate it, but it doesn’t make us friends.”
Sandy held Anastasia’s gaze, before nodding and seeing herself out of the property.
Anastasia was right.
They weren’t friends.
12
The Cat met her at the front door, waiting on the mat when she opened the door.
“Oh, you’re adorable!” Sandy exclaimed. She closed the door behind her and sat right there, on the bristly mat, and The Cat padded across to her and curled up on her lap, a contented purr escaping from him as he drifted to sleep.
Sandy remained in that position, enjoying the warmth his body produced, until a knock at the front door disturbed them both.
The Cat jumped up and gave her a disdainful look, as if she had personally arranged the knock to disrupt his evening.
She climbed to her feet and opened the door.
“Surprise!” Cass called, a grin on her plumped-up lips and a bottle of white wine in her hand. “Are you alone? Can I come in?”
“You’re interrupting amazing cuddles actually…”
“Oh.” Cass said, dejected.
“With The Cat. Course you can come in.” Sandy said, holding the door open for her friend, who saw her own way through to the kitchen and pulled two glasses out of the cupboard. “No wine for me, been a rough day.”
“They’re the days that need wine.” Cass said. “Shall I pop the kettle on?”
“Nah, I’m fine. Sort yourself, though.”
“Oh, I am!” Cass said, already returning down the hallway with a full glass of wine in her hand. She walked past Sandy and plopped herself down on the settee. “So, rough day how?”
“Gurdip’s wake.”
“Oh! How was the potato salad?”
“People seemed to like it, and Anastasia never turned up, so if it didn’t taste like Gurdip’s, nobody will ever know…”
“Result.” Cass said.
“Hmm.” Sandy murmured.
“Oh come on, Sand. That’s the end of your involvement. Don’t make everyone else’s problems yours.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” Sandy asked, a challenge in her tone. No longer talking about Gurdip.
“Well… it should be my choice whether I forgive Bomber.”
Sandy sighed. “Of course it should. I do know that, you know. But I can’t stop wanting to protect you. I don’t turn that on and off like he does.”
“Ouch.” Cass exclaimed, clutching her chest as if Sandy’s words had shot her.
Sandy rolled her eyes.
“If I get hurt again, are you going to still be there?”
“Of course I am.” Sandy said. “You don’t need to ask.”
“And will you say, I told you so?”
“Yeah, I probably will say that.” Sandy admitted. “But I’ll wipe your tears as well. And buy you the really good chocolate ice cream.”
“That solves everything.” Cass said with an easy laugh.
“That’s a deal then.” Sandy said. “Is there anything I should know?”
“He’s been hiding something.”
“I knew it.” Sandy said. “Is it about Gurdip? I know he’s lying about the day he arrived here.”<
br />
“Please…”
“Okay.” Sandy said. “Go on, I’ll listen.”
“He wanted to tell you himself. He said you were chatting in The Tweed the other night, but he lost his nerve.”
“Did he hurt him?” Sandy asked, then clasped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I’ll listen.”
“He’s penniless.” Cass said after a thirsty gulp of the wine. She laughed and shrugged. “He had a business, well a few actually, but he’s lost everything.”
“That’s it?” Sandy asked.
“That’s it.” Cass said. “I’ve grilled him so hard, Sand… and I’ve told him, I don’t even want to see his face as a friend if I can’t trust him. One lie, and it’s done. And, I believe him.”
“Well, he has been pretty vague about his life since he came back.”
“I know, this is why. He’s thought the less he said, he wouldn’t have to actually lie about it. And he didn’t want to be a new face arriving in the village on the day someone died, not when you were sniffing around it being a murder.”
“That makes sense.” Sandy accepted. "What are his plans, then?”
“He doesn’t know. He’s staying with relatives nearby for a bit, and he needs work. I’m not solving his problems for him.”
“What are his plans with you?”
Cass shrugged. “We’re just getting to know each other again. Maybe it’ll lead somewhere, I don’t know. The money stuff, that doesn’t bother me. I’m doing fine on my own anyway, it’s not like I need his money, but I’ve got Olivia to look after, I don’t want to take on someone else to look after.”
“No way.” Sandy agreed. “He’s a grown man, he needs to help himself. There’s work out there.”
“He’s doing some labouring, he’s got old school contacts and they’re sending him a few days here and there. He’ll be fine, I keep telling him that. We’ve both had our hard times and come through, haven’t we?”
Sandy smiled. “I wish he’d just told me. He left me in the pub that night feeling like a complete moron. I’d just opened up to him about my life and he got up and left.”
“He told me. And I told him I wouldn’t be keeping any secrets from you.” Cass said. “That made him laugh. We still come as a pair, you know.”
“Of course.” Sandy said with a grin.
“I need to say something…” Cass said, her voice serious. “I’ve not been very supportive about you and Tom. I’m sorry. I’ve just been scared of losing you, scared you might not have time for me any more.”
“Oh you daft sod.” Sandy said. She scooted across the settee and pulled Cass in for a hug, the glass of wine sloshing over the rim and wetting both of their tops. “I’ll always have time for you.”
“Well, I want you to know I’m happy for you. And I like Tom. He’s a good guy. So, if things with you are getting more serious, don’t back off for my sake.”
Sandy pulled her friend in closer, overcome with emotion, because that’s exactly what she had been doing. Keeping Tom at arm’s length at times, limiting the size of the role he played in her life. Acting, and thinking, like a single woman instead of a woman with an exciting new relationship and a man who, apparently, thought the world of her.
She had wondered at times if she was not ready for the relationship. She had felt the conflicting feelings of loving watching Tom across a room, but not wanting him to cross the room and speak to her. Her phone still listed her emergency contact as Cass, even though she knew Tom had had to update his medical information and had listed her as his next of kin; a move that had caused her stomach to flip with a mixture of emotions she couldn’t even begin to name.
But, she realised, it wasn’t fear for herself.
It was fear of alienating her best friend.
And with Cass’ blessing, a weight was lifted from her shoulders.
“For what it’s worth.” Sandy said, taking a deep breath to buy time to formulate her thoughts. “If you have got a second chance at love with Bomber, I think you should take it. Try it, at least.”
“You’re getting all sentimental in your old age.” Cass teased.
“Anastasia’s leaving.” Sandy blurted out, as she pulled the old tartan blanket from the back of the settee and spread it over her and Cass’ laps.
“No surprise really.”
“No, I guess. It made me think how heartbreaking it must be to lose the man you love.”
“Well, yeah.” Cass said. “And this place would only be a reminder for her.”
“Why wouldn’t she want the reminder?” Sandy asked.
Cass shrugged. “People deal with grief in different ways. With her thinking it wasn’t an accident, sounds like she’s in shock about the whole thing.”
“I went back to Black Rock, you know. I found something.”
Cass’ eyes widened.
“Penelope Harlow’s handkerchief.”
“And? You think she’s got something to do with it?”
“I don’t know.” Sandy admitted. “I wouldn’t it that was all it was, but she’s been acting strange recently. She’s unreliable at story time, and she was strange at the wake today. It just seems a bit off.”
“Is there even any evidence to suggest it wasn’t an accident, though?”
Sandy shrugged. “It doesn’t add up, him falling in such a well-known place, so near the road. It wasn’t his land, he wasn’t out with his sheep so he must have chosen to go to Black Rock.”
“Another woman.” Cass said.
“I don’t want to think that.” Sandy said. “Imagine breaking that news to Anastasia.”
“It’s the obvious reason he’d be on someone else’s land, though. Somewhere where Anastasia wouldn’t go to look for him.”
“I don’t know if he was the sort to be unfaithful. It seems they were a pretty strong couple.”
“Oh, come on.” Cass said, taking a slurp of wine and then wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Nobody knows what goes on in a relationship, not really.”
“She followed him here so he could follow his dreams.”
“Or they ran away to escape something.”
“You’re so cynical.” Sandy admonished, but her friend’s words struck a chord with her.
“Let’s say he did have an affair, and Anastasia pushed for the fresh start here, but maybe that other woman didn’t want to give him up. Maybe he didn’t want to give her up.”
“It’s possible I guess… but where does Penelope fit in?”
“Who says she does?” Cass asked, curling her long, slim legs underneath her on the settee. “Finding a handkerchief hardly proves she was there when Gurdip died. How do you even know its hers?”
“It’s embossed. And I saw her with an identical one today, wiping fake tears from her eyes.”
“Crocodile tears, nice.”
Sandy sighed. “I need to ask her about it.”
“Great plan.” Cass said. “Somewhere quiet and remote, maybe with a high ledge?”
“Ha ha.” Sandy retorted. “You’re even more spunky than normal tonight, is this the effect Bomber has on you?”
Cass pulled a face, screwing her nose up so it crinkled and looked piggish. “I’m sleeping here tonight, by the way.”
“What about Olivia?”
“She’s having her first sleepover with some girl from school. Highly exciting. She packed enough for a week, honestly. Who knows when I’ll see her again.”
“She’s settling in so well. You’ve done a brilliant job with her.”
“Yeah, I’m proud of myself. I didn’t expect to be raising a teenager, but I wouldn’t change it now. It feels right.”
“Is she still enjoying work?”
“Loving it.” Cass said, her voice growing quiet as she settled herself into a foetal position, her head on a tartan cushion. “She’s surprising herself with her confidence. Apparently, Rob Fields isn’t the most organised of people. She's been setting up whole new filing systems, a new electronic calendar sys
tem that links with his phone straight away, all sorts really.”
“She’s a good kid.” Sandy said.
“She is. I don’t think she’ll stay with me much longer, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“As soon as she’s old enough I think she’ll be wanting to move in with Derrick.”
“Really? Would you let her?”
“I couldn’t stop her, could I? And he’s besotted with her, I know he’d look after her. She’s got this scrapbook under her bed, I found it the other night, and she’s cutting out photos of furniture she likes, from the Argos catalogue you know? And there’s recipes cut out from magazines and things like, how to change a lightbulb. So I know they’re talking about it. Or it’s in her mind. She’s not actually mentioned it to me, though, so don’t say anything to her.”
“No, course not. That’s so sweet, a scrapbook to help her prepare for it.”
“I know, I was planning my dream wedding, nothing as practical as moving out.”
Cass yawned then, her mouth stretched so wide open it looked unnatural, her dazzling white teeth shining out even in the dim light of the evening, and she closed her eyes and nestled her head deeper into the cushion. Within seconds, her breath settled into the steady, content rhythm of sleep, and Sandy draped the blanket over her and stood up, then crept out of the room.
She climbed the stairs and changed into her pyjamas, then got into her bed and typed out a text message.
Just thinking of you. I love you. x
13
Sandy arrived early, earlier than it was polite to arrive unannounced at someone’s home unless it was an emergency or a particularly close friend.
Sandy knew she couldn’t pretend the second was true, and she wasn’t sure that it was an emergency.
But she did know that the earlier the better.
The more chance her knock at the large, heavy door would be opened by Penelope herself, and not the staff.
She knocked lightly, not wanting to wake anyone, meaning Sebastian, who may still be asleep. To her surprise, the clip of heels approached the door immediately, and Penelope appeared, dressed in a black trouser suit with a snake print blouse beneath.