‘It was kind of him to invite me. We have met once or twice, and I always thought he was a decent chap. I’ve been thinking of joining a few clubs and things and even going on some singles’ trips. I’ve enough to do, and some friends and family, but I hadn’t realised how much of that came with the job. Anyway, I’m determined not to become a curmudgeonly old git!’
‘There’s no chance of that, Bill,’ said Caro.
‘I’m not so sure. I’ve seen quite a few colleagues go downhill rapidly after they retired. The Swan has a great restaurant. I was there just a few weeks ago, with an old friend from university, who lives in Spain now. Anyway, I’ve driven past Harcourt’s place a couple of times. There was just his car on the drive and the front door has no view from inside the house, so we should be able to sneak up the path without being seen. There is a spyhole, though.’
‘The famous Inspector Benoît Clouseau has a good idea for that. He’ll be keeping a piece of gum moist in his mouth ready to stick over it,’ said Caro, smiling broadly.
Bill held his salad-laden fork a few inches from his mouth and stared at us both. He then roared with laughter, dropping the fork, which clattered onto his plate. This, of course, set us both off too, which was never difficult.
‘Well, I must say, the plan’s ingenious, Benoît,’ which set us all off again.
‘Seriously, though, what if Harcourt pulls a gun on us? I’ve no idea if he even has one, but he might. Like I said, I do have a hunting rifle, fully licenced.’
‘You’re right, Bill, he might, but there’s no need for the rifle. All I can say is that if that happens then we’ll be looked after… sorry to be mysterious.’
He looked at me questioningly for a moment, and then nodded. He left a short while later and we waved him off into the dark night. It had been a good evening, and the more I knew of him, the more I liked him. I didn’t need to ask to see that Caro felt the same.
In my sleeping bag, later that night, I thought about tomorrow. I knew it would be upsetting for us all when we saw Merry. Her husband’s death, and our connection to it, had made our newfound friendship a complex one, and I had no idea how it would pan out.
Oddly, perhaps, I had given little thought to the papers that she had found in Peter’s desk. Thinking about it now, I had the feeling that what she held was likely to be of extreme importance. Hortense had said she believed that all the parchments that Saunière had found were replicated, and were hidden in the village church. What if Merry had them in in her possession at this very moment, quietly waiting, but ready to reveal their secrets and potentially change our lives for ever?
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
Caro and I had decided to drive to the vicarage the following morning. It seemed ridiculous since it was a five-minute walk, but it was raining and, until this evening was over, I didn’t want to take any risks.
Merry answered the door with a wide smile on her face and her usual generous welcome, but the strain of the past week showed in her eyes, and by the dark circles under them. My heart went out to the woman as I held her close. Caro put her arms around her too, and we stood like that for a few moments, finally pulling apart and handing over the huge bunch of flowers that was standing on the doorstep.
In the kitchen, coffee was already waiting on the table, along with a walnut cake, which looked freshly made, and a large, tatty brown package, tied up with a thin red ribbon.
‘These flowers are beautiful, thank you so much. I love all lilies but the orange ones are my favourite. Do sit down – I made a cake early this morning. I couldn’t sleep, and it seemed pointless to just lie there.’
She looked at us, perfectly composed and yet with tears slipping silently down her cheeks.
‘I hardly know what to say. Things have changed so much in the past few weeks, and I’m still in shock. The police have told me a bit more. I think I told you that Peter belonged to some odd group who believe themselves to be modern crusaders? The chief inspector said that he thought they were also responsible for the murder of the archaeologist who wrote the report I gave you. They were involved in some sort of conspiracy to prevent any type of modernisation of the Christian faith. They’ve all been arrested, apparently.’ She paused for a moment.
‘Look, both of you, I know there’s more to it than I’ve been told. I’m not entirely stupid, even though I’ve spent the past twenty years baking cakes. I think you both know more than you’re letting on, and one day I hope you’ll tell me, but right now, I don’t want to know any more; I’m sick of religion and all that goes with it.’
‘Well…’ I tried to respond, but she carried on talking.
‘Can I tell you something else? I don’t believe in God and I never have. I’ve gone along with the vicar’s wife thing and done my duty, but I don’t have to pretend any more, nor will I. Peter was a very different man when I first met him, and I have my three beautiful sons, so I can’t regret our marriage, but they’re growing up and in a couple of months will all be at university. I know they’ll still be at home a lot, but I’m going to start looking after myself now. It won’t be easy, but not having to live a lie is a huge relief.’
She sat down, poured the coffee, and cut us a large slice of cake each.
‘I’m so glad that neither of you was injured – I would have found that very hard to bear. I consider you both to be good friends even though our friendship is quite a new thing. I hope you feel the same?’ We both assured her of this, and I continued.
‘I can’t tell you how sorry we are for how things have turned out. Neither of us had ever heard about the cult that Peter belonged to, please be assured of that. If I may, I’ll tell you just a little so that you understand our part?’
She nodded, her tears now gone, and she looked at both of us in turn, her hands held tightly together on the tabletop.
* * *
‘A few important documents came into circulation, and I unwittingly became involved in my role as a translator. They’ve caused quite a stir elsewhere, too, but we’re hopeful that the whole episode will be safely diffused very soon. When you’re ready to know more, do please ask. Meanwhile, if you need anything, anything at all, please call. What’s going to happen with the vicarage? Will you have somewhere to live? Do you need any money?’
‘Actually, I do have somewhere to go. The diocese has said not to rush, but I know they want me gone as soon as possible. We were lucky to have stayed here so long, as most of these large old houses were sold years ago, and I’ve no doubt that this will go on the market the second I walk out the door.’
I acknowledged this. Most vicars now lived in modest, modern houses; the village vicarage must be amongst the very last to be sold off.
‘Both of my parents are dead, but they left me a small house in Morlaix, Brittany, which was where they retired to. It’s right on the estuary, and has fabulous views. We used to go there when the boys were small, but in past years Peter never wanted to go anywhere, so I let the place out to a painter. He was there for eight years but gave his notice a few months back, so it’s empty now. I think it’ll need a bit of work, but I may well end up there eventually. For now, though, I’m going to rent a house in town, big enough for the four of us. I don’t have to worry about university fees as my parents left the boys an education trust fund, and I’m going to get a job. So, you see, I’m not so badly off, and it could be a lot worse.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad,’ said Caro. ‘But do let us know if we can help. I can’t say that our DIY skills are brilliant, but we can wield a paintbrush the same as the next person. I’ve been to Morlaix several times. It’s so ancient and beautiful, and if you need any money, just to help until you start earning please, please do ask. Neither Benoît nor I are exactly hard up… quite the opposite.’
I concurred this point.
‘I’m so grateful, and you would be the first people that I wou
ld come to if I needed anything. My eldest son is going back to Oxford later today, but the younger two are going to stay around for a while. They’re both getting jobs locally until we’re all settled, and they start university in the autumn. It will all work out just fine, you’ll see. They’ve gone shopping with my friend, who’s staying for a few more days, and then I’m going to start packing up. I don’t have an exact date, but I’m still hopeful that the funeral will be towards the end of next week – family only.’
‘If we can help with anything, please ask,’ Caro said again.
‘Thank you, although I can’t think of anything right now, Oh, and I almost forgot, here are the documents I found in Peter’s desk. Some of them look very old, but I haven’t read them. I don’t want to, and would be grateful if you could take them. I know that some of what has gone on is connected to our church, I’d worked that much out, but, as I said, right now I don’t want anything to do with any of it. Please, have them. I want them gone from here.’
She pushed the package towards us, and I saw she had started to cry again, soon to be joined by Caro.
We got up to leave promising to call her tomorrow, and she stood in the doorway and waved until we were out of sight.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
Back in the cottage, I placed the brown package on the table. We both looked at it, and then each other.
‘Later, Ben; let’s look at it later, when we get back from lunch. You must bring it with you, though, in your manbag. We mustn’t let it out of our sight, nor your laptop. We shouldn’t have left that here when we went out.’
I put both in my bag ready, and Caro went upstairs whilst I made a pot of tea. I couldn’t get the image of Merry crying out of my head. I intended to do all I could to help her to resettle, and I knew that Caro would help me. After shouting up the stairs to her twice, she finally came down, and the transformation was quite startling.
She had changed into a smart black suit with a silky blue blouse that intensified the blue of her eyes. Around her shoulders was a fine pashmina shawl that Hortense had bought her from a trip to India, some years back. She had carefully applied make up and smelt of a delicate perfume. I rarely saw her dressed up like this.
‘Wow, you look fantastic.’
‘Thank you. You don’t. Get upstairs and smarten up.’
I did as I was told, although my smartening up was far subtler, and consisted of brushing my hair and teeth and changing into a new shirt and a dark blazer that I hardly ever wore. As I descended the stairs, there was a bang at the door, and I let Bill in just as Declan pulled up outside in the bishop’s car. Bill also looked extremely smart and, as I walked behind them both, I saw what a fine-looking couple they made.
In that moment, I was aware of a shift inside me, a fracture of thin glass, maybe even a premonition of the change that was to come. I had been lucky enough to have Caro to myself for all our fifty-five years, and realised that this was no longer going to be so. I would try to embrace the change, because I genuinely believed that if her life were to be enhanced then mine would be too. However, if I were to be true to the emotion that was pulsing around my body, I knew I would howl with the pain of one who was truly bereft.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
We pulled up outside The Swan and got out of the car. The village was, as usual, crowded with coaches and tourists. Inside the inn, though, it was a haven of peace and calm. I had forgotten how beautiful the building was. The bishop was already waiting, and we were soon drinking wine and choosing food from a delectable menu.
He was utterly charming, and I watched as various waiters scurried around to do his bidding. We went into the lounge with our coffee, and for the first time since we had arrived, we discussed the evening to come.
‘We met Franco, and he’s arranging to pick us up, and provide some security.’ I explained. The bishop listened carefully.
‘Very well. I’m sure Franco knows what he’s doing, so we’ll go with that. I don’t think it will help to over rehearse what we’re going to say, because it will depend on Harcourt’s responses, but between us, we’ll corner him like the sewer rat he is. He’s in, because I’ve been having the place watched.’
I shivered, and in that moment smelt the roasting chestnuts of my childhood. I felt no comfort, though, only foreboding. True, perhaps, to form, if Caro’s opinion was anything to go by, I had little concern for my own safety, apart from not wanting to die. I even felt some not altogether unpleasant anticipation at the thought of facing up to Harcourt. She had seen this side of me, and now raised in my own mind, I realised that it was true.
My concern was for Caro’s safety. I thought of Franco’s offer of a holiday in Sicily and, if we got through this in one piece, I would arrange it immediately. It felt like going back to childhood, with no cares, worries, or responsibilities.
The bishop interrupted my thoughts. ‘Are you OK, Ben? You look miles away.’
‘I was miles away… Sicily to be precise. Franco has asked us to go over for a holiday, and I was just thinking how terrific that would be.’
‘You’re worried about tonight. Look, all of you, you don’t have to go through with this. We’ll find another way around it.’
‘No, I think we must go through with it. I can’t live like this any longer, and Harcourt needs to be dealt with.’
The others agreed and, thanking the bishop for the wonderful meal, we arranged to see him at the cottage later. Declan was waiting outside, and we arrived home at around four. The bishop had been very generous. It wasn’t often that I was taken to a fine restaurant in a chauffeur-driven car, and I intended to find a way to thank him. Bill went off to change, and Caro and I both did the same. Neither of us felt inclined to open the package from Peter’s desk, although we did discuss what to do with it whilst we were out this evening.
‘If it all goes wrong, the last thing we need is to let them get into his hands. Where can we hide them? There must be somewhere where a thief wouldn’t look.’
I considered this for a moment. ‘Well, the curtains are out, considering the last lot were shredded and I haven’t bought any more, but I have thought of a place. I was thinking about it on the way home from lunch. In the courtyard, there’s a lean-to, with the bin and a few gardening things in it. I bought a new bag of compost a few weeks back to plant some pots up, but I haven’t yet got around to it. I’m going to open the compost bag and put my laptop and the parcel in there. It should be bone dry, but even if it rains, it’s only for a few hours. You left your laptop in the safe in France, so nothing else needs hiding. We’ll read them all when we get back tonight, and they can go to the bank vault tomorrow.’
‘So, Clouseau strikes again. It sounds as wacky as the chewing gum trick, but I suppose it will do, just for this evening. Why don’t you make some tea whilst I call Merry? Oh, I nearly forgot… I wanted to ask you something. When we were at The Swan, just before we went into the lounge for coffee, did you smell roasting chestnuts? I did, you see, and you went all strange and I wondered if you had smelt it, too?’
‘Yes, I did, and I felt foreboding, but I suppose that’s only natural. I doubt this evening will be easy, and I do worry that someone will get hurt. Truthfully, I don’t think Adrian will pull a gun on us. Unless he shot us all, there would be little point, and even he can’t be so crazy as to do that and risk life imprisonment. You’ll be the only woman, though, and that makes you a target.’
‘Possibly, but it also gives me a position of strength, considering what Bill said. I can be dominant and bossy, as you well know.’
‘You’re the bossiest and most dominant woman I know, but considering I’m a priest, it doesn’t count for much.’ She reached over and caught me a punch on the shoulder. I leapt back. ‘You see? You’re violent too. I’m a victim of domestic abuse… how awful!’
‘You’d better watch out, then. There’s plenty mor
e where that came from.’ She picked up the phone and was soon engaged in a lengthy conversation.
* * *
The phone rang several times with parishioners needing assistance, and other problems, like the never-ending need for repairs and maintenance of old church buildings. I knew I had given little time of late to my temporary flock, and I engaged as fully as I could. Caro made a few sandwiches at around seven, and we sat at the table together, discussing the evening ahead.
‘I keep thinking about our parents and Hortense,’ she said. ‘Given what we now know, they must have faced situations like this on a regular basis. It’s bizarre that, even with our different careers, we’re now doing the same thing: keeping secrets, courting danger with shady criminals, guns, even murders. Sadly, we’ve no children, but I do see how difficult it might be to tell them something like this, especially if it was a regular occurrence.’
‘I’m not sure I have the empathy that you do. You’re very generous, and I admire you for it, Caro, really I do, but they should have thought about their children more, and the impact it might have on them.’
‘Maybe, or maybe not. I’m not sure if a person can live a life solely for their children. Who wants a martyr for a parent? Certainly not me. There are plenty of those in the Church, and as far as I’m concerned, they can stay there. I think you need to reassess a few things.’
She got up and went upstairs, leaving me with the typically Caro-like frankness echoing through my head. Did I need to reassess a few things? I wasn’t sure. Even if she was right, would I be able to let the past go, or alter my version of the events that shaped our lives? And where would it leave me if I did?
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
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