Legacy of Lies (2 page)

He slowed and Naomi heard him shift down the gears, the rattle as they hit something in the road.

‘Cattle grid?'

‘Yes. Rupe installed a hedgehog ramp.'

‘A what?'

‘A ramp for hedgehogs to climb up if they fell in.'

‘Seriously?'

‘Oh yes. He liked hedgehogs.'

The sound beneath the wheels had changed and Naomi heard gravel. The car lurched slightly as Alec hit ruts and uneven ground. ‘You'll need to watch yourself on here,' he said. ‘It's paved closer to the house, but the drive is quite a length and very uneven. I think the gravel just hides the pot holes.'

He turned and then pulled up, cut the engine. ‘OK. This is it. Fallowfields.'

He sounded excited, Naomi thought. Excited and just a little nervous. She wondered at that.

Alec opened the door and let Napoleon out. As Alec helped her from the car Naomi could hear the dog sniffing and snorting at all the new smells.

‘Watch your footing. Two steps and you'll be off the gravel and on to the paving.'

Naomi extended her cane as he led her forward. She felt the small stones shift beneath her feet and then the smooth, if still slightly uneven, feel of the flagstones. ‘Has it rained?'

‘Looks like it.'

‘I thought so.' The air smelt fresh and the heat of the sun brought out the scents of rose and honeysuckle and damp grass. It also made the flagstones slightly slippery and she could feel the algal slime of stones not scrubbed in a very long time.

‘OK.' Alec stood behind her and moved her slightly to the right. ‘You are now in line with the front door. The house is symmetrical, Georgian style, you know, balanced. Three storeys including the attic floor and with sash windows Rupe had to prop up on sticks. Of course, he might have got them fixed by now …'

‘But you don't think so.'

‘Um … Uncle Rupert was into quirky. Apparently early sash windows
were
held up with props. The weights that are supposed to keep them open came later. Or so he used to tell me.'

‘And you believed him?'

‘Like I said, Uncle Rupert told good stories. OK, walk forward about five paces … good. Now there's a small step up.'

‘I've got it.' She could feel the step as her cane nudged up against it.

‘There are pillars each side of the door making a sort of porch. If you reach out your hand …'

Cool stone beneath her fingers. Smoothly carved. ‘Nice.' She hopped up on to the doorstep.

‘Just watch yourself. On your right there's a foot scraper. Big cast iron thing.

Naomi swung her cane. Found it.

‘You'd know about it if you stubbed your toe. Another step and you'll be at the door. Big, black, shiny and … what do you know? Rupert must have had it repainted.'

‘Well, I should hope so. It has been three decades, near enough, since you were here.'

‘I suppose it has.' Alec sounded surprised.

Naomi explored the door with her outstretched hand. Smooth, solid, with the beaded panels she had half expected to find. Letterbox, large door knocker. The casting felt like swags of leaves. To her right she found a doorbell. Large, metal surround, cold to the touch. ‘Oh! It's a bell pull. Does it work?'

‘It used to. Try it and see.'

Naomi tugged at the knob. Somewhere inside the house a bell jangled cheerfully.

‘It rings in the hall and down in the kitchen. The kitchen is slightly sunk … sort of half below ground level. Rupert had bigger windows put in. There's all the servants' bells still up on the kitchen wall, though they aren't attached any longer. Or, at least …' He seemed suddenly struck by how long it had been since he was last here. ‘They used to be there. You're right. Who knows
what
he did to the place in the past however many years.'

‘Does it feel very strange to be back?'

‘Oh yes,' Alec said softly. ‘Very, very strange.'

Naomi waited outside while Alec went through into the hall to check for any obstacles. She leaned against the smooth stone pillars and listened to the near silence. Only Napoleon's padding and snuffling and the song of a blackbird broke the stillness and quiet. The sun had come out after what had been a cloudy start to the day. It seemed to be making up for lost time and Naomi thought she could almost hear the garden drying. Green scents rose all about her and she closed her eyes – a habit from her sighted days – to intensify the sensations and focus on the warm, moist fragrance of earth and flowers. This would be a fabulous place to laze and doze and let the world slip by, she mused.

It occurred to her that Alec was taking quite a time and she figured that he must be taking a chance to explore the house alone. That, she thought, was what she would have done. The experience of returning here had caught him off guard. He had been unprepared for the reawakening of forgotten memories and impressions and she knew that he would be regretting having not returned in Rupert's lifetime. She wondered what Rupert's house was like inside and how much it would have changed from Alec's memories. And just what sort of quarrel could have kept the family apart for all this time.

W
aking in a strange place was always something of a trial, especially when the bed was so comfortable. Reluctantly, Naomi dragged herself back to something like consciousness and turned over.

No Alec.

She sat up and called his name, suddenly anxious that she would not be able to remember the layout of the house. Then she heard his footsteps on the stairs and the sound of the bedroom door being pushed across thick carpet.

‘I thought I'd make us both tea. Start the day in a civilized manner,' Alec said, depositing a tray on the chest of drawers that, Naomi remembered, stood beside the window.

‘I wondered where you'd gone.'

‘Sorry. I thought you'd sleep until I got back. You looked very peaceful.'

Naomi stretched, listening to the domestic, comforting sounds of tea being poured and sugar being added and then stirred. She liked hers without but Alec was a lover of strong and sweet. ‘I slept well,' she admitted, slightly surprised. ‘It's so quiet here.'

‘Apart from the birds making a racket at five in the morning.'

She laughed. ‘I didn't hear that. Anyway, that's supposed to be enjoyable, isn't it?'

‘Five in the morning is never enjoyable. Here you go.'

He placed the mug in her hands and tugged her pillows into a more supportive shape against her back.

‘What time will we have to leave?'

Alec fetched his own mug and climbed back into bed. ‘It shouldn't be more than a fifteen-minute drive, so about eleven, I suppose. I've fed Dog and let him out. The kitchen door's open ready for when he's finished exploring and before you ask, don't worry, I checked the garden is secure.'

‘Good. You sure it's safe to leave the door open?'

‘Naomi, this is the middle of nowhere. To get into the garden someone would have to struggle through a thorn hedge and cross a ditch and then climb a wall. I don't see the average burglar bothering, really I don't.'

‘Maybe they breed hardier souls round here. Thieves that don't mind the thorns.' Naomi objected, but she wasn't really worried. Alec had explained to her the night before that a wall running either side of the house separated the rear garden from the front drive. A small, wrought iron gate gave access through the wall, but it was locked and presented no gaps big enough for Napoleon to squeeze through. The rear garden was also walled close to the house and the remaining land could be approached through a second small gate set into the back wall. Safe for Napoleon and with enough room for him to run. It didn't entirely prevent her from worrying, but nearly.

‘What time is it now?'

‘Eight thirty or just gone. We can have a leisurely breakfast and explore a little more of Rupe's domain before we leave for the funeral. No rush.'

‘I wonder how many will be there.'

‘I don't know. Uncle Rupert mentioned a lot of people in his letters, but I only met his business partner once. They'd been running that antique shop together for years.'

‘It's good of him to have arranged everything,' Naomi mused.

‘It is, yes. Not sure what the wake will be like. From what I recall of Marcus Prescott, he liked his booze. Come to that, so did Rupert.'

‘Well, unless you want me to drive, which might prove interesting, you'll have to leave him to drown his sorrows alone.'

‘True, though I'll have one drink just to bless the old boy, and I thought when we got back we'd see if Rupert still kept his cellar as well stocked as he used to.' He paused and then said, ‘You know, love, part of me feels as guilty as hell for not keeping in better touch and the rest just keeps wanting to laugh when I remember what Rupert was like. Then I feel guilty again because I really did like him and …'

‘People lose touch,' Naomi said gently. ‘I'm sure Rupert didn't hold it against you. He must have known you were in an awkward position after he fought with your dad.'

She felt Alec shake his head. ‘That's just it. It wasn't difficult. Dad never made it hard for me to do anything and I always read bits of Rupert's letters out to him and Mum. I must have been well into my teens before I even realized there was a problem between them. No. No excuse, Nomi, I could have come to see him. I was just too busy living my own life.'

‘But you wrote back?'

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. ‘Yes, I wrote back. Equally rambling and insignificant letters. I know Uncle Rupe liked them even if I didn't make sense half the time. I never was what you'd call an expert letter writer.'

‘Then stop beating yourself up and remember the good stuff,' Naomi told him. ‘From what little I know about your uncle, I don't think he'd have borne any kind of grudge.'

As it happened, Marcus Prescott had company in plenty, all eager to toast their dead friend without Alec having to worry about it. The church in Epworth was full to bursting. Naomi listened to the buzz and hum of conversation and tried to guess just how many were present.

Marcus Prescott had met them at the door and led them portentously to the front of the church, insisting they take their places beside him as chief mourners, and made such a fuss of Napoleon that Naomi wondered if he knew anything at all about dogs.

The big black dog now lay quietly at her feet, his harness cool against her leg. Alec clasped her hand and held it tight and she was surprised to feel that his grip was trembling very slightly.

She tried to gain some sense of space and size of the church from the way the voices echoed, but was still taken by surprise at the sudden volume as the choir broke into song in front of her. A choir at a funeral? And on a weekday too. That was a first in Naomi's experience. She associated choirs with weekends and weddings.

The congregation joined the anthem at the second verse. It was not a hymn Naomi knew and she was surprised to hear Alec's voice join with the others. He sounded as though the words and music were familiar to him. Alec, to her knowledge was not a churchgoer. Was this another of Uncle Rupert's legacies?

Another surprise: the eulogy was given by a minister who claimed to have known Rupert very well and, from the anecdotes delivered, Naomi had no reason to doubt that claim. He spoke of a humorous, generous man. A man for whom friendship and loyalty were all and whose sense of fun and fair play was known to all of those who called him friend.

And then, Marcus Prescott was called upon to say his piece.

Naomi was not initially surprised at this; he was Rupert's business partner after all and long-term friend, but she was taken aback at the tone of his address.

‘It is always sad,' Marcus said, ‘to bid farewell to a loved friend and, as one grows older, it seems a more frequent occurrence. Sad enough when the loss is through illness or due to the simple ravages of time alone, but to lose a loved one through violence; that is a greater tragedy.'

‘Violence?' Naomi whispered. ‘What's he on about?'

‘I have no idea.'

Naomi could hear that Marcus's statement had caused consternation elsewhere too from the restless movement and murmured questions that rippled through the congregation. She heard the vicar speaking softly to Marcus and the uncertainty in the man's voice even though she could not make out the words.

Marcus, however, would not be constrained.

‘Violence I say, and I will stand by that. To suggest that our friend died of natural causes is, I am sure, to ignore the truth of the matter. Rupert Friedman was found in a spot so remote and so removed from his usual haunts that I cannot believe he found his own way there. He had no reason to be there. No reason to have died, alone, uncomforted.'

‘Alec,' Naomi breathed. Marcus's voice cracked with the emotion of what he was saying and Naomi's heart went out to him even though she could see no sense in what he was saying.

She felt Alec get to his feet and heard, in the hushed silence, his clear firm steps as he went up to Marcus Prescott.

‘It's all right,' Marcus Prescott said with some acerbity. ‘You don't need to come and fetch me off my soapbox. I've said my piece, but if you loved your uncle half as much as he loved you then you'll look into his death and you'll find out that I'm right. Rupert was killed, sure as if some villain plunged a knife into his heart.'

I love the rain. Love to hear it falling when I'm snug inside and love to walk in it, provided I have a decent coat and a sturdy umbrella. I love to watch the clouds gather ready for a decent storm and the charcoal skies that prevail in the Fenland winters. If I could move Fallowfields a little closer to the sea then it would be a perfect place to live. To sit in my bedroom and watch the clouds roll in off a mean ocean would be the ultimate bliss, but to be truthful I can have no complaints. Life, with a few slips, has been a good ride and I like to think that even those slips have been put right.