by Leo McNeir
Marnie looked up, but her view was obscured by Anne, who seemed to be fiddling with something. “Are you removing the hook?”
Anne ignored the question. “I’m coming down. Mind I don’t tread on you.”
At that moment Marnie became aware of a smell, fresh and fragrant, and for a moment she wondered if Anne was wearing perfume. The girl stepped down onto the floor beside her and looked upwards.
“There. How’s that?”
From the hook hung a spray of lavender, its vivid colour brightening the office, its scent enriching the air.
“I should’ve asked you first, Marnie, but I thought I’d just give it a try to see if it worked. What do you think?”
Marnie stepped back for a better view. “Well, yes, it looks good.”
“You don’t mind the smell? Of course, it’ll soon fade, but while it lasts I thought it might be pleasant.”
“I like it.”
“Not too overpowering?”
“No.”
“Great. So is it all right to leave it up there?”
“Fine by me.”
Anne folded the ladder together and took it back to the garage barn. Marnie sat at her desk, gazing up at the lavender, wondering why Anne should suddenly have chosen that time to decorate the office in this way.
When Anne returned, she picked up a bag that Marnie noticed for the first time was lying by the foot of the attic wall-ladder.
“Off to college?”
“Yes. Back at lunchtime, early afternoon at the latest. Do we need any shopping?”
“Not for now. I have to go out later anyway. I’ll sort it.”
Anne flashed a smile. “Bye, then.”
“Anne?”
The girl paused in the doorway.
Marnie glanced briefly up at the lavender. “Good idea, nice thinking. I understand.”
Anne smiled again and shrugged. “Thought it might help.”
The door had barely closed behind Anne when the phone rang.
“Walker and Co, good morning.” Marnie automatically pulled a notepad towards her across the desk.
“Is that Marnie Walker?”
“Speaking.”
The voice seemed vaguely familiar.
“This is Celia Devere. We met yesterday at the, er …”
“In Martyrs Close, yes. What can I do for you?”
“Sorry to phone so early, but I have to go out and there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. I hope it’s convenient.”
“Absolutely.”
“Somehow, the timing didn’t seem appropriate yesterday.”
“Appropriate for what exactly?”
Marnie heard a car pull up outside and guessed that the police had arrived to take her statement. For once she was glad to see them. She wanted the whole business to be over.
“Well,” Celia seemed hesitant. “I was wondering. Would you be free to meet me, for a chat some time?”
“A chat. About?”
“One or two things, actually.”
Marnie was intrigued. “Would this concern interior decoration?”
A pause. “Among other things.”
Marnie reached for the diary. “Shall we set a date?”
“Can it be soon?”
Marnie thought she detected pleading in her tone. “If it’s urgent I could come round at the end of the working day, say about six or six-thirty?”
“Oh no. No, not then.” Celia spoke in a rush. “I’d rather see you during the day, when my husband’s at work.”
“Celia, I think I ought to tell you that I like to involve both parties when I prepare a project. It removes any causes for misunderstanding later.”
Marnie waited for a reply, aware that someone was hovering outside the office door.
“There won’t be a problem about that, Marnie. I just wanted us to have a preliminary chat, just the two of us, to sort a few things out.”
“Okay. What about mid-morning on Thursday?”
“That’s ideal.” Celia sounded relieved. “Ten o’clock?”
“It’s in the diary.”
“You know how to reach us?”
“No problem. I’ll bring my trusty navigator.”
“I’d rather you came alone, if you don’t mind.” Her tone was serious.
“All right, but Anne will have to be involved as things move ahead.”
“Very well.”
After disconnecting, Marnie went to the office door. She opened it to find Angela Hemingway.
“Why didn’t you come in?”
“I saw you were on the phone, Marnie. Anyway, I was admiring what you’ve done to the place. How soon before the house is ready?”
“Good question. Some way to go yet, and I have to earn the money to keep things moving.”
“It’s all looking beautiful. I love those climbing roses on the cottages.”
“You haven’t come to talk about aesthetics, Angela.”
“No. Have you got a minute?”
It was a fine morning and they opted to go for a stroll. Slowly they walked through the spinney towards the docking area where Sally Ann was moored.
“Have the police taken your statement yet, Marnie?”
“Not so far. I’ve met Sergeant Binns. He seemed all right, but I worry about where all this might lead, this probing into the smashing of the headstone.”
“I feel the same way. He’s already had the pieces photographed in the crypt.”
“Has he had them removed?”
“No. He’s had the crypt sealed up, wants the forensic people to examine everything. They’re arriving later this morning. That’s why I came to see you so early.”
Marnie sighed. “It won’t do any good. It’ll just cause trouble.”
“I know. I wish there was some way we could counteract it all.”
Marnie grinned. “Anne’s already made a start.”
“Oh?”
“You know the hook in our office where Sarah …?”
“Yes.”
Marnie stopped walking. “Let’s wait till we get back and I’ll show you.”
They emerged from the trees into sunlight and walked alongside Sally Ann. Stepping onto the deck, Marnie perched on the stern rail. Angela settled on the lid of the gas bottle container, looking thoughtful.
“You had a reason for coming to see me, Angela. It wasn’t just to ask if I’d given my statement or to tell me about the crypt, was it?”
“They’ve barred us from removing Sarah’s coffin.” Angela’s tone was flat.
“Who have?”
“The police. They contacted the diocese. The bishop phoned me last night.”
“This is just a temporary thing, surely?”
“Randall thinks our opponents could use this to reopen the whole question of re-interment.”
“Randall’s a tough cookie. I don’t see him letting anyone get the better of him in this, or in anything else.”
“You’re right, Marnie. But the bishop might feel under pressure and he might want to avoid further conflict. Randall may be the rural dean, but he can’t countermand the bishop.”
Marnie turned to look across the water. Beyond the canal, fields stretched away to the horizon. Sheep and cows were dotted over a rolling landscape of meadows. A church spire pierced the skyline in the distance, but no other buildings were visible. On the mainline of the canal Ralph’s boat, Thyrsis, was moored at right angles to Sally Ann, its green and gold paintwork blending harmoniously with the countryside.
Marnie was struggling with her thoughts. As a devout non-believer she was on one level indifferent to where Sarah Anne Day was buried. What difference could it make? The young woman had been dead for more than three centuries. Moving her a short distance into the churchyard seemed irrelevant. On the other hand, she knew it had been Toni Petrie’s last wish. For that reason as much as any other, it mattered to Angela and Randall.
And there were other factors. Randall’s attempt to kill himself had been a direct and ma
cabre link back to Sarah. Marnie had her own constant reminder of the hatred and conflict that had led to the death of two vicars. Her ribs still ached on occasions. She too had come close to death from the same weapon that had killed Jonathan Goldsworthy. Good reasons for wanting the whole episode in the history of the village to be laid to rest. Reburying Sarah would symbolically achieve that end and draw a line under the entire episode.
Both women sat in the quiet of their thoughts. Marnie broke the silence.
“Yeah. We’ve got to get her into the churchyard.”
Angela looked up. “We can only do that with the support of the bishop.”
“Then we’d better make sure we get it.”
“There’s something else, Marnie.” Angela looked away.
“Another problem?”
“No. The police let us inspect the coffin to see if it was capable of being moved. The subsoil’s very damp down there, and the wood could’ve been damaged.”
“Was it?”
“Rotten. We’ll have to provide a new one. More expense.”
“But –”
“That isn’t all, Marnie. There was a brass plaque on the lid with an inscription: Mors vincit omnia.”
Marnie frowned. “My Latin’s rather rusty, but that sounds familiar.”
“You’re probably thinking of Love conquers everything. This quotation has been changed to mean Death conquers everything.”
“Is it from the Bible?”
Angela shook her head. “No. It’s one of the Roman poets, Virgil. I checked. So whoever arranged her burial, added the inscription.”
“And whoever that person was, they had a classical education.”
Angela agreed. “Yes, and felt very bitter about what had happened.”
“Any idea who it might’ve been? A member of her family?”
“Hard to tell, but not very likely. They were simple country folk. It’s a mystery. This whole thing’s a mystery. My guess is it might have been the vicar who took over after Goldsworthy.”
“So, unfinished business, passed down through the ages from one vicar to another?”
Angela nodded. “You could put it like that, though I can’t prove it.”
Marnie stood up. “Come on. We’ve both got work to do. Why don’t I make you a cup of coffee before you go?”
Angela smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Back in the office barn, waiting for the coffee to filter, Angela admired Anne’s spray of lavender.
“It’s beautiful. I love the smell. How long has she been planning this?”
Marnie took mugs from the cupboard. “It was an impulse. I think this is her gesture against the sadness of what happened here. She’s determined to make the best of what we have, in everything, even this tragedy.”
*
Marnie had hoped that someone might come from the police to take her statement during the morning while Anne was at college, but it was not to be. WDC Cathy Lamb arrived in the early afternoon and parked in the slot usually taken by the police on their visits. It had become a private joke between them, but Marnie had learnt it was better not to make jokes about anything where the police were concerned.
Like all her colleagues, Lamb knew of Marnie’s reputation for being less than totally open. Unlike them, she believed that Marnie tried to act with the best of intentions. She had been at her bedside in the intensive care unit when Marnie came close to death two years before and suspected that this coloured her judgment.
Anne was telling Marnie about the exhibition of students’ work for the college open day when Lamb’s car rolled into the courtyard. When Lamb came into the office, Anne was already putting the kettle on. Marnie offered her desk to the young officer for taking notes, and the three of them sat together in businesslike companionship. It took barely fifteen minutes for Lamb to assemble the facts of Marnie’s involvement in finding the grave, discovering the smashed headstone and helping to carry the pieces into the crypt.
Lamb read through her notes in silence. “And since that time you’ve had nothing further to do with the grave or the pieces of headstone. Is that right, Marnie?”
“Yes, though I did know about the plan to have Sarah reburied in the churchyard. Angela told me.”
“Are you on the PCC?”
“The what?”
“The parochial church council.”
“No. I’m not a church-goer.”
“Yet you’re a friend of the vicar?”
“Yes. She doesn’t seem to hold it against me.”
Lamb closed her notebook. “I think I’ve got everything I need. Thanks, Marnie. I’ll drop by some time with the statement for you to sign, unless you’re coming into the station for any reason.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Across the office Anne snorted. Marnie and Lamb looked at her.
“Sorry.” She got up and cleared away the mugs.
Changing the subject, Marnie escorted Lamb to the door. “How are DCI Bartlett and DS Marriner these days? I was surprised not to see them.”
“They’re okay. They lent me their season ticket to your car park.” She winked at Marnie. “Actually, they’re both working on a serious case in Northampton.”
Marnie knew better than to expect any details. “So this one is just routine?”
Lamb shook her head. “We never treat any case involving human remains as just routine.”
“Even when it’s in a seventeenth century grave?”
“We don’t know how old it is or how long it’s been there. It’s all questions at the moment, no answers. The body’s being examined by an expert in Oxford.”
“Body? I thought it was just a skeleton.”
“It’s a little more than that, but not much.”
“I was hoping you’d have it all wound up very quickly.”
“So were we. I shouldn’t be saying this, but we don’t even know the cause of death yet.”
“Really? I suppose that must be difficult when you’ve so little to go on.”
Lamb nodded. “Early days.”
Marnie and Anne watched the unmarked police car drive out of the courtyard and head up the bumpy field track that led to the village.
“I hope that’s an end to our involvement, Anne.”
“Me too.”
“What was that about, when you made a funny noise back then?”
“Sorry about that. It was silly. You know how you can sometimes get the craziest thoughts come into your head when you’re faced with something really serious?”
“Go on.”
“Well, when she asked if you might be going to the police station to sign your statement, I suddenly got the idea you were going to say, over my dead body.”
They both laughed. Marnie put an arm round her friend’s thin shoulders.
“I think that’s known as gallows humour, Anne.”
They turned to go back into the office barn as their smiles slowly faded.
Chapter 4
Smoke Without Fire
It seemed strange to Marnie, having the place to herself. After the college open day, Anne had gone back to Leighton Buzzard with her parents for a few days at home. On the following morning, Thursday, Marnie breakfasted alone on Sally Ann, opened the office and dealt with the post. For once she had to sift through the junk mail and the special offers, slot the bills and receipts into the appropriate trays on Anne’s desk and prepare replies to correspondence. It was a reminder, if one was needed, of how much Anne contributed to the smooth running of Walker and Co.
Despite missing her friend’s presence, Marnie was glad that Anne was out of the way while the grave remained as a kind of open wound in the village. And it was good for her to have a taste of family life again. Marnie sometimes worried that Anne was becoming too immersed in her work at the office and at college and that she needed to relax more with her parents, brother and friends.
Life in Knightly St John had at times been intense. When Marnie pointed this out to Anne,
she had replied that her life was ‘enjoyably balanced’ between being Marnie’s assistant and studying at the college in Northampton. The argument that she was perhaps spending too much time on serious work for a young person of her age was parried by the counter-argument from Anne that she was ‘focused, like you, Marnie’.
Marnie looked up at the spray of lavender suspended from the ceiling beam. It was typical of Anne’s positive influence. She seemed to leave her mark wherever she went. College open day had been a revelation, though Marnie should not have been surprised.
Meeting Anne’s parents by the college entrance the previous day, the four of them had walked through reception to be confronted immediately by the display of Anne’s work. Although she had only completed the first year of the Advanced level course, her project on the Development of Design from the Art and Craft Movement to the Bauhaus had been chosen as the centrepiece of the annual exhibition. While Anne stood quietly aside, her parents had been visibly proud – and not a little surprised – to be approached by the head of the department of art and design. His words had echoed in Marnie’s mind for the rest of the day.
“I have to tell you that Anne is without a doubt the most outstanding student I have ever taught.”
When the college principal joined them and added his comments, two patches of pink had spread across Anne’s normally pale cheeks like a clown’s make-up.
“In my opinion, your daughter’s project dossier deserves to be published, not just as a comprehensive guide to the subject, but as a model of what a student can attain by sheer application and thoroughness.”
Afterwards in the car park there had been hugs and a few tears wiped away with laughter. Ray and Jackie Price had thanked Marnie for her encouragement and for supporting Anne’s further education.
On the phone that evening, Marnie had narrated the episode to Ralph, who pronounced himself delighted but completely unsurprised. He was sure Anne would ‘walk through’ her A level exams the following summer and obtain a place at any university or art school of her choosing.
“That girl’s got what it takes,” he had said, “but you’re the one who made it happen, Marnie. By your example, she’s gained an insight into what can be achieved.”
After they disconnected, Marnie had thought about this for several minutes and was glad in her heart for Anne, though she added to herself, even if the experience has almost killed her.
