Retribution (Sebastian Trilogy Book 3) (15 page)

Sebastian has collected Mother from the station, his Land Rover crunching over the gravel as they arrive home.

“Mum!
”
She’s barely stepped from the car when I sweep her into a tight embrace. “You see, I’m in one piece. There really was nothing to worry about.”

“So I see, love.” She hugs me back, and nothing feels as good as Mum’s cuddles. I breathe in the familiar sweet smell of ‘Youth Dew
’
perfume and hairspray, feeling safe in her loving arms. “You need to fill me in on everything, Beth, and I mean everything.”

Sebastian takes Mother’s suitcase and strides on into the house while she and I saunter behind. I show her to her room, where Sebastian has already placed her case on the plush cream carpet. We have decided that Mother should stay in the farthest guest room—rarely used—so that we retain some privacy during her stay. It’s small, but a delightful sunny room decorated with pretty pale pink and sage green floral wallpaper with complementing sage green silk curtains. Libby clearly had a flair for interior design. Her eye for detail is exemplary, from the accent cushions on the bed, to the pastel-coloured watercolours on the walls. It has a romantic and typically ‘old English
’
charm. Mum beams in delight as she surveys her room. I fear we will never get her to leave.

“Come on, Mum.
”
Taking her hand, I urge her from the bedroom and into the kitchen where Sebastian is making a start on dinner.

“Very domesticated. I approve.
”
Mum giggles at the sight of Sebastian wearing Scarlett’s apron around his waist. “Don’t tell me he cooks too?
”
she sighs. “It’s downright unlawful how someone with those looks is good at so much—”

“Mother,
”
I admonish, smirking with my hands on my hips, “are you flirting with my man?”

“You flirt all you like, darling,
”
Sebastian smarms. “You have exceptional taste.”

“Arrogant twerp.
”
I laugh.

Mother hugs him and rocks up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “God bless you for taking care of Beth for me,
”
she whispers. Sebastian blushes and sweeps her off the floor with one of his growling bear hugs. He hands me the apron and opens a bottle of chilled white wine. I pick up where he left off peeling prawns for paella.

Over a delicious dinner, Sebastian and I have updated Mum on the entire events leading up to Scarlett’s suicide.

At times she was distressed, and had many questions for us both, some we could answer, others we could not, but always we were open and truthful with her. By the time we have finished, it is after ten o’clock. Mother yawns and bids us goodnight. We switch off the downstairs lights and follow her up.

The house is so silent; at night, this seems accentuated. It makes its own noises and creaks but the stillness is new. Scarlett was a strong personality within the building and her absence renders it almost empty. I still refer to her as Scarlett—can’t seem to think of her as
Sarah
. Not that we talk about her all the time. I try not to raise the subject for fear of upsetting the equilibrium here. Today is the first that Sebastian has not roamed the beach for her; that is a good sign that he’s coming to terms with his loss.

Snuggling with him in bed, sleep claims us both swiftly; we are tired but more content than we have been for a very long time.

Mother is an early riser. She’s cooked a full English breakfast and called us downstairs even before the grandfather clock strikes eight. Sebastian helps himself to bacon, fried eggs, sausage and black pudding, his eyes wide with greed at the feast before him. I decide upon toast and bacon, mindful of my figure. Although I have lost a great deal of weight over the past few months, I’d like to stay svelte.

“Did you sleep well, Mum?
”
I enquire, spreading butter thinly on the wholemeal toast.

She yawns in response. “I did, dear, thank you. Although you woke me when you came in. What were you looking for, Beth?”

Chapter 16

The hairs prickle on the back of my neck. Sebastian’s fork halts short of his mouth, his eyes darting to mine. “What do you mean, Mum? I didn’t come in your room last night. What time was this?”

She spears a piece of sausage and says nonchalantly, “Oh, I don’t know, it was before sunrise—still dark. Perhaps I was dreaming. Yes, that must be it, dear.”

“What did you see?
”
The trepidation in my voice leads Sebastian to lay a hand on my knee to calm me.

“I didn’t see anyone, Beth. It was dark.
”
She chews another chunk of sausage.

“Okay. You didn’t see anyone, but you thought it was me, so what made you think that?
”
I’m growing impatient with her.

“I was drifting. Don’t think I was fully awake, if you know what I mean. You opened my door and came in. Or perhaps I imagined it. I’m an old lady now. We start going bonkers at my age, you know.”

“No, Mum. I didn’t come in your room. Sebastian, did you go in Mum’s room last night?”

He shakes his head, shrugs his shoulders and mops some egg with a piece of bread. “This old pile is full of shadows, ladies. Let’s not get carried away with the old ‘haunted house
’
codswallop.”

“No. Quite,
”
Mother agrees. The subject is dropped, but I’m left with a feeling of unease that I can’t shrug off.

I drive Mother around the villages and hamlets scattered along the North Cornish coast. It’s ironic that, as a child, my parents would bring me here for holidays. My favourite holidays were spent on a farm near Tintagel; the farmer would take me to see his lambs at sunrise. I wore a bright yellow knitted sweater that the farmer said would cheer up his sheep on a wet summer’s day. Mother used to say I stank of sheep plop but I’d never let her wash that sweater. It was my ‘special lambing sunshine sweater.
’
We’d watch the May Pole dancing in early May half term holidays, and return in August to bathe in the rock pools, Dad and I catching crabs in my plastic bucket. In later years, Alan and I had brought the children on holiday. We’d called in at the farm, but Mr. Lethbridge—or Old Leather Britches, as Dad called him—had died and the new farmers weren’t offering bed and breakfast anymore. Such wonderful memories I still cherish, and now here I am, a grown woman bringing Mum back to those same places. Life goes full circle, I reflect with a smile.

We call in at Padstow on our way home and buy Cornish Pasties, then sit on the bench overlooking the harbour, devouring the warm, flaky pastries. We watch the fishermen haul their catches from their boats and inhale the fresh salty air. On the drive home to Penmorrow, we talk about Mum. I realise, with great shame, how infrequently I ask her about her life, her health or her dreams. It’s been a precious day together and I make a mental note to try to be a better daughter to her.

There is a car parked in the driveway that I don’t recognise. Pulling up beside it, I help Mum from the car and hurry inside to see who is visiting. Hearing voices from Sebastian’s study, I tap lightly on the door and enter. Sebastian is talking to a smart gentleman of advancing years, who sips at a cup of tea.

“Ah, Elizabeth. Come in.
”
He stands politely as I enter, ushering me to a vacant chair beside the stranger. “I’d like you to meet Jeremy Simpson.”

Mr. Simpson extends a hand and shakes mine firmly. “Pleased to meet you,
”
he says.

“Mr. Simpson is a coroner, darling. He’s going to be hearing Scarlett’s inquest and wishes me to attend as a witness.”

“I see,
”
I reply, rather taken by surprise at this revelation. “What does that involve?”

“Lord De Montfort will be required to attend the inquest and give evidence relating to the death of Sarah Dorling. This is very much standard procedure in the circumstances.”

“When will the inquest take place?
”
I play nervously with my watch, the thought of Sebastian being caught up in the inquest, and the unease at him being away, are causing a knot to form in my stomach. Sebastian casts me a reassuring smile.

“We intend to crack on with this as a matter of some urgency,
”
he huffs. “No point in delaying. I know the police would like to see this tied up. They are keen to close the case on this most unfortunate young lady. Seems there has been considerable police input over the years…great expense to the public purse, you understand.”

“Will you need me to attend?
”
The thought fills me with dread. The coroner shakes his head.

“Not likely. If it’s necessary, we can take a statement from you, but you weren’t here at the time of her suicide. That’s been corroborated by a DI Chambers of Dorset Police.”

Sebastian shows the coroner out, with his promise to be in touch with an imminent date, hanging in the air.

The coroner’s clerk calls the next morning. The inquest will begin the day after tomorrow. They are already in receipt of the police documentation and don’t require a witness statement from me. This is a huge relief. Sebastian will go alone and stay overnight, as we have no idea how long the inquest will last. I’m disappointed, preferring that he should drive there daily, but he says he needs to be alone for this. I don’t believe that it’s his intention to shut me out—more that he is trying to deal with matters in his own way, and to protect me from further unpleasantness. In any case, he will be away, and I need to support him.

We are so fortunate with the weather. The summer is turning out to be the warmest for many years. We make the most of the time we have together, before the inquest, by picnicking on the estate. We also take Mother to the Eden Project at St. Austell. It’s a wonderful day and Mum and I enjoy the stunning gardens, exotic plants, and cream tea. Sebastian is enthralled by the conservation and environmental projects, hoping to take a little of their ethos back to his estate.

The balmy evenings are spent out on the terrace, with jugs of Pimms No.1 and dishes of olives. Mum is hilarious when she’s had a drink. It’s a relaxed and happy time.

***

The two days pass and Sebastian is ready to leave. “Must you go?
”
I play with the buttons of his shirt, my expression petulant. Although Mother is staying with me, I somehow feel unnerved by Sebastian’s departure. I can’t explain why, it’s just a feeling I have.

“Darling, you know I must. Scarlett had no family and I feel it’s my duty to go.”

“She had no family because she butchered them,
”
I remind him, to which he responds with a scowl.

“That may be so, but in any case, I’ve been summoned as a witness. I have no choice. Hopefully, the outcome will enable a Presumption of Death Order to be granted, and then a death certificate. Only then can we truly put this behind us.”

“I know, you’re right. It just seems as though it’s going on and on. I want it over, Sebastian. I want us to move forward as a family. You, me, and Bella.”

“I know, darling. So do I. Hopefully in a couple of days this will be over.
”
He kisses my hair and walks to his car, his broad shoulders hunched as if he carries the weight of the world upon them. After throwing his overnight bag in the trunk, he starts the engine and steers the car toward the drive. I watch from the steps of Penmorrow until his car disappears from sight, an oppressive sense of foreboding gnawing at my gut.

Bella sounds upbeat on the phone this evening. She and Ruth are having a girls
’
night at the movies, followed by a pizza. Ruth relishes the time with Bella, never having been blessed with children. She grabs the phone from my daughter and asks if she can ‘keep
’
Bella for another week. I wonder if Bella will ever want to return to Penmorrow when she has so much more going for her in Dorset. She’s even talked about finding a job. My girl is growing up. I wish she would go to university but she’s adamant it isn’t for her. Currently she wishes to explore a career in beauty therapy, she tells me. Tomorrow it will be something entirely different. Oh, to be young again.

Mother turns in early. I’ve noticed that she’s aged considerably over the past few months. I sometimes forget that Joe and Alan’s deaths took their toll on her too. She struggles with the stairs a little more, she’s forgetful and repetitious, but her eyes twinkle just as they always have. I truly am blessed to have Mum with me. Tomorrow I will spoil her again; another girls
’
day to rival Ruth and Bella’s. Perhaps I will buy her some new clothes. She seems always to live in her old skirts and cardigans.

Our vast bed is empty without Sebastian. The crisp white linen sheets smell of his scent. Pressing my nose against his pillow and inhaling deeply, I can smell him—sandalwood and him—my favourite smell in the world. My phone vibrates on the bedside table. Sebastian.

Inquest adjourned until tomorrow morning. Judge sick or something! Hope it doesn’t delay things too much. Miss you. Dream of me. S x

Bless him for thinking about me. I have come such a long way thanks to this man. I tap out a reply on my phone.

If he dies, who does HIS inquest? Just a thought, LOL. Miss you too. Am snuggling your pillow. It smells of you ;) xxx

Chuckling, I wait for the reply that I know will come.

Smart arse! Are you touching yourself?? S x

Dirty bugger, I think. He always signs
S
, as though I don’t know it’s him. I love that funny man.

Yes. Getting my rocks off thinking of you. Now go to sleep! Xxx

Pressing send, I again wait for his reply, which comes through in an instant.

Glad to hear it. Sleep yourself! Nite. S x

***

Joe comes to visit me tonight. He hasn’t visited for a while, so it takes me by surprise when he tiptoes into my dreams.

“Hello, Mummy,
”
he says. He doesn’t look any older. That confuses me. Surely on the other side one still ages?

“Hello, darling. I’ve missed you terribly. What have you been up to?
”
I ask.

He’s wearing his Manchester United Football Club shirt—the one we dressed him in—the bright red contrasting starkly against his pale skin. “I’ve been fine, Mummy. My footie skills are improving. Daddy says if I carry on getting even betterer, then I’ll play for Man U.”

“Betterer?
”
I chuckle. “There’s no such word…you do know that, darling?”

“Yes, Mummy, I know. Mummy?”

“Yes, darling.”

“Daddy says he wants you to be careful.
”

“Does he, Joe? Careful of what, darling?”

“The bad lady.”

“Don’t be silly, Joe. Tell Daddy the bad lady is gone. She won’t be in Heaven with you and Daddy. She’s gone to the very hot place.”

Joe mulls over what I’ve said. His little face contorts with concentration. “Why is that big house hot, Mummy?”

“What do you mean, Joe?
”
I’m unsure what he means; Hell is more vast than a house. For some inexplicable reason, my mind travels back to when I was sixteen and read Paradise Lost by John Milton. How did he describe Hell? Ah, that’s right. “A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, as one great furnace flamed. Yet from those flames, no light but rather darkness is visible. Served only to discover sights of woe…
”
I recall the devils deciding this was where they wanted to stay. “Joe?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“The bad lady is in Hell.”

“Yes, Mummy. But Daddy says Hell is in the dungeon, like the…what was that, Daddy? Like the Milton thing you just thought about.”

“Hell is in the dungeon, Joe?”

“Yes, Mummy. Daddy says be careful. I love you.”

“I love you too, darling. Thank you for coming to see me.”

“Oh, Mummy?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Tell Grandma I love her and miss her trifle…yes, Daddy? Daddy says watch over Grandma.”

“I’ll tell her, darling.”

“Don’t forget the white feather, Mummy. Bye.
”
His image fades, my golden child leaving me alone once more.

Pondering what Joe meant in the dream—or if indeed it was a dream, and yet my eyes are open, so how could it be a dream—movement in my right eye snaps me back to reality. The door to our bedroom is opening. The moonlight illuminates the room with blue hues. This dream is strange, so real. In this dream, my eyes are wide open. I see the figure of a woman enter the bedroom. She stands stock still on Sebastian’s side of the bed.