The Darkest Hour

by Barbara Erskine

  Lucy felt a flash of excitement.

  ‘She didn’t leave me anything at all, according to Christopher,’ Dolly went on concentrating on the piece of silver she was polishing. ‘That wasn’t right. Evie told me she had left me two small paintings and a little money which would come to me each year. I had been with her so long. Then I was told that wasn’t true and she had left me nothing. Mr Mike made up for it. He said he couldn’t believe it, and he gave me some money of his own, but I think Christopher lied about it. He is not a nice man.’

  Lucy was shocked. How could anyone begrudge a small bequest to a faithful old retainer like Dolly?

  ‘That all seems very unfair,’ she said quietly. ‘I would very, very much like to see the diaries. I only need to read them, and then I would give them back to you. I would be very careful with them, I promise.’ She couldn’t hide her excitement.

  Dolly nodded. She still did not look up. ‘I trust you,’ she said. ‘I’ve been thinking about it and I think it is time Evie got the recognition that is her due. She is a famous person and yet no one knows about her.’

  Lucy smiled. ‘I know what you mean, and I agree.’

  ‘I thought I had better look through her bags and things,’ Dolly went on, ‘in case you didn’t think of it, and I’ve found one or two letters you might want to see, but her large handbag, the one that held all her treasures, the one she used right up to the end, that was empty. You could ask Mr Mike, but I suspect Christopher went through it and took everything, even her powder compact, which was gold.’ Suddenly her eyes flooded with tears. ‘Her key-ring had a St Christopher medal on it, which went with her everywhere. She told me that belonged to her brother. They gave it to her after – after he died. She had wanted me to take it and give it to my grandson. He is in the RAF.’

  Even admitting that he had probably been entitled to take whatever he liked from Evie’s belongings, Lucy found herself quietly resolving to make a point of meeting Christopher Marston as soon as possible. He sounded a greedy and unpleasant man. She had been planning to visit him anyway. As Evie’s only other living descendant apart from Mike it would be inconceivable not to have him on her list of interviewees, but it was becoming more and more obvious that the apparent dearth of information about Evie led directly back to this one man.

  ‘I’ll bring the diaries back next week,’ Dolly said. She looked up at last.

  ‘Have you read them yourself?’ Lucy asked gently.

  Dolly shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. They were private. But you didn’t know her so it is different for you. She was still keeping a diary when she died so one of them contains the last things she ever wrote. The other goes back to the war. I don’t know why she kept it in her bedroom. It must have meant something very special to her. All the others, the ones in between, they have all gone. She kept them in her desk in the sitting room there, so I suppose Christopher took them all.’

  10

  September 16th 1940

  Ralph picked Tony up in the Morgan at the gates to the airfield at dusk and they drove up into the Downs to The Fox and Hounds for a quiet pint. Tony looked at Ralph over the rim of his glass and grinned.

  ‘Is this where the brotherly chat comes in? I am really sorry this has all blown up the way it has. I wouldn’t have had Evie get into trouble for the world.’

  Ralph looked at him steadily for a moment then turned his attention to his drink. ‘Evie is quite capable of getting into trouble herself without anyone else’s help,’ he said fondly. ‘What we have to do is to get her out of it.’

  ‘I love her very much,’ Tony said solemnly. ‘I want you to know that. And I want to marry her. My intentions are totally honourable.’

  ‘You haven’t known her very long,’ Ralph put in. ‘Are you sure you really want to make a commitment like that so quickly?’

  Tony nodded. ‘She’s a lovely girl. She’s the right one for me.’ He put his tankard down and met Ralph’s gaze. ‘I know I’m probably not a good bet at the moment, any more than you are,’ he said slowly. ‘But we’ve both survived so far. If I make it through to the other end of the war I will have a good career as a lawyer. I will be able to support her. I wanted to speak to your father but she wouldn’t let me, not yet.’

  Ralph laughed. ‘That all sounds too proper for our Evie. She’s a bit wild sometimes.’

  ‘Even so, I would want to do things by the book. My parents would want that too.’ Tony looked wistful for a moment. ‘I wish they could meet her. They will as soon as we can arrange it.’

  ‘She was very insistent that she paint a picture for them. I saw it up in her studio. Not the one she did of you; this is one of you both.’

  Tony smiled sadly. ‘I haven’t seen that one. I’ve been banned from the house.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not sure what we’ve done wrong, to be honest.’

  ‘You’ve displaced Eddie for a start. He is not a happy man.’

  ‘He’s not the right man for Evie,’ Tony retorted sharply.

  Ralph glanced at him. ‘No. I agree with you there, and so if I am honest do my parents. They’ve never trusted him entirely. But he has a bit of a hold on Evie because of his contacts in the art world. Don’t underestimate that, old bean. It means a lot to her. And Eddie is quite a forceful character. I sometimes wonder if he might have some sort of a hold over the parents as well. I’m not sure what, but it is not like my dad to cave in to bullying and Eddie is definitely bullying everyone. They’ve known him and his family a long time – since before Evie and I were born. I suppose they might feel some sort of misguided loyaltly to the Marstons. I don’t know.’

  ‘So I will have to fight for her.’

  ‘Not literally, but yes, I think you will.’ Ralph drained the dregs in his glass. ‘Sorry, but I have to get back. We’ve a pre-dawn start, trying to intercept their recce planes. Jerry never lets up, does he?’

  Tony shook his head. He emptied his own glass and stood up. ‘You’ll back me, Ralph?’

  ‘With Evie? Of course I will. I think you’re made for each other.’ He slapped Tony on the back. ‘Come on, I’ll drop you back at the airfield.’

  Saturday 20th July

  ‘It would NOT be a good idea to meet Christopher, believe me,’ Mike said firmly next morning. He was standing looking down at the table where she had separated out several piles of papers. ‘For some reason he is very protective of Evie’s memory. He rang me yesterday. Someone has told him you are poking around doing research into the family and he is very angry.’

  Lucy stared at him, shocked. ‘Who on earth would know I was researching the subject apart from you and Dolly?’

  ‘I’ll tell you. Mrs Chappell.’

  Lucy stared at him. ‘Elizabeth?’ She sighed. ‘Of course. She told me he had been over there looking for paintings. And she said she was still in touch with him. I must speak to him, Mike, and explain that I am no threat. He’s got the wrong end of the stick, and as he seems to have the monopoly on Evie’s surviving paintings, I can’t progress without his co-operation.’

  Mike sighed. He hitched himself up to sit on the table next to her. ‘It didn’t sound to me as if he had any intention of co-operating with you, I’m afraid. I don’t know what to suggest.’

  ‘What did he say when he rang you?’

  ‘He made various accusations. He said you were a money grubbing, dishonest imposter with no academic credentials who was out to try and milk Evie’s reputation, to puff your own name and that of your gallery. Just a few choice epithets like that.’ He softened the words with a grin. ‘Sorry, but you did ask.’

  ‘Elizabeth Chappell told him that?’ She was aghast.

  ‘Is that what you told her?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ She was indignant. She paused. ‘I thought we had become friends,’ she went on sadly. She looked up at Mike. ‘Something awful happened when I went to see her. The house is haunted. By your great-grandmother, Rachel.’

  Mike stared at her. ‘You are kidding me.’
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  ‘No. I heard her crying in the distance. It was dreadful. So sad. I didn’t believe it when Elizabeth told me about it. She is a sad, lonely woman but I got on with her quite well. I stayed and had supper with her and as it got dark we heard this terrible sobbing.’

  ‘And it wasn’t some sort of scam?’

  ‘No.’ Lucy shook her head adamantly. ‘I spoke to the local vicar the next day and he knew all about it. The house is known for being haunted. It is Rachel, crying for Ralph after he was killed. I’m sorry. This is your family.’ She put her hand over his on the table, and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘This must be very painful for you to talk about.’

  He sighed. ‘It is sad, but it was all a long time ago.’ He didn’t move his hand.

  She waited several seconds then she quietly sat back in her chair, folding her arms. Touching his hand had seemed suddenly too intimate a gesture.

  ‘I drove past your gallery on the way here last night.’ The abrupt change of subject took her by surprise.

  She frowned uncomfortably. ‘Checking up on me?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I was.’ He had never told her that he had looked her up on Google.

  She felt a shiver of apprehension run down her spine. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because of Christopher’s call. He seemed to know a lot more about you than I did. So I thought I would do a bit of research myself. I asked myself if I had been a bit too trusting.’

  Lucy stared at him, speechless. ‘And what did you decide?’ she whispered at last.

  ‘That it would probably take a further in-depth interview over lunch before I could be sure.’

  She felt the colour flare into her cheeks. ‘I don’t like being interrogated!’

  ‘That was a joke.’

  ‘Was it?’

  He nodded. ‘I would have thought that by now you would understand that my cousin and I do not get on. He is stirring things for some reason of his own and I am quite keen to find out why. So,’ he slid off the table and held out his hand, ‘as it is after twelve and I for one am quite hungry I suggest we go up to the pub and have a drink and a sandwich and try and work out exactly what it is that Christopher is so frightened of.’

  ‘I would have thought that was obvious.’ She stood up and, ignoring the proffered hand, grabbed her bag. She was suddenly not certain of her ground.

  ‘Not to me.’ He stood still. ‘Well? Tell me.’

  She headed past him towards the door. ‘Your relationship with your cousin is not really any of my business.’

  He caught her wrist and pulled her to a standstill. ‘I think you have made it your business. If you want to write about my family, then you need to know the truth and if I am going to help you, so do I. So tell me.’

  ‘OK. He seems to have acquired all Evie’s paintings. Every one. Even two little ones which apparently she had promised to Dolly. He has taken her sketchbooks and her diaries. Everything. According to Dolly he took far more than he was entitled to.’

  ‘But those were the terms of the will,’ he said, his voice more gentle now. ‘He got the paintings and I got the cottage. That seemed fair. I would have liked a painting or two and I was angry that Evie seemed to have forgotten Dolly after promising her those pictures and a small annuity as well, but we had to stand by the will.’

  ‘Then maybe he feels guilty that he has taken more than he should.’ she said. ‘There is nothing like guilt to put people on the defensive. After all, the paintings are probably worth a fortune. I know houses in this part of the world are expensive, but maybe not quite as expensive as the Lucas collection. He must realise that. Evie’s paintings are an unknown factor, I admit, because they don’t have an auction record and there are too few of them around, but believe me, they are really valuable.’

  Not for the first time she felt a pang of guilt of her own at not telling him about the portrait in the studio at home. Especially if Christopher was accusing her of wanting to make money out of Evie. After all, why else had Larry bought the picture in the first place?

  She was silent for a while, deep in thought, unaware of Mike’s pensive gaze fixed on her face. Both Evie’s grandsons were inextricably bound into her story and Christopher was someone she was going to have to face. He held the key to much of Evie’s life. Even if he hadn’t known her well himself, he now possessed her surviving diaries and somehow Lucy had to get hold of them.

  ‘What does Christopher do for a living?’ she asked at last.

  ‘He is some sort of banker. He lives in Midhurst.’ He grinned. ‘And that is all I am telling you except that to go and see him would be inviting trouble. Please think very hard before you consider going there.’

  She nodded. ‘I have to meet him, Mike. Surely you see that. He has her diaries; the best part of her archive. Perhaps I can convince him I am not the criminal mastermind he seems to think I am.’

  ‘A criminal mastermind,’ Mike echoed. ‘That would seem to be an excellent place to start our lunchtime discussion.’

  This time they found a table in the corner of the bar. They ordered two ploughman’s lunches and a couple of glasses of red wine.

  ‘OK. Assume I am your defending counsel,’ Mike said as they sat down.

  The room was already noisy and he leaned across towards her to make himself heard. It was a small table and she could feel the brush of his leg near hers. She tried to ignore it.

  ‘What am I defending myself against exactly?’

  ‘The aforesaid accusation that you are money grubbing, dishonest and have no credentials. I think that was the gist of what he said.’

  She took a deep breath, fighting back her wave of indignation. ‘OK. Money grubbing. That is a hard one, but I doubt if I will make money from this enterprise unless the book is a bestseller. Of course I live in hope but it would be foolish to bank on it.’ She gave a wistful smile. ‘If he is accusing me of trying to steal Evie’s belongings, I think it is fair to say that he has left nothing worth stealing.’ She looked up and held Mike’s gaze.

  ‘Ouch,’ he said. ‘All right. Go on.’

  ‘The accusation of dishonesty is harder to defend, except that I have no criminal record and I have never been accused of being dishonest in my life –’ she paused, thinking of the portrait at home – ‘and all I can say is you will have to trust me on that one.’

  ‘And your credentials?’

  ‘Ah, I’m on firmer ground there. I have a master’s degree in art history and a doctorate in eighteenth-century decorative architecture. I am also the recipient of a prestigious grant to pursue my research, which must mean something. Your cousin has clearly not done a huge amount of digging into my background or he would have known that. He could have Googled me.’

  ‘Indeed he could.’

  ‘As could you.’ She took a sip from her glass. ‘Or have you?’

  He didn’t answer.

  She looked down, not wanting to meet his eye. ‘I see.’ She waited for a few seconds but he still said nothing. ‘Did Christopher mention the haunting at Box Wood Farm?’ she said at last, changing the subject.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I wonder if Elizabeth told him.’

  ‘I doubt it. Christopher is not the type you confide that sort of thing to.’

  ‘So how well do you know him?’

  ‘He is my cousin.’

  ‘I know, but that doesn’t mean you know him. I have a cousin who lives in Australia. We’ve never met.’

  ‘Ah.’ He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Well, he’s four years older than me. We used to meet when we were children at family parties at Rosebank. The age gap was a bit too big for us to ever play together or be friends, but we knew each other. We got on fairly well as we grew older but we had nothing in common after Evie died and we’ve grown apart since then. I don’t think I’ve seen him more than twice since the funeral. And before you ask, I kept away when he came to Rosebank to take the pictures.’

  ‘As did Dolly. So you both let him take what he wanted.’

/>   ‘I suppose I did, yes.’

  ‘You obviously trust him.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But not with me.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ He smiled at her. ‘I just don’t want to see you chewed up and spat out. He has a reputation for plain speaking, shall we say, and he clearly has you in his sights already.’

  ‘And you don’t think I would be able to stand up to him?’

  ‘I am sure you could, but who needs that kind of hassle?’ He smiled. ‘Besides, you have more chance of persuading him to show you her diaries by gentle methods than by having a flaming row with him and believe me, if you go there, you will have a flaming row.’

  They both looked up as the landlord’s wife appeared with their plates.

  ‘I shall consider your advice,’ Lucy said as they contemplated crusty chunks of warm bread surrounded with wedges of local cheese and salad and farmhouse pickle. They began to unwrap the paper napkins from around their knives and forks. ‘I shall consider it very carefully,’ she repeated. ‘I appreciate the warning.’

  ‘Then you will ignore everything I have said,’ he commented with a grin.

  ‘Probably. But I do take your point. If I quarrel with him he will never show me the diaries. But then he seems to have made up his mind anyway.’

  ‘Think about it at least.’

  ‘One thing,’ she raised a finger, ‘before we change the subject. You said Christopher is very protective of Evie’s memory. Does that imply that he thinks there are events in Evie’s life that need to be kept hidden?’