by Leo McNeir
“You knew?”
“Willow told me yesterday. I saw them off.”
“I was sorry I missed them,” Anne said.
“Me too,” said Margaret. “When I looked down at that empty bank I was filled with a sense of failure. That was a golden opportunity for Ben. I can’t understand why Willow didn’t take it up.”
“Can you really not?” said Marnie. “I don’t want to sound harsh, but …”
“Please explain it to me, Marnie.”
“I think it’s really quite simple. To Willow it seemed that you had the chance to choose, and you chose to rehabilitate Valerie Paxton.”
“I could hardly abandon her, Marnie. I was in a difficult position.”
“I can see that, but to Willow it seemed that you chose Valerie over Ben.”
Margaret looked pained. “I hoped they both might benefit. I didn’t see it as an either-or situation.”
Marnie shook her head. “I think Willow thought you couldn’t have it both ways.”
They drank their coffee in silence. Anne stood up, went to the kitchen area and washed her mug. Standing it on the draining board, she turned to look at Margaret.
“I’ve been thinking.”
Margaret looked at her across the room and waited.
“I’ve got to go into college now, so I’ll have to be brief.”
“What is it, Anne?” Margaret asked.
“I was wondering. Could I be the point of contact for Ben, for his gifted child programme?”
“In what way?”
“I think he’d be happy to phone me every week, or whenever it was necessary. He could send his assignments here to Glebe Farm. It’s just a thought.”
“It’s a very interesting thought.” Margaret considered this for some seconds. “Glebe Farm was his contact address anyway. And of course we all know he’d be more than happy to be in touch with you, Anne.”
“Yes. And I could drop his work off at the school when I go by. No probs.”
Margaret smiled for the first time that morning. “D’you know, Anne, I think you’ve got something there.”
Epilogue
A few days later, Ralph flew back from his lecture tour, and life at Glebe Farm returned to normal. One afternoon Marnie and Ralph went on site for a chat with the builders in the farmhouse. Work was progressing well in what they expected to be the final year of the renovation. There were exciting times ahead.
Returning to the office, Marnie felt in a positive frame of mind and, buoyed up by a sense of elation and optimism for the future, she took Maurice’s keys from her desk and suggested that she and Ralph go out at once to check over the boat. She had already been in touch with the marina that would be handling the sale, and the manager had asked her to let him have the boat’s documentation.
On their way through the spinney, Marnie noticed that the air was becoming warmer. Crossing the bridge, they paused to look out over the countryside. A haze had formed over the fields in the distance, under a feeble sun thinly veiled by feathery clouds and all around them birds were singing. After the interminable months of winter, spring had arrived in glory.
Ralph undid the padlock on the boat, which now lay in isolation along the bank. He stood aside for Marnie to enter and followed her in. Searching through the drawers and cupboards, Marnie soon located a thick file of papers, which she opened out on the table in the saloon.
“Another mystery solved,” she murmured.
“What’s that, Marnie?”
She pointed at the licence document. “The name of the boat. I never knew it before.”
Ralph looked over her shoulder and read the details. “Amsterdam. How amazing.”
“Why’s it amazing?” Marnie asked.
Ralph smiled ruefully. “It’s the same name as the sailing boat in the original Flying Dutchman story from two hundred years ago.”
“So he really was like the Flying Dutchman, Ralph. Wasn’t he condemned to travel on forever?”
Ralph put his hand on her shoulder. “Yes, he was.”
Marnie leaned back against him.
“Then let’s hope he’s finally found his resting place and peace at last.”
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About the Author
When not writing novels, he is a linguist and lexicographer. As director of The European Language Initiative he compiled and edited twelve dictionaries in fifteen languages, including English, since the first one was published by Cassell in 1993.
They include the official dictionaries of the National Assembly for Wales (English and Welsh), the Scottish Parliament (English and Gaelic) and a joint project for the Irish Parliament and the Northern Ireland Assembly (English and Irish).
For the record, the others are specialist dictionaries in Basque, Catalan, Danish, Dutch, French, German, Greek, Irish, Italian, Portuguese, Russian, Scottish Gaelic, Spanish and Welsh.
Leo and his wife, cookery writer Cassandra McNeir, live in a 300 year-old cottage in Northamptonshire.
Author’s website: www.leomcneir.com
Also by Leo McNeir:
Getaway with Murder
Death in Little Venice
Kiss and Tell
Devil in the Detail
No Secrets
Sally Ann’s Summer
Smoke and Mirrors
Stick in the Mud
Smoke without Fire
Witching Hour