by McNeir, Leo
Marnie climbed out again briefly. “Seems logical. Same village, same name.”
“Then why not ask him if he knows anything. After all, he is always hanging round here. Perhaps he has some views on what happened. It’s worth a try. You’ve got nothing to lose.”
*
Marnie watched Anne go past the corner of the large barn and head up the field track to catch the five o’clock post. It would be at least twenty minutes before she returned. She dialled Frank Day’s office number. The answerphone cut in. She hung up and looked in the address book to see if he had a mobile. No luck, but his home phone was there. She tried it.
“Hallo, Knightly 639.” A woman’s voice. Damn! thought Marnie. What’s his wife’s name?
“Oh, hallo, it’s Marnie Walker here. Is that …”
“Hallo, Marnie. Yes it’s Janet.” Of course, how stupid!
“Janet, hi! Is it possible to have a word with Frank? I’ve tried the office but got the machine.”
“I’m afraid not, Marnie. He’s out on business at the moment. I’m not sure what time he’ll be back, but I can give him a message. Or perhaps I can help?”
“Thanks, but I think I really need to talk to Frank. It’s about something in Knightly. I know he’ll be concerned because, well, I know how much he loves the village.”
“Loves the village?” said Janet. There was an odd mixture of incredulity and scorn in her voice. “Knightly St John? He hates the village. It has only ever brought him trouble.” Marnie felt her cheeks redden.
“Oh, I see. How silly of me. I didn’t realise.”
“You’ve been listening to the people in Knightly, Marnie. They seem to think there’s only one village in England and that everyone else is interested in their comings and goings. Don’t get me wrong. I wish you well with your business, but remember there are other points of view.”
“Yes, of course. Actually, it was something concerning Frank’s family that I wanted to talk to him about.” At first there was no reply.
“Frank’s family?” This time the tone was wary, bordering on suspicion. “I didn’t realise you knew his family.”
Marnie’s brain went into overdrive. She was already regretting what she had said so far and was determined not to repeat the mistake. “It was just something I came across the other day. I thought I’d mention it to him out of interest. I could leave a message, if that’s okay.”
“No. I think you’d better talk to him direct. I’ve never had anything to do with his family. I’ll ask him to ring you.”
“Thanks.” Marnie thought for a second. “Janet, it isn’t my wish to stir up any problems …”
“That’s all right. Don’t worry.”
“But if there’s any ill feeling, any awkwardness …”
“There can’t be any ill feeling, Marnie. You see, Frank hasn’t got any family, none living, at any rate. Unless you count me, of course, and they never did.”
*
Frank Day rang back soon after Anne returned from the shop. Whether by chance or from a sense of discretion, Anne gave Marnie the call and immediately left the office to stow food away on Sally Ann. Frank’s voice sounded strained, not the usual easy-going banter.
“Frank, I need to talk to you, but I can’t easily do it just now. Can we meet?”
“I think we should. Soon.”
“Are you free tomorrow? Perhaps in the morning?”
“Sure. Do you want me to come over?”
“No. Let’s have coffee somewhere. Say, ten-thirty?”
*
It was a pleasant hotel and restaurant that had once been a coaching inn. The car park had been carefully laid out with cobbled bays and planting and the interior was newly redecorated, but Marnie paid it no attention. She had other things on her mind. The entrance hall had heavy curtains, a dark patterned carpet and wooden panelling. Conventional, traditional comfort. The atmosphere struggled between past and present. On one side, framed quotations from Dickens describing the inn and paintings of Victorian coaches lumbering through snowy landscapes. On the other, there were paintings of motor racing scenes from nearby Silverstone and a framed, signed photograph of Mike Hawthorn, the first British world champion back in the fifties, drinking beer from his own pewter tankard in the bar, where it still hung. Marnie saw Frank sitting in the lounge and went through to join him. He stood up as she approached, his smile barely camouflaging the serious expression underneath.
“I’ve ordered coffee. Is that all right?”
“Fine. Am I late?”
“No. I was early.” He gestured to a seat beside him. It felt to Marnie like a conspiracy.
“Frank, if I said the wrong thing to Janet on the phone yesterday …”
“I’ve seen the grave, Marnie. I know the headstone is gone.”
“I’m sorry about what happened, Frank.”
“It was an injustice to my family, at least that’s how I see it. Okay, so the church was right not to let her be buried in the graveyard, but it was all so long ago. Surely the church can forgive some time.”
“Was it you who put the flowers there?” said Marnie.
“Of course. I found the headstone quite by chance. The dogs chased a rabbit into the bushes and … there she was. I hope your message means you know where it is.”
“It’s in the crypt.”
“How?”
“The vicar and I did it between us.”
Frank looked incredulous. “Two women could never lift it. It’s much too heavy.”
“It was in pieces,” said Marnie softly.
“So that explains the state of the flowers,” said Frank. “I take it you didn’t trample on them when you moved the stone.” A cheerful waitress bustled over with the tray of coffee and biscuits and they waited while she set out the china. Marnie began to pour.
“Frank, I ought to tell you that I know about the will that paid for the headstone.”
He looked at Marnie in amazement. “How could you possibly know about that?”
“Completely by chance, actually. Rather like your dogs chasing a rabbit. It was a colleague of Ralph’s from Oxford doing research who happened to find it in the archives. I was just curious about the unsolved murder of the vicar and this turned up unexpectedly.”
“What else did you find out?” said Frank. He looked wary. What else was there to find out? Marnie thought.
“That was it, really. She killed herself shortly after the murder. No-one believes there’s any connection between Sarah Anne and the deed itself, of course.”
“No,” said Frank. They sipped their coffee.
“I don’t want to pry, but if there is anything you think the vicar ought to know, you should tell her.”
“The vicar?”
“She’s going to begin proceedings to have Sarah Anne re-interred in the churchyard.” Frank frowned. “That would be your wish too, wouldn’t it, Frank?”
“It was, but now I’m not so sure, at least, not at the moment.”
“Why not?”
“You saw what happened to the headstone and the flowers. Someone did that. Someone in the community. The hatred is still there, still alive. I’m not sure now’s the time to stir up more trouble.”
“Perhaps it was just vandals,” said Marnie. “Coincidence.”
“No. Definitely not.” Frank bit his lip. “I can’t tell you why it’s important, Marnie. I have to think about it. It’s a private family matter. I’m sure you understand.”
“There’s nothing more to say, then,” said Marnie.
“I’ll try and explain some time. But not just yet. I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble for you. It’s a pity the vicar’s got involved, really, a great pity.”
*
Thursday 27 July
“A second mobile phone for me would be handy,” said Anne, without looking up from her desk. She was writing a list. Marnie, sitting at her desk, a few metres away, paused and looked over at her friend.
“If you can’t h
ear me I can raise my voice. If I get a sore throat I can ring you from here. No problem.”
“I meant for Scotland,” said Anne. “While I’m away on this holiday.”
“The last thing you’ll want is phone calls about work, when you’re on holiday. That’s the whole idea.”
“But you might need to check something with me, ask me something.”
“I won’t have time,” said Marnie. “It’ll take me the best part of a fortnight just to read through all the things on that list. Scott had fewer notes to follow when he went to the South Pole.”
“He didn’t get there, did he?” said Anne ominously. “There’s no way you’ll be able to reach me if there is something you want. We’re going to be miles from anywhere. I can’t even pronounce the name of the place. I think there was a battle nearby.”
“That describes most of Scotland,” said Marnie.
“I bet you’ve never been on a camping holiday in the Highlands of Scotland. The Greek islands, Tuscany, Provence, they’re more your scene.”
“My husband and I – that sounds funny, doesn’t it? – like the Queen. Anyway, we had a holiday in Scotland. We went to the Trossachs, the Isle of Skye. We even had a day on Muck. That rather sums up much of my marriage!”
Anne giggled. “Was it nice? The holiday, I mean.”
“It was, actually. We had two days visiting the galleries in Glasgow. Marvellous. And we discovered the Borders. Melrose Abbey … very atmospheric. I loved Peebleshire. Anne, you are going to have a lovely time, so just enjoy it and come back refreshed. Don’t think about work at all.” Anne shrugged and returned to organising Marnie’s life for the next two weeks.
“Bet you weren’t camping in a tent,” she muttered.
*
Marnie was halfway up a ladder talking to Bob the foreman when Anne came jogging across the yard from the office.
“Fax from Willards!” she called.
“Three cheers!” shouted Marnie, much to the surprise of the carpenters fixing the roof trusses. She climbed down.
The machine was still pouring out paper when they reached the office. The first page was largely taken up by the brewery’s headings and logo, leaving three inches of space for the start of the message. Marnie frowned as soon as she saw the text.
“… in the circumstances we are holding an extraordinary meeting of the Board of Directors to discuss the major projects to which we are currently committed. These include the refurbishment programme of our Canalside Inns, Traveller Hotels and Trencherman Restaurants, plus the renovation of Head Office. The meeting is scheduled for …”
“Oh damn,” said Marnie. “They want me to go to a special board meeting on Friday.”
“That’s tomorrow,” said Anne.
“I know.” Marnie read the list of all the information they wanted her to bring to the meeting. She was to give a ‘short presentation’, showing what was proposed for each scheme, with statements of cost broken down by individual project and a situation report on the whole programme. They wanted material samples, paint colour charts, any sketches or other illustrations. “This is going to take all afternoon to prepare,” she sighed.
“Why are they doing this?” said Anne. “You don’t think they might stop the contract, do you? They couldn’t do that, could they? Could they?”
“Well, they could, but I don’t think they will.” Marnie read down to the bottom of the page.
“… and we hope this will not cause you any inconvenience. We look forward to seeing you on Friday at 10.30 a.m.”
“Right,” said Anne. “I’d better phone my parents and tell them I can’t go on the holiday. This is an emergency. Our whole contract might depend on this meeting.”
“Don’t worry,” said Marnie. “I can handle it. You go on your holiday and have a nice time.”
“Okay,” said Anne reluctantly. “I’ll try not to worry myself sick … in my tent … halfway up a mountain.” She quickly read the rest of the fax. “You’re invited to stay on for a buffet lunch. Oh, what’s this? … as some of the directors are concerned that the recession is not yet over … may be prudent to rephase the programme … What do they mean by the green shoots of recovery? I’ve heard that somewhere.”
“Something the Chancellor said. I think it was in the budget speech.”
“Are they getting cold feet?”
“Some of them. But don’t worry. This often happens. Now is actually a very good time to get everything ready for when the market picks up. At times like this you’ve got to make more of an effort, and they’re a profitable company.”
“Marnie, do you think it’s possible you might not get back in time to get me to the bus station?”
“If I’m late, I’ll just run you home myself. It’s not far.”
“You’ve got enough to do. I’ll make a contingency plan. Just in case.”
*
“Anne!” The voice came from behind and stopped Anne on her way to the shop. She turned to see Toni Petrie struggling through the church gate, with a pile of books, rolls of plans under her arm and a briefcase in her free hand. “Are you in a hurry?”
“I don’t want to miss the post. I’m getting everything tidied up before I go on holiday tomorrow afternoon. Can I help you carry those?”
“No, I’m all right, thanks. Where are you off to?”
“Scotland … with my parents … camping … on the top of Ben Nevis.”
“Really?” said Toni. “That sounds like fun.”
“Well, not actually on the top … more … nearby.”
“I rather thought as much. Let me not hold you up, but can you give Marnie a message for me?” At that moment, one of the books fell to the ground. Anne picked it up. It was a battered paperback Bible.
“Have you been to a meeting?”
“No,” said Toni. “Just tidying the vestry. You can keep that, if you like. My good deed for the day.”
“Converting the pagan natives?” said Anne.
“That’s the idea.”
“Thanks. You said you had a message for Marnie?”
“Oh, just that I’ve shifted the rest of the headstone into the crypt and I’ve spoken to Randall Hughes about proceedings for the re-interment.”
“No probs,” said Anne.
“How are your building works coming along?”
“Fine. Our main problem’s an unexpected meeting tomorrow that could make Marnie late back. She’s taking me to the bus station and if she’s late she’ll want to take me all the way home. I don’t want her to have any more to do. She works so hard already.”
“There’s an obvious solution,” said Toni. “I’ll be here all day. If Marnie’s late, give me a ring and I’ll run you to the bus.”
“That’s really kind of you.”
“As you might say, no probs!”
*
“I used to think the whole world smelled of diesel,” said Marnie, sniffing one of Anne’s shirts as she helped her pack that evening. “When I was living on Sally Ann last summer, I mean.”
Anne sniffed it before laying it in the suitcase. “Keeping all the clothes over here, away from the smell of Sally’s engine, was a good idea,” she said. “It doesn’t matter so much for me. I’ve only got some of my things here anyway.”
Marnie folded a pair of jeans and passed them over. “Yes,” she said. “You don’t have a lot to pack. I suppose most of the things you’ll need on holiday are at home.”
Anne wanted to say that she felt this was her home now, her attic over the office in the barn, but she thought it might seem disloyal to her family. “That’s right,” she said. “I’ll do my real packing tomorrow night. My summer holiday things will all be there for me: thermal vests, snow shoes, survival kit, ice pick, elephant gun …”
“Elephant gun?” said Marnie.
“You know me,” said Anne. “Be prepared. You never know …”
*
It was after ten that evening by the time Marnie finished checking all her
materials for the board meeting in Leicester. She had taken them over to Sally Ann so that she could go through her presentation as often as she needed, without disturbing Anne. She was going to ring Beth, but it was her sister who rang first.
“I don’t know where the weeks have gone,” said Beth wearily. “We seem to have been going non-stop for ever.”
“You need a holiday,” said Marnie.
“So do you.”
“No. I’m fine. Remember I had all last summer off. Now, I just want to press on with the new life and get Glebe Farm sorted out.”
“Well, don’t overdo it. Actually, we are going on holiday. I’ve told Paul we have to get right away, otherwise it’s no break. He’s got a research student doing a doctorate who’s always pestering him, needs his hand held all the time.”
“So where are you going?”
“Mum said she wanted us to visit them, said some Spanish sunshine would do us good. But staying with family isn’t the same as a real break, so I’ve booked us a package to the Greek islands.”
“You shouldn’t tell me that,” said Marnie. “Now I will be jealous.”
“It was thinking of your holidays there that gave us the idea. Do you remember that time you and Simon came round for dinner after a sailing holiday in the Aegean?”
“The time Paul’s visiting professor was there?”
“Yes. The pompous twit! He kept saying how wonderful you looked with your beautiful tan.”
“Yes,” said Marnie. “I remember. He went on and on about how vibrant the spirit of the islands was, the essence of culture and purity.”
“And then he asked you which islands you’d liked best and you said Lesbos and Syphilos!” Beth guffawed.
“Anne’s off on holiday tomorrow,” said Marnie. “Her family are going to Scotland.”
“Nice,” said Beth.
“They’re going camping in the Highlands.”
“I hope the weather stays fine,” said Beth. “Does that mean you’ll be on your own, or have you made plans to have visitors, or a visitor at least?”
“No. I’ll be here working. I’ve got a lot to do.”
“Come for lunch on Saturday,” said Beth.
“Okay. Thanks.”
