‘I’ll visit very soon.’
‘Is that a promise?’
‘It is.’
‘If you’re going to catch your train, Joey, we’d better go,’ Victor reminded.
‘Yes.’ Unwilling to tear himself away from Rhian, Joey made no effort to move.
‘Goodbye again.’
‘Goodbye.’ He replaced his cap on his head.
Still gasping for air, Edward pushed his way through the crowd on the pavement outside his office door. He set his sights on the snow-covered mountain above and ahead of him. It would be cold up there, the wind would blow in his face and he would finally be able to breathe. Looking neither left nor right, he stepped off the pavement. A heavy blow felled him and the world went black but not silent. He heard a woman scream, a high-pitched wail that blocked out all other sounds. He didn’t recognize the voice as Rhian’s or see the tram that hit him.
Joey and Victor heard Rhian scream. They turned and ran, reaching Edward at the same time as the local constable, Gwyn Jenkins. Victor, who had administered first aid when he’d worked as a blacksmith in the pit, saw the blood flowing from Edward’s cracked skull. He pulled out his handkerchief and tried to stem the flow although he knew it was hopeless.
‘Let me go to him. I must go to him,’ Rhian struggled free from a woman who tried to hold her back. She ran to the spot where Edward was lying and fell to her knees beside him. Joey gripped her shoulders.
‘There’s nothing you can do for him now, love,’ he whispered, recognizing the sight of death that had become all too familiar to him in the trenches.
Gwyn Jenkins looked up and saw Connie in the doorway of her shop. ‘We need a blanket,’ he shouted.
She nodded and ran inside.
‘I must hold him, Joey,’ Rhian begged.
‘Don’t touch his head, Rhian, he mustn’t be moved.’ Victor glanced at Joey. They both knew it wasn’t a warning for Edward’s sake but Rhian’s. From the amount of blood on the road, Joey guessed that the back of Edward’s skull had been crushed.
Rhian reached out and gripped Edward’s hand. Blood welled into his mouth and his head fell lifelessly sideways. Rhian sobbed just once, and Joey helped her to her feet. She clung to him, burying her head in his shoulder.
Connie came and handed Gwyn a grey blanket. Victor helped him to open it out and cover Edward’s body. When they finished, Victor turned to his brother.
‘You’re going to miss your train.’
‘I can’t leave her.’ Joey held Rhian fast.
Victor eased Rhian out of his arms. ‘I’ll take care of her, get your kit bag from the cart and run.’ When Joey hesitated, he added, ‘We’ve had enough death here for one day. It won’t help her or you if you get yourself shot for desertion.’
Joey finally went to the cart, lifted out his kit bag and started to run down the street.
‘Best get her inside before the undertaker arrives, Victor,’ Gwyn Jenkins advised.
‘Come on, love.’ Victor lifted Rhian into his arms and carried her into the shop.
Red-eyed and tearful, Mrs Ball opened the door that connected to the hall and the rooms above. She threw the bolt across the shop door to secure it, and led the way up the stairs and into the bedroom. Victor followed and laid Rhian on the bed.
‘You’ll stay with her?’ he asked.
Mrs Ball nodded.
‘If you pack her things, I’ll fetch my wife; we’ll take her back to our farm.’
If Mrs Ball heard him she gave no sign of it.
‘She needs to be with her friends.’
Mrs Ball nodded.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘He was a good man and the best employer. I don’t know what we’re going to do without him,’ she sobbed.
Feeling helpless in the face of her grief, Victor muttered, ‘I’ll be back with my wife as soon as I can.’
He returned to the street and looked down towards the railway station. There was no sign of Joey and he only hoped he had caught his train. The tram driver was talking to Gwyn Jenkins. The undertaker and his assistant were loading a makeshift rough pine coffin into a hearse but the stain remained a vivid crimson on the grey road.
A cold, clear voice rang out from the doorway of Edward’s office behind them. ‘Is my husband dead, Constable?’
Mabel Larch was watching them, Edward’s partner Cedric standing, white-faced from shock, behind her.
Gwyn left the tram driver and went to them. ‘Perhaps it might be best if we go upstairs, Mrs Larch.’
‘I asked you a question, Constable. Is my husband dead?’ Mabel shouted.
‘We can’t talk here. We should go somewhere private –’
‘Is he dead?’ she screamed hysterically.
Gwyn nodded. ‘I am very sorry, Mrs Larch.’
‘Then I want my husband’s office, shop and the house he owned next door cleared of people and I want it cleared now!’
‘Mrs Larch –’
‘I am his widow, I have the right to inherit his estate, and I want these people out of my property now!’
‘Mrs Larch, you’re upset –’
‘I know what I want, Constable. You are the representative of the law and I want these people evicted from my properties.’
‘Mrs Larch, you are grief-stricken, there are procedures …’ Cedric faltered when he recollected the new will and transfers he had drawn up for Edward that remained unsigned – and worthless.
‘I want Edward’s mistress and that old hag out of the building next door immediately.’
Before any of them could stop her, Mabel walked to the door of the house and started hammering on it.
Chapter Twenty-one
Julia flicked through the papers Cedric handed her.
‘Your father asked me to draw those up some time ago, but somehow I never got around to it,’ he mumbled, embarrassed by the memory of the altercation between him and Edward that had delayed the settlement of Edward’s affairs. ‘He was going to sign them yesterday afternoon. I am truly sorry that I didn’t get them ready sooner, because unsigned they are worthless.’
‘What exactly is the legal position regarding my father’s estate?’ Julia made an effort to set aside her grief and concentrate on practical matters.
‘The only will your father signed was made before your mother’s death, and it was negated by his remarriage. So, in law, he died intestate. Mabel is entitled to a share of his estate, but so are you. You brother would have been, but because Gerald’s death predates your father’s, his estate will not benefit.’
‘I forgot about Gerald’s trust fund.’ Julia looked to Cedric. ‘Will it go to my father’s estate? Will Mabel …’
‘Your grandfather covered every eventuality when he set up your and your brother’s trust funds. In the event of either of you dying before you reached your majority the fund was to go to the other. You were wealthy before Gerald’s death. You are now doubly so, and your stepmother is not entitled to a penny of Gerald’s money.’
‘Does my stepmother know about the existence of this will and the transfer of property papers?’ Julia held up the documents he had given her.
‘No, he didn’t tell her and I haven’t seen her since …’ He took a few seconds to compose himself. ‘Since it happened two days ago. And there was no reasoning with her then.’
Julia shuffled the papers together and rose to her feet. ‘Will you send your messenger boy to fetch a brake, please? I think that you and I should pay a call to Llan House.’
‘There is nothing you can do, Julia. I only wish there was,’ he said wretchedly.
‘Just leave the talking to me, Cedric. And hope and pray that my stepmother is as ignorant of the law as she is about most things in life that don’t interest her.’
Twenty minutes later Julia and Cedric stood side by side on the doorstep of Llan House. An elaborate crêpe-decorated mourning wreath, too large to be tasteful, had been tied to the rag-muffled door-knocker. It was odd to be standing
on the doorstep of the house she had lived in for most of her life, and even odder to think that the only people she knew inside were the kitchen maid, Mair, and her stepmother.
Cedric rapped on the door with his knuckles. They listened to the muffled tones echoing dully into the hall. As he lifted his hand a second time, the door opened and an elderly woman in a white apron and cap opened it. She blocked the doorway, leaving them no choice but to remain on the step.
Presuming that the woman was Mabel’s parents’ housekeeper, Julia said, ‘We wish to pay a condolence call on Mrs Larch.’
‘Mrs Larch is not at home to any callers, ma’am.’
‘I am Julia Watkin Jones, Larch as was, and this is my father’s partner and solicitor, Mr Cedric Morgan. Would you please inform her that we are here to discuss my father’s funeral arrangements?’
The housekeeper hesitated and Julia wondered if they’d be forced to shout into the hall to attract Mabel’s attention but the woman closed the door in their faces. She glanced across at Cedric, and, before they had time to say anything to one another, the door opened again and Mabel appeared. She was dressed in the deepest mourning and held a black handkerchief over her nose and mouth.
‘My housekeeper said you wanted to see me.’
‘We are here to discuss my father’s funeral arrangements,’ Julia said quietly. ‘Please, may we come in?’
‘No, you may not. Your elopement broke your father’s heart. You are no longer welcome in this house.’
‘I saw Father on the day of his death.’
‘He didn’t tell me,’ Mabel snapped.
‘There were a number of things that he didn’t tell you.’ Julia resisted the temptation to indulge in recriminations. ‘Please, may I come in?’ she repeated. ‘We really do need to discuss his funeral arrangements.’
‘I am your father’s wife, his closest living relative, and I have already made all the necessary arrangements,’ Mabel informed her coldly.
‘Father would wish to be buried with my mother.’
‘I have purchased a new plot in Trealaw cemetery large enough for both of us and chosen a suitable double headstone. My name and date of birth will be put on it next to his name and dates.’
‘Mabel,’ for the first time Julia dared to use her stepmother’s Christian name, ‘you do know that Father died without leaving a valid will?’
‘I am his wife. I inherit everything.’ Mabel nervously fingered the black onyx mourning brooch at the throat of her black silk dress.
‘Have you spoken to a solicitor?’
‘I don’t need to.’ Her stepmother spoke too loudly and quickly.
Julia showed no sign of the small pleasure she felt at Mabel’s omission but she sensed that she had hit a nerve. She turned to Cedric. ‘Would you be kind enough to enlighten my stepmother as to the exact legal position when someone dies intestate?’
‘A wife is not entitled to inherit her husband’s entire estate. His children have the right to a share. Edward drew up a new will that he intended to sign on the day of his death. It would have left you with an annuity equal to the interest on five thousand pounds worth of stock and nothing else.’
‘But I was his wife.’ Mabel chanted the words as if they were a mantra.
‘I could go to court and ask for the unsigned will to be implemented. I have taken advice, and have been told that I stand an excellent chance of winning the case.’ Julia amazed herself by how coolly she lied. She knew as well as Cedric that there wasn’t a judge in the country who would give a man’s estate to his daughter, much less his mistress, on the basis of an unsigned will. But then she hoped that Mabel would assume that her father had left everything to her and Gerald, not his young mistress.
‘I will fight you.’
‘With what, Mabel?’ she asked. ‘Legal fees are high and you have no savings. You never did learn to live within the allowances my father made you.’
‘Why have you really come here?’ Mabel demanded.
‘I want Father buried next to Mother and I want Father’s legal firm to take over the funeral arrangements.’
‘So you can make them?’
Julia didn’t answer her. ‘I also want to bring Rhian here to say goodbye to him.’
‘His slut! His whore! That I will never agree to.’
‘Then I will arrange for his body to lie in the church overnight before his funeral, so Rhian can say goodbye to him there. If you agree to those conditions I will ask my father’s partner’, she indicated Cedric, ‘to waive my rights to Father’s estate and give it to you in its entirety.’
Mabel’s eyes narrowed. ‘This house, his bank accounts and the building in Dunraven Street and the shop …’
‘Everything.’ Julia was reluctant to hand over Rhian’s home as well as her livelihood but there were other buildings for sale. And she was wealthy enough to look after Rhian financially. Emotionally was a more serious problem. The young girl had reacted badly to her father’s death.
‘I won’t have that prostitute at Edward’s funeral.’
‘Rhian is not a prostitute,’ Julia demurred. ‘But if you insist, I will take her to his grave after the service. As the person closest to him, she has a right to pay her last respects.’
‘Not in my house.’
‘It’s not yours yet, Mabel, but as I said, I will arrange for Rhian to say goodbye to father away from here. Do you agree to my terms?’ Julia looked her stepmother in the eye.
‘I will have everything?’
‘Everything that was my father’s.’
‘Then I agree.’ Mabel slammed the door in Julia’s face.
Weak with relief after achieving what she had set out to with so little argument, Julia took the arm Cedric offered her.
‘I don’t know whether to congratulate you or not. You have succeeded in placating Mabel, and ensuring your father will have the funeral and final resting place he would have chosen for himself, but at the cost of disregarding his wishes in the disposal of his assets.’
‘In the last two days I have lost my father and my brother,’ Julia said flatly. ‘And the one thing I have learned is that money is worthless.’
She stared at the garden. She had just given away every single thing that her father had worked for, but on the other hand, she had done what she felt was right.
She walked down the short flight of steps. When Cedric handed her into the cab, she hesitated. She couldn’t be absolutely certain, but she thought she heard the sound of a woman sobbing behind the front door.
Megan rolled out a sheet of pastry, glanced up from the table and saw Rhian watching the grandmother clock that Victor’s father had given them after the birth of the twins. She brushed the excess flour from her hands and checked the cawl she was heating on the stove. ‘They won’t be long now, Rhian,’ she reassured. ‘Funerals rarely last longer than an hour and, given this weather, no one will want to linger in the cemetery.’
‘You’re probably right.’ Rhian couldn’t bear the thought of Edward’s tall, slim body being lowered into the cold, hard ground, his coffin being covered by freezing earth … She shuddered, turned away from the clock and looked out of the windows. Both were steeped with snow that covered half of the glass and the light that shone through the upper panes was greyish purple. It was only just three o’clock, yet twilight was already falling.
Tom yelled in pain.
‘Darling, don’t cry.’ Rhian went to the babies who were sitting on a rag rug behind a rail Victor had built across an alcove to the side of the range. His father joked that he was preparing his sons for a life behind bars but as soon as they had begun to crawl, Victor had made the pen to keep them away from the fire when Megan was baking.
‘Not a year old yet, and already they’re fighting,’ Megan smiled fondly.
Rhian knelt in front of the rail, unwound Jack’s fingers from Tom’s hair, separated them and set their favourite box of wooden animals between them, but Jack wasn’t so easily pacified. When she h
anded him a bear, he promptly threw it back at her.
Megan stirred the cawl and returned to her pastry. ‘Funerals aren’t important except to the people left behind.’
‘I know,’ Rhian agreed. ‘And I’m grateful to you and Victor for taking me in. I don’t know where I would have gone or what I would have done without you. And I feel so guilty for bringing my unhappiness into the house …’
‘That’s nonsense, we’ve loved having you and that goes double for the twins,’ Megan said resolutely.
‘No, darling.’ Rhian tried to take the box that Jack was using to lash out at Tom, but he started grizzling and held on to it so tightly that she decided it was easier to move Tom out of striking distance. She bit her lip. ‘It would have been so much easier if …’
Megan knew what Rhian was about to say: if she’d been allowed to attend Edward’s funeral. But they both knew that Julia had achieved miracles in engineering a goodbye visit for Rhian in the church. Treating Rhian more like a sister and member of the family than Edward’s mistress, Julia had kept her informed of all the funeral arrangements and promised to take Rhian down to see Edward’s grave after the service when all the mourners had left.
Julia had turned up at the farm shortly after Megan and Victor had brought Rhian to their home on the day Edward had been killed. Fortunately, Mrs Ball had the foresight to pack all of Rhian’s personal possessions, including the clothes, jewellery and bankbook Edward had given her, and smuggle them through the connecting door into Edward’s office, entrusting them to Edward’s partner. If she hadn’t done so, there was no saying when they would have been able to retrieve Rhian’s things, given Mabel Larch’s hostility towards her husband’s mistress.
The back door opened and Sali, Victor and Victor’s father walked in, bringing a draught of freezing air and scattering snow over the flagstones in their wake.
‘Is it as bad as it looks out there?’ Megan asked.
‘Worse. If this is spring, give me winter any day.’ Victor pulled off his gloves and hat and unwound the muffler from around his face. ‘Lloyd needed the shovel more than once to dig the wheels of the car out of the drifts.’
Sinners and Shadows Page 39
