The Emerald Comb (34 page)

Simon called the kids and led the way along a ground-floor corridor to his mother’s room. At the door, Thomas pestered to be picked up, and the twins hid behind me. It was a shame – they’d loved Veronica when they were little and she was well.

‘Mum? How are you getting on? Do you like your new room?’ Simon approached her cautiously, looking for signs as to how ‘with it’ she was today. She was sitting in her chair beside the bed, her hands folded in her lap and a piece of knitting discarded at her side.

‘They’ve closed the window again,’ she said. ‘Open it for me, Peter, love.’

Simon bent to kiss her cheek, and opened the window. The scent of lavender filled the air – there was a bush just beneath her window.

‘Why did she call Daddy Peter?’ whispered Lauren.

‘Sometimes she thinks Daddy is
his
daddy,’ I told her. ‘Go and say hello.’ I gave her a little nudge forward.

‘My name’s Lauren,’ she said, giving a little curtsey.

Veronica’s face lit up with an enormous smile. ‘What a pretty curtsey! You must be a ballet dancer.’

‘I used to do ballet. When I was little. You came to one of my shows, when I was a Sunbeam. Do you remember?’

‘No, dear, I’ve never been to any ballet shows. Except when Peter took me to see
Swan Lake
at the Southampton Gaumont. I loved it, you know. He fell asleep, didn’t you, Peter? It was so embarrassing. I never let him take me again.’

‘I’ve never liked ballet,’ Simon agreed.

‘I’m Lewis. I don’t like ballet either.’

‘I suppose you like football better, young man?’

‘Yes, course I do! So does Thomas. But he’s only four.’

‘I’m five tomorrow.’

‘No you’re not. It’s next week, isn’t it, Mum?’

‘So many children,’ sighed Veronica. She looked at me. ‘Are they all yours?’

‘Yes, all mine.’ Simon opened his mouth as if to say, his too, but thought better of it.

‘Peter and I only had the one son. That was enough for us. A little blond boy. I don’t know where he is, now. I think he must be in the playroom. Would your children like to run along and find him? He’s about your age,’ she nodded at Thomas.

I watched as Lauren bit her lip, and fiddled with the end of her belt. Then she went to sit on the bed beside Veronica. ‘I’d much rather stay here and talk to you about ballet, Nan– I mean, Mrs Smith. I’ve never seen a proper ballet. Was it really lovely?’

‘Oh yes, dear. Those lovely dresses – tutus, they call them. And the dying swan scene. So beautiful. Of course it wasn’t Margot Fonteyn. I forget the name of the prima ballerina. I seem to be so forgetful these days.’

Lauren, bless the darling girl, took Veronica’s hand and patted it. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Smith. Everyone forgets things sometimes. I forgot where I put my Nintendo. Then it turned up in Lewis’s room.’

‘Nintendo?’

‘It’s a kind of game.’

‘Like Cluedo?’

‘Mum, what’s Cluedo?’

‘A kind of game.’

‘Is Lewis your brother?’

‘Yes. I’ve got two brothers. Lewis is my twin and Thomas is the baby.’

‘I had two brothers as well. Frederick and Geoffrey. Geoffrey went to live in Australia. Such a long way away. I wonder why Frederick hasn’t been to visit me. Is it tea-time yet, Peter?’

‘I’ll go and find out,’ said Simon. He’d been fighting back emotions all the while Lauren had been chatting with Veronica. I guessed he’d appreciate a moment to collect himself outside of the room.

There was more disconnected chat of ballet and football and long-dead brothers who clearly still lived on in Veronica’s mind. Simon returned with news that we could take a tray of tea things outside to the garden. The kids leaped up and down, delighted at the idea of freedom. But Veronica shook her head.

‘Oh no, not in the middle of winter. It’s far too cold out there, and there’s nowhere to sit.’

‘Yes there is, Mrs Smith. Come on.’ Lauren took her hand and pulled her gently.

‘And there are goldfish in the pond,’ said Lewis, taking her other hand.

Veronica smiled and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and out of the room. ‘I don’t know who these children are,’ she said to me as she passed, ‘but they are certainly very nice ones. Do you think they’ll come again? Did Peter bring them?’

‘Yes, I think they’ll come again,’ I replied, and Lauren nodded her agreement. Even Thomas nodded, his thumb in his mouth and his eyes fixed on this strange old lady.

The rest of the visit was a success. Veronica enjoyed the children’s company and they kept up a steady stream of chatter. After a while Thomas forgot his shyness and went to climb up on Veronica’s lap, to her delight and surprise.

‘Peter, look, isn’t he just like our Simon? Do you remember when we fetched Simon, from the children’s home? He was just like this little boy. Blond and shy. And then he put his little hand in mine, and it felt so perfect. His hand fitted mine and I knew I was
meant
to be his mother.’ She looked around the garden. ‘Where is Simon now? I expect he’s in the playroom. Why don’t you children run along and find him? He’s about your age, you know, little blondie.’ She tickled Thomas who giggled in that infectious way young children have, and we all laughed along with him, though I noticed Simon’s eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

When the time came to leave, with promises to come back in a week, Simon was grinning from ear to ear. As we walked out to the car park, he put an arm around my shoulders. ‘Well, I’d say that was a resounding success.’

‘Absolutely.’ I leaned into him. ‘So what if she doesn’t know who we all are, or how we’re all related. She enjoyed the visit, so did we, and that’s all that matters. She lives in the present, now, with snippets of past memories floating up every now and again.’

‘Don’t we all? Isn’t that the only way we
can
live?’ Simon stopped me mid-car park and kissed me. ‘Great idea to move her closer. Thanks, love.’

The kids had been brilliant with Veronica. We took them to Paulton’s Park for the afternoon as a reward. I only hoped they’d get on with Amy as well as they had with Nanna Smith. My stomach lurched as I wondered how
I’d
get on with her. My grown-up step-daughter. I’d find out, tomorrow.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Hampshire, August 2013

‘Lewis, have you tidied away your Lego from the living room? Lauren, help me empty the dishwasher, there’s a love. Simon, have you got enough charcoal for the barbecue? We were a bit low last time, do you think you should nip to the garage and get some more? Oh, bugger it.’ I swore as two plates clashed together as I pulled them from the dishwasher, and one chipped.

‘Mum, that’s a bad word!’ said Lauren reprovingly.

‘Yes, so don’t you repeat it,’ I said.

‘Mummy, what’s bugger?’ said Thomas, as he whizzed into the kitchen on his scooter.

‘Nothing, darling, now take that scooter outside to play please, we’ve got a lot to do in here before Amy comes.’

Simon passed through the kitchen on his way to the patio, ushering Thomas outside with him. ‘I bought charcoal on my way home from work yesterday, there’s loads. Oh Christ, she’s not a vegetarian is she?’

I stopped unloading the dishwasher and stared at Simon. ‘Is she? You might have said so – that’ll mean we need to rethink the meal completely!’

He scratched his head. ‘Trying to think – what did she have to eat? I was so caught up in the moment, I didn’t notice.’

Lauren put some cups into a cupboard and sighed. ‘She had steak and chips, Dad. That’s what you told us. You said she had the same as you and that’s how you knew she was definitely your daughter.’

‘Steak and chips, yes, that’s right! And then treacle pudding and custard for afters. Got a healthy appetite, that’s for sure.’ Simon tried to ruffle Lauren’s hair but she ducked away, rolling her eyes.

‘Well remembered, love,’ I said. ‘So the barbecue is saved. It’s the right weather for it, anyway.’ It had been hot and sultry for a few days now.

A clatter at the front door announced the arrival of Saturday’s post. ‘I’ll fetch it,’ said Lauren, as she ran out to the hallway. She was making herself extremely useful. I wondered if she was trying to prove she was the perfect daughter, in case Simon preferred Amy. In my eyes, of course, she already was perfect.

‘Just one for you, Mum,’ she said, passing me a brown envelope. I was going to put it to one side when I noticed it had come from the General Register Office. Tolly’s birth certificate, it had to be! Despite the chaos in the house and all that had to be done before Amy was due to arrive at midday, I just had to open it, there and then.

Mother: confirmed as Agnes Cutter, as I’d suspected. Place of birth: Woodhall, Lincolnshire, the same village he’d grown up in, cared for by his grandparents. Father’s name was left blank. I felt a pang of disappointment. That confirmed he was illegitimate. I suppose it would have been too much to hope that Agnes had named the father of her child.

‘What’s that, Katie?’ Simon had come back into the kitchen to fetch implements for the barbecue.

‘Just a birth certificate I’d ordered. You know, my obsession with the past.’ I stuffed it back into its envelope, to have a better look at later, in private.

‘Whose? Anything to do with our mystery burial?’ Simon was rummaging in a drawer for tongs and fish slice. I pushed him away, opened the right drawer and handed him the tools.

‘Possibly. One of the servants who lived here in 1841 who I’ve been trying to trace, had a baby. It’s his birth certificate.’

‘Let me see? No, on second thoughts, don’t. We’ve got far too much to do right now. You’re gradually hooking me into this family tree research, you know. I never thought I’d be interested, but what with the skeleton, and then the stuff that Amy said…’

‘What did Amy say?’

‘Oh, you know. About how important it felt for her to know where she’d come from. That’s why she tracked me down, you see. She wanted to find her roots.’

Well, I could understand that, completely. I nodded, and was about to say something more, when Simon spoke again.

‘She’s got a point, I suppose. I’m beginning to get it now – this thing about wanting to know where you came from.’ He gently flicked my bottom with the fish slice. ‘Still think it’s more important to look to the future though. That’s more important than the past.’

‘Oi, that hurt!’ I flicked him back with a tea towel. ‘The present’s the most important, I reckon. Think about your mum. She just enjoys what’s happening now, without worrying about what came before and what’ll happen next, bless her. And
our
present, right now, is too busy to talk about ancient history any longer. Come on, you’ve got a barbecue to get ready, and I need to make a salad.’

Amy arrived right on time, armed with an enormous smile, presents for the children and flowers for me. While Simon hugged her, I took the flowers straight to the kitchen to find a vase, and to hide the emotions which welled up as I watched Lauren’s eyes widen in awe at the sight of her new big sister, and Lewis’s feigned indifference hiding his obvious curiosity.

The afternoon was a complete success. By the time we were eating our barbecued bananas with grated chocolate (Lauren and Lewis’s favourite dessert, and Amy declared it was her new favourite as well), it felt as though I’d known Amy for years. Afterwards she played football against Lewis and Thomas, blaming her long blonde hair for getting in her eyes and causing her to miss the goal. The boys won five-one. She’d bought Lauren a nail-art kit, and painted her nails a delicate lilac, with a diamante flower on each tip. Simon sat watching her, his expression a mixture of pride and wonder.

Mum and Dad arrived at their appointed time of four o’clock. Mum had even brought a gift for Amy – a box of Butlers chocolates, which Amy declared were her favourite brand. She kissed them both, and I had the impression she would not only happily adopt me and the kids, but also my parents and sister. She was a young woman in need of a family. I felt a glow of pride that we’d be able to provide that for her.

When the kids went inside to watch the
Clone Wars
DVD Amy had bought for Lewis, Simon handed us a beer each and we turned our garden chairs to face the sun. Between us, Simon and I told Amy the story of how we bought the house and what we’d discovered in the garden, and how we’d tried to find out who it could be and guess what might have happened. Mum rolled her eyes to hear it again but Dad chipped in enthusiastically about his part in the research.

Amy was astounded. ‘Bloody hell, talk about finding skeletons in the closet when you research your family tree – you found an actual skeleton! And you think it could have been one of those servants?’

‘That’s our best guess. But it’ll be impossible to ever know for sure.’

‘You said one of them had a son? So perhaps if there’s any DNA in those bones, it could be tested against DNA from her descendants?’ said Amy.

Dad nodded. ‘That’s what they did with Richard the Third, after they found his bones under that Leicester car park.’

Simon laughed. ‘Bit late for that. The police had the bones cremated.’

‘Aw. What happened to the ashes?’

I nodded back at the house. ‘They’re sitting in a cardboard box on the kitchen windowsill right now.’

Amy looked shocked. ‘You can’t just leave them there. What will you do with them?’

I shrugged. ‘That’s the problem, I don’t know. It doesn’t seem right to scatter them in the garden, if she was murdered here. I thought of taking them up to the churchyard where Bartholomew and Georgia are buried but…’

‘Not if there’s any chance Bartholomew was the murderer!’ said Mum. ‘She’d hate to be scattered on top of her killer, poor girl.’ I looked at her in surprise. It was the first time she’d shown any interest in who the bones had belonged to. But it was just like her to think first about the wishes of the dead woman.

‘Take her somewhere neutral. Perhaps a local beauty spot or something?’ said Amy. ‘You could have a little ceremony, to finally lay her to rest.’ She took a sip of her beer and sighed. ‘It’s amazing how much you’ve found out about your ancestors. And here’s me, having only just met my dad.’