Jubilee (19 page)

She heard a shout and voices raised in response.

Then there was only the hissing of the firemen’s hose against the barn wall.

Evie felt the farmyard spinning round her. She let herself fly around. Perhaps she’d died, too. Her cheek felt the coolness of the cobbles underneath it seconds before her brain registered
the fact that she’d fallen.

Charlie was shaking her. ‘Evie.’

He pulled her to her feet. She looked at him, rubbing straw from her face. ‘Was he in there? Was Robert in the barn?’

Charlie didn’t return her stare.

‘Charlie, tell me.’

He shook his head. ‘They found a body.’

Evie’s stomach heaved and she leant over. Nothing seemed to come up. Too long since her last meal.

Charlie’s shoulders were rising and falling. ‘Why did this happen? Why did he have to die?’

‘He wouldn’t have suffered,’ a woman said. The smoke lifted a little and Evie saw Martha was standing next to them. ‘The firemen think that the smoke would have made him
pass out quickly.’ Martha spoke in gasps, as though she’d been running.

‘What will they do with him?’

Martha’s eyes suddenly gained focus. ‘What’ye mean?’

‘With his body?’

It was as if the full horror of what had happened had only now struck Martha. ‘I don’t know . . .’ she swallowed. ‘God’s sake, Evie, I don’t know. The
ambulance is taking him away. I expect there’ll be a, what do they call it, a post-something?’

‘A post-mortem,’ Charlie said. ‘Or an inquest. But I’m not sure. It’s up to the coroner.’

‘Can I see him?’ Why was she saying this? She couldn’t quite believe Robert had gone.

‘Of course you can’t.’ Martha sounded furious. ‘Do you think he’d want that, Evie? Do you think he’d want that to be your last sight of him?’

Impossible to explain that what Evie imagined Robert’s appearance to be in his burned and ruined state would probably be far worse than the reality. She felt her stomach lurch again.

‘Take your sister inside, Charlie.’ Martha spoke more softly now. ‘Let them finish their work.’

As they walked across the yard towards the house the ambulance men were carrying out the stretcher. Something long lay beneath a blanket.

Martha stuffed a hand into her mouth. She looked at the children and removed the hand. ‘You played your part in this.’ The green lamp eyes were lit so they looked right through
Evie.

‘We had to run away from him last night,’ Evie said. ‘He wasn’t . . . right.’

‘Not right.’ Martha gave a strange laugh. ‘It’s you, Evie, that isn’t right.’

‘Shut up!’ Charlie turned on her. ‘Leave us alone.’

‘Where’s Carlo?’ Evie looked back. ‘I wish he’d come in.’ She needed Carlo’s smile, his warmth.

‘I don’t know,’ Martha said. ‘Why do you want that lazy Eyetie at a time like this?’

‘Oh no.’ Evie put a fist to her mouth.

‘What?’ Martha was watching her. ‘What’s the matter, Evie?’ She looked wary. Or perhaps it was just grief, making her face close up.

‘Carlo’s run away. He was always talking about it and he’s chosen today of all days to make for Ireland.’ Her shoulders crumpled.

‘You may be right.’ Martha nodded. Evie had the feeling something she’d said had reassured the older girl. ‘Yes, I think you probably are. Carlo’s made a dash for
one of the ports.’

Her expression suddenly altered. A fireman was coming towards them, wheeling Robert’s motorbike. ‘Found this in the lane leading up to the down.’ He looked at Martha.
‘You must have passed it on your way here?’

She shook her head. ‘I came through the field.’

Which was odd, as there’d been no sign of Martha up on the hillside when Evie and Charlie had spotted the fire. Not that they’d been paying attention to anything else apart from the
smouldering barn.

‘Poor young fellow.’ The fireman shook his head over the bike. ‘All the time and attention he gave to this machine, if only he could have looked after himself like
that.’

Rachel

2003

Despite my declarations that I was going to leave the past alone now I was still mesmerized by the photograph albums and diaries. I stared at a photo of Evie, Matthew and
Jessamy, taken when Jess was a baby. They were sitting on bales in the farmyard and sunlight bathed their three smiling faces. Perhaps it had been a blessing for Matthew to die before his only
daughter had vanished. A blessing for him; a further wound for Evie.

Matthew had been older than Evie. When Jessamy had been born he’d have been forty-six or so, quite old for a first-time father. Evie herself had been nearly thirty-seven, probably
considered elderly back then in 1967. They must both have been ecstatic when the miracle finally occurred. But I was heading towards dangerous territory. Don’t think about pregnancies, I told
myself. Move on. Just do the job: tidy up the loose ends, check the printers are going to send you proofs of the order of service today, as they promised. Then get the hell out. Fighting words.
Words I wasn’t sure I could live up to.

In the garden below Pilot barked at something I couldn’t see. Probably another dog walking down the lane. He needed a walk. It was time to finish here for the day.

I went down and found his lead and we set off for the green again. I noticed that my feet didn’t hurt as much today and my neck felt less stiff. I checked my posture. Not too bad. I could
see my aunt’s approving smile. ‘That’s right, Rachel, nice and straight.’ My mobile gave a trill. A text message from Luke. I read it. ‘R U sure about clinic?’
‘Yes, luv R,’ I texted back.

‘Hello.’

I turned to see an elderly West Indian woman beaming at me. ‘Freya!’ I said with delight, and fell into her rib-crushing hug.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t been up to the farm while you’ve been here. I’ve been in bed with a bug. But they told me in the shop that your lovely car had been spotted in
the village.’ She pointed at the cluster of modern houses at the far side of the common. ‘I wondered whether you’d like a glass of wine.’ A pause. ‘Or a cup of tea if
you think it’s too early for wine.’ The tone of her voice made it clear that she didn’t think this was the case. I’d become so used to avoiding alcohol that it took me a
moment to remember that I could drink anything I wanted now.

‘I’d love that.’ But I wondered what to do about Pilot. ‘He can sit in the conservatory.’ Freya was following my gaze. ‘He’s used to it. Evie often used
to bring him round.’

I could tell from the near smile on the dog’s face that he was only too pleased to visit Freya. So was I.

I sipped my Sauvignon and looked round at the photographs arranged on shelves and tables in the sitting room of Freya’s large brood of nephews and nieces.

‘It was a shock when Evie died,’ Freya said. ‘She always seemed so strong.’

‘I’m wondering whether she had some kind of virus she didn’t take seriously enough which weakened her heart muscles. But the doctor doesn’t have anything in her notes
about it.’

‘I saw her the day before she died and she had just finished baking four Victoria sandwiches for a church fundraiser.’

We were both silent for a moment. ‘I know you always looked out for Evie,’ I said at last. ‘Thank you. Even the way you tied her scarf after she died – she’d have
appreciated that.’

‘Her scarf?’ Freya’s brow wrinkled. ‘That wasn’t me. I came to the hospital when you rang me to tell me they’d brought her in. She was already wearing the
scarf when I . . . saw her there.’

When Evie’s body was lying in the side room, she meant.

Strange. We lapsed once again into silence, companionable and comforting. ‘I’m glad she wasn’t bitterly unhappy,’ I said. ‘I tried to see her whenever I could. I
tried to fill the gap. I . . .’ I shook my head, unable to express exactly what it was I’d attempted through the years of Jessamy’s absence.

Freya ran a hand across her eyes. ‘Thank God she still had you.’

‘I was just a niece, though. I could never be as close as her own daughter.’

‘Close enough.’ Freya nodded, as though remembering. ‘She talked about you a lot. She was proud of you, of your work. Sometimes we’d see one of your ads on the television
and she’d point it out. “That’s one of Rachel’s,” she’d say.’

Before I’d turned myself into a freelance copywriter and general marketing oddjob person I’d worked as a creative for a West End ad agency. I’d given it up to adopt a more
balanced lifestyle, one which would be compatible with bringing up children. Evie had nodded with approval when I’d explained the decision to her. ‘Sounds sensible. But make sure the
work’s interesting and demanding enough for you, Rachel. It’s important to love what you do.’

My loss suddenly hit me again. I focused hard on the pewter coaster under my wine glass. While Evie was alive there’d always been someone who was delighted to hear from me, to know my
news, to ruminate over career decisions, to commiserate with my failures and celebrate my successes. Of course there was still Luke, but that was different. Evie had loved me since my
childhood.

‘I just don’t know why . . .’ I didn’t know how to phrase what was on my mind and toyed with my glass. ‘Why she died when she did. Her lifestyle was healthy: all
that gardening and dog-walking. She didn’t drink much and she never smoked. It seems so strange that it happened out of the blue like that.’

She sighed. ‘I can’t come to terms with it, either. But I suppose Evie might have preferred it to cancer or Alzheimer’s or another disease which slowly strips you of your body
or mind.’

Freya was probably right. Evie would have hated the gradual reduction of mobility and independence serious illness would have brought her.

‘I wish I’d been with her when she died.’ The words came blurting out. I sounded like a schoolgirl, me, the capable Rachel, the one who was good at managing.

Freya rested a hand on mine. ‘Sometimes it’s like that, honey.’

‘To die alone, with just medical staff, I would never have wanted that for her.’ I rested my head on my hands and blinked hard.

‘But she wasn’t alone when they took her into hospital.’

I frowned. ‘What?’

‘Someone was with her when she came to the hospital in the ambulance.’

‘Nobody told me this when I came in.’

‘The shifts may have changed by then. Amy Jackson told me.’

Amy Jackson. One of the traveller kids.

‘I don’t know how Amy knew, though,’ Freya continued. ‘Perhaps she saw the ambulance coming to the house.’

‘She didn’t have a name for this companion?’

‘No. Could it have been the cleaning lady?’

‘She comes in the afternoons.’

‘Martha?’

‘It would be unusual for her to come to the house,’ I said. ‘And she certainly wasn’t at the hospital when I arrived. But perhaps that’s who it was.’ Poor
Martha. Perhaps that’s why she’d been staying away from me. It must have been a terrible thing for her to have witnessed Evie’s heart attack. ‘I haven’t seen Martha
yet.’

‘She’ll be feeling Evie’s loss.’

‘They never seemed to get on.’ I could clearly remember the tension when they were together. Yet Evie never said a word against Martha.

‘No. But they worked on the farm together for more than half a century. They were part of one another’s lives. In some ways . . .’

‘In some ways, what?’

Freya seemed to consider her answer. ‘In some ways Martha was one of the family. At least, that’s how she saw herself. Now, after all those centuries of Winters and Stourtons working
together with the stock, she’s the only one left on the hillside.’

From the conservatory Pilot gave a whine. ‘He’ll be expecting his supper.’ I put down my glass. ‘It’s taken him a few days to break me into the routine but now I
know what’s expected.’

‘That’s a nice dog. I’d have taken him in myself but Lionel, my husband, has allergies.’

‘Oh, I’m going to take him back to London when I go.’ I blinked. Where had that plan come from? The thought of the large dog in the warehouse conversion was an interesting one.
And I hadn’t asked Luke what he thought. I stood up.

Freya rose too. ‘Hang on a moment. I think I’ve got something you’d like to see. Now where did I put it?’ She pulled a newspaper from a pile on a dining-room chair.
‘Look, Evie giving out the prizes at the flower and produce show last autumn.’ She folded the sheet so that the picture was on top and placed it over my mobile. I stared down at my
aunt, smiling a radiant smile as she handed a small boy a cup. Moisture blurred my vision. I knotted my scarf.

At the doorway Freya took my hand and squeezed it. ‘Will you sell the farm, Rachel?’

‘I’m only an executor.’ I could have clung to Freya’s hand all evening. ‘Along with Evie’s solicitor. If Jessamy doesn’t reappear within the next
twenty-five years, I’m at liberty to sell. Or keep the house myself. Either way money has to be put into a trust for any of her children or grandchildren.’ It wasn’t like me to be
so open about such private financial matters.

I forced myself to release her warm, soft hand. ‘Make sure you take care of yourself, Rachel.’

My eyes threatened to let me down. ‘I could never take the pain away.’ It had lurked in the depths like a shark in dark waters, ready to grab my aunt and pull her down. ‘I
could never make up for Jessamy.’

‘Not completely. But think how much worse it would have been if she hadn’t had you.’ She looked over my shoulder at the trees blowing in the wind. ‘Will you be all right
walking home in this?’

‘It’s only a five-minute dash.’ Pilot pricked up his ears, probably anticipating his supper.

‘Storms are forecast for later.’ Freya shivered. ‘I hope it doesn’t flood again – I’ve got my Pilates class in Faringdon.’

Pilot and I ran past the green and down the lane. The first drops of rain were starting to fall as we reached Winter’s Copse. I fed him and couldn’t think of anything else to do with
myself. So I sat at the kitchen table with Evie’s scrapbook and the photograph albums. I felt most at home here by the solid metal range, sitting in Evie’s old chair. The faded gingham
cushion she wedged between her and the wooden back was still in place and I took comfort from its saggy presence.