The Dead Summer

by Helen Moorhouse

  It was Rob Mountford who had eventually found what remained of poor Henry Flynn, taking a sledgehammer to the fireplace with a policeman present. At first it was hard to distinguish the bones from the twigs that had been dropped down by nest-building rooks over the years but a shred of blue material was sticking out from between the twigs and a forensic team had spent three days at the cottage conducting their investigation. The letter that Lil had left cleared much up, and Martha had given the rest of the correspondence to the police. There could be no verdict of murder, of course, no actual evidence of what had happened but everyone knew what fate had ultimately befallen the child.

  The case was thankfully kept out of the papers – the one undertaking for which the Mountfords had volunteered. Heaven forbid that their name should be associated in any way with the murder of a child.

  It had angered Martha at first that no one would ever know what they had done to Lil and Henry but after a while she began to think that Lil and her poor forgotten parents would also have preferred it to stay a secret. All the trouble that secrets caused, she thought.

  Two wooden planks lay over the hole, with two long strips of cloth laid across them. Will laid the coffin on the strips. He stepped over the rough, frozen ground and crossed to Martha, touching Gabriel’s arm as he passed and kissing Martha on the cheek before taking Ruby from Gabriel and settling her on his hip. She started to wriggle so he took out his BlackBerry and gave it to her to play with. A shadow of annoyance crossed Martha’s face – she was trying to teach her not to play with phones and remote controls and here was Will undoing all of her good work. She’d have words with him over that, but for now it kept Ruby quiet as Father Timoney began the short funeral service.

  When he had said the prayers, Will handed Ruby back to Martha. Then he and Gabriel caught hold of the strips of cloth under the tiny coffin and lifted it as the gravedigger swiftly removed the planks underneath. Will and Gabriel steadied themselves to lower it into the grave.

  Martha became aware of some people approaching and looked up. She smiled as she recognised Mary Stockwell and her children Alison and Ryan. She guessed who the other three were and her heart gave a thud.

  Mary gave a small wave and the group stood solemnly, watching Gabriel and Will finally lower Henry to his resting place. With Lil. With his mother.

  Will had arranged for the stonemason to do his job as soon as possible. It would just say ‘Henry Joseph Flynn, 1953-1957’ under Lil’s inscription. Will, who had paid for the grave to be marked, was insistent that Henry’s name be kept a secret no longer in Shipton Abbey.

  Father Timoney finished the prayers and the short service ended. He turned to Will and shook his hand and they engaged in a short chat. Martha watched Gabriel take something from his pocket and kneel momentarily, slipping something into the grave – the small silver rosary beads that she had gone to retrieve that day in July. If she hadn’t, none of them would be here. That made her wistful and sad at the same time. Maybe Lil would never have come for Henry if things hadn’t got so stirred up. Certainly she and Will would never have –

  “Hallo, Martha,” came a voice in her ear, and she turned to see Mary Stockwell beside her, the warm smell of her perfume coming from the fur collar of her coat.

  “Mary!” Martha extended her free arm to hug her old friend.

  “Hello, pigeon, remember me?” said Mary, bending slightly to address Ruby, who didn’t, but who wriggled in delight at the attention nonetheless.

  Ruby had slipped down Martha’s hip and she hauled her back again into a more comfy position.

  “You’ve got so big,” said Mary and rubbed her cheek. “Martha, I don’t think you’ve met everyone, have you?” Mary stepped back so that Martha could see the little group behind her. “You know Alison, of course, and Ryan . . .” They smiled and nodded at Martha and then continued to look bored. “And this is Claire and Oliver . . .” Mary pointed to another two who did the same and then stepped back to form a huddle with their brother and sister.

  A small, balding man with a pockmarked face stepped out from behind Mary’s shoulder.

  “And this is Duncan,” said Mary nervously. “My husband.”

  The man smiled and extended his hand.

  Martha took the proffered hand and gripped it firmly. “I’m very glad to meet you, Duncan,” she said and smiled. The man smiled warmly in return and Martha watched as he and Mary exchanged a look which told a thousand stories. She couldn’t wait to hear what had happened after she had left, when the reunion had taken place and how, but she knew there was plenty of time for that later.

  “You’ll come back to the Abbott’s, won’t you?” said Mary. “John has laid on a bit of a spread, felt it was the least he could do – for poor old Lil as well as the little boy. I can’t believe it was all true . . .”

  “We’re going to head back there now, Mary,” said Martha. She couldn’t talk about what had happened just now. Not in the cold, with the little boy only now where he should be after over fifty years. Not that he should be there at all. He’d only be in his mid-fifties, she thought. Maybe quite high up in his job, with grown-up children, grandchildren. “We’re staying tonight actually,” she continued, blocking the thought of Henry from her mind. “So we’ve plenty of time to catch up. It’s been lovely to meet all of the children at last – and you, Duncan.”

  “We’ll see you there then – Ryan has to get back to work and Alison should really be in school. We couldn’t miss this though – it seems fitting that we’re all here.” Mary wiped a tear from her eye and, smiling at Martha, turned to usher her brood back across the graveyard to their car.

  Gabriel followed behind them, deep in conversation with Father Timoney.

  Will came over to join Martha. “That can only mean trouble,” he said, nodding at Gabriel who was stressing some point to the small, bald priest.

  “Poor Father Timid,” said Martha, who had met him before, when Lil had been lain to rest. She looked back at the grave. “Sleep tight, Henry,” she said aloud, and turned to walk back toward where she was parked. Will took a last look also and fell into step beside her, lifting Ruby from her arms and settling the little girl on his hip. Martha caught a whiff of his aftershave on the breeze and inhaled deeply, feeling butterflies in her stomach at his proximity. Will always made her feel like that, even after the time that had passed.

  “So,” he said. “You haven’t answered my question.”

  Martha grinned, continuing to look down at her feet so as not to stumble on the rough ground. “And what question’s that?” she said playfully.

  Will sighed in mock aggravation. “You know which question! About Edinburgh.”

  “I’m not moving to Edinburgh!” said Martha with a laugh.

  “You can’t stay in Sue’s forever, you know!”

  “Can too,” said Martha, in a petulant voice, laughing as she did.

  They stopped and faced each other. Martha reached up her hand and idly brushed the sleeve of his coat, looking directly into his brown eyes.

  “You move to London then, if you’re so fed up with long distance,” she smiled.

  “No. I hate London,” he replied.

  “Well, then, we continue to commute.”

  “Martha.”

  “Hmm?”

  “This time I’m actually serious.”

  Martha tilted her head to one side. “You really want us to live together?”

  Will started to walk again. “Not together together,” he said. “It’s too soon for that. But I wish I didn’t have a mammoth drive or train trip every time I want to see you. And that’s all the time. I mean we’re getting on great, aren’t we? All three of us?”

  Martha eyed him holding her daughter as they strolled. He was amazing with Ruby. When they were together she couldn’t get used to how he did so much for her – lifting, carrying, feeding, getting up in the night.

  “We get on better than great,” she smile
d shyly. “I just don’t want to live in Edinburgh.”

  “But if we found the right place then you’d consider it?” Will couldn’t keep the excited tone out of his voice.

  Martha smiled. Why not? “’Spose so,” she said coyly.

  Will stopped in his tracks, a beaming smile spreading from ear to ear. “So we compromise then? Find a middle ground? Somewhere in between?”

  Martha, a few steps ahead, looked back at Will and Ruby and smiled. “I guess,” she said, and kept walking, unable to keep the smile from her own face.

  “Glasgow then. Let’s move to Glasgow,” said Will.

  Martha simply closed her eyes, smiled and breathed in the fresh air of the December morning.