A Grave Inheritance

by Renshaw, Anne

‘Don’t be ridiculous, we hardly know each other.’ Amelia concentrated on her glass of water. It was embarrassing to think she’d harboured romantic feelings for a relative.

  ‘Grace could have point though,’ Nathan stated. ‘David is quite taken with you, Amelia. He told me he was thinking of asking you out to dinner, even quizzed me about where would be the best place in Chester to take you.’

  ‘He’s a bit too devious for me, sorry. Besides good looks, I like my men straightforward and honest.’

  ‘Don’t forget a good sense of humour too,’ giggled Grace. ‘Gosh, you sound like a dating advert.’

  Amelia blushed. ‘So, go on Nathan, tell us. How is he related to the Deverells?’

  ‘You remember I told you about the twin brothers, Laurence and Leo Deverell. They had a sister Beatrice and she married a Reverend Simon Lanceley. Beatrice Deverell is David and Leonie’s great grandmother. Leonie is David’s twin.’

  ‘I’ve met Leonie. They don’t look anything like each other,’ Amelia said.

  ‘Except for the colour of their hair; twins and red hair run in the Deverell family.’ Nathan ran his fingers through his own hair and Amelia noticed that Nathan’s hair was also red, a dark auburn.

  ‘You probably remember Leonie from the barbeque the other evening, redhead, tall, big mouth,’ Nathan said and pulled a face. ‘I’d be careful of her if I were you. She’s not someone you’d want as an enemy.’

  ‘Is this what you thought was important we should know, Nathan, or is there something else?’ Grace wished he would hurry up and go.

  ‘Nathan leaned back in his chair and relaxed. ‘What I told you the other evening was second-hand stuff, stories that I’ve heard or been told. So I wondered if you would rather hear it straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. Doreen, my great granny bless her soul, would like to meet you both. I can bring her here to see you, or if you prefer you could arrange to see her at Tapscott Manor nursing home the next time you’re visiting Sophia.’

  ‘I’ve already met Doreen, as you know. She’s a feisty old lady, isn’t she?’ Grace remarked.

  Nathan nodded. ‘She is, yes. She’s got a marvellous memory too when it comes to her younger days.’

  ‘What do you think, Grace? Should we go and see Doreen? We could pop in and see her when we visit Sophia,’ Amelia said.

  ‘Yes, okay,’ Grace replied with misgivings.

  Amelia and Grace walked Nathan out to his motor bike.

  ‘Better get going. Things to do, people to see.’ Nathan mounted his bike and started the engine, then gradually manoeuvred it around to face the road. Over the idling engine noise and through the visor of his helmet he shouted to them, ‘Will it be a problem if I’m with my granny when you see her?’

  Amelia’s heart sank. She would have preferred him not to be, but didn’t know how to tell him without hurting his feelings.

  Grace solved her dilemma, saying, ‘Yes, no problem. We’ll let you know when we decide to visit her,’ purposely stalling for time.

  Chapter 27

  On their second scheduled visit to see Sophia, Amelia and Grace went straight in the lift and up to room twenty-four.

  ‘I’ve remembered something,’ Sophia exclaimed excitedly as soon as Amelia and Grace walked through the door. ‘Lillian kept a diary.’

  ‘A diary, ‘Grace said, hope stirring.

  ‘Didn’t you find it when you moved into the cottage?’

  Amelia thought for a minute. ‘We only found old exercise books filled with recipes and accounts.’

  ‘My most vivid memory of Lillian is of her scribbling in her diary. She wouldn’t let anyone read what she’d written.’

  ‘Why the secrecy?’ Amelia asked, somewhat puzzled.

  ‘Exactly, and that’s what makes me think they could be significant.’

  ‘Were you never curious? You know, after Lillian died. I know I would be,’ said Grace.

  ‘No not really. I had a spate of ill health after she passed away and I decided to move into Tapscott Manor, my old home. Doreen, Lillian’s other house guest, moved with me. Lillian was my best friend and like a mother to me, so I wouldn’t want to invade her privacy. But because of what you’ve found in her garden, they could be important. Her diaries must be somewhere in the cottage.’ Sophia glanced over to the window and shivered. ‘Grace dear, will you pass me my shawl, please, I’m feeling cold.’ Grace lifted a soft woollen shawl from the back of the chair and placed it around Sophia’s shoulders. Unexpectedly, making her jump, Sophia grabbed Grace’s hand and whispered, ‘Can you see her?’

  ‘Who?’ Grace asked, startled.

  ‘Over in the corner.’ Grace looked and began to tremble. ‘Don’t be afraid dear, she won’t hurt you.’ Sophia loosened her grasp and beamed. She patted Grace’s hand. ‘I’m so relieved someone else can see her too.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Amelia asked feeling left out.

  ‘It’s the girl, the one from the garden,’ stammered Grace. ‘Look in the corner by the window.’ Grace raised her hand to point and was horrified to see the girl lift her hand in a wave of recognition. Amelia looked and saw light and shade changing slightly as the sun popped in and out of the scurrying clouds, but other than that everywhere appeared normal.

  Sophia looked from the girl back to Grace. ‘Have you seen her before,’ she asked, a little bewildered. Sophia believed the girl was an angel, waiting to escort her from this world.

  ‘Yes, in Primrose Cottage’s garden.’ Grace kept her voice low.

  Sophia lay back against the pillows. ‘Well I never,’ she said.

  ‘Aunt Sophia … is it alright to call you aunt?’ Grace asked.

  Sophia smiled. ‘Of course it is.’ Then sensing there was more to say, she propped herself up on one elbow. ‘What is it, dear?’

  Grace looked at Amelia and raised her eyebrows as if asking permission to speak, but Amelia looked back blankly. ‘Aunt Sophia, have you ever seen anyone else standing in the corner of your room?’

  Amelia caught on and let out an exaggerated groan. Sophia frowned, obviously confused. ‘No. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Well, when I saw that girl in the garden she was with someone, a woman with a badly scarred face. Have you ever seen her in your room?’

  Whatever colour Sophia had had drained from her face. She clutched the shawl more tightly around her and slowly lowered herself back onto her pillows. ‘No, never,’ she said in a hushed whisper.

  Amelia could see how upset Sophia had become and stood quickly. ‘We’d better go now and let you rest.’

  Sophia never answered and acted as if they were no longer in the room, but when Grace stood too and turned to leave, she said, ‘You will come and see me again, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course we will,’ Amelia assured her. ‘We’ll make another appointment for the same time tomorrow.’

  ‘Goodbye for now,’ Grace said quietly, but Sophia had already drifted off to sleep.

  Amelia felt concerned for Sophia. They’d been told explicitly not to upset her, but they had. ‘You handled that well,’ she said to Grace.

  Grace looked out of the car window. The excitement at seeing the girl again and the fact that Sophia saw her too justified her smugness when eventually she said,

  ‘You believe me now though, don’t you? I never imagined it after all, did I?’

  ‘I believe you,’ Amelia answered dutifully, although to her mind the corroboration of a ninety-year-old wasn’t much of a recommendation.

  ‘I wonder what happened to Lillian’s diaries,’ Grace mused.

  ‘Well, remember when you were up in the attic,’ Amelia said, smiling.

  ‘Yes. What about it?’ Grace frowned, wondering what Amelia was getting at.

  ‘You said there was an old trunk.’

  ‘Of course, that’s it. Hurry up and get us home,’ Grace said agitated.

  Chapter 28

  Back inside the house, Amelia went into the conservatory. The box she’d shove
d behind the ferns was still where she’d left it. She lifted it out easily and carried it into the kitchen, setting it on the table. Grace was on the telephone, and from what Amelia could hear, Grace had apologised to Jake and they were friends again.

  Grace replaced the receiver and almost immediately the telephone rang again, making her jump. She stood listening to whoever was on the other end and pointed at Amelia when she entered the room. ‘David Lanceley for you,’ Grace said knowingly.

  ‘Reverend Lanceley.’ Amelia couldn’t bring herself to call him David any more. He hadn’t been in touch since finding the coffin, and his attitude then hadn’t been friendly. Although Nathan had mentioned Lanceley’s interest in her, she was surprised by his call, and as she listened to his pleasantries, she wondered whether to mention her knowledge of his relationship to Sophia Deverell.

  ‘Amelia, how are you?’ David gushed. ‘I’m sorry I’ve not been in touch. It’s been hectic here at the vicarage. Weddings, christenings, funerals, I can’t complain my life is dull.’

  ‘Nor I,’ Amelia responded sarcastically.

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ he sounded rebuked. ‘Not at the moment with everything going on. Have the police left you alone now?’

  ‘Not really. We had a telephone call earlier to say they were coming back tomorrow to further investigate the garden, which probably means digging the rest of it up. Maybe they think there are more bodies buried there.’ She gave a small laugh without merriment.

  ‘Why would they think that?’

  ‘How would I know? I’m only guessing. Anyway, we’ll find out soon enough.’ Exasperated by David’s pompous attitude, Amelia blurted out, ‘Why didn’t you want us to know about Sophia Deverell and the fact that we’re related to her?’

  ‘You’ve been speaking to Nathan again. What else has he said?’

  ‘That you’re also related to Sophia. Is it true?’

  ‘Amelia, I don’t want to get into all of that now. The reason I’ve telephoned you is to ask you out to dinner. Please say yes. I really want to get to know you better and you me. Also it will give me the opportunity to explain everything to you. I know I’ve behaved stupidly, but if you let me explain, I’m sure you will understand.’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Amelia looked over at Grace who was nodding her head frantically.

  ‘Say yes,’ Grace whispered.

  ‘What harm can it do?’ David cajoled, adding, ‘It’s just dinner and conversation. I know of a lovely French restaurant in Chester which has a reputation for good food.’

  ‘It would be nice. It’s been ages since I’ve been out to dinner.’ Amelia considered the invitation then added, ‘Nothing too posh though please. I’m not a silver service kind of girl.’

  David was delighted. ‘Oh marvellous, thank you, shall we say this Friday? I’ll pick you up about eight?’ Amelia agreed, said goodbye to David and handed the telephone back to Grace, who set it on its stand.

  ‘Thank goodness for that. Now we can get on with the important stuff.’ Grace had waited for Amelia to finish her call. Tempted to look at the books in the box again, her sister’s frown had stopped her. She lifted out the contents and piled everything onto the kitchen table and walked fingers along thin spines. ‘We’ve been through this lot once.’

  ‘It would be a good idea to check them again before venturing up into the attic. You never know, we could have missed something.’

  Grace lifted a folder thicker than the rest and inside she found a foolscap envelope full of photographs. She tipped them out and scooped them into a pile. All were sepia, most faded, some torn at the edges and crumpled with age. She lifted each one and scrutinised the faces. One was a family group. One had two pretty girls holding hands, their hair hidden under wide-brimmed bonnets. A proud man stood with a woman, presumably his wife, while she cuddled a baby in her arms. Primrose Cottage was in the background of most of the photos and some taken in the garden had the stand of trees in the background. Grace picked up the photo of the two young girls and examined it again closely. ‘Sophia will probably know who these people are. They must have lived here at one time by the look of it,’ she said, then made a decision.

  ‘I’ll go and change into my jeans and I’m putting a shower cap over my hair this time,’ Grace said and went upstairs to the bathroom.

  Amelia sat down at the table and flicked through the photos while she waited.

  ***

  In the attic the trunk had been pushed into a far corner. Kneeling with her hands on the rough wooden floor, Grace crawled towards it. Cobwebs shimmied beside and above her, and she hoped none of their inhabitants were anywhere near her fingers. Or for that matter, anywhere near at all. The torch flickered off for a moment and Grace banged it on the floor to make it work.

  ‘Are you all right up there?’ Amelia’s voice sounded distant, even though she only stood a few feet below Grace.

  ‘Yes. I’m by the trunk now.’ Grace expected it to be locked and it was. Luckily she’d brought their bunch of keys with her. Propping her torch so the light illuminated the lock, Grace picked out a key she thought would fit. It didn’t. She tried another and another and at last, on her fourth attempt, she heard a sharp click. The key turned and she was able to lift up the metal latch. Grace heaved open the heavy lid.

  ‘Phew, it stinks.’ Grace had a fit of coughing.

  ‘What’s up, have you found it?’ Amelia’s head appeared above the attic’s open hatch. ‘Oh! It smells like camphor.’

  ‘It’s strong, whatever it is,’ coughed Grace, her hand pressed to her nose. The chest was full of material, layered in folds. She put her arms in amongst the cloth and began to feel around. While checking each corner of the trunk, her hand rested on something hard. Grace sat back on her heels and in the light of the torch she saw it was a book. She skimmed through the pages quickly then put it to one side on the floor. Feeling around at the bottom the trunk again she found five more. Grace closed the heavy lid on the chest, but didn’t lock it. Excited she scurried over to where Amelia stood waiting below her.

  ‘I’ve found them,’ Grace puffed and began passing the books down to Amelia.

  Amelia sat in the living room, waiting for Grace while she freshened up. She’d promised not to touch the books until Grace came downstairs but the lure was too much. She began putting them in date order. The diaries did not run chronologically; they spanned intermittent years starting in 1910 ending at 1936. Not able to resist, Amelia opened the front cover of the 1912 diary and began to read. Once she’d started she couldn’t stop. She flicked through relevant sections, digesting the revelations within. She then picked up the next diary and carried on reading, and was so absorbed that she visibly jumped when Grace sat down beside her.

  ‘You’re not going to believe this. You’d better put the kettle on for coffee,’ she added, ‘and get the brandy out, we’ll need it.’

  1912

  Beginning of March

  John never lingered around the kitchen with the other men, keen for a few of Mrs Stoakley’s leftovers, after he’d finished work for the day. He was always eager to be home. Now, he wanted to get the house straight before Ellen and his children came home. He was busy making a wooden crib for Amy’s baby when it arrived in a couple of weeks’ time. Today, Jim had left work early and set off for Chester to visit a friend, a girl no doubt, John thought.

  John took his normal route home, the shortcut across the meadow and through the wood. Late February had brought with it an unexpected flurry of snow. Like a white linen sheet, the snow covered fields and hedgerows, blending mound and dale together as one. Under the cover of branches in Oakham Wood there was little snow on the ground, but frozen ridges of mud lined the path so it was easier to walk beside it, leaving footprints on the frost-encrusted grass. An ermine-like cloak of snow rested lightly over the trees, and silver tipped branches dripped with sharp icicles. Now and then thawing snow slipped with a thud to the ground and John heard the sound rebounding through the quiet of
the wood.

  Although the last few months had been difficult, John was confident the atmosphere at Tapscott Manor would ultimately improve. The arrangements for Leo’s wedding had occupied the Deverells’ minds and time, and since John had returned home after his second visit to Mill Lodge at Christmas, life in Woodbury had returned to some kind of normality. John’s faith lay with Sir Edmund, who’d made it clear he believed in his innocence by offering him his old job back. John could only imagine the effect that news had had on Leo. He’d managed to live through the last few months of snide remarks and hostile glances and was thankful the jibes and unfriendliness hadn’t also been directed at his son Jim.

  John had hardly seen Charlie since he’d been out of prison and missed the comradeship, the jokes they shared and his friend’s dry sense of humour. Because Charlie had been the one to find Laurence’s body, his reward had been a promotion, an enviable job, maintaining the formal gardens of Tapscott Manor. Charlie had changed since his promotion and carried an arrogance that didn’t sit well on his squat shoulders. Jim said Charlie was Leo’s confidante now, and sadly John accepted that Charlie had sold his soul to the devil. Ruthie, Charlie’s wife, had given birth to a baby boy named Frederick, and John supposed, with another mouth to feed, it was natural Charlie would have to toe the line at work, so John endeavoured to forgive his lost friend.

  There seemed to be a baby boom. In January, Daisy Hope, the girl who’d taken Ellen’s place working with Dora Stoakley, had had a baby girl. John didn’t know all the details but gossip had it she’d been sacked from her job at Tapscott Manor because of her pregnancy. John knew his son Jim had found himself pulled in Daisy’s direction a short while ago, so he’d worried when news of Daisy’s condition came to light. Daisy, though, had found refuge with Mr Treweeks her former employer at the Nags Head pub, and it was generally believed he was the father.

  Thinking of babies reminded him again of his daughter Amy. Little more than a child herself, she would soon be giving birth, and John prayed all would go well. Christmas time at Mill Cottage had been a haven for him. Peaceful surroundings, Anwen’s good food and happy laughter had given him strength. Holding Ellen again and feeling her softness beside him had eased his loneliness. Ellen appeared to be stronger and he’d got the impression she was prepared for the coming birth. He prayed this was true for Amy as well.