The Unburied Past

by Anthea Fraser

  ‘And that’s what they deliver,’ Johnnie confirmed on cue.

  Matt glanced at the copies under everyone’s arms. ‘Well, enjoy them, whatever emotion they arouse,’ he said smoothly and, as Chrissie called his name, moved away.

  On the Saturday, since the stand-off between Angie and Simon was holding, she and Kirsty spent most of the day watching the Olympics on television. But when the coverage ended at ten o’clock and the news came on, their precarious world was again shaken.

  The body of a policewoman had been discovered in an alleyway in Bellington, and there were indications it was an attempted rape gone wrong. Police were considering the possibility that it was the same perpetrator who was behind the recent attacks in Bellington and Westbourne. A photograph of the victim, PC Megan Taylor, appeared on the screen – a smiling girl in her mid-twenties, and distressed family and friends spoke of her generosity and readiness to help people.

  ‘At least that will step up enquiries,’ Angie remarked as their initial shock subsided. ‘When one of their own is harmed the police really swing into action.’

  ‘That settles it, though,’ Kirsty said. ‘With a murderer on the loose, there’s no question of your staying here alone while I’m away.’ She flicked her friend a glance. ‘You’d be much safer, you know, with a strong man around.’

  ‘I have three brothers,’ Angie pointed out.

  ‘But not here.’

  Angie smiled. ‘If that’s your way of suggesting I get in touch with Simon, the answer is no way.’

  As it happened, though, Simon himself made the first move, arriving at the house the next morning as they were finishing a lazy Sunday breakfast.

  It was Kirsty who answered the door and she stared at him in surprise, unsure how to greet him.

  He met her eyes steadily. ‘I’d like to speak to Angie, please. If she’ll see me.’

  Kirsty stood to one side. ‘Come and wait in the office while I go and check.’

  She opened the door on the right and showed him in, closing it behind him before returning upstairs.

  ‘If that was the paper boy wanting his money,’ Angie said, licking marmalade off her fingers, ‘I left it on the hall shelf. Did you find it?’

  ‘It’s Simon,’ Kirsty said baldly. ‘He’s in the office, waiting to hear whether or not you’ll see him.’

  Angie’s head reared up. ‘Simon’s here?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘I’m not giving in about Austria.’

  ‘Then go and tell him.’

  She rose slowly to her feet and left the room. Kirsty began to clear the table and load the dishwasher, hoping they’d manage to make up without either of them losing face. Despite learning of Simon’s temper outbursts, she was fond of him and he and Angie were so much a pair in her mind that she had difficulty separating them.

  It was twenty minutes before Angie returned, and a glance at her face showed Kirsty all had gone well.

  ‘He apologized,’ she said, ‘and so did I. I just came to tell you I’ll be out for the rest of the day. He’s waiting for me downstairs.’

  ‘Fine. And where are you going on holiday?’

  A smile spread over Angie’s face. ‘Greece,’ she said.

  They were both due to leave the following Saturday and, during that week, with all the extra baking and freezing done and deliveries made, the workload diminished and they were able to spend time making last-minute preparations. Kirsty emailed the five friends she’d rendezvous with at Heathrow and went for dinner with Janice and Roy, who were now even more concerned for her safety.

  ‘Thank goodness you’ll be away from it all for the next two weeks,’ Janice exclaimed. ‘Perhaps by the time you come back they’ll have caught him.’

  ‘And also by the time you come back,’ Roy added, ‘Adam’s arrival will be imminent. It’ll be interesting to see how long it takes him to make the first move.’

  ‘We’ll have to invite him for a meal,’ Janice said. ‘Your grandmother’s anxious to see him so she can talk some sense into him.’

  Kirsty looked surprised. ‘What kind of sense?’

  Janice bit her lip. ‘We weren’t going to tell you, but Harry says he intends to look into your parents’ deaths, for God’s sake!’

  Kirsty stared at her. ‘But … how?’

  Janice shuddered. ‘God knows.’

  ‘How do you feel about that?’ Roy asked quietly.

  Kirsty considered. ‘I’m not sure; I have to admit I’d like to get to the bottom of it.’

  ‘It’s a shame we had to tell you the truth,’ Janice declared. ‘You were much better off believing it was an accident.’

  ‘But it can’t be put back into the bottle, Auntie,’ Kirsty said gently. ‘We know now, and I suppose,’ she added apologetically, ‘we have to make our own decisions.’

  ‘You’re not saying you’ll help him?’ Janice demanded incredulously.

  ‘I’m not saying anything. Let’s just wait and see what happens.’

  On the drive home she reflected on the conversation, and how Adam’s arrival might impinge on any future relationship between herself and Nick. As Janice had said, it was good that she was getting right away from all the doubts and troubles of the last month or so; ever since she’d learned the truth about her parents things had started to go wrong: strange emails, unwanted deliveries, and on a less personal front, thank God, rape and murder. The break couldn’t come soon enough.

  It was after eleven when she reached home, and Angie had gone to bed. Kirsty poured herself a glass of water and, since she’d been out for some time, checked her emails for any urgent messages.

  There was only one. It read: Watch your step, my lovely. Gateaux aren’t the only things to die for.

  TEN

  Adam looked out of the plane window as the fields and woods of England slipped past beneath him; it was still, despite industrialization, a green and pleasant land. It had been a momentous year for this country of his birth – the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, the London Olympics, and the wettest summer on record. He’d missed it all and now the end of August had belatedly settled into a series of warm, golden days to welcome him home.

  Home, he thought, trying out the word. For though he’d lived in Canada for over twenty years, his roots were undeniably here, and it was here, somewhere, that the mystery of his parents’ deaths lay buried. As they began the descent to Heathrow, he vowed that by the time he crossed the Atlantic again, it would be a mystery no more.

  Two hours later, having collected the hire car he’d booked in advance, he was on the M3 bound for Hampshire and Westbourne College, excitement mounting in him. The last seven weeks touring Europe had been exhilarating, exhausting and packed with interest. Now, however, tired of his own company, he was looking forward to meeting the people who would figure in his life for the next year or so, and to renewing his friendship with Nick Shepherd.

  He’d also be expected to contact the family in the near future, as Charlotte had stressed in her latest text. Indeed, until he met them he’d be unable to decide on his first steps in tracking down the events of that long-ago summer. And Kirsty: what of that prim, stand-offish girl he’d last seen fifteen years ago? Where was she now? And would she be any help in his investigations, or side firmly with the family in trying to dissuade him from them?

  He reached Westbourne in the late afternoon, down the vertiginously steep hill that led to the town centre and, having traversed it, up the gentler gradient where the side entrance to the college was located.

  The iron gates, he saw, were electronically controlled. Adam leaned out of the car window and pressed the button set into the intercom on the adjacent wall, stating his name and business to the disembodied voice that responded. The gates swung ponderously open and he drove through to be confronted with a signpost, one arm pointing to the staff car park, the other that for visitors. Alongside them a notice board reinforced the verbal request he’d received to report to the porter’s lodge on arrival.
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  Turning left as directed, Adam wound his way behind some buildings to the appropriate car park, where a space had been reserved for him. Then, having extracted his bag from the boot, he retraced his steps and went to register his arrival.

  ‘Mr Carstairs, yes, sir.’ The porter ticked him off on his list and handed over a set of keys. ‘This one’s for the college building, sir, in case you need to be there after hours. The other two are the outer door to Staff House and your own room. You’re in number twenty-six, on the first floor. Now, sir, if you’ll come outside with me, I’ll point you in the right direction.’

  He emerged from behind his counter and together they walked a short distance to the corner of a building, round which a vista opened up before them. Immediately ahead lay a large expanse of grass and trees criss-crossed by a series of paths. To the right, at the lower end of the enclave, sprawled the college itself, and encircling the grounds on the remaining three sides were the boarding houses, making the layout a perhaps conscious replica of the town itself.

  The porter indicated one of the buildings in the semicircle ahead of them.

  ‘That’s Staff House, sir, the middle one. You mightn’t find anyone at home, though. Several gentlemen haven’t arrived yet, and those that came earlier went out again.’

  ‘No matter,’ Adam replied, ‘it’ll give me a chance to settle in. Has my trunk arrived?’ It had been sent direct from Toronto, all he had with him being what he’d needed in Europe.

  ‘In your room, sir,’ he was assured. ‘Once you’ve unpacked, just ring and someone will come and remove it for you.’ The sound of a buzzer signalled another arrival awaiting admittance and, excusing himself, the porter hurried back on duty while Adam paused a moment longer to take stock of his surroundings.

  Admittedly the college itself faced outwards and he was presented with its rear aspect, but in this Georgian town it was a disappointingly ungainly building, to which, he’d read in the brochure, the rapidly growing school had moved at the end of the nineteenth century. The boarding houses, on the other hand, though presumably not Georgian, were at least in the Georgian style and more in keeping with their location. In the late-August sunshine an air of tranquillity lay over the scene; no doubt the following week when the boys returned it would be decidedly less peaceful.

  Adam picked up his bag and followed one of the pathways to Staff House, pleased to find his room was at the front of the building overlooking the grass expanse. As promised, his trunk stood in one corner and on the table was a bottle of wine with a scrawled note.

  Welcome to the UK! Suggest we have dinner à deux so we can catch up on news. Will be in touch. Nick.

  By the time Nick knocked on his door a couple of hours later, Adam had emptied the trunk and had it removed to storage until needed. Already the room was personalized, with familiar objects about him and his books on the shelves.

  ‘Good to see you, Nick!’ he exclaimed. ‘And many thanks for the wine. Shall I open it?’

  ‘No, save it for later. I thought we’d go down to the Regency to eat; it’s one of the better pubs and they do good food.’

  ‘Sounds great. It seems a long time since my plastic lunch on the plane.’

  ‘Then let’s go. There’s a dining hall here, of course,’ he added as they went downstairs, ‘but we’re not all back yet, and it doesn’t really kick in till term gets under way. In any case, I thought I could fill you in with what you need to know and answer any questions before you meet the rest of the guys.’

  ‘All guys?’ Adam asked with a smile.

  Nick laughed. ‘Afraid so; there aren’t many females on the staff, and those who are, are married. This is singleton territory, and we’re all male. As, of course, are the pupils; we’ve not succumbed to admitting girls yet.’

  They walked across the grass, through a side gate operated by a keypad and down the hill to the town centre. The Regency pub was situated at the end of the road and boasted a paved area at the back where, on this summer evening, its customers were enjoying a drink or a meal.

  ‘How was Europe?’ Nick asked as they settled at their table.

  ‘Brilliant; I can’t imagine why I’ve left it so long. After all, I’ve been around quite a bit – Australia, South America, the Far East and so on, but this was a serious omission. Still, I’ve made a start now, and I’m intending to go back as often as I can while I’m over here.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Nick leaned back with his glass of beer. ‘So what have you been up to since we last met?’ Despite their best intentions, their contact had lapsed until Adam wrote of his impending arrival.

  ‘Nothing spectacular,’ Adam replied. ‘And before I forget, several people sent their salaams, including Paul and Steve.’

  ‘I must email them,’ Nick said. He grinned. ‘So you’re not married yet?’

  ‘I am not.’

  ‘What about that girl who was always hanging around? Gina, was it?’

  ‘Still hanging,’ Adam replied.

  Nick laughed. ‘Hard-hearted bastard! How does she feel about you being away for a year?’

  ‘Not best pleased but there are no commitments, and to be frank I’m hoping it will die a natural death while I’m away.’ He drank some beer. ‘How about you? Any wedding bells on the horizon?’

  Nick unaccountably sobered, meeting Adam’s questioning glance. ‘No, nothing like that, but there is something I should tell you.’

  ‘Well? Get on with it, then!’

  ‘I’ve … been seeing your sister,’ he said.

  Adam put down his glass. ‘You’ve what?’

  ‘Kirsty. I’d no idea you were connected – how could I have? Different surnames and so on, but—’

  ‘When you say seeing her …?’

  ‘We’ve been out a couple of times, that’s all.’

  ‘She lives locally, then?’

  ‘Yes, just minutes away. Up one of the roads at the far end of the park.’

  Just minutes away. Adam had a long drink, his thoughts whirling. ‘Well,’ he said steadily, ‘as far as I’m aware, it’s not a capital offence.’

  ‘It’s embarrassing, nonetheless, considering the two of you aren’t exactly on the best of terms.’

  ‘She told you that?’

  ‘She hinted at it, but you told me in Toronto that your branch of the family are estranged from the English side. I don’t remember any mention of a sister, though.’

  ‘What’s she like?’ Adam asked curiously. ‘I’ve not seen her for fifteen years.’

  Nick hesitated. ‘Attractive, clever, complicated.’

  ‘Complicated?’

  ‘Charming one minute, prickly the next.’

  ‘Ah! Perhaps we’ve something in common, after all!’

  Nick smiled briefly. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be seeing her again.’

  ‘Don’t stop on my account. I’ll be seeing her myself soon.’

  ‘So you are going to make contact?’

  ‘Of course. It’s not a daggers-drawn vendetta, you know.’

  ‘Actually, Adam, I don’t know. Neither of you has been forthcoming on that point.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘I did suggest you might be hoping for a reconciliation, but she seemed to think that unlikely.’

  Adam raised an eyebrow. ‘What else did she say?’

  ‘That you were intending to research the family.’

  ‘Did she happen to explain why the Atlantic Ocean lies between us?’

  ‘Your parents died when you were young. You were adopted by different sides of the family, and yours emigrated to Canada.’

  ‘That’s all?’

  Nick frowned. ‘Yes. Why, is there more?’

  ‘Oh, a whole heap more, but it’ll keep.’ He paused. ‘You like her, though? Kirsty? Even though she can be prickly?’

  ‘Yes, I like her, but I’ve not been in touch since I learned you’re her brother. Not only for that reason,’ he added as Adam started to protest. ‘I’ve been in Scotland for the last month or so, first with
my parents, then walking in the Highlands with an old school pal.’

  ‘Nonetheless, it’s something else she can blame me for,’ Adam said resignedly.

  ‘I doubt if she cares.’

  ‘Like me to find out?’

  ‘No, I should not!’

  Adam held up a palm. ‘OK, OK, I only asked! Anyway, enough navel-gazing. Tell me more about the rules and regs of Westbourne College.’

  And as their plates were set before them, Nick thankfully complied.

  Adam waited a couple of days before phoning the Marriotts, setting himself out to be charming – the best way, he reckoned, to get the information he required.

  ‘Oh, Adam.’ It was Janice who answered, her voice slightly strained. ‘We were wondering when we’d hear from you. When did you arrive?’

  ‘Wednesday afternoon. I’ve been acclimatizing myself with the town, which, of course, I don’t remember at all.’

  ‘Did you enjoy your trip to Europe?’ She was walking on eggshells, Adam thought.

  ‘Very much, thanks. Ridiculous to have reached this age without ever setting foot there, but I made up for lost time.’

  ‘I’m sure you did.’ A pause. ‘And when are we going to see you?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Well, I was wondering if you and your husband would have dinner with me? I hear there are some good restaurants in Westbourne.’

  ‘That’s kind, but it would be much better if you came to us. For one thing, my mother is very anxious to see you, and of course Kirsty will be here.’

  Bingo! ‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble.’

  ‘It will be a pleasure. How about this weekend? Sunday lunch?’

  The traditional family get-together, he thought sourly. ‘Thank you, I’d enjoy that.’

  ‘Shall I get Roy to email you directions?’

  ‘Don’t worry – the car has sat nav and I know your post code. I’ll find you all right.’

  ‘Till Sunday, then.’

  ‘Till Sunday,’ he repeated. Fait accompli. It would be interesting to see what developed.

  He had dressed with care for the occasion, opting for a cream shirt, cream linen jacket and light blue trousers and tie. The pale colours accentuated his dark hair and the tan acquired on his travels, and he hoped they’d give a good first impression.