The Unburied Past

by Anthea Fraser

  It occurred to Gina, not for the first time, how little she knew about this man she’d been sleeping with for the past year. Though he’d occasionally referred to his family, she’d never met them and this was the first she’d heard of any rift.

  ‘Estranged?’ she echoed.

  ‘Well, not entirely, but there’s always been a coolness between my lot and the couple who adopted my sister.’

  Even more bewildered, she struggled to recall the names he’d mentioned. ‘Charlotte, or Claire?’

  He made a dismissive gesture. ‘Neither,’ he said impatiently. ‘Charlotte and Claire are, and have always been, my cousins. I’m talking of my real sister, in the UK. I met her a couple of times when we were visiting my English grandparents, before they moved out here. We didn’t hit it off – probably just as well there was an ocean between us!’

  ‘But there won’t be, once you’re there.’

  ‘Very perceptive, my love.’

  She bit her lip. ‘So why that particular location, when the world’s your oyster?’

  ‘For one thing, Westbourne’s arguably the most prestigious school in the south of England.’

  ‘Ah, Westbourne! So this is down to Nick!’ A teacher from there had recently spent a sabbatical at their college.

  ‘I liked what he had to say about it, certainly, but I also thought it would be amusing to be the fox in the hen coop. And as it happened, the college were gratifyingly keen to have me.’

  Gina stood up, smoothed down her dress and stepped into her sandals. Then she said quietly, ‘What about me?’

  He turned his head to look at her, his grey eyes unfathomable. ‘What about you, my sweet? We’ve had a good time over the last year, but nothing lasts for ever.’

  ‘I’ll miss you,’ she said, despising the wobble in her voice.

  ‘Then come and visit. Spend your next vacation in the UK.’

  ‘You will be coming back, though? Next summer?’

  ‘In all probability,’ he said.

  She switched to what she hoped was a safer topic. ‘Shall I see you over the weekend?’

  Adam stretched lazily. ‘Unlikely. My new nephew, or second-cousin or whatever he is, is being christenbed on Sunday and I’m expected there in my best bib and tucker. I just hope he doesn’t bawl his way through it like Charlotte’s brat did.’

  ‘It’s supposed to be lucky,’ Gina said.

  ‘Not if you’ve a hangover, it’s not.’

  She laughed, collected her bag from the chair and turned to the door. ‘Have fun!’ she said lightly, and left the apartment before the threatened tears could betray her.

  James Alexander Hunter behaved impeccably throughout the service, even treating the vicar to a toothless smile as water trickled down his face. Lynne, looking at the circle of her family, felt a wave of happiness. This, surely, was as it should be, all of them here together – Mum and Dad, Harry’s parents, her daughters with their husbands and babies, and – making it still more special, as they rarely saw him these days – Adam, looking incredibly handsome in his grey suit. How Mark would have loved to record the occasion, she thought before she could stop herself. For, of course, the family wasn’t complete, not without him or Emma or Kirsty. How long ago it all seemed.

  After the service they returned to Claire and Sandy’s home, where a magnificent spread awaited them.

  Thelma Franklyn, smilingly accepting a plate piled with delicacies, was, like her daughter, in a reflective mood. It had been a good decision to move out here when Bob retired, she thought with satisfaction. Lynne’s departure, following so swiftly after Mark’s death, had hit her hard and, as visits to Canada became more and more frequent, it increasingly seemed there was little left for them in the UK. For though she’d tried to keep in touch with Kirsty, the continuing coolness between herself and Janice led to longer and longer gaps as the years went by. Now, sadly, their contact was reduced to emails and the occasional conversation on Skype, though Thelma still cherished hopes her youngest granddaughter would accept her invitation to come and visit.

  Another bonus of moving out here was that while they’d never felt close to Emma’s parents, Nora and Ed Carstairs immediately made them welcome, and their friendship had deepened as they became joint great-grandparents to the little boys.

  Adam joined her on the sofa, balancing a glass of wine on his plate. ‘A penny for them, Grandma?’

  ‘Just enjoying the occasion, and wondering when we’ll be attending your children’s christenings!’

  He gave a short laugh. ‘Don’t hold your breath!’

  ‘No one special on the horizon?’

  He shook his head. ‘Variety’s the spice of life – that’s my motto.’

  ‘All right when you’re nineteen; less so at twenty-nine.’

  ‘Don’t rush me, Grandma; but if and when I meet the right one, you’ll be the first to know. I can’t say fairer than that.’

  ‘Just don’t leave it too long,’ Thelma advised.

  Their conversation was interrupted by Claire’s arrival with the christening cake. Glasses of champagne were produced and the baby’s health toasted as he lay contentedly in his baby seat. Sandy made a brief speech, the cake was cut and distributed and the occasion began to wind down.

  It was then that Adam rose to his feet. ‘I hope you’ll excuse me butting in with some news of my own,’ he began, holding up a hand as laughing speculation broke out. ‘I just wanted to let you know that from September I shall be taking a year’s sabbatical in the UK.’

  More exclamations – of surprise this time, tinged, in Lynne’s case, with indignation at the short notice. He raised his voice above them. ‘I shall be joining the French department at Westbourne College.’

  There was a moment’s total silence, ended by Lynne’s whispered, ‘Westbourne?’

  Adam, scanning their startled faces, caught an exchange of glances between his grandfather and Harry, which, to his annoyance, he was unable to interpret.

  ‘Well?’ he challenged. ‘It’s one of the top public schools, you know. Is no one going to congratulate me?’

  ‘Of course, Adam – well done, fella!’ Sandy said heartily and joined Bruce, Charlotte’s husband, in slapping him on the back and shaking his hand.

  ‘Why Westbourne?’ Harry asked, his voice strained. ‘There must be plenty of other choices.’

  ‘One of their guys was over last year, extolling its virtues. And also,’ Adam went on deliberately, ‘I thought it was time I got to know the other half of my family.’ He paused as a sudden idea struck him and promptly acted on it, curious to see its effect. ‘Any of you been watching Who Do You Think You Are? on TV? So-called celebrities trace their family trees, and often turn up some surprises. It’s started quite a trend – there are websites galore for people wanting to trace theirs. I thought it might provide a leisure interest while I’m on the spot, as it were, especially as I know virtually nothing about my family.’

  ‘You’ve never been interested,’ Lynne accused defensively. She’d gone pale, Adam noted, his curiosity aroused. What, exactly, weren’t they telling him?

  ‘Well, this will give me the chance to rectify it.’

  Quite suddenly he’d had enough of them, of the cloying sweetness of the cake, the champagne, the general air of self-satisfaction which he seemed to have ruffled. To hell with them! He glanced at his watch. ‘And now I must be on my way. Sorry to break up the party, but I’ve a date awaiting me.’ He turned to Sandy and Claire. ‘Thanks for your hospitality, and blessings on my godson.’ And, with a nod encompassing the rest of them, he left the room and, a moment later, the house.

  He’d call Gina after all, he decided; if she’d made other arrangements, she could cancel them. She at least appreciated him for what he was, and a spot of enthusiastic sex would restore his balance. His mind churning with half-formed suspicions, he turned the car in the direction of the town.

  Back in their own home, Harry and Lynne continued to discuss the bombshell
. ‘It’s ironic that this should have come up now, within days of Mark and Emma’s anniversary,’ Harry commented, ‘but at least even Janice must agree they now have to know the truth.’

  Following Adam’s departure from Claire and Sandy’s, conversation had moved seamlessly to other topics. The surprise expressed by most of those present had been due to his intention to look up the family with whom they were supposedly at odds. Apart from themselves, only Bob and Thelma had appreciated the full impact of his announcement; protecting Adam from the truth had of necessity involved withholding it from their daughters, and they’d been too traumatized on their arrival in Canada to face going through it again with Ed and Nora, who still believed the car-crash story.

  ‘As you know, I’ve been wanting to come clean for years,’ Harry added, ‘but she always dug her heels in, and since they had to be told at the same time, our hands were tied. He’ll be furious at being kept in the dark, and I can’t say I blame him.’

  Lynne lifted a hand and let it fall. ‘It was never the right time. He’s … well, we’ve not been as close to him as we’d hoped, have we, and it wasn’t something you could just come out with. It didn’t help that he never mentions them. It’s as though he’s blotted them from his memory.’ She turned to Harry impulsively. ‘Let’s leave it for a while,’ she pleaded. ‘It’s another three weeks before he sets off for Europe, and anything might happen. He could change his mind, the school could – anything. Then all this agonizing would have been for nothing.’

  ‘We’ve put it off quite long enough,’ Harry said firmly. ‘Whether he goes or not, it’s high time he knew the truth.’ He stood up. ‘I’m going to email Roy and arrange a time when we can discuss it.’

  Roy opened the email the following evening on his return from work and sat staring at it blankly, his mouth dry.

  Adam has just announced he’s taking a year’s sabbatical at Westbourne College from September, Harry had written, after his opening pleasantries. Also – though I had the impression this was an afterthought – while there he intends to research the family. It seems the time we’ve been postponing for so long has come at last, and as agreed we need to discuss how and when to proceed. I’m sure you agree this is best done verbally, and the easiest way would be to Skype. Could you let me know your Skype name and add mine, which is Fernbank, to your list of contacts? I suggest we give ourselves a day or two to consider the implications, and I’ll call you at 9 p.m. your time, 4 p.m. ours, this coming Thursday, the twenty-first. If by any chance you’re not on Skype, please email me to make other arrangements.

  Roy pushed back his chair and went into the hall. ‘Jan!’ he called. ‘Come here a minute.’

  She appeared in the doorway, drying her hands on her apron. ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve just had an email from Harry.’

  Her eyes widened and she started towards the open laptop, but Roy forestalled her.

  ‘Adam’s coming over on a year’s sabbatical, and he wants to research the family. Obviously the time has come to tell them.’

  ‘Adam? Oh, God!’

  ‘I suppose one benefit of having left it so long is that it should have less impact.’

  ‘But does she really have to know?’

  She, not they. Clearly Adam’s feelings didn’t come into it.

  ‘If he’s going to embark on family history, he’ll be applying for death certificates,’ Roy said baldly. ‘And when he learns the truth, he’s sure to contact Kirsty, if he hasn’t already.’

  ‘But why is he coming at all?’ Janice broke out. ‘Last time we saw him, he hadn’t a good word to say for the UK, the arrogant little brat!’

  ‘That was about fifteen years ago,’ Roy said mildly.

  She thought for a moment. ‘Well, I doubt if he’ll come anywhere near us. The dislike appeared to be mutual.’

  ‘Jan, the sabbatical’s at Westbourne College.’

  She stared at him aghast. ‘He’s coming here, not just to the UK? And for a year?’

  Roy nodded.

  ‘Oh, God!’ she said again, her hand going to her throat.

  ‘We always knew the time would come,’ he said gently. ‘Just as well to get it over.’

  ‘It’s too bad having to upset her, just when her career’s really taking off.’

  ‘She’ll cope,’ Roy said with confidence.

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Janice said shakily. ‘I’m not sure I can go through it all again. And we’ll have to warn Mum,’ she added, her voice rising. ‘It’ll bring it all back for her, and she won’t have Dad to help her through it.’ Clive Grenville had died two years previously.

  ‘It’s history now, love. It won’t be as bad for any of us this time round.’

  ‘It would at least help if we could say the killers were behind bars. The idea that they’re still walking around somewhere, having got off scot-free …’

  ‘I know.’

  She felt for a handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘So you and Harry are going to talk it over?’

  Roy nodded. ‘Luckily they’re on Skype.’ He and Janice had installed it as a means of keeping in touch with his mother, who lived in Scotland. ‘He suggests this Thursday, at 9 p.m. When are we seeing Kirsty again?’

  ‘Sunday lunch,’ Janice said tonelessly. ‘And you do remember why we fixed that date?’

  Roy stared at her, then understanding dawned. ‘God, of course – it’s the twenty-fourth! With all this going on it had slipped my mind.’ He reached for her hand. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’ll be all right. I promise.’

  The Skype connection was as clear as if they were in adjoining rooms, but neither man had activated the video link, unwilling to face each other. ‘I don’t suppose you relish this prospect any more than we do,’ Harry began. ‘I still feel we should have come clean before it was forced on us.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Roy acknowledged heavily. ‘At the time I was just anxious that the children, as they then were, shouldn’t be remotely traceable should anyone be looking for them. I dare say I went too far.’

  ‘Well, it was done with the best of intentions. Perhaps we should have discussed it again once they were older, but it’s too late now to speculate. Quite a coincidence, this Sunday being the twenty-sixth anniversary of the murders, but I suppose that makes this week as good a time as any for explanations.’

  ‘Kirsty was coming over anyway on Sunday; we always go to the cemetery together.’

  ‘That’s settled, then; we’ll tell Adam tomorrow and you let Kirsty know on Sunday. It just remains to say hi to Jan, and … the best of luck.’

  ‘You too,’ Roy said gruffly, ‘and our best to Lynne.’

  The die was cast, Harry thought as he switched off the connection. And not before time.

  Adam stood with his back to them, staring out of the window. He’d moved there after Harry’s opening words, and though he’d now finished speaking, remained where he was.

  Lynne exchanged an anxious glance with her husband. ‘Well, say something, darling!’ she prompted.

  Slowly he turned, his face hard. ‘What the hell do you expect me to say?’

  ‘Just that … you understand why we didn’t tell you before.’

  ‘When I was a child, yes. But what conceivable right had you to keep it from me all these years? My God, if I hadn’t been going to the UK, would you ever have told me?’

  ‘But you’d never talk about them!’ Lynne burst out in their defence. ‘Every time I mentioned them, you just switched off. You never gave us an opening!’

  ‘We were working on a need-to-know basis,’ Harry explained in mitigation.

  Adam gave a derisory snort. ‘And how exactly could you gauge that? God!’ he added explosively. ‘I’m having difficulty getting my head around this!’ He returned to his chair and, sitting down, leant forward with his hands tightly clasped. ‘Right, now I want to know everything, every last detail. What exactly happened to them?’

  Harry moistened his lips. ‘Well, as
I said, you were all on holiday, and—’

  ‘Where, exactly?’

  Harry hesitated, but surely the secrecy of the location no longer applied? ‘In the Lake District – a village called Penthwaite, near Hawkston.’ He paused, but Adam made no comment and after a moment he continued.

  ‘All we really know, even after all this time, is that your father – Mark – was found lying in the drive early one morning, and—’

  ‘Found by whom?’ Adam cut in.

  ‘A milkman. He tried unsuccessfully to revive him, then he … heard you crying inside the house. The door was on the latch so he went in and found you with Emma, who was lying at the foot of the stairs.’

  ‘Also dead?’

  Harry nodded miserably.

  ‘And wouldn’t elementary psychology, even then, have dictated that a two-year-old who’d been alone for God knows how long with his dead mother might need some counselling?’

  ‘But after the first day or two you were fine,’ Lynne insisted tearfully. ‘Added to which we were within a couple of weeks of emigrating and, on top of everything else, trying to rush through arrangements for temporary custody prior to adoption. There was no way you could have seen anyone within that time frame, and once we were settled here you gave no sign of remembering anything about it. It seemed pointless to bring it all up again.’

  ‘How exactly were they killed? Adam asked after a moment.

  Lynne shuddered, and it was Harry who replied.

  ‘According to the post mortems, death was caused in each case by a blow to the head with a rock of some kind, fragments of which were embedded …’

  ‘In their skulls?’ Adam finished brutally.

  ‘Yes. It had been raining that day and there were two sets of shoe prints in the room, neither of which matched Mark’s. They … wouldn’t have had a chance.’

  ‘Was anything taken?’ Adam asked after a pause. ‘Either from their bodies or the cottage?’

  ‘As far as we know, only your father’s camera equipment, which seemed to indicate he’d filmed something suspicious. The police hoped that would narrow the search, but it never came to anything.’