Chapter 39
It was a sombre gathering at All Souls that day, as Lawrie – Sir Lawrence Davenport – was laid to rest in the churchyard in a plot he would share with his wife, Jacqueline.
Apparently, even local dignitaries were no longer allowed to be buried inside church buildings, so Lawrie wouldn’t join some of the other owners of the Harling Estate in the vaults, but his name would be added to the Davenport plaque that hung in the chancel.
Mia had been deeply upset at his death, and Callie and Brodie had been heartbroken – not to mention Agnes, who’d apparently loved Lawrie like her own child.
Amelia gave a beautiful service which spoke of all the good work Lawrie had done for everyone on the estate, of his kindness and generosity and his devotion to his duty, and Callie murmured to me that it was strange to think that there would be no criticism of the vicar’s performance from Silas.
She would, she said, miss him far more than she’d ever expected to.
‘“Good night, sweet prince; and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!”’ someone said softly. I wasn’t certain who it was, but I guessed it was probably Walter Tasker, since I’d heard all about his propensity for quoting the Bard at every given opportunity.
Brodie’s parents had flown over from Australia and Mia said they’d immediately proved to be lovely people, who clearly thought the world of their son and had, luckily, taken to Callie straightaway.
‘It’s so sad,’ she told me. ‘They were coming over next May anyway for the wedding, and they’d expected to see Lawrie then. They never got the chance to say goodbye.’
‘Are they staying until the wedding?’ I asked her but she explained that they were returning to Australia in a couple of weeks because of business commitments.
‘It’s been a strange three weeks,’ she said as we took one last look at the grave before slowly following the crowd that was heading back towards Harling Hall.
There, Lawrie’s life was to be celebrated with food and drink and the exchanging of happy memories.
‘The Hall doesn’t feel the same without him.
It’s going to take some getting used to, not having him around. Florrie misses him terribly.’
‘It’s been a strange few weeks at our place, too,’ I said, still amazed at how things had turned out.
She smiled. ‘I know! A lot going on with Mel.’
After the events on the night of Lawrie’s death, Melissa had decided that life was too short to waste by being afraid to take a chance. The day after we arrived back in Marlington she’d caught the train to London, gone straight to Diccon’s office, and invited him out for lunch.
Over fish stew in Notting Hill, she’d tackled him about their professional future, how he felt about her admission that she’d lost her gift, and whether there was any point in him remaining her agent.
In turn, Diccon had brought the conversation round to a more personal viewpoint. He was far more concerned about their future as a couple, how she really felt about him, and if he had any reason to hope or if he was just fooling himself.
The upshot of it was, they agreed that Diccon would no longer be her agent because she wouldn’t really need one, now she wasn’t planning to stay in the profession, and even if she had been, a romantic relationship between agent and client didn’t feel appropriate.
Mel had come home with the widest smile on her face and hadn’t even noticed when Honey followed her into the kitchen. She was in love and finally able to admit it.
‘I’m going to write that book,’ she’d told me, but when I’d groaned, she’d quickly explained that it was no longer going to be a brutal tell-all, but a loving memoir of the ghosts she’d met and talked to while working on It’s Haunted! – the chance to give them a voice at last.
I thought that was a very good idea and was relieved that she seemed to have accepted her days on television were over. But just yesterday Diccon had arrived at the house, full of excitement and enthusiasm, with news that Mel couldn’t wait to share with me.
‘They want me to do some guest slots on Unfiltered! Can you believe it? They’re looking for a new presenter, and this will be a sort of audition. They loved my interview on Morning Talk, and they think I’ll be a great addition to the team. I’m so excited!’
Since Unfiltered was a daily female-only show where four presenters spent an hour discussing the news stories of the day and exchanging gossip, I thought it was a perfect fit for Mel.
She’d always kept up with current affairs, and she’d proved at the séance and on Morning Talk that she was entertaining, engaging and warm. Who’d have thought it?
I was delighted for her. She’d been through a rough few years but at last things were turning around for her.
‘She’s finally found happiness,’ Mia said warmly. ‘And you and she seem closer than ever.’
We were, and it had transformed life for both of us.
In fact, my own personal life was improving all round.
Mia and I had met up twice during the last three weeks and we’d spoken on the phone almost every day.
We’d agreed to take our relationship slowly and get to know each other better, but we were both very happy and couldn’t resist making plans – however unlikely they seemed to me.
Mia had told me of her ambition to open an Italian trattoria.
Her problem was that she’d promised Florrie she wouldn’t move away from Rowan Vale, and there were no available premises in the village, even though Callie had agreed that they really needed another place to eat, given how many tourists visited the estate, especially between Easter and the end of September.
‘If I can find somewhere in the wider local area,’ she’d told me, ‘I could commute every day. That way I’d still be living at the Hall, but I’d finally get to open my own business.
I’m keeping an eye out for suitable places.
’ She’d hesitated. ‘If I did find somewhere, maybe you could work with me? I’d need someone who was good at making desserts.
I’m much better at cooking than baking, and that’s where my real passion lies.
We could even have a sort of ‘cakeaway’ attached so you could sell your cakes and biscuits to passing customers. What do you think?’
I thought it sounded wonderful, but for now it was just a pipe dream so I wasn’t getting my hopes up too much. In the meantime, I continued to work for Mel and practise my baking, while keeping the dream of a different future burning slowly in the background.
The ballroom at Harling Hall was packed to the rafters with living villagers and their ghostly counterparts. Everyone on the estate seemed eager to be there in memory of Lawrie, and I was finally introduced to all the spirits who’d so carefully hidden away from me the previous times I’d visited.
‘He was always so kind to me,’ Walter Tasker told me sadly.
‘I sometimes get the impression that not everyone appreciates the impact I had on Master Will Shakespeare, but Lawrie always understood the importance of my teachings and the magnitude of my influence upon the boy. I shall miss him so much.’
He threw out an arm, struck a dramatic pose and said mournfully, ‘“Fear no more the heat o’ the sun, nor the furious winter’s rages; thou thy worldly task hast done, home art gone, and ta’en thy wages; golden lads and girls all must, as chimney-sweepers, come to dust.”’
‘Cymbeline,’ I said and he stared at me in astonishment.
‘It is! You know Shakespeare?’
‘I love Shakespeare,’ I told him. ‘We studied his works at school, and I think I was the only one in my class who couldn’t get enough of him. He was a genius.’
Walter’s eyes were sparkling in delight.
‘He was! That is to say, with my guidance and tuition he became one. I must confide, Mistress Black, that he was a little rough around the edges at first, but I spotted his potential at once and took it upon myself to mould him into the gifted poet and playwright he became. Perhaps we could sit one day and discuss his work? I could tell you some stories about the little scamp that you would mayhap enjoy.’
I smiled, genuinely pleased at the thought. ‘I’d love that, Mr Tasker,’ I told him. ‘Thank you.’
‘Please,’ he said, laying his hand on his chest to emphasise his depth of feeling, ‘call me Walter.’
‘You’ve made his day,’ Callie told me as she edged towards me, just as Walter was called away by Agnes and Aubrey, who told him they needed his advice. ‘Nobody ever indulges him the way you just did. Nicely played.’
‘Oh,’ I said, surprised, ‘I meant it. I adore Shakespeare’s works. I’d love to discuss the subject with him whenever he wants to.’
Callie laughed. ‘You’re going to regret saying that, Verity, but good for you. And very good for Walter. Bless him, I’m glad he’s finally found someone who doesn’t rush to escape him the minute he opens his mouth.’
‘How’s Brodie?’ I asked. ‘It must have been a difficult few weeks. I remember how I felt when I lost Mum.’
She nodded. ‘It’s not been an easy time but he’s getting there. He has the consolation of knowing his grandpa is safe with his parents and wife. He’s happy for him.’
She glanced over to where Mia was sitting with Florrie on her lap, her arms encircling the little girl as she comforted her, even though she couldn’t actually touch her.
‘It hit Florrie quite hard,’ she admitted.
‘She arrived at the Hall the year Lawrie was born. They took in some evacuees from London, you see, although Agnes says Charlotte wasn’t happy about it.
Edward told her they must do their duty, as other villagers had opened their homes to those poor children and they must set an example.
You can imagine her reaction! Although, given she’d just had a baby I suppose you can’t blame her entirely. ’
‘Mia’s very good with her,’ I said fondly, watching her talking to Florrie.