by Rebecca Tope
‘I’ve got to go,’ he told the telephone. ‘I’ll call you back – tomorrow probably. Don’t do anything until then, okay?’
He slotted the receiver into its rest and looked up at Thea. ‘Who is it?’
‘Lawrence Biddulph.’ She cocked her head backwards to indicate that the caller was right behind her, preventing her from making any further comment.
‘Okay,’ said Drew wearily.
She couldn’t help herself. When the two men were together in the office, she left the door slightly open and lingered just outside to listen. Somehow, she felt the family had become hers, every bit as much as Drew’s, and she had a right to keep up with what was going on.
‘I’ve just had a mega battle with my mother,’ the man began. ‘There is no way she can cancel the funeral. I can’t even understand what she’s talking about. She won’t tell me, just cries and then shuts herself in her room. It’s insane.’
‘Sit down and let’s look at it,’ said Drew. ‘Although I don’t think there’s much I can say that’ll help. Your mother made the arrangements. I have to follow her instructions.’
‘Not if she’s off her rocker,’ spat Lawrence. ‘Which she has to be, the way she’s carrying on.’
At this, Thea silently tiptoed back to the kitchen. How come neither of them had foreseen this turn of events? What did they think Linda would tell her son? The truth was, they had both forgotten about him, at least as far as the funeral was concerned. There was nothing Drew could do, unless he cut his losses and simply told the man the real reason for his mother’s actions. In his place, Thea would have been very tempted to do just that. Wouldn’t it be saving Linda a whole lot of bother? But Drew would never do such a thing. He would sit and take the ranting and pleading and even threats, doing nothing to defend himself. And Thea wasn’t sure she wanted to listen to that.
Linda Biddulph was a fool, obviously. She was only making everything worse by withholding the facts from Lawrence. A fool or a coward. What was she so afraid of? The burial of her husband had already degenerated into an undignified mess, which had apparently been her worst fear a few days ago. Thea recalled Drew’s moral anguish on Thursday when Linda asked him to lie to Clovis if he phoned. Now things had moved on, to the point where there seemed to be no hope of pleasing everyone. Was there something beyond the simple fact of another family coming to Lawrence’s awareness? That question had arisen before, and now pressed more urgently on her. The most obvious answer involved inheritance. Did the first Biddulphs have a claim on Stephen’s estate? Perhaps so, if he had failed to provide proper maintenance for his sons, or reneged on an agreement. But they had made no hint of that, and surely they would have demanded their dues while he was alive?
The image of Lawrence’s wife floated into her mind. And the child, Modestine. They had all been in Broad Campden on Saturday, for reasons that remained murky. Thea’s habit of making connections asserted itself, and she began to follow threads. Had Lawrence bumped into Anthony Spiller, for example? It appeared that they both visited the burial field that day. If Spiller had still been hanging around, trying to recover from the shock of finding a body, had they coincided? It seemed unlikely, and irrelevant, but the thought persisted. More than anything, it made her realise that events and encounters were going on the whole time, outside her awareness. And outside that of the police as well. Who knew what? And who knew who? Was there somebody else, still unnoticed, who knew everybody? Anthony Spiller had not been completely honest, when he gave the Broadway address to the police. Perhaps, then, Adam Rogers had also been untruthful. Perhaps his tracker device was often removed and left at home. There was no legal requirement for him to wear it, after all. It was just a convenience for his house-parents. He could easily give the impression that he was asleep in bed, when all the time he was out in Broad Campden, on the edge of a wood, committing murder.
And Clovis Biddulph, strong and angry, a law unto himself – he could just as easily have been exploring the village, trying to discover the date and time for his father’s burial. He could have lashed out at a woman suddenly appearing to witness his clandestine behaviour.
No, she decided firmly. That was going too far. Beautiful Clovis could never kill anybody. Nor could his brother, or his mother. And why in the world would they, anyway?
She heard footsteps in the hall. ‘Well, there it is,’ Drew was saying. ‘I’ve done the best I can.’
It sounded both firmer and more final than his usual manner of speaking. ‘All I can suggest is you try to talk calmly to your mother and come to a decision between you.’
‘As if that’s going to happen,’ came the sulky response. ‘You can’t reason with her when she gets like this. She’s like a mad dog.’
Hmm, thought Thea. That made another one for the list, then. A woman in the first stages of grief, panicking about old secrets erupting – could she possibly have been Juliet’s killer? It certainly didn’t seem impossible, hearing her son’s description of her. She could evidently be intimidating, and Thea herself had regarded her as a control freak.
She waited another minute while Lawrence was ushered out and Drew came into the kitchen, shoulders slumped in a parody of exhaustion. ‘I give up,’ he said. ‘Everybody’s mad.’
‘You were brilliant with him,’ she consoled. ‘Heroic.’
‘Were you listening?’ He looked as if this might be a final straw.
‘Only to the first bit. Then I came in here and sat thinking about it all. Again.’
‘All what? The Biddulphs or the murder?’
‘Both.’
‘But they’re not connected.’
‘No. But somehow they got entangled inside my head.’
‘Well, I wash my hands of all that. You might remember that Maggs phoned, just before that lunatic showed up.’
‘I do. But Lawrence isn’t the lunatic. He’s the injured party. He’s only in a state because he knows something’s been going on behind his back.’
‘He doesn’t really know even that. He’s caught between his wife and mother, and hasn’t the gumption to sort it all out.’
‘Maggs,’ she reminded him.
‘Right. Yes. Let me make some coffee first. I need something to keep me awake. I’ve got some hard thinking to do before first thing tomorrow.’
‘What? Why? I can make some proper coffee, if you like. I got some of those nice Brazilian coffee beans last week, in case Maggs or Den wanted the real thing.’
‘The thing is,’ he began. ‘The thing, Thea, is—’
He never used her name when talking to her. It hit her between the eyes like a stone. He was going to say something terrible, give her an ultimatum, or accuse her of wrecking his life. ‘What?’ she demanded. ‘What is it?’
‘Maggs has been approached by a group of funeral directors. They want to buy Peaceful Repose, lock, stock and barrel. For a ridiculously huge sum of money.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Her first unworthy thought was, Thank goodness for that. In her instant, selfish world, such a turn of events seemed to solve a whole lot of problems in one fell swoop. A lot of very welcome money, combined with the relief of not trying to juggle businesses in two different places. On the face of it, it had to be too good to be true.
Which it was, of course. Drew did not look the slightest bit happy about it. If anything, he looked rather angry.
‘Gosh,’ said Thea carefully. ‘That was quick.’
‘They’re vultures,’ he snapped. ‘Maggs must have said something to someone, and it got back to them. It’s an informal approach, apparently, testing out the water.’
‘She’s not in a position to negotiate with them anyway. They must know that.’
‘Testing the water,’ he said again. ‘They’ll know how I feel about them, but also that I might not be able to refuse a tempting offer.’
‘Who are “they”, exactly?’
He looked at her as if she’d asked, ‘Who is Boris Johnson?’. ‘It’s a lar
ge conglomerate of funeral directors who own the vast majority of the business across the country. In fact, there are only a few truly independent ones left. It’s like book publishers. But I didn’t expect them to want to take on alternative outfits like mine. They’d totally ruin it, of course.’
‘Would they? How?’
‘Tidy it all up, build fences round it, charge about five times what we’ve been doing. Honestly, they’re only in it for the money. That was why I left Plants in the first place. It was all about the money.’
‘Oh.’ Privately, she thought he sounded more than a little paranoid about the so-called vultures. ‘But couldn’t you make them agree not to do any of that?’
‘Of course not. I can’t control what they charge, can I?’
‘But nobody would use them if they were so expensive.’
‘It’d be a gradual process. They’d pack the graves much closer together, as well. There’s another four or five acres to go before that piece of land’s full. That’s at least two thousand burials, maybe twice as many. And I dare say they’ve got their eye on other patches in the area, for expansion.’
‘But—’ She wanted to say something about it showing how successful he’d been, and how the general trend was so much towards simpler and cheaper funerals now that such malevolent plans couldn’t possibly work. ‘How much are they offering, exactly?’
‘They didn’t say exactly, but the woman who phoned Maggs said something like “Double the market value of the house and land.” That has to be well over half a million.’
‘Oh God – Drew! We could put it straight in the bank. We’ve got no debts. You could build a lovely office down the road, and maybe see about getting another field – make a proper parking area. All sorts of things. And still have loads to spare.’
He put his hands on each side of his face and squeezed. ‘I can’t believe you’re saying you think it’s a good idea,’ he choked. ‘When you can see I think it’s appalling. Outrageous. Insulting. You don’t really think that, do you?’
‘I don’t think anything at the moment. Except it’s entirely up to you, and whatever you decide is fine with me. But you have to admit that doing nothing isn’t an option. Without Maggs, you’ve got a problem – which I suppose is what the vultures have realised.’
He moaned. ‘It’s all falling apart. I can feel it coming down on top of me.’
‘Don’t panic,’ she advised him. ‘It’s a good problem to have, if you look at it objectively. Now you know there are people who would buy Peaceful Repose, you’re in a stronger position. You’ve got options.’ She wasn’t at all sure of her ground, but a sense of relief persisted, despite Drew’s misery.
‘Maggs seems to agree with you.’ He gave her a look so forlorn she moved closer and hugged him. ‘What you’re both telling me is – get real and grow up. Stop being so idealistic.’
‘No, no. Your ideals are what everybody loves about you. Nobody’s going to force you to sell out to some soulless corporation that won’t care a hoot about ecology or birdsong or saving unnecessary expenditure. Those things are important.’
‘They are. I was worried that you hadn’t altogether understood that.’
‘Of course I have. So has Maggs. How can you doubt it?’
‘Money does terrible things to people. It’s frightening.’
‘Not me or Maggs. Not really.’ She shivered at her own disgraceful instincts. The mere words ‘half a million’ had sent her wits flying in all directions. The same must have happened to Maggs – who might reasonably expect to receive a healthy proportion of the cash. In fact, once it was looked at calmly, the whole fantasy began to collapse. For Drew’s beloved Peaceful Repose to be destroyed would be a wholesale tragedy. ‘Whatever happens, we’ll make sure it carries on just as it is now,’ she promised. ‘There’ll be somebody just waiting to take it over, instead of Maggs, if we can just find them. What about Pandora? What’s she going to do now?’
Pandora, rather like Andrew, had drifted into Drew’s orbit and stayed to help out. Pandora was possibly the only female gravedigger in Britain, as well as a priceless stand-in for Maggs, who couldn’t always manage to be in two places at once. Originally a babysitter for Stephanie and Tim, she was a quiet capable person who was very much taken for granted.
‘Funny how none of us asked that before,’ said Drew. ‘I think she’ll just do whatever she’s asked to. She might go back to babysitting, or gardening, or something else entirely. Maggs didn’t even mention her.’
‘Pity she isn’t rich enough to buy the business. She’d make sure it carried on as always.’
‘Not rich or ambitious enough. She wouldn’t want the responsibility. She’d never cope. And she’s a bit old now to embark on something so demanding.’
‘Pity,’ said Thea again.
‘Besides – I don’t want to sell it,’ he burst out, rather loudly. ‘It’s mine. I created it from nothing.’
‘Yes, you did,’ she said, tiredly. ‘Nobody’s forcing you to do anything. Maggs can tell these corporate people to get lost.’
‘It’s capitalism, isn’t it? Big greedy outfits swallowing up all the little ones, making them outrageous offers they can’t refuse. It happens all the time. And it’s wrong.’
Thea didn’t want to talk about it any more. It felt as if there was nothing she could usefully say, and quite a lot she might say by mistake that would only upset Drew even more. She had done her best to feel they were a single unit, that whatever he wanted was fine by her – and had pretty well succeeded. She had quashed any voices asking What about me and MY life? She had forfeited any claim to an independent life by marrying him, anyway. Her place was at his side and her ambitions were all bound up with his. His children were very nearly hers as well, now.
‘Let’s have an early night, then,’ she said. ‘It’ll look easier in the morning.’
He huffed a brief laugh. ‘Tomorrow we’ve got to tackle the Biddulphs, for a start. I can’t see that going away without a battle. And it’s going to rain.’ He looked out of the window. ‘In fact, it’s raining already.’
‘So it is. I’d better put the dog out before it gets too heavy.’ Hepzie was stubbornly resistant to going out in the rain, as a general rule. Rather glad to have something to do, Thea pulled on her boots and opened the back door. ‘Come on, you,’ she said. ‘Early night all round, okay?’
Outside there was a steady drizzle falling out of a black sky. The village lane was silent, but she could just catch the sound of a car swishing by on the road beyond the church. She thought of Clovis huddled in the camper van with his mother and brother, and hoped it didn’t leak. Again, the thought occurred to her that the weather might send them home, giving up on their intention of disrupting Stephen Biddulph’s funeral. If that happened, she was unlikely ever to see him again. She would forget that handsome face, with its expressive features and direct gaze. She would bury the disgraceful sensations his gaze created inside her. It was all foolish delusion anyway. She had no notion what sort of person he really was, or what sort of life he led. Why wasn’t he married, for a start? A man as prepossessing as he was must surely have been captured long since. His mother appeared to be more or less normal, raising her sons, marrying again, capable of laughing at herself. So the stereotype of a man too damaged by maternal mismanagement to ever succeed in relationships did not appear to pertain.
But it hadn’t been altogether normal for Kate to develop such a fixation on her first husband’s funeral. In fact, wasn’t there something a bit obsessive about all three of them? Linda, too, had got under Drew’s skin, with her implacable refusal to disclose the truth to Lawrence – behaviour that was responsible for the whole tangled business, in fact. If she had told Lawrence a week ago, to give him time to absorb the shock and even perhaps to want to meet his brothers, everything would be resolved by now. The funeral might be awkward, with stilted conversation, but at least it wouldn’t have been whipped away from Drew at the last minute.
She went in again, and made herself and Drew hot milky drinks, as if to compensate for the depressing weather and escalating crises. Then she tiptoed into each child’s room and made sure they had all their school clothes laid out for the morning. The half-term holiday was only two weeks away, she remembered with relief. A whole week off from the relentless round of clothes, lunches, games kit, and anecdotes about misbehaving classmates. Instead, she would have to entertain them somehow. A different sort of obligation would be imposed on her. There was, effectively, no escape. They would mutate into adolescents, with hormones, and silences, and classmates that behaved even more appallingly. By the time Timmy left home, she, Thea, would be well into her fifties, and all ideas of romance or adventure or challenging occupation long since turned to dust.
But Drew was looking endearing and boyish in his blue pyjamas, the worried frown barely visible under his light-brown fringe. His hair was thick and straight and he disliked it cut too short, so it fell into his eyes at times. There were innumerable worse fates than being married to such a man. Other women might question her wisdom, or even her motives, in jumping so blindly into such a commitment, but Thea had always needed to be half of a couple. Losing Carl had set her adrift and removed much of her identity. She had filled the gap with Phil Hollis, for a year or so, before realising there was some fundamental lack in her feelings for him. Now Drew had claimed her, rescued her, understood and treasured her – and she hoped she was doing the same for him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Waking on Tuesday, Thea realised she’d been waiting for this day to come, as some sort of culmination of recent events. Even without the Biddulph funeral, it still felt like the moment when everything came to a head, for reasons she couldn’t properly explain, even to herself. There were no obvious deadlines or engagements to be aimed for. Then it hit her: it was the anniversary of Carl’s death, 19th May. Five years ago, her young husband had been snatched away in a stupid road accident. She had not consciously noted the date over the past several weeks – and yet, subconsciously, it must have been sitting there waiting to be remembered. And along with the date, there was a sense of having moved into a world without Carl. Another year had passed, and here she was with a new partner. Somewhere lurked the idea that Carl was giving her his blessing on this day.