Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Guy and Carrie had arrived late.
‘There’s not much we can do tonight,’ he said as they sat in the kitchen drinking hot chocolate laced with brandy. ‘I’ll call the police first thing in the morning, but we’d better cover the remains back up and I’ll put some stones over the top to stop the foxes disturbing it.’
Jules and Beulah stood at a respectful distance the following morning as two police officers studied the little bones and took photographs.
‘They’ll send the photographs to a biological anthropologist to determine roughly how long she’s been there,’ Jules said to Carrie on the phone, ‘but they’re pretty sure it’s a long time.’
‘And what then?’
‘It has to be reported to the coroner’s office obviously, but if she’s of no interest to the police she will become the responsibility of the county archaeologist.’
‘You keep saying she.’
‘Because surely it’s Philly? The rattle and the bonnet in the tea caddy must have belonged to this baby.’
‘I’ve been back through the census records and there aren’t any children mentioned who were living at Hideaway Cottage. Isaac and Eliza Cooper lived there from 1841 to 1900. Then there’s a bit of a gap, after which it was sold to Rita’s great-aunt and she never married.’
‘That doesn’t mean she didn’t have a baby. It did happen even in those days.’
‘Maybe we’ll never know.’
‘Someone knows. The energy here is all stirred up.’
‘You sound just like your mum! How is she?’
‘Subdued. Jo is here and they are making a little shrine in the garden: flowers, crystals, shells from the beach, some willow weaving. It’s beautiful.’
‘I’ve got to go into Cowes this morning and collect some plants for Guy which are coming over on the ferry. Fancy coming with me? We could take Wilbur for a walk on Tennyson Down afterwards. That’s if your mum doesn’t mind being left on her own.’
‘They’ll be busy for ages, and a walk is just what I need.’
‘Tennyson used to walk up here almost every day, whatever the weather,’ Carrie said, keeping Wilbur firmly on the lead because of the cliff edge. ‘Sometimes he used to pull his wife, Emily, in a little carriage.’
Jules trailed her fingers over the railings which surrounded the tall granite monument erected in honour of the great poet.
‘He lived on the island for thirty-nine years,’ Carrie said, ‘and he was incredibly famous in his day. He had a bridge built over the road so that he could walk directly from his beloved garden at Farringford House on to the High Down without having to fend off his adoring public.’
‘He sounds like a modern-day celebrity.’
‘Absolutely. He was considered almost as famous as Queen Victoria or the prime minister, William Gladstone. Did you know he wrote “Tis better to have loved and lost/than never to have loved at all”?’
‘No, I didn’t.’ Jules threw back her head and let the wind ruffle her hair. ‘Do you think the parents of that baby would think that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Carrie said, as she stared into the distance. ‘Some people seem to get more than their fair share of pain, don’t they?’
Jules thought about Lance and Erin and Rita and Tasha and how resilient they were. You could learn such a lot from how others coped with adversity. She stood next to Carrie and linked their arms.
‘Thank you for bringing me here,’ she said.
‘You’ve already told me that,’ Carrie replied with a smile.
‘I know but this time I really mean it. Thank you for bringing me here to this island, to the cottage, to these people.’
When they returned to the cottage Lance’s car was parked outside.
‘Looks as if you’ve got a visitor,’ Carrie said.
‘Mmm,’ Jules replied. ‘I wonder what he wants.’
‘Only one way to find out,’ Carrie laughed, half pushing her out of the car.
‘He might want to see you,’ Jules said, aware that she sounded panicky.
‘I very much doubt it,’ Carrie said.
‘You’re coming in, though?’
‘Sorry, I need to get these plants to Guy. Besides, you’ve got a chaperone right here.’
Jules groaned as Beulah came rushing out of the front door, a large bunch of sage in her arms.
‘That walk looks as if it’s done you the world of good,’ Beulah said. ‘Blown some of your cares away. You have some colour in your cheeks at last.’
She winked at Jules.
‘We have a visitor in the kitchen pacing up and down like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice when he was about to tell Elizabeth Bennett how ardently he admired her.’
‘Have fun!’ Carrie called through the open window, before heading back up the lane.
‘I wouldn’t get excited, Mum,’ Jules said drily. ‘I very much doubt he’s come to propose to a spinster not of this parish.’
‘Oh, Jules, you are such a hoot. I must take a walk on Tennyson Down myself if it’s so good for one’s sense of humour. Lance has a very good sense of humour. That’s so important in a man, don’t you think?’
‘Oh, Mum, what have you been saying?’
‘Cross my heart I have been the soul of discretion and normality.’
‘Mum, you have never been normal.’
Beulah beamed.
‘That’s one of the nicest things you have ever said to me, darling.’ She leaned closer. ‘Lance was very agitated when he arrived. I’ve made him some of my lemon verbena tea to calm him.’
Jules glanced at her reflection in the hall mirror.
The walk had given her a glow. A lot of the inner anxiety she had been feeling, and which had manifested all over her face, seemed to have vanished.
In spite of everything she looked better, felt stronger.
She tucked a stray wisp of hair back into her ponytail and slipped off her walking shoes.
‘Lance,’ she said, walking into the kitchen, ‘what a surprise.’
He came straight over to her and took her hands.
‘Oh!’ she said as her fingers met his and a spark of electricity ran through her.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, bending forwards a little.
‘Yes, I’m fine, thank you.’
‘I heard what happened. Not what you need on holiday.’
‘No.’
He dropped her hands and waved his arm around.
‘I hope it hasn’t made you feel differently about the cottage. Made you want to leave. Guy wouldn’t want that.’
‘No, strangely not, although I’ll have to go back to Manchester soon. I can’t hide away here forever, and I’ve made a decision to report my… Gavin to the police. There might be other women in my situation. I don’t want anyone else to go through what I have.’
He pulled out a kitchen chair from the table and sat down suddenly.
‘That’s a relief. Not the going back. I mean the not going back, at least not just yet. And I’m glad that you’re going to report him.’ He looked at her. ‘You sound different. As if…’
‘As if I’m over him?’
‘No, no, of course not, just coming to terms with what’s happened.’
She smiled.
‘I think I am.’
He pressed his fingers to his forehead.
‘This is difficult, and the timing might be all wrong, but I didn’t want you to go until…’ He lifted his head and sniffed the air. ‘Can I smell burning? Is something on fire?’
‘That’ll be my mother,’ she said with a strained smile.
‘Your mother’s on fire? Should we rescue her?’
‘She’s smudging; burning sage to purify the atmosphere and promote healing for the cottage and us.’
‘Oh!’
‘When I was a child, I’d often come home from school to find her wafting around the house with some sage, chanting as she went. As you can imagine, I didn’t ask many friends back for tea!’
‘My mother’s a neat freak so I wasn’t allowed to ask anyone back for tea. Small boys tend to make a lot of mess.’
‘Watch out for the salt bowls as well. They’re meant to promote calm and relaxation and restore harmony, but they don’t always achieve that when they’re left in places where you can trip over them, such as doorways.’
‘She’s an interesting woman, your mother.’
‘I always think “interesting” is such a loaded word. As a child, you don’t always want your parents to be interesting, do you?’
‘Maybe not too interesting,’ he said with a smile. ‘Talking of interesting…’
He paused.
‘You may not be interested in this at all so don’t feel you have to say yes. I won’t be offended.’
He shifted on his chair, his right hand clenched into a fist resting on his jeans.
‘An acquaintance of mine is opening a gallery over towards the middle of the island and she’s having a launch party, and I wondered if you’d like to come?’
The question hung in the air as she tried to find an answer. Something had changed and she couldn’t work out what. His composure, that’s what it was. His attitude towards her before had been relaxed and now it was tense.
‘When is it?’
She was playing for time and he knew it.
‘Tomorrow. Very short notice, I know. You’ve probably got something else arranged or after last night just want a couple of quiet evenings.’
Jules felt as if she was on the edge of something unknown. She turned away, moved over to the sink, ran the tap, took a glass from a nearby cupboard and filled it.
‘I’m sorry. I can’t.’
‘That’s a shame, but it’s fine. I mean, it is short notice, and I didn’t really expect…’
Except it obviously wasn’t fine. He stood up abruptly.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
‘Me too,’ he said, ‘but I do understand. Too soon.’
‘Yes.’
And he marched out, kicking over the salt pot her mother had left on the threshold as he went.