[Churchminster #3] Wild Things (39 page)

‘Granny Clem?’ she repeated. Clementine had never spoken much about her younger brother. The only photo Calypso had ever seen of him was a faded picture of an earnest-looking boy, holding a butterfly net in the garden of Fairoaks. He was an enigma; even their father Johnnie had known little about him.

When Clementine spoke again, her voice trembled. ‘God knows why, Veronica, but that boy loved you! And then you threw him out like a discarded piece of rubbish when something better came along.’

‘How dare you!’ exclaimed Veronica. ‘Your family were the ones who had me blacklisted from society, I was a pariah for years.’

‘You blacklisted yourself, for what you did to Edmund!’

Pam and Calypso exchanged glances, briefly united by not knowing what was going on. Hearing the raised voices, a few people standing nearby had stopped talking to each other and were leaning in, trying to listen.

‘I trusted you, Veronica! I trusted you with him.’ Clementine’s voice was strangulated with emotion. She stared directly into the other woman’s eyes. ‘You’ve got blood on your hands, Veronica Stockard-Manning! You might just as well have signed that poor boy’s death warrant.’

Trembling, Clementine turned and walked away through the crowd.

‘How dare she?’ Veronica started to bluster. She looked at the onlookers, her fat face reddening with embarrassment. ‘It wasn’t like that, really!’

The onlookers glanced away, disbelief and disgust registering on their faces. Grabbing Camilla, Calypso took off with her after their grandmother, but not before she’d emptied her glass of champagne over Veronica’s head – just for good measure.

They found Clementine locked in one of the powder rooms, and after a few minutes of pleading, she finally let them in. Both girls were shocked to see their strong, upright grandmother so dishevelled and shaking.

‘Oh, girls, I’m sorry you had to see that,’ she wept, putting her arms round them both.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Camilla, close to tears herself. ‘What was that awful woman saying about Great-uncle Edmund?’

Calypso was more direct. ‘Granny Clem, what on earth do you mean, she killed him?’

Clementine sank down on one of the stools.

‘I shouldn’t have said that here, with all those people
around
.’ She sighed and the girls could hear the grief in her voice. ‘Even after nearly fifty years it’s as raw as the day it happened.’

‘What?’ Camilla asked in a small voice.

‘It’s hard to believe now, but once upon a time Veronica Stockard-Manning and I were the best of friends.’

‘What?’ exclaimed Calypso. ‘But she’s a foul old cow! How could you have been?’

Clementine smiled regretfully. ‘When Veronica was a young girl, she was a lot of fun. And really quite a beauty. All the chaps I knew pined after her, and quite a few of the girls, too.’

‘Were you at school together?’ Camilla asked.

Clementine nodded. ‘We shared a dormitory, our beds were next to each other. Even though Veronica was a year younger than I was, we got on tremendously. She seemed to enjoy my company, and well, I liked being best friends with the most popular girl in the school. I was always rather tall and awkward-looking, you see, and it did wonders for my own social standing. You know how shallow young girls are.’

Clementine blew her nose gracefully with a tissue, before continuing. ‘We were inseparable as teenagers, and one summer holiday Veronica came to stay with us at Fairoaks. We had a wonderful time, tramping through the Meadows in our long skirts, taking out the pony Father had bought me. But even then, I could sense something had changed with her. Veronica was very aware of her own charms, even from a young age,
and
when Edmund laid eyes on her for the first time – well, the poor boy had no chance. He’d always been a fragile child. Mother nearly lost him at birth and he never really recovered. But Edmund had a kind of innocent beauty about him, something Veronica obviously found attractive. And he was head over heels with her. I asked Veronica, and then pleaded with her to stay away from Edmund, I could see she would break his heart eventually. But the more I begged her, the more intent she became on snaring him. It almost became like a game for her, Veronica always did have a habit of getting what she wanted.’

Clementine smiled bitterly. ‘We fell out and grew apart after that, but Veronica and Edmund continued courting. They really did seem very content together. I’d never seen Edmund so enraptured or happy before. He came out of his shell for the first time, and was living life to the full. I started to think that maybe I was wrong. Maybe Veronica really did love him. After all, my parents were perfectly happy, and it was widely expected that Edmund would propose to Veronica on her eighteenth birthday, having turned eighteen himself a few months earlier.’

Her bottom lip trembled. ‘He was so happy when he came to show me the engagement ring. He’d hunted high and low for something, and had spent practically half his inheritance on the right one when he’d found it. I remember him telling me, “Don’t worry, Clemmie, you’ll find someone to love just as I have, one day. Then you’ll know the rest of your life didn’t matter before you met them”.’

She shook her head. ‘Poor, naïve Edmund. I even got swept along with it: I telephoned Veronica the night before he was going to propose and tried to make amends. She was pleasantly sweet, assured me she had no intention of hurting my little brother. And, more fool me, I believed it.’

Camilla and Calypso were transfixed. This was a whole side to their grandmother they had never known about.

Clementine paused, reliving painful memories before carrying on. ‘Edmund travelled to Yorkshire to ask for Veronica’s hand in marriage and Veronica, who’d already humiliated him by making him get down on one knee and propose in front of her maid, scorned him for being so deluded in thinking anyone like him could ever have someone like her, and told him she had no intention of ever marrying him. She said, and I remember the exact words my brother told me, that she “wanted a real man and not a little boy”. I believe she mocked the ring for not being good enough, before sending Edmund away to the sound of her maid giggling.’

‘That’s awful!’ gasped Camilla.

Clementine’s jaw clenched. ‘It turned out Veronica had a bet going with her new circle of friends – horrid, flirty vacuous types – to see who could get as many marriage proposals as possible. Edmund was the first of quite a few, I believe. Eventually Veronica went on to marry a ghastly army colonel who was years older than her. He was a bluff, bigoted chap who spent most of his time carousing in his London members’ club – nothing
like
Edmund. I believed Franklin Stockard-Manning died at the end of the seventies.’

Clementine’s voice was empty, remembering. ‘There wasn’t much hope for poor Eddie after that, I’m afraid. He was completely broken-hearted, and felt that he was a laughing stock. As far as he was concerned, he’d laid himself bare to someone and they’d ripped him apart. Edmund lost all faith in the human race, and started drinking. My parents tried to get him help, but nothing worked. He wouldn’t even listen to me. He left home when he was twenty, and spent the rest of his inheritance money drinking his way round every seedy establishment in London. Poor Mummy and Daddy were heartbroken.’

Camilla could hardly bear to hear what happened next.

‘Edmund was found, the day after his twenty-second birthday, in a grotty little bedsit in Paris. He’d choked to death on his own vomit. He had no worldly possessions, except the clothes he was wearing and a picture of Veronica on the bedside table. Because, despite all that had happened, he still loved her.’ The tears glistened in Clementine’s eyes again. ‘Veronica turned up to the funeral, swathed in fashionable black and playing the hysterical widow. Mummy and Daddy had her marched out, said it wasn’t fair to Eddie’s memory.’ Clementine laughed bitterly. ‘As if she hadn’t done enough already! Friends rallied round, but our family never was the same. The day we buried him in St Bartholomew’s, a little piece of each of us died as well.’

‘But why would Veronica do that?’ Camilla cried. ‘It’s so cruel.’

Clementine gave a weary smile. ‘Because she could. I don’t think she meant for poor Edmund to kill himself, but Veronica must have known the power she held over him. You know, in all the years since, I have waited for an apology, even an acknowledgement of what happened, but nothing has ever come. Veronica has grown from a spiteful young girl into a malevolent old woman.’ She looked at them. ‘Melodramatic as it sounded, you can see why I accused her of having blood on her hands. I honestly believe that if he hadn’t met Veronica, Edmund would be alive today.’ Clementine’s lip trembled. ‘I blame myself. You see, darlings, if I hadn’t bought her home that summer none of this would have happened.’

She broke down in fresh sobs again. Now that they knew about the bad feeling between Clementine and Veronica, Calypso and Camilla realized what enormous significance winning Britain’s Best Village had for Clementine. All they could do now was put their arms around her and try to console her – the way she had them many times before.

Chapter 53

BY THE TIME
they’d all made themselves presentable again, most people were sitting down at their tables. The three of them descended the grand staircase into the main ballroom, Camilla and Calypso walking protectively either side of their grandmother. Physically and emotionally, the family had closed ranks. Even kind-natured Camilla had been left shocked and angry by the actions of Veronica Stockard-Manning, and didn’t trust herself to keep quiet if she saw the vile woman again.

‘Is everything all right?’ Angie asked, as the three women sat down.

‘Everything’s fine,’ Clementine assured her. Angie noted her red-rimmed eyes but didn’t say anything.

Calypso reached for the white wine in a bucket on the table. ‘Christ, I could do with a large glass of this,’ she declared.

‘Me, too,’ said Camilla.

‘And I as well,’ echoed Clementine, who normally
never
drank anything other than a daily glass of champagne – or a sherry on special occasions.

Calypso sloshed wine in each of their glasses and toasted the table. ‘Cheers, everyone!’

She took a deep slug and sat back in her chair, letting the liquid wash over her with its calming presence.

Someone else came over to their table to offer condolences. The plight of Churchminster had made the national press, and everyone had been tremendously nice about it – everyone apart from the Maplethorpe villagers, of course, who sat at their table throwing supercilious looks at everyone else.

The blonde newcomer leant down beside Clementine. ‘Carole Newbury, from Beasley village,’ she said.

‘Oh, hello!’ Clementine said. Beasley was one of the other finalists, a charming little place on the Norfolk-Suffolk border.

Carole Newbury had the weathered nose and cheeks of someone who spends a great deal of time outdoors. ‘I actually grew up in the Cotswolds,’ she said. ‘Not far from Churchminster, and it’s still a very special place to me. I just wanted to say, on behalf of the Beasley committee, how sorry we were to hear about the dreadful business of your church burning down. We all know the importance the church plays in a village, so you must be feeling it, dreadfully. If there’s anything we can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask.’

‘Why, Carole, thank you.’ Clementine was genuinely touched. A woman called Flora Birch from the other finalist village, a pretty place in Aberdeenshire called Little Haven, had already approached Clementine
to
offer her stoic Scottish condolences. ‘It’s so nice to know that we’ve all entered the competition with the right spirit.’

‘All except Maplethorpe,’ muttered Carole Newbury, throwing a dark look in the direction of their table. ‘You know there’s been a huge hoo-ha about them making it to the final again. People weren’t happy when they won last year, and there’s been talk of cheating and of some of the judges being buttered up. Thank God for Marjorie Majors, she’ll tell it how it is.’

‘We hope so,’ said Clementine.

‘Well, I’d better get back,’ said Carole Newbury. She smiled round the table at them all. ‘Good luck!’

‘You, too!’ they all called back.

Before the results were announced, they had a four-course dinner that seemed to go on as long as the contest had. There was a mounting frisson of excitement in the room, and people were desperate to know if their months of hard work had paid off. Bottle after bottle of wine was brought out, as nervous finalists tried to settle their nerves.

For Calypso, who had spent the last few months staying in at Rafe’s, a night out was long overdue. As was a healthy amount of wine.
At least there’s no one to tell me what to do any more
, she thought defiantly.

At nine o’ clock, two hours after it had started, dinner was finally over. Waiting staff came out for the final time to collect the empty coffee cups, and everyone turned expectantly towards a big stage at the front of the room.

Suddenly the lights dimmed and music started up.
The
stage flashed up with colour again and Marjorie Majors strode out, followed by her two male counterparts. She was clutching a large gold-plated trowel, which would be presented to the eventual winner. The audience started clapping enthusiastically. Marjorie climbed up in front of a lectern to the left of the stage and waited until the applause had died down.

‘Welcome to this year’s Britain’s Best Village competition, in association with Greenacres Garden Centres! This is the tenth year the competition has been running, in which we have seen some worthy winners – and not forgetting their worthy contenders – from all over the nation. This year, the standard has been exceptional and I would like to say a huge well done to Maplethorpe in Yorkshire, Churchminster in the Cotswolds, Beasley in Norfolk and Little Haven in Aberdeenshire. All four villages were shortlisted from a list of thousands not only for their pride in making their village look wonderful, but for their strong sense of community spirit. Whoever is the lucky winner tonight, I would like to salute them all for their tremendous achievement.’