‘Ooh, how delicious,’ Maud said, walking over. ‘Do you mind if I help?’ She’d been offering to help the woman since arriving at Chalfield Hall, there was no reason why she should repel her offer now. It was a lot of work feeding so many people every day and the housekeeper always seemed glad to have an extra pair of hands in the kitchen. None of the others ever offered their services to her, not even the nun, which wasn’t very charitable in her opinion.
‘No,’ Mrs Hardman said shortly. ‘I don’t mind. There’s some pastry in the fridge that needs rolling. You can start with that if you like. Just take it out of the bowl and sprinkle some flour on the counter. Then after that you can chop the mushrooms.’
‘Will do,’ Maud said. Excellent, she thought, going over to open the refrigerator door. Everything is running so smoothly. It’s almost like my plan is meant to be.
34
‘Auntie Florence?’ Araminta said. She stopped and took a deep breath. ‘Could I possibly talk to you about something?’
‘Yes, of course, dear.’ Florence looked up. She and Sister Veronica had made themselves comfortable in the living room, ostensibly to read the papers but really to be accessible and available should Araminta want to talk to them, which clearly she did.
‘Would you like me to go, Araminta?’ Sister Veronica said. ‘I totally understand if you’d rather chat to your aunt without me here?’
‘No.’ Araminta shook her head. ‘Stay, Sister. You’ll only find out anyway, so you may as well hear what I have to say right now.’
Sister Veronica nodded, and settled back into the sofa.
Araminta, perching awkwardly on the edge of an armchair, looked down at her hands. Then her eyes flitted very briefly to the drinks cabinet, a pang of hunger – desperation – in them, before she shook her head and stared back down again.
‘Auntie Florence, there’s no easy way to talk about this,’ she said. She stopped for a minute and sighed. ‘Rufus and I have done something awful, and I feel so ashamed about it.’ Fat tears began falling down her cheeks. Sister Veronica reached over to the shelf, picked up the box of tissues, and passed it to her.
‘Take your time, dear,’ Florence said, with a kind smile.
Araminta exhaled. She looked up at her aunt.
‘You’ve probably been finding rather nasty notes on your doormat every now and again,’ she said, her face crumpling.
‘Yes, Araminta, I have,’ Florence said, her smile disappearing. ‘They’ve been causing me a huge amount of anxiety over the last year. I’ve become quite ill with it.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Araminta whispered, looking down again, her tears wetting her hands.
‘So it was you and Rufus who were behind these letters, I take it?’ Sister Veronica said. Araminta looked up at her and nodded. ‘I think you should do your aunt the courtesy of explaining what on earth possessed you to send such vile notes to her, don’t you?’
Araminta nodded again.
‘It was Rufus’ idea,’ she said, her words coming out fast. ‘He thought of doing it almost a year ago, after visiting Uncle Giles at the Beresford’s Breaded Wonders factory. Rufie had just bought some more shares in the business and wanted to have a look round, to see how everything was going. He said that he’d been left alone in the study there for a while, as one of the workers had come to complain about some problem or other, and Uncle Giles had gone off with him to try and sort it out. While he was waiting, Rufus saw some documents on Giles’ desk that caught his eye. When he looked closer, he saw that Giles’ business – that Rufus has thousands of shares in, literally tens of thousands – was basically failing. I’m so sorry to tell you this, Auntie Florence, I’m not sure if you know about it?’
‘Yes, I know,’ Florence said quietly. ‘Go on, Araminta.’
‘Rufus also saw what he believed was evidence showing that Uncle Giles was embezzling the bit of income that was coming into the business,’ Araminta said. ‘He was so angry that night when he came home, ranting and raving around the house, saying that my uncle was a thief and a crook who would ruin us if something wasn’t done about it.’
Florence nodded. Her emotions, so twisted and distorted because of everything that had happened, allowed a thump of compassion for Rufus to enter her heart. It must have been soul-destroying for him to discover that a man he trusted was deceiving him, robbing him.
‘I said we should confront Uncle Giles, and tell him to give Rufie all the money back that he’d ploughed into Beresford’s Breaded Wonders,’ Araminta said. ‘Rufus kept on and on trying to arrange a meeting with Giles, he called so many times, sent emails and text messages, but had no luck getting hold of him. In the end he just lost it, and said that as the nice, fair approach hadn’t worked, he was going to have to take drastic measures.’
Florence sighed, nodding. Sister Veronica gave Araminta a small smile, willing her to carry on. It was good that the girl was getting this off her chest, being honest with her aunt. And in one way, she understood the desperation behind the notes, the feelings of anger and helplessness that Araminta and Rufus must have had, knowing Giles had lost their money. But she couldn’t forgive them, not yet, not seeing how the despicable letters had affected Flo. But she would, of course, in time. She just needed to let the news sit with her for a bit, get acclimatised to it. It would be much easier to excuse Araminta, of course; she was showing genuine remorse. Rufus, on the other hand, was a different matter.
‘All the time this was happening, Rufus’ drinking was getting worse.’ A fresh cascade of tears fell from Araminta’s eyes. ‘And so was mine, as I was trying to keep up with him. We’ve always drunk together in the evenings, you see. It’s just the habit we fell into. Anyway, Rufie was desperate. He’d bought so many shares believing Uncle Giles’ business was incredibly buoyant, and going from strength to strength, which is what we’ve always been told, haven’t we?’
Florence nodded.
‘It was Rufus’ idea of giving us both a pension. The idea was that when we retired, we’d sell the shares and live comfortably off the proceeds. But now Rufie and I could see that we’d lost all that, and it was driving us both insane with worry. So Rufus came up with a plan. He said that you were bound to know about what Uncle Giles was doing, that he would never be able to transfer so much money into your personal account – he’d seen proof of this happening on some statement or other – without your knowledge and complicity. He said you were as bad as each other, and that you deserved what was coming to you, seeing as Uncle Giles wasn’t prepared to meet him, man to man, to discuss everything.’
Florence took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
‘Go on,’ she said.
‘So that’s when Rufie said we were going to write you these letters, to try and intimidate you into doing the right thing, without you knowing who was sending them. He said Uncle Giles ruined him behind his back, so we were going to do the same to you, until you forced your husband to make things right. He said my uncle must be well aware that he – Rufie – was furious about it all, due to the amount of messages he’d left, telling him to sort the situation out. But that he probably wouldn’t immediately realise who was sending the notes, given that so many of Uncle Giles’ ex-workers and current employees were also livid with him about the late payments and the mistreatment.’
‘I see,’ Florence said slowly, nodding. ‘I now have to tell you two things that may surprise you, Araminta. Firstly, I genuinely did not know Giles was doing this, that his business had gone under, and that he was siphoning off the remaining money into our personal account. You see, he’d always paid himself a wage from the profits, he’d done so for years. Because he kept telling me business was booming, I could see the money coming in each month but presumed it was just him paying himself the usual wage. And secondly.’ Florence stared at her niece. ‘I never told Giles about the notes you were posting through our door. Because I had no idea about the state of his business, I didn’t know you were referring to that in your a
wful messages. I didn’t want to worry him, he’s never been very good in a crisis anyway – always went to pieces. I thought whoever was sending the messages meant us harm, and it was terrifying. Like I say, the notes have made me very ill over the last year. I just didn’t understand who would be doing something so heinous to me.’
Araminta nodded, her face full of shame and despair.
‘Auntie Florence, I’m just so, so sorry about all this,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘If I could take it back, I would. I just went along with it because Rufus was so insistent – I think he kind of wanted to punish you both. And to be honest, I haven’t been all that sober for a long time, and that hasn’t helped my decision-making.’
Florence regarded her niece for a long moment. Then she gave a small, sad smile.
‘You have shown great courage in telling me this today,’ she said. ‘And I need to apologise to you, too, on behalf of my husband, for his actions, and for yours and Rufus’ loss of money. If I’d even had the smallest inkling about what Giles was up to, I’d have done my utmost to put a stop to it.’
Sister Veronica leaned forwards.
‘Why do you think he was doing it, Flo?’ she said.
Florence gave a small shrug.
‘I just think he couldn’t bear to believe that our lifestyle would have to change,’ she said. ‘You know what Giles was like, always full of pomposity, he really enjoyed the status he felt that his business and this house brought him. Almost as though it made him better than other people, to have such money and possessions. I think a sort of madness must have come over him when he realised that – for whatever reason – his business had begun to fail. He did the only thing he could think of, deluding himself in the process, of keeping up the appearance of still being successful. The fact that he didn’t even tell me about it shows how desperate he must have felt, how he just couldn’t let go and sort the situation out sensibly. If he’d told me, we could have sold the house, paid his debts and employees, and started afresh in a smaller cottage somewhere. But the stupid man just kept everything to himself.’
She shook her head.
Araminta’s brow furrowed.
‘I thought you’d be furious with me when I told you,’ she said to her aunt. ‘Chuck Rufie and I out of Chalfield Hall immediately. And I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.’
Florence gave a smile tinged with bitterness.
‘I am furious,’ she said. ‘But mainly with Giles. And I’m also cross with myself for not having been more involved, not picking up on any signs that might have been there. What you and Rufus did was a cowardly, vindictive act, Araminta, but it wasn’t without provocation. Giles treated you both very badly. If he’d been honest to start with, none of this would have ever happened. So while you have put me through the most stressful year of my life with all your poison pen letters, I cannot solely blame the two of you for the situation. And I’m very grateful for your apology. It has healed some of the hurt inside me.’
Araminta jumped up and enveloped her aunt in an enormous hug.
‘Thank you,’ she said into Florence’s shoulder. ‘You really are an amazing lady, Auntie Florence.’
Well, Sister Veronica thought. If Flo is big enough to forgive her niece, then so am I.
An ear-shattering scream split the atmosphere in two.
‘That sounds like Coco,’ Florence said, her voice full of alarm. ‘What on earth has happened to her now?’
35
Seconds later, they arrived in the study to find Magnus – sitting in the leather swivel chair, his laptop on the desk in front of him – turning round to stare at his daughter. His face looked different from the inert, blank expression she was used to, Sister Veronica thought. It had life in it, more colour. And it didn’t look happy.
‘No, Coco,’ he said, his voice loud and firm. ‘You can scream and shout at me as much as you want, but I have no plans to buy you a new car or give you my credit card for your endless online shopping until I see a big improvement in your behaviour. One that lasts more than a few hours.’
‘I hate you!’ Coco’s voice was a scream. Her body was so tense it looked brittle, as though she could snap at any moment. ‘You’re a crap father, and now you’re taking away my only enjoyment in life. I wish I was dead.’ Ah, Sister Veronica thought. So last night’s brief reaction of listening to her father has worn off, I see. That’s a shame, we’re back to the drama and accusations. Maybe I better step in and see if I can reason with her.
‘Coco,’ she said, stepping forward. ‘Do you mind if I have a quick word?’
The girl spun round to look at her, her eyes wide and unhinged.
‘I couldn’t help noticing the drawings on the walls in your room when I was looking for your aunt last night,’ Sister Veronica said. ‘Did you do them?’
Coco gave the briefest of nods.
‘They show exceptional talent,’ Sister Veronica said, allowing an encouraging smile to spread across her face. ‘I’m not just saying that, your use of tone and line is beautiful, as is your eye for composition. They really moved me, the emotion in them is rather remarkable.’
Coco’s breathing slowed down a bit.
‘No one else seems that interested in them,’ she said.
‘I am.’ Florence leaned towards her. ‘I’ve told you before how beautiful I think your work is, Coco, and how you should think about applying for a place at art college.’
‘This is just an idea.’ Sister Veronica flashed a glance at Magnus to see if he minded her talking to his daughter. He gave her a quick nod, that seemed to imply ‘carry on’. ‘I’ve noticed, since my arrival at Chalfield Hall, that you, ah, have a very explosive side to you.’
Coco’s brow furrowed, and her fast breathing started up again.
‘And,’ Sister Veronica went on, ‘I was just thinking that maybe instead of doing all the screaming and shouting all the time, and blaming your father for how miserable you seem to feel, perhaps you could use all that intense dramatic feeling to plough into your art. Really give it a good go, see what you’re capable of. Like I said, you are exceptionally talented and I do believe you could produce some masterpieces.’
Coco stared at her. Then she opened her mouth.
‘You’re just as bad as the rest of them,’ she screamed, the sharp petulant tone that was so grating coming back with full force. ‘Why are you being so horrible to me?’
‘What?’ Sister Veronica said, genuine surprise flooding her brain. She’d intended to be encouraging, thought she had been, had tried to give the girl’s self-esteem a boost by pointing out her talent. ‘What are you talking about? I haven’t been horrible.’
‘Yes you HAVE,’ Coco shrieked. ‘The tone of your voice was all hard and mean, and the expression on your face while you were talking hurt my feelings.’ The girl’s eyes were wide and wild, she looked like a different creature to the one she’d seen chatting into her phone the other day.
‘Oh?’ Sister Veronica’s brain felt scrambled by these accusations. ‘Well, I’m very sorry, if that’s how I came across. I know I can sometimes sound gruff, but I assure you, I only intended kindness towards you. And my face? Well, I can’t help that, I’m afraid. Looks the same as it always does, I fear. Perhaps I just have a serious expression on it all the time?’
‘I hate all of you.’ Coco picked up a heavy black stapler from the desk in front of her father. ‘None of you care about me, you are all so nasty to me all the time. I never do anything to deserve it. Just leave me alone.’ She hurled the stapler hard and it hit the tightly-stacked shelves next to the desk. A flurry of loose paper and a waterfall of books fell from the shelves, tumbling all over the place, and scattering themselves across the study floor like giant rectangular snowflakes. Coco turned and stormed out of the room, trying to slam the door, but finding her brother had arrived to witness the proceedings and was currently propping it open.
‘Don’t worry about her,’ Wilfred said, a cheeriness to his voice as Coco�
�s loud footsteps disappeared down the corridor. ‘She’s as mentally unbalanced as Romilly. It must be genetic. I’ve found the best way to deal with her is just to ignore it all. She’s only happy when she’s trying to impress her idiot followers on Instagram.’
Sister Veronica stared at Florence, feeling genuinely flabbergasted. She’d thought some sensible talking would help the girl, but Coco hadn’t responded in the way she’d hoped at all. She’d never come across such an illogical reaction to words that were meant to be bolstering before. Magnus let out a big sigh.
‘I’m sorry, Sister,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Don’t take it personally, she’s like that with everyone. She’s always in trouble at school for being rude to the teachers, and for flouncing out of lessons. I think it’s become her way of getting attention, you know, any attention is good, sort of thing. I know some of it’s my fault, I haven’t been very emotionally accessible for the children, I think I’ve been depressed for a long time, and I know I’ve handled that badly. But I’m trying to change that now and make different choices. Although it seems that for Coco, there might be a long road ahead.’
‘Maybe we need to call in some professional help?’ Florence said. ‘You know, get her assessed or something?’
‘Perhaps,’ Magnus said, the look of habitual defeat shadowing his face once more. ‘It’s just so hard to know what to do.’
‘Dad,’ Wilfred said. ‘Do you want to come and see my 3D nativity scene? I’ve made it using dinosaurs instead of people.’
‘That sounds great, Wilfred.’ Magnus turned towards his son. ‘But I think I should tidy up this mess in here first.’
‘No,’ Florence said, a firmness to her voice. ‘You go with Wilfred, Magnus. It will do you good to spend some time together. I’ll sort the study out. And I’m sure V won’t mind helping.’
Sister Veronica nodded.
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