Chapter TWENTY-FIVE
I hadn’t been prepared for this, and I let out a gasp of shock. I glanced at Mark. He, too, looked stunned.
Joyce gave a bitter laugh.
‘I still can’t believe the care agency assigned me to Sylvia and Mick. Of all people! When they told me they were getting married, I tried to keep the news from Ettie. But then th.
‘save the day’
card arrived in the post at my house while she was there, and she saw it. It still haunts me, the expression on her face when she realised that Mick was getting married. She lost her reason for living that day, and there was nothing I could do to help.’
She shook her head, her eyes swimming with tears as she relived the nightmare.
‘It didn’t matter what I said . . . how hard I tried to cheer her up. My big sister had finally had enough of life. She cancelled the rest of her chemo sessions and I could only stand by and watch as her body shut down – it happened so fast! – and she became just a thin shadow of her formerly vibrant self, too sick to even get out of bed herself without some help.’
I swallowed hard, struggling to find the right things to say.
‘I’m so sorry you lost your sister, Joyce. She sounds like such a lovely woman. You must miss her so much.’
‘More than you could ever know. We’d been through so much together, ever since childhood when she’d been a second mum to me.’
I nodded.
‘But . . . you must see that Mick is entirely blameless in all of this?’
Joyce frowned.
‘No, I do not. That’s complete rubbish. Mick allowed Ettie to think he felt the same as she did. If she hadn’t been so convinced of that, she wouldn’t have pinned all her hopes on them having a future together.’
‘Well, I disagree,’
said Mark bluntly.
‘It’s clear to me what Mick’s motives were in encouraging your sister to unburden herself. He knew from personal experience how hard it was to go through an illness like heart disease, and he just wanted to help . . . to be a shoulder to cry on. It was a support group, and that’s exactly what he was doing – supporting a fellow member, your sister, who was going through a really tough time.’
Joyce sighed and looked as if she might argue the point. But then tears flooded her eyes and she seemed to crumble, leaning forward on the table and covering her eyes with her hands.
‘Oh, God, I wish I’d never started all of this. I was just so devastated when Ettie refused to have any more chemo. And then she died so soon after. I had to blame someone! And that someone was Mick. He must have realised she was in love with him, so why keep her hanging on like that, giving her hope?’
‘But he didn’t know,’
I whispered.
‘Men aren’t always great at spotting when someone cares for them. I truly believe that Mick genuinely didn’t know.’
Joyce looked up at me then, and I could see that the penny was beginning to drop . . . that Mick hadn’t been deliberately deceiving her sister . . . that he was simply a lovely, caring man who had tried to do the right thing . . .
The fact that his warmth and caring towards Ettie had back-fired was a tragedy – but there was no one to blame for it.
‘You do see now that it was very wrong to do all those things?’
Mark said softly.
‘Sylvia could have died.’
‘I know, I know,’
she wailed.
‘I just wanted to wreck the wedding because I thought it should be Ettie walking down that aisle and not Sylvia. I honestly thought that if Sylvia missed a dose of insulin, she’d just be under the weather for a day or two, so the wedding wouldn’t happen. I never imagined diabetic shock could be so dangerous. As soon as I realised she was seriously ill, I knew I had to “find” the medication to save her.’
‘Well, thank goodness you did,’
said Mark.
‘The consequences of your actions could have been so much worse.’
She looked down, her shoulders slumped. ‘I know,’
she whispered.
‘Did you burn a hole in her dress? And did you sabotage Sylvia’s tyres that night?’
I asked, suddenly recalling the scary incident that happened after the Pudding Club.
She nodded miserably.
‘The tyres were a spur of the moment thing. Mick had sent Evelyn and me away that night, saying he fancied a quiet evening on his own. He was talking excitedly about their Hallowe’en wedding and what they were thinking of wearing, and the band he’d booked. And I just kept thinking that while Sylvia had all of that to look forward to, my lovely sister was lying on a cold, hard slab in the mortuary, and it just seemed so bloody unfair.
‘I suppose I was looking for revenge on her behalf. Not that Ettie would have ever thought of doing anything like that. But anyway, I knew Sylvia was going to a meeting of the Pudding Club, so I drove to the café, parked outside and I waited until everyone was inside. I didn’t know what I was going to do, until I got out of the car and I saw two nails lying on the ground. I hammered them into her tyres with a big stone I found lying around. I probably couldn’t do it now. But at the time, I was so filled with fury and anguish, I seemed to have the strength of ten women! It’s all a bit of a blur. But I’m so glad now that she didn’t come to any harm.’
‘It’s very lucky for you that she didn’t,’
said Mark.
‘Although you do realise that she and Mick will have to know what you did.’
‘Yes. You’ll have to tell them yourself and then it will be up to them whether they want to get the police involved,’ I added.
Mark looked at me.
‘I just hope Mick doesn’t think he was to blame for any of this,’
he muttered with a sigh.
‘If he finds out that Ettie stopped chemo because she lost all hope of him, he might feel a lot of misplaced guilt about that.’
‘I won’t tell him about that,’
said Joyce.
‘I promise. I’ll just say that the disease was too advanced for chemo to have a chance of working.’
I nodded.
‘You do see how bad he’d feel if he found out about that?’
‘Yes. I do. Really I do. You’ve helped me see things more clearly. Mick wasn’t to blame for Ettie’s death. No one was,’
said Joyce sadly.
‘Ettie dreamed a dream and hoped it would come true, that’s all. She must have just brushed over the times Mick talked about Sylvia because she’d convinced herself she’d met her soulmate at last and it was fate that they would be together. She must have thought he felt the same way about her. But he was offering friendship not a happy-ever-after.’
‘Did you make the painting of Lady Annabel fall off the wall?’
I asked.
‘Was that you as well?’
Joyce looked bemused.
‘What? No! I wouldn’t even know how to do that. It was so strange the way it happened after those unearthly screams. Although having lived on a farm in my younger days, I immediately thought they were probably the cries of a wild animal outside the house. Nothing more sinister than that. And maybe the painting falling off the wall straight afterwards was actually just a coincidence.’
I frowned.
‘According to Sarah Frobisher, the Riverbend House paintings have been on the walls for at least a century, so it is a bit strange that this one should suddenly fall after all that time. But I suppose inexplicable things do happen from time to time.’
‘I’m just wondering when Sylvia and Mick should be told all of this,’
said Mark.
I grimaced.
‘Do we really want to spoil their Big Day? That’s if it actually goes ahead.’
‘Couldn’t we wait until after the wedding?’
pleaded Joyce.
‘Then I’ll tell them. I promise I will.’
‘Oh, yes,’
I said firmly.
‘You definitely will.’
‘And if you don’t, Celia and I will have to tell them,’
added Mark.
Joyce shook her head, looking miserably contrite.
‘You really don’t need to worry. I’m going to tell them everything.’
She gave a shaky sigh.
‘I just hope they can eventually forgive me.’
I smiled at her. I could tell she meant every word.
‘Leave your confession until after the wedding.’
‘You’ll have to make an excuse to the agency about why you can’t do that particular job any more,’
said Mark.
Joyce nodded.
‘Of course.’
Looking pale and exhausted, she went off to bed, while Mark and I lingered a while in the kitchen, talking. Then Mick himself came in to refresh his mug of tea.
At that moment, we heard the grandfather clock in the hall striking midnight.
‘It’s officially your wedding day, Mick.’
I felt quite excited for him, although he was looking shattered.
He nodded.
‘So it is.’
‘Better get some sleep, mate,’
Mark grinned.
‘Then you’ll be ready for anything tomorrow.’
Mick gave us a rueful look.
‘At least the ceremony isn’t until midday, although I’m still not sure if Sylvia will be well enough by then. Or whether I’ll be awake come to that!’
But he was smiling as he took his tea and went out into the hall.
We followed him out and stood together watching his progress up the grand staircase, until he vanished into the gloom at the top.
I suddenly felt awkward, as if I didn’t quite know what to do with my hands.
‘Do you . . . want a nightcap before you go up?’
Mark chuckled.
‘I’d better say no. That whisky is far too good.’
I nodded.
‘You don’t want to do a Chantelle.’
‘Exactly. I’d like to be fresh and clear-headed in the morning to take good photos.’
‘Right, well . . .’
I felt slightly rebuffed, although I knew that was silly. Mark had an important job to do in the morning. All the same, he could have said yes to just one drink, surely? He clearly didn’t crave my company the way I was currently craving his!
‘Can we take a rain check on that nightcap?’
he asked, presumably because he’d caught the brief disappointment on my face.
But the last thing I wanted from him was a pity drink!
So I just said airily.
‘Great. Yes. Whenever. Okay, I’m off to bed,’
and I started up the stairs.
‘Oh. Okay.’
He looked a little taken aback that I was hurrying off again.
I softened and turned with a genuine smile.
‘I’m shattered myself and I need to be fresh as a daisy as well in the morning.’
‘Was that a deliberate pun?’
I laughed.
‘Of course! Goodnight.’
As I reached the top of the stairs, I heard Fiona’s voice.
‘I’m making a cuppa to take up to bed. Would you like one, Mark?’
I turned at the top and peeked downstairs, and I was just in time to see them walking off to the kitchen, chatting together.
I retired to my room feeling strangely deflated.
Tomorrow, I’d see all my plans for the floral arrangements come to fruition. Usually, I felt quite excited the night before a wedding.
Not tonight.
But it had been a long day. I was tired and just needed to sleep. That was the only reason I was feeling out of sorts all of a sudden.
It was nothing to do with knowing that Fiona and Mark were still chatting away together in the kitchen . . .