‘I don’t think so,’ said Lionel. ‘Herv has taken Pammy to the funeral home with an outfit. Mr Wemyss has communicated Emelie’s wishes for the service. It’s all in hand, but thank you.’
‘We should have a tea back at the manor, Lilian would have wanted that for her,’ said Marnie.
‘That would be very kind,’ said Lionel.
Marnie nodded. ‘Well, if you think of anything, you know where I am.’
‘Thank you.’
Marnie started walking away, then she turned. ‘Lionel, do you . . .’
‘Do I . . . ?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
It was not the time nor the place to ask about Lilian’s trip to Ireland or Margaret Kytson’s whereabouts. Later. She’d do it later, after they had laid Emelie to rest.
She went up to the manor then. No one was there, she could tell that as soon as she stepped inside. The house felt different when it was occupied, as if it were more alive. Ridiculous notion, she knew. She made herself a coffee and took it through into the dining room where the ledgers were waiting on the table. She found the one labelled 1980–1990 on the spine and flicked through the pages until she came to the 1983 entries and started there. Working forward she searched for something, anything, that might give her more clues about what was happening in the estate, the year she was born. She and Herv had stuck Post-It notes everywhere to remind them of how they had deciphered the ridiculous looping handwriting, or on the parts where entries had been written in pencil which had blurred or faded and they’d attempted to fill in the blanks.
There, in January of 1984, Marnie found an entry for The Sisters of the Immaculate Conception Hospital, Connolly, Ireland. They had seen it, but it hadn’t flagged up as anything more than a legitimate donation from the estate, albeit a large one. A charitable donation of ten thousand pounds, to be exact.
Chapter 44
It was Herv who dug Emelie’s grave in the end because Derek had put his back out tidying up the churchyard. It was now the day before the funeral and Herv hadn’t seen Marnie since they had come back from the hospital. But she hadn’t left his mind.
He felt the pull on his muscles as he lifted the earth loaded on his spade. Emelie had been right, he should never have taken Kay Sweetman at her word, a woman who would have stretched the truth until it fitted the best shape to harm Marnie. And he shouldn’t have barked at Marnie asking her if it was true: could he have insulted her any more? If the roles had been reversed, wouldn’t he have been hurt that she hadn’t raised the matter with him directly before finding her guilty and condemning her? Wouldn’t he have attacked her aggression with more of his own?
He’d acted like a brute, an idiot, storming in demanding answers for things that weren’t any of his business to ask, going against his own principles and practices. He’d always judged as he found first-hand, prided himself on his loyalty – and yet he’d treated Marnie as if she were Tine wounding him all over again.
And then she had seen him with Suzy walking out of his cottage the morning after the night before. Oh boy, he really occupied the moral high ground. His eyes had flashed at Marnie’s for the briefest moment and yet they had still registered the hurt in her eyes.
He plunged the spade into the ground. It wasn’t an easy dig, full of stones in this part of the churchyard. But it would be a perfect growing place for Emelie’s beloved Edelweiss.
After the funeral, he would apologise properly to Marnie and ask her if they could sit down and talk. He would open up his heart and say what he felt, and how much he wanted her to let him love her. And she could take it all as slow as she liked.
Emelie’s funeral was simple and beautiful. Her coffin was covered in a chaotic but lovely display of edelweiss that Una had arranged. That caused a Mexican wave of raised eyebrows in church because no one had actually realised that Una could lift up her hands.
In Lionel’s eulogy he recounted how Emelie and her family had escaped the Nazi regime in Austria after the Anschluss, how they had fought prejudice and won the hearts of people in the village (Titus cleared his throat at this point as if in subconscious disagreement) and how her father had saved countless lives with his work for the British intelligence service. He told how she had found a great friend in Lilian, how they would no doubt be gossiping and taking tea now, because they both found so much happiness with each other; affection, acceptance, joy.
Lionel reminded everyone to venture up to the manor for refreshment. Then Mr Wemyss hijacked his speech and asked if all could please attend now because the owner of Wychwell had decided that his identity should no longer remain a secret and would be revealed today.
Chapter 45
Up at the manor, over a fabulous buffet which the Oldroyds had prepared, there were many twitterings of displeasure that the mystery owner of Wychwell should disrespect Emelie’s day to claim the focus. He wasn’t doing himself any favours, that was for sure.
Herv wandered over to Marnie in the dining room. She was pale as Emelie’s funeral flowers, he thought. Drained and tired and her green eyes had no shine in them today.
‘Hi,’ he said. He had words crowding in his mouth to offer her but all he could manage was that.
‘Hello,’ she said, struggling to resurface from her thoughts, awful thoughts which had never really left her but she had been able to hold them at bay – mostly. But not on this day. Not the sixth of August.
‘Tomorrow,’ Herv said, after a ridiculously long impasse. ‘Can I . . . can we . . .’
She looked far away, as if she had receded to a small dot inside herself. He wasn’t even sure she could hear him. ‘Marnie?’
‘Sorry . . . yes. What did you say?’
‘Can we talk?’
She nodded but asked, ‘What . . . what about?’
‘I owe you a huge apology,’ he said. ‘I should have . . . I know this isn’t the right time but it couldn’t wait. I’m really sorry. I wanted you to know that.’
Titus blustered past them and out of the door. ‘I’ll be damned if I’m waiting half an hour for everyone to finish their bloody sausage rolls. Wemyss, it’s time for this nonsense to end. Come on, let’s get this over with.’
The Parselows followed him into the drawing room, then the Courts, then everyone else. For once, Titus had spoken for them all.
Johnny and Derek had been quickly moving chairs from other rooms in order for everyone to sit down. Titus claimed a seat right in front of Mr Wemyss who had taken up his position at the desk, the scene almost a direct lift from the last time they had all been here after Lilian’s funeral. It was Titus, powered by his impatience, who called for order. Johnny tapped Marnie on the arm, indicating that he had put a chair behind her. She thanked him. She found herself next to Hilary, whose husband had not thought to secure her a place at his side.
‘So, to business,’ said Mr Wemyss, taking so long to remove his glasses from their case and loop them around his ears that Marnie suspected he was doing it to annoy Titus.
‘The new owner of Wychwell decided that today would be the day—’
‘Oh cut to the bloody chase, man,’ bellowed Titus.
Mr Wemyss glared murderously at him.