‘All together, up at the castle,’ Josephine said. ‘Barbara Penhaligon is packed and ready to go on the first boat out, and Rachel Lancaster is looking after Mrs Hartley. She’s going to stay with her for a bit, I gather.’
‘Mrs Hartley isn’t going to her sister?’
‘Not immediately, no. She wants to be at home, where she was happy with Richard. That’s understandable, I suppose. And Rachel is vowing to divorce her husband, so I suppose that’s the weekend’s silver lining.’
‘God knows we could do with one. I’d better go and find Hilaria. Are you coming to the memorial?’
‘No, we thought we’d leave them to it. They were very welcoming, but they don’t need outsiders at a time like this. And anyway, we promised Hilaria we’d keep an eye out for Mrs Carmichael. She’s expected, now that a crossing is possible.’
‘Surely she won’t come at the eleventh hour? Especially if she knows what’s been happening here?’
‘Oh, I think she will,’ Marta said. ‘It meant a lot to her to be here.’
Josephine smiled and Penrose looked at her curiously, but there wasn’t time for any more conversation. Over by the museum, Violet was gently encouraging Johnny to come away. ‘Miss St Aubyn is hosting an event in the village tonight to remember your mother,’ Penrose said, when they rejoined him. ‘She’ll be glad to know you’re here.’
‘That’s kind, isn’t it, Johnny?’ Violet said, but he just nodded, looking utterly lost and dazed now that the news had sunk in. The small group walked along the harbour to the building on the other side of the tram shed, a large carpenter’s workshop which was traditionally used for village gatherings. The chairs were still laid out from the Christmas concert of a few days before, but all the decorations had been respectfully removed and the only trace of the festive season was a practical one: a series of trestle tables running along one end of the room, gradually filling with food from the castle. It was typical of Hilaria to have come up with such a simple, unifying gesture, and the only thing that was out of place was the apron that Marlene was wearing as she helped the staff to butter bread. Under different circumstances, the expression on Violet Carter’s face would have been priceless.
‘Archie, thank God you’re back,’ Hilaria said when she saw him. ‘We were all so worried about you. Is there any news?’ Before he had a chance to answer, she noticed Johnny standing behind him. ‘It’s Mr Soper, isn’t it? I thought you were in Plymouth, but how fitting that you’re here. I’m so very, very sorry for your loss. Your mother was a fine woman.’ She took his hand and spoke with such sincerity and warmth that Johnny seemed comforted for the first time since hearing the news, and Penrose waited impatiently for Hilaria to be free; he was keen to get on with his unfinished business, but he couldn’t possibly discuss Nora Pendean in front of Johnny.
‘Mr Penrose?’
Penrose turned round, so deep in thought about the housekeeper that it startled him to see her husband. ‘Mr Pendean, what can I do for you? How is your wife?’
‘Nora’s all right, but I need to speak to you. It’s urgent.’
‘Tom!’
A series of fleeting emotions passed across Pendean’s face when Johnny Soper called his name – surprise, followed by affection and then awkwardness. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, half in anger. ‘You’re supposed to be up country.’
‘We came down to tell Mum the good news. Vi and I have just got engaged.’
His eyes filled with tears again, and Penrose expected the older man to comfort him somehow, or at least offer his condolences, but he didn’t. ‘What did you want to talk to me about, Mr Pendean?’ he asked.
The question was ignored, and Tom spoke first to Johnny. ‘I’m so sorry, lad,’ he said. ‘I killed your mum. I didn’t mean to, and I wish to God that things had been different, but I can’t let you go on wondering.’ He turned back to Penrose. ‘I killed Emily Soper,’ he repeated. ‘She didn’t fall down the stairs.’
Everyone fell silent, and Penrose felt the shock ripple through the room. ‘Mr Pendean, are you sure of what you’re saying?’ he asked. ‘Please think very carefully before you continue.’
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Tom replied, without hesitation. ‘I killed her on the morning of Christmas Eve. We had an argument over something and nothing, and I lost my temper. Then I panicked, and tried to make it look like an accident.’
‘But you were like a father to me,’ Johnny objected, and the hurt in his voice was so much like Naylor’s that Penrose could hardly bear to hear it. ‘You cared more about me than my own father ever did. How could you do that?’
The two men stared at each other and Penrose was about to intervene when another voice beat him to it. ‘Tom, what have you been saying?’ Nora Pendean stood in the doorway, her face ashen with fear as she looked at her husband. ‘What have you said, Tom?’
‘I’ve told them what I did, love,’ he said calmly. ‘I couldn’t go on hiding it. Johnny has a right to know what happened to his mum.’
‘But you didn’t do it!’ She turned to Penrose. ‘Don’t believe a word of it. He’s saying it to protect me, so please don’t punish him. He’s only lying because he loves me.’
‘Listen to me, Penrose. I went in to see Emily yesterday morning, while Nora was up at the castle. She’d been mending one of the kings from the nativity and she had it on the counter in front of her, ready to be collected, so I offered to take it to save Nora the bother of coming down when she had so much else to do. We got talking, and Emily said something about our daughter that made me see red, so I just lashed out. I had the figure in my hands, and before I knew it, Emily was lying on the floor. I tried to help her, but there was nothing I could do …’
‘Tom, please!’ his wife screamed.
‘… so I washed the figure and cleaned up after myself, and put Emily where we found her today.’
‘And Mrs Pendean had nothing to do with this?’
He shook his head. ‘No. I should never have told her, but she knew something was wrong. She wanted to help me, but all she did was put the figure back in the church last night. I swear that’s the only part she played in any of this.’
‘That’s why you were in the church last night, Mrs Pendean?’
‘No, don’t listen to him. I went to the church to pray for forgiveness – for what I did, nothing to do with Tom.’
Penrose didn’t know who to believe, but he could see that neither was about to stand down, and he knew that the only chance of getting to the truth was to question them separately once there was some forensic evidence to go on. There was certainly nothing to be gained from continuing such a public debate, particularly in front of the dead woman’s son. ‘I’d like you both to come with me,’ he said quietly. ‘You’ll be taken to Penzance police station, and held there on suspicion of the murder of Emily Soper, and of conspiracy to pervert the course of justice.’
He took them outside, relieved that neither seemed inclined to object, and was just in time to see a couple of uniformed men from Penzance leading Gerald Lancaster over to the boats. He waved to attract their attention, and the detective inspector responsible for pursuing the case peeled off from the group. ‘Busy day today, sir?’ he said, looking curiously at the Pendeans.