Murder on the Old Road (24 page)

‘Now?' Peter asked.

Molly grinned. ‘How about tomorrow? Vic's up at Chillingham Place today, and my Bill's at work in the mornings. Matthew's popping back from Canterbury tomorrow. He's handy with a pickaxe and that.'

‘What about the play?'

‘He'll get there in time,' Molly said firmly. ‘He don't need to be in Canterbury till the evening.'

Matthew had obviously received his instructions because at breakfast on Friday morning Georgia saw him outside on the terrace unpacking tools and chatting to Vic. She and Peter hastened to join them, and Molly followed them out.

‘What are you hoping to find?' Matthew asked bluntly.

‘Not sure,' Peter replied truthfully. ‘A hiding place perhaps, ideally with its contents.'

‘St Thomas's bones, for preference,' Georgia added.

Matthew took his time to consider this. ‘Good,' he said finally. ‘Best to get it over with then. Ready, Vic?'

He pulled the door open, and he and Vic began dragging the contents out, while Georgia and Molly formed the end of a chain to distribute them on garden tables and the terrace flagstones.

‘Lot of junk in here, Molly,' Vic grunted.

Georgia could see he was right, and removing the contents one by one was a time-consuming task. At last – with the chair removed and, one by one, the old boxes – the end seemed in sight.

‘Remember Dad sitting on that chair, don't you, Vic?' Molly said.

A nod. ‘Wearing that old panama of his. Don't know why he bothered. He had enough hair on his head for the sun to do him no harm.'

‘He said Mr Robert gave it to him.'

‘Did he come out here too?' Georgia asked.

‘Not that I remember,' Vic answered.

‘Might have done that day not long before Dad died. Remember that, Vic?' Molly said. ‘Dad told us he wanted to be left alone with Mr Robert, so Bill and I came over to you for the day.'

‘Now you mention it, yes. He was doing lots of odd things then though.'

Matthew was working onwards, beginning to pull off the carpet, which was so rotten that it tore off in pieces. When, at last, the flagstones were laid bare, there was a silence as Vic and Matthew studied them. Georgia could hear her heart thumping, Molly looked tense, and Peter was drumming his fingers impatiently on the arm of the wheelchair.

Georgia was almost beginning to believe that the bones of St Thomas were indeed secreted under this flagstone floor. Watching Matthew and Vic alternately heaving at the flagstones, she felt first apologetic at the labour involved in what might be a fruitless venture and then caught up in a wave of hope and curiosity. It took an hour and two cups of coffee before the flagstones were removed and the sand and grit beneath them revealed.

‘Ready, Vic?' Matthew asked again.

‘Yup.' Vic took over for the next stint, but that didn't take long, because almost immediately he struck something underneath the sand.

‘Concrete, blast it,' he grunted. Neither he nor Matt looked fazed, however, as they took it in turns to prod the bedding inch by inch to see if the concrete covered the entire floor. Matthew was a good man, Georgia thought, apropos of nothing. Lisa might not have been blest in having Clive as a husband, but she was in this son, at least, and probably in Derek too.

‘Try here, Vic,' Matt said. ‘There seems to be a hollow patch by the window.'

Vic took over, and Matthew emerged to allow him room to manoeuvre.

‘Any idea what it is?' Georgia asked him. ‘Just sand?'

‘Maybe.' Matt remained his usual calm self.

Vic was hard at work on scraping away the sand, with Matt reporting progress from the doorway. At last a breakthrough. ‘Something metal,' Vic called. ‘Could be a box.'

‘The Crown Jewels,' Molly joked, but even so she looked excited.

‘Yup,' Vic called. ‘Stand back, coming out.'

Now that there was really something to be found, Georgia realized how little she had expected it. Peter, however, was looking as though he had been right all the time – deservedly so, she acknowledged.

Between them Vic and Matt tugged their find free of its surroundings, and out on to the terrace. It was a tin box about two feet square. ‘You look, Molly girl,' Vic said gruffly.

Georgia held her breath as Molly lifted the lid and peered inside. And then a great cry of disappointment. ‘It's empty,' Molly said indignantly.

Georgia's hopes plummeted down into anticlimax. There was indeed nothing in this box, nor anything to show what it had once held. Surely no one would have buried something so securely for no reason at all, however? The let-down was hard to take, especially since she had come so close to believing that St Thomas's bones had indeed lain beneath in that box. The box itself, of course, was modern, but who knew how old its contents might have been? Their original covering could have rotted away, making their rehousing imperative.

‘Was there ever anything in it, do you think?' she asked.

‘I reckon so, don't you, Vic?' Molly said. ‘Something important to Dad that made him sit out here day after day.'

‘If it's bones you're after, Georgia,' Vic said, ‘they've gone long since, and nothing here has anything to do with Mrs Fanshawe's murder.'

Peter was keeping very silent, but Georgia could see the obstinate look on his face. He
still
didn't agree.

She reasoned that Vic and Molly must have expected to find something too, or they wouldn't be wasting their time humouring Marsh & Daughter. Or perhaps, she thought with sinking heart, that's exactly what they were doing. They could have been hoping that the sight of an empty hole would lay the story to rest.

Peter did not seem as daunted as she did, however. ‘This link between your father and Robert Wayncroft,' he asked Vic and Molly. ‘Did it begin with the 1942 raid or had he met the Wayncrofts before the war?'

‘Began with the raid,' Molly answered. ‘That's what he said. Then he came to work at Chillingham for Mr Robert after the war.'

‘Those two servicemen listed on the monument, Vic. You thought one of those was the soldier Robert tried to save in the raid, but failed. What about the other one? One was French, wasn't he? What was he doing in Canterbury?'

‘Plenty of Free French servicemen were around in the years after Dunkirk, waiting their chance to get back home,' Vic replied. ‘I told you about that night of the raid that turned Mr Robert's head. Now I'll tell you a bit more. Dad heard Tugboat Annie – that's what the special inner warning system for the city was called. It usually came a while after the sirens, to warn folks the raid was nearly at the city. That night the sirens and Tugboat Annie came more or less together, and then the whole city seemed alight. Mr Robert was caught in it. I wasn't born then, but I listened to Mum and Dad telling us about it later. How they thought the end of the world had come with all those bombs and incendiaries. Dad was near the Cathedral library when the fires started – it was hit to blazes. He and the other guards were in there trying to throw out the incendiaries so they could save as many of the papers and books as they could.'

‘Which of the soldiers was the one Robert saw die?' Peter asked. ‘Private John Wilson or the Frenchman? That was Lieutenant Christophe Bonneur, wasn't it?'

‘That's it,' Molly exclaimed. ‘Bonneur. That was the name of the French fellow Jeannie Miller married. Not a Christophe, but the surname was Bonneur all right. He came over looking for information about his dad or uncle. He'd heard about the memorial, came to see it and asked for Robert Wayncroft. Mr Wayncroft was away so he never met him, and he ran off with Fred's wife instead.'

Bonneur. That name now rang a bell with Georgia too, and she scrabbled in her memory.

‘Isn't that the family Valentine Harper married into?'

FOURTEEN

T
he end of the pilgrimage. Canterbury, and the last night of
Becket
. Georgia found it hard to believe that this was the same play, the same actors and the same production that she had watched only a few days ago. The cast must have sunk deeply into their roles in the course of the intervening performances in order to give such a mesmerizing performance. The battle between the King and Becket, Julian versus Val, dominated the play to such an extent that, for the first time, Eleanor's part in the conspiracy seemed almost a sideline, good though Aletta and Tess were in their roles.

After Tim had said his few words in memory of Anne, the play had taken off right from the beginning, and as it reached its final scene she almost wanted to cry out, ‘Look behind you!' as Becket entered and the knights, led by Seb Wayncroft, advanced. The King himself, the main enemy, was not present in that scene, but his power was evident. As she watched them on stage, it was not hard to see both the love and hatred between them, locked into an impossible situation that ended in murder, and nor was it hard to see the parallels in today's Chillingham – save that love did not seem to exist between Julian and Val.

‘Into thy hands O Lord . . .' Val was a superb actor. No doubt about that. Becket's last words jerked painfully and movingly from his mouth. Playing Becket had been Henry Irving's last performance on the stage, and he had died very shortly after those final words. And Hugh Wayncroft had uttered them in 1967 and died the following day. Hugh had been gentle by nature, but strong when it came to defending the Wayncroft family. She had seen few signs of gentleness in Julian or Val. Which would win if Armageddon had to be fought in their power struggle? Val, she decided. He had cunning, whereas Julian had only strength – and Aletta. Which way would Jessica jump, however? To her beloved Val or to the Wayncroft heir?

‘Quite something.' Luke drew a deep breath, after the curtain had fallen and Tim had added a few more valedictory words on Anne.

‘Seconded.' Peter was as impressed as Georgia was.

Outside in the small foyer, Luke managed to collar Tim and congratulate him. He seemed in such a daze that it was even an effort for him to say thanks. The strain of the last few weeks was still visible, but he looked genuinely happy at the way the play had gone, and Georgia was glad. He deserved it.

‘Come along to the party,' Tim managed to add. ‘It's at Seymour House, further along this road. Can't miss it. Stands in its own grounds with a whacking great forecourt.'

‘Sure?' Luke queried. ‘Not just a cast thing?'

‘Everyone's welcome after a success,' Tim said happily.

Peter elected to go straight back to Becket House, but Georgia could see Luke was keen to attend. It might even help, she thought. Tongues might be loosened as the cast relaxed, and she'd be a fool to miss the opportunity. The party was being held in a ground-floor room at the front of the house, and as Luke parked and they walked round towards the front door she could see Julian and Aletta inside, and Val's tall figure moving around. The cast must have changed into party gear quickly to get here so soon, no longer delayed by having to remove the lashings of stage make-up that she dimly recalled from her own youthful acting. The smell and the way it had clung were with her still. Atmospheric perhaps, but today's lighting had done away with that.

Luke was driving, and so there was the added inducement that she could indulge in a glass or two of wine. By the time they entered, the party had spread outside at the rear of the house on to a paved area and garden lit by lanterns, which gave the effect of presenting another stage for another play. Ideal for an after-show party, as it continued the make-believe, she thought. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible for her.

At first it seemed pleasant enough as, with Luke engrossed in talking to Tim and Simon, she wandered round on her own.

‘Enjoy the show?' Seb was grinning at her with his arm round Tess.

‘Terrific performance – and especially by Fair Rosamund and Reginald Fitzurse.'

Another grin. ‘Not bad, are we, Tess? I'll get to play the king once we put it on in Chillingham.'

‘No aspirations for Becket?'

‘No way. We Wayncrofts like doing the regal stuff.'

‘So the Chillingham theatre project is going full speed ahead now?'

‘Nothing to stop us once we get planning permissions and all that dreary stuff. There's the matter of funding of course, but Val's got his head round that. Lottery money, community grants and stuff.'

Tess pulled a face. ‘Don't be too sure, Seb. Big plans can hit the dust. The opposition's still strong.'

‘You'll all come round, sweetheart.' Seb hugged Tess. ‘The plans are already drawn up for submission.'

‘That was quick work,' Georgia said. ‘You've only had a week.'

‘Did them ages ago. And for the ruins too.'

‘But you only knew about the legacy a week or so ago.'

Seb shrugged. ‘Val got cracking on them as soon as he knew Robert had died. It all got put on one side when he found out about Anne having inherited them, but once she told us the happy news about her legacy—'

‘
Anne
told you?' Georgia asked. ‘When?' She could hardly believe what she was hearing.

Seb looked surprised. ‘At the pub that night. They were all talking about it when I joined them just before she left.' Seb must belatedly have realized how this could reflect on his parents because he flushed, muttering, ‘They probably knew already.'

The damage had been done, however. Seb had obviously thought that this was general knowledge and must be grappling with the fact that his parents might not have mentioned this to the police. So that, Georgia realized, was the reason the table where Anne was sitting had gone very quiet after the row had finished. Anne had been telling the Wayncrofts that the ruins would eventually come back to them. The
eventually
must have struck home to Julian and Val – and Seb himself. Too late, perhaps, to save Chillingham Place.