by Leo McNeir
“Strange question,” Willow said.
Marnie understood at once what Donovan was thinking.
“Well,” said Donovan. “Was he?”
“I suppose so.” Willow looked thoughtful. “He wasn’t a lumbering sort of man. Why d’you ask?”
“I saw someone watching Maurice, when I went looking for him.”
Willow immediately grasped the implication. “You suspect David of …?” She shook her head. “No. He couldn’t … definitely not.”
“Let’s get back to the letter,” Marnie said. “The more I think about it, the more I think I should agree to see him. He is Maurice’s brother, after all. But I’d like to talk to Ralph first. I’ll ring him late tonight. That leaves one other question.”
“I don’t want to see him, Marnie.” Willow spoke quietly. “He can’t know we’re here. If he mentions me, you could ask what he has in mind, but I’m not making the first move.”
*
Donovan had a university project to complete and took his leave after lunch, promising to stay in touch. Marnie dropped Anne off at college that afternoon on her way to a meeting the other side of town. They would keep in contact by mobile and, if the meeting ended in reasonable time, they would look in at the hospital to see Dominic.
A light shower was passing over Northampton when Marnie steered the Discovery into a parking slot at the General. She and Anne skipped quickly across the access road and followed signs through labyrinthine corridors to the men’s orthopaedic section. They knocked on the door of Dominic’s room and went in to find Karen sitting at her husband’s bedside. Neither looked cheerful. Karen in fact seemed particularly distressed.
She explained that Dominic’s condition had not improved, and he was making little or no progress. The consultant was talking about exploratory surgery on his neck, suspecting a trapped nerve at the top of the spine. Dominic sighed at the prospect of a prolonged stay in hospital wearing the dreaded neck brace.
Marnie wished him well and promised to return soon. Karen said she would show the visitors out and walked with them towards the exit. Marnie suspected that Karen had something on her mind and she was soon proved right. Halfway down the corridor Karen stopped and turned to face her.
“It was so nice of you to come to see Dominic, Marnie, and you too, Anne. I appreciate it.”
“Least we can do,” said Marnie. “Poor Dominic seems far from happy. Is he in a lot of pain?”
“It’s more discomfort, really. It all seems so unfair. He only came up here to try to support Maurice, and now this happens. A double whammy, as they say, with Dominic incapacitated in hospital and poor Maurice …” Karen looked devastated.
“If there’s anything we can do to help,” Marnie began, “you must let me know. You only have to say the word and we’ll do whatever it takes. That’s a promise.”
Karen’s eyes filled with tears as she touched Marnie’s arm. “Sorry. You must think me the most feeble woman, but …”
“Not at all,” Marnie said, placing her hand over Karen’s. “I quite understand. Your husbands stuck here and you’re having to travel all the time to visit him, quite apart from worrying about his condition. And on top of all that …”
Karen nodded. “Yes. It’s not easy.”
“Look, Karen, I was wondering. I have an empty cottage at Glebe Farm. My tenants aren’t coming till the end of the month. Until then I’d be happy for you to use it, at no charge, of course.”
“Marnie, that is so kind of you, but I need to be in London for my work.”
“Well, if you need to stay overnight on some occasion, just let me know.”
“Thank you, Marnie. That’s very generous.” She hesitated. “Actually, I would like to come to Glebe Farm some time, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. Would you like to join us this evening for a meal, perhaps? It would only be something simple, but –”
“You are thoughtful, Marnie, but I had in mind a rather less joyful visit.”
“Oh?”
“It’s, well, it’s Maurice. We know we aren’t allowed to leave his boat where it is indefinitely and frankly, we’d like to be rid of it.”
“I can understand that,” Marnie said. “Can I help at all? I know one or two marinas that sell boats.”
“That would be helpful. How could that be arranged?”
Marnie shrugged. “A phone call would do the trick. I’m sure they could send someone to collect the boat and handle everything from there on.”
“That would be marvellous.”
“Of course, there would be one matter that they couldn’t tackle.”
“Maurice’s possessions,” said Karen.
“Yes. I don’t think they could deal with them and, if you don’t mind, I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to –”
“Oh no, certainly not. I do understand. That’s why I thought I might come with the car and remove them some time. Would the police allow that, d’you think?”
“I can ask them, if you like.”
“Please. That would be a weight off my mind.”
*
On the way home there was a thoughtful silence in the car. Marnie could scarcely believe she had become further involved in the aftermath of Maurice’s death. Now she was not only arranging to see his brother, but offering to liaise with the police and marinas on behalf of his sister-in-law. She was gradually becoming the agent of the Dekker and Brodie families. Anne meanwhile was mentally writing lists of things to do. It was she who broke the silence.
“Marnie, there’s something nagging at me in all this.”
“Go on.”
“Is it really up to them to deal with Mr Dekker’s boat? I mean, isn’t it a matter for his brother?”
Marnie looked surprised. “I didn’t mention David’s call. Karen has no idea he’s on the scene. They’ve just assumed they have to handle everything. I should’ve told her.”
“You can tell them next time we go to the hospital,” said Anne.
Marnie breathed out audibly. “This is what happens when you got sucked into other people’s affairs.”
“You can talk it over with Ralph tonight,” Anne said. “It’ll all seem much clearer then.”
And Anne was right.
*
When Marnie disconnected after speaking with Ralph it was almost midnight, and he would be going off to have lunch with his hosts at the latest university on the tour. Ralph had made everything seem straightforward.
Marnie would arrange to see David at a place where they could meet in public over a drink or a cup of coffee. That meant he would not see Willow’s boat or have the slightest idea she was in the area. A call to Cathy Lamb or DS Marriner would establish when Maurice’s boat could be removed. She would then phone a marina and get them to handle its disposal, once either Karen or David had come to take away Maurice’s personal effects. A word with Karen would finalise everything. A few quick phone calls, a couple of conversations, and all would be sorted.
Chapter 55
Application Form
Marnie phoned David on Tuesday morning, and he answered at once as if he had been waiting for the call. He sounded grateful to Marnie for getting in touch so promptly and asked for her full contact details. She found his voice light and pleasant, quite unlike the hoarse rasping tone of his late brother. David had a polite manner, and Marnie could imagine him being a charmer when he wished. She gave an account of her dealings with Maurice, but omitted to tell him that Donovan had spotted someone apparently trailing him.
David said he would like to come the following week, after first dealing with certain matters, and would ring in advance to fix a convenient time. When Marnie mentioned Maurice’s boat and Karen’s concern about it, he said he had no interest either in the boat or in any of his brother’s belongings. As far as he was concerned, Karen could do whatever she thought fit. And as for the proceeds of sale, he was similarly not interested. Marnie agreed to pass on the message.
After disconnecting, Marnie sat mulling over her reactions to David, with Anne watching her from across the room.
“How did it go?” she asked. “What was he like?”
“He gave the impression of being a nice guy, up to a point.”
“What does that mean, Marnie?”
“I’m not quite sure. There was something …” Marnie shook her head.
“Something he said?” Anne prompted. “Or the way he said it?”
“Probably both. I mean, okay, so he didn’t want to handle the disposal of the boat, but his brother’s things … He said he didn’t want to deal with any of them. He had no interest, he said. It was all very polite, but he was quite definite about it.”
“That sounds like a family trait,” said Anne. “Mr Dekker was like that, too. If there was something he didn’t want to do, you couldn’t make him budge an inch.”
“A family trait,” Marnie repeated. “You’ve got a point there.”
*
At the end of the morning Margaret Giles rang Marnie to ask if it would be possible to see Willow to talk about Ben’s education. She caught Willow on her way to using the washing machine in cottage number three, then rang Margaret back to confirm she could come down as soon as she pleased. Willow would expect her on Glastonbury. Marnie realised she was not only the agent for the Dekker and Brodie families.
Margaret drove down from school and was welcomed on board with a cup of tea. Willow and Ben seemed pleased to see her. She explained about the possible grant from the charitable trust and that she had persuaded them to extend the deadline for Ben’s application. They had financial reserves in hand that year and by chairman’s action could give a positive response if Ben fulfilled their criteria. Margaret was confident that would be the case.
Willow studied the application form and the supporting statement that Margaret had prepared for her. It covered all the points, met every criterion.
“It looks interesting,” said Willow.
“It’s the proposal that Mr Meadows was coming to discuss with you that afternoon.”
Willow looked surprised. “The day he … died?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t realise that, Mrs Giles, though I’ve often wondered what he was doing down here.”
“I was hoping this might give Mr Meadows a second chance with Ben as part of our continuing support for him.”
“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble,” Willow said.
“I believe in Ben,” said Margaret. “And I’m convinced this programme will give him a wonderful chance to develop further in his secondary education years.”
Willow nodded, re-reading the documents. “And he stays in touch with your school? Is that the plan?”
“Yes, though as it’s a primary school, we’d just be a point of contact. The real link is with the unit at the Open University. The Gifted Child team would be his actual tutors.”
“But we’d still go through you.”
“Yes,” Margaret confirmed. “At every stage. I’ll take a close personal interest throughout the programme. I promise you.”
“Can I ask you something, Mrs Giles? How is Mrs Paxton?’’
“Much improved, thank you for asking. I’m pleased to say she’s well on the way to recovery.”
“So will she be returning to her job?”
“Yes. She’ll probably be back after the Easter break.”
Willow picked up the form and statement and began studying them again. Eventually she looked up at Margaret and smiled faintly.
“Thank you, Mrs Giles, for all you’ve done for Ben.”
“Not at all, Willow. It’s a great –”
“Sorry. I know you’re doing all this in Ben’s best interests, but I have to decline your very generous offer.” She reached down and passed Margaret a carrier bag. “That’s Ben’s school sweatshirt for your clothes cupboard. He doesn’t want to keep it.”
Margaret looked stunned. “I don’t understand.”
“You are generosity itself, Mrs Giles. But the thought that every time I phoned to speak to you, I’d have to go through Mrs Paxton …” Willow shook her head emphatically. “She hates my son and actually wished him dead by her own admission. I’m afraid that despite your many kindnesses, I want to be as far from that woman as possible.”
*
Willow and Ben had two more visitors that day. Angela Hemingway appeared mid-afternoon with Randall Hughes in tow. It was no secret in the community that the two of them were known as an item. Randall had until two years earlier been the rector of Knightly St John and had left to become rural dean of Brackley while still in his thirties. A charismatic preacher with a formidable intellect, he had admirers and detractors roughly in equal measure in the parish. His character had somewhat mellowed since his days of conflict in the village, but he was still regarded by many as a tricky customer, even if they believed the Rev Dr Randall Hughes would one day be installed as a bishop.
Randall stooped to enter, and Angela introduced him as he unfolded his tall, lean body in the restricted confines and low headroom of the boat. He shook hands with Willow and Ben. Willow was intrigued to see the full-length cassock when he removed his coat. It was buttoned down the front from throat to foot, giving him the appearance of a cleric from ages past.
The conversation turned to Ben’s state of health, and Willow was touched at the genuine compassion of the two ministers. She had heard about the relationship between them and could understand why Angela was attracted to the intellectual with his dark good looks and cultured voice.
“I hope you don’t mind,” said Angela, “but we said prayers for Ben’s recovery and well-being in church on Sunday.”
“Why would we mind?” Willow said. “It was kind of you.”
“Thank you very much,” Ben added.
“God would hold you in the hollow of His hand whatever the outcome had been,” said Randall.
“Do you mean if I’d died?” Ben asked.
“Of course,” said Randall. “Perhaps especially if you’d died. He would have taken you to Him and you would be in His care forever.”
“Is that like resurrection?”
Randall nodded. “Eventually, yes.”
“You believe in resurrection?” Ben said.
Willow looked on impassively. Angela glanced at Randall, the beginnings of unease stirring in her mind.
“Of course, it’s at the heart of Christian faith.”
“So if I’d died that day in the water, I’d have been resurrected.” Without waiting for a reply, Ben continued. “How old would I be?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” said Randall.
“If I’d been killed in the canal like Mr Meadows, would I be resurrected as I am now, ten years old?”
Randall hesitated. “That’s a complex matter, Ben.”
Ben was not to be deflected. “But what if you die when you’re ninety, crippled with arthritis? Do you rise up like that?”
“Resurrection relates to the spiritual rebirth of your immortal soul. We rise up perfect in God’s love.”
Ben was still not to be deterred. “But how old are we when we rise up? Are we like children or grown-ups? And where do we live? Do we still eat and go to the loo in heaven?”
Randall shifted in his seat. “It’s much more complicated than you imagine, Ben. You’ve only been on earth a very short time. These are big questions you’re trying to tackle.”
“But I am made by God and in the image of God?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Then he gave me a brain to use and that’s what I’m doing. I know when it’s hot or cold. I know if I can see something or I can’t. And no-one has ever been able to show me God.”
Ben was speaking in a quiet reasonable tone, and Randall did the same.
“I understand you believe the laws of physics govern the universe, Ben.”
“I think they do, yes.”
Randall leaned forward. “Then you’re already beginning to perc
eive the truth, or part of it.”
“I am?”
“Yes. Let’s do a deal, Ben. I’ll show you God when you show me the laws of physics.”
Ben smiled broadly. There was a glint in his eye. He was enjoying himself.
“You can’t actually see the laws of physics,” he said, “but you can demonstrate they exist by their workings.”
Randall was smiling, too. “You could say the same about God, Ben.”
Ben nodded. “And God loves everybody? You can see that in his workings?”
“Of course.”
“Then what about earthquakes and floods that kill thousands of innocent people and children and destroy their homes?”
“It would take a lot of time to explain that kind of complexity, Ben.”
“I think I’ll stick with the laws of physics. They’re complex enough for me.”
Angela rolled her eyes. “I think one thing is clear,” she said. Everyone turned to look at her. “Ben really is better, back to his old self, good as new.”
There was laughter in the boat for the first time since the death of Maurice Dekker.
Chapter 56
Ben’s Project
Next morning Anne tidied the office, a regular fixture on her to-do list for Wednesdays. She began by running the vacuum cleaner round while Marnie was brushing her teeth on Thyrsis. Marnie walked in as Anne was stowing the machine in the cleaning cupboard. They had the usual conversation: Marnie said there was no need for Anne to do the cleaning; they could hire someone from the village to take over those chores; Anne protested as usual that she could keep everything in good order and save the firm some money.
She was emptying Marnie’s waste-paper basket when something caught her eye.
“What’s this, Marnie? Did you mean to throw it away?”
Marnie looked up. Anne was holding some printed papers, the grant application for Ben’s OU learning programme.
“Margaret left them after she came in yesterday. She was pretty despondent, said Willow had turned down the idea.”
“Why did she do that?” Anne asked.
“It seems she didn’t want any contact with Valerie Paxton.”