Chapter 19
In the video that Julia had watched, Esmeralda grinned with the same warm, wry humour that she’d turned on Julia when Julia had mistakenly assumed her to be Basil Crow’s wife.
Her dark eyes sparkled beneath her finely arched eyebrows as she lifted a book and prepared to sing.
The camera lingered on her for a moment, then panned back, wobbly, to reveal a dozen or so singers, waiting for the signal.
The first lines of ‘You’ve Got a Friend in Me’ were belted out with enthusiasm.
The choir – about a five to one ratio of women to men – could hold a tune, and the choir members all looked good and cheerful.
Julia found herself returning to the video over the next few days, listening to the first few bars of the song, and pausing the video to read the comments below it.
Fellow singers and friends posted memories, tributes and condolences.
Esmeralda was clearly well known and well liked in the choir, which she’d sung in for five years.
Julia now sat in the sun with her mid-morning coffee and once again scrolled and clicked and read and scrolled, not knowing what she was looking for.
In Esmeralda’s profile – fortunately set to public – she found no mention of a husband or children.
She seemed to have no family members at all, except for the cousins in Portugal.
There was very little personal information.
Her shares were mostly about environmental matters – petitions to sign, articles to read – with a sideline in videos of choirs from around the world.
Julia fell down that rabbit hole for a good half hour.
Honestly, it was remarkable what the human voice could do.
Not hers, sadly; she was strictly an alone-in-the-car singer.
But other people’s voices, especially when they were raised together, could make magic.
She allowed herself one last choir video – a young man conducting an audience of hundreds – and was about to abandon her time-sucking investigations when she saw a post from the Social Singers’ Facebook page, tagging Esmeralda.
There was an invitation, posted the day before, in the form of an image showing white letters on a background of green grass, with a line drawing of a bird in each corner.
This Thursday’s choir rehearsal will be an open sing-along for all who knew and loved our friend and choir member Esmeralda Gray.
Join us in celebrating her life!
Thursday at 2 p.m.
Hayfield Community Centre
All welcome, so please pass on the invitation to her friends.
Tea will be served.
Donations to Birders for Britain.
Thursday? That was today! Julia decided there and then that she would go.
She wasn’t a friend, not by any stretch of the definition, but she had warmed to Esmeralda on first meeting, and she’d found her body.
And it did say ‘all welcome’. Julia would like to pay her respects.
And if there should be any snippets of information gleaned, well, that would be most serendipitous.
And so it was that Julia found herself in Hayfield Community Centre standing with Tabitha and a group of people of all ages and types, some of whom she recognised from the video, preparing to sing.
Tabitha had been, at first, horrified at the suggestion that she should come along to give Julia moral support.
‘You want me to gatecrash a stranger’s funeral?’ she had asked in genuine astonishment. ‘On my one day off this week?’
‘It’s not a funeral, it’s a celebration, and it’s not gatecrashing if the invitation says “all welcome”.’
‘You might be technically correct, Julia, but it just feels wrong.’
‘It’s a sing-along, which, frankly, terrifies me. But you know how you love to sing…’
This was straight manipulation. Tabitha did love to sing, and occasionally bemoaned the lack of opportunities. There was a pause, in which Julia could see Tabitha’s resolve wavering.
‘For my sake, Tabitha. I’d be so grateful if you’d come,’ she added, sealing the deal. And here they were.
A pretty woman of about Julia’s age, with a handsome face and a tumble of soft white waves to her shoulders, had introduced herself as the choir mistress – she was aptly named Melody, which made Julia very happy – and gave a short welcome. She spoke with affection about the dead woman.
‘She didn’t have much family here in the Cotswolds, so this little choir, we were like her family,’ she said, which made Julia feel a bit teary, but also pleased that there were communities like this where people could find friendship and belonging.
The choir mistress suggested they all sing a couple of songs.
‘These are all songs she loved to sing, and would love to hear us sing. There are song sheets for everyone. Don’t worry if you’re not used to singing, follow along and enjoy it.
Let’s start with “Morning Has Broken” which is just right for Esmeralda, with her love of nature and the birds.
Now, let’s raise our voices for Esmeralda! ’
Julia started off awkwardly, not sure if she was in tune or not.
She sang quietly, tentatively, addressing her voice to a printout of the lyrics which she’d been given on arrival.
She hoped that any wobbly notes would be lost, or at least drowned out by Tabitha’s confident alto.
Next to her, Tabitha was in full throat, looking happier than Julia had seen her since this whole sorry business had started.
Reckoning that in this group, and being next to Tabitha, no one would hear her off notes, Julia relaxed a bit and sang enthusiastically, enjoying the feeling of her lungs expanding with the incoming air and her throat opening to let out the sound.
She was sad when the song finished, but there was another and another.
After three or four songs, feeling cheered and well oxygenated, they broke for tea, which was put on by members of the Social Singers.
The singers must have liked Esmeralda very much, because they had put together a generous and lavish spread.
Julia eyed a statuesque chocolate cake with desire, and wondered how she would manage to eat it on a paper plate with a bamboo fork.
She knew from many meetings and get-togethers and, yes, funeral teas, that you could barely tackle a scone with that set-up, let alone the more challenging baked goods.
‘Oh, go on. I made it myself,’ said a young woman, who looked vaguely familiar.
Seeing Julia’s dithering, she seemed to have misread it as a woman grappling with her inner dieter – not the case with Julia, who did not believe in feeling guilty about delicious food.
‘I can tell you without a shred of modesty that you won’t get a better chocolate cake in all the county.
You only live once. You will not regret your decision. ’
The young woman positioned a large and ornate silver knife over the glossy chocolate cake.
‘I can believe you,’ said Julia, looking at the oozing, glistening goo between the dark, moist layers. ‘It’s a wonder, all right.’
‘It’s triple chocolate – chocolate cream, chocolate ganache and chocolate cake,’ said the temptress, pushing the knife through the layers as she spoke.
‘It is a mission to make, I’ll tell you that much, but it was Esmeralda’s favourite.
I made it for her birthday a few months ago.
Never thought I’d be making it for her memorial, too. And so soon.’
Suddenly, Julia knew where she had met the woman before – it was Candy, who had manned the cake table at the Village Fête. That particular event had ended rather badly.
‘I’m very sorry for your loss,’ said Julia, accepting a doorstop of a slice from the woman’s enormous knife. ‘She seemed like an amusing, spirited woman, and I imagine she would be a good friend.’
‘Oh yes, she was. Kind-hearted and so funny. Gosh, you could have a laugh with her.’
‘I can see how loved she was here,’ Julia said, slicing off a mouthful of cake with her bamboo fork.
Candy moved off, and a large blonde woman walked up to help herself to the cake.
‘This looks lovely,’ she said, glancing at Julia.
Julia recognised her as the woman at the village meeting who had been upset by the idea of shopping in a development where a body had been found.
Really, Berrywick was sometimes a very small place. She smiled at the woman.
‘Were you a friend of Esmeralda’s?’ she asked.
‘I joined the choir about a year ago when I came to Berrywick and took over my family business,’ said the woman.
‘It’s been really hard. There’s a huge pressure on me to make a success of the business, and it’s in more trouble than anyone told me.
’ She sighed. ‘Anyhow, the choir has been my outlet. I didn’t know Esmeralda well, but I thought we were friends.
’ She sounded wistful about this, like Esmeralda had let her down by dying.
The woman looked at Julia. ‘I haven’t seen you at choir before. How did you know her?’
‘I don’t know her well at all. I met her recently, actually. We got chatting when she was out doing an environmental survey, and I really warmed to her. She had a nice way with her.’
She popped a forkful of cake into her mouth and briefly got a glimpse of what heaven might be like. While Julia chewed, murmuring little groans, the blonde woman sighed.
‘What a pity that she didn’t manage her diabetes better,’ she said. Julia was surprised. She hadn’t thought that the theory about diabetes was public knowledge. But it was interesting, because Sean had suspected that Esmeralda had not had diabetes. Yet this woman seemed to know about it.
‘So you knew she had diabetes?’ asked Julia.
‘Diabetes?’ cut in Candy, who had come sauntering back to the table and helped herself to another slice of her chocolate cake. ‘Esmeralda didn’t have diabetes! She ate so much cake!’ She gave a small, fond laugh.
‘Maybe that was the problem,’ said the blonde woman. ‘Because I’m sure I heard she had diabetes.’
‘Come on, Zelda. She always used to say that one should enjoy life, and she would add an extra sugar to her tea as she said it. She wouldn’t have done that if she struggled with her blood sugar.’
Zelda opened her mouth to answer, and Julia was worried that the two women were going to get into a heated argument about the mysterious diabetes. So she decided to sidetrack them.
‘She sounds very wise,’ Julia said with a smile.
‘Oh, she was always saying the most lovely things,’ said Candy.
‘And she loved her work. She was passionate about local conservation, and she liked the outdoors, so she was happy tramping around looking at sites, taking her samples and what have you. Quite the birder she was, too, always out with the binos, all over the countryside.’
Candy waved her giant knife around rather alarmingly to indicate the extent of Esmeralda’s travels.
Julia couldn’t politely answer, on account of the chocolate cake, but she nodded and raised her eyebrows in an encouraging ‘Do go on…’ kind of gesture.
‘But the work was very stressful, you know. People don’t always like to be told they can’t cut down this tree or build that shopping centre. And then, on the other side, there are people who think the council should stop every bit of development because a beetle or a bird lives there.’
‘That’s so true,’ said the blonde woman, who seemed to have forgotten about proving that Esmeralda had diabetes. ‘You can’t stop development for every bird that you see.’
Julia had finished her mouthful of cake now and hoped she didn’t have chocolate in her teeth. ‘I can imagine people could get emotional and nasty on both sides.’
‘Oh, mostly they came to accept it, but occasionally there would be some lunatic. Like this one fellow who got her really upset a couple of weeks ago. She arrived at choir all het up and her singing was all over the place, sharp and flat and forgetting the words. As if we don’t all know the words to “Bridge Over Troubled Water” off by heart,’ said Candy, shaking her head.
‘Honestly, people can be awful,’ said Julia, digging her fork into the cake, taking a more modest piece this time. ‘What was the lunatic fellow upset about?’
‘He is a dog walker. There’s a meadow that is going to be developed somewhere close to his house, and it doesn’t suit him. He walks dogs there twice a day. They are big ones, you know, the ones that pull sleds…’
‘Huskies?’ offered the blonde.
‘Yes, apparently he’s got three of them.
I imagine if they are built for dragging sleds through snow, they need a lot of exercise, so I suppose it’s useful to have a place close by where he can walk them without getting in the car.
He got a petition going, rallying up all the other dog walkers.
Fair enough. But when the environmental report came through and the development got the go-ahead, he was furious and got quite aggressive.
He actually tracked Esmeralda down, found out where she lived and went to her house. ’
‘To her house? That’s outrageous! Poor Esmeralda.’ Julia shook her head in disbelief.
‘She was shaken by it. He arrived on her doorstep and gave her what for. Shouting. Threatening. With his huskies. Can you believe it? I told her she should report him to the police, but she didn’t want to make more of a fuss.’
‘Tell me, Candy. Do you know where the meadow was? The one that was being developed?’
‘Ah, now, let me think… It’s on the road between Berrywick and Hayfield. It’s a lovely big meadow, with lots of wildflowers this time of year.’
‘I know the one,’ said Julia grimly.
‘Terrible development,’ said the blonde woman. ‘It should be stopped. There are far better places for shops.’
‘I can see his point,’ said Candy, ignoring the blonde lady’s unexpectedly vehement interjection. ‘It’s a pity to lose such a nice bit of wilderness for a little shopping precinct. But still, you can’t go around harassing and threatening officials, can you?’
‘No,’ said Julia.
Much less murdering them, she thought.