It's Raining Men Part 20

'That's very sad,' said Edwin. 'I hope your mother is well now.'

'Thank you, she's doing brilliantly. It's been a long journey for her though,' Joan sighed.

'I do feel for anyone who doesn't come from a close family. I had the most wonderful parents and grandparents. And great-grandparents. I have very fond memories of them all.'

'Yet you never had your own family, or remarried after Mary died?'

Edwin's hand stilled on his third bap.

'No, try as we might, we were never lucky on the children front, but we had each other. Until she was taken from me so early. Since then, no one has quite filled Mary's shoes. Still, I've had enough to keep me busy all these years. There's more to running this estate than meets the-' He cut the sentence short then continued. 'I mean, I take the duty of looking after the people of Ren Dullem very seriously.'

'Like an old-fashioned lord of the manor?' said Joan.

'Yes, just like that,' replied Edwin.

'Unusual, though, in this day and age.'

'Ren Dullem is an unusual place,' remarked Edwin, spearing another potato on his plate. His eyes were slightly gla.s.sy, Joan noticed.

'Very odd name for a place. Doesn't make it sound very attractive.'

'It's from the French Reines de la Mer. People couldn't p.r.o.nounce it properly and it became what was much easier to say: Ren Dullem.'

'Queens of the Sea isn't that what it means?' Joan pressed.

'Goodness, it's very hot in here,' said Edwin, fanning his face with his hand.

'I'll let the fire die down. More cordial?' Joan plied Edwin with a full gla.s.s. 'Sounds like a ship, doesn't it? Queens of the Sea,' she repeated.

'Yes, yes, it does.' Edwin nodded as he chewed noisily. 'This is very good. Excellent chicken. As good as Gladys would make any day.'

Joan made light conversation about the general area because Edwin started to get edgy when questions about Ren Dullem were asked. She needed to lull him into a false sense of security, get him chatting until he couldn't stop. Edwin waxed lyrical about geology and rocks and things that Joan couldn't even be bothered remembering five seconds after he had mentioned them; she had to work hard to stop herself dropping off. She cranked up the momentum again with the raspberry trifle. She didn't tell him there was half a pint of sherry in it.

'A pure indulgence,' said Edwin, his words slurring into each other beautifully now. He took a spoonful of the pudding, closed his eyes as if tasting heaven and then swallowed. 'My dear Joan, please do not tell Gladys that I am eating cream.'

'Our secret,' said Joan, giving him her sweetest smile. 'And you do know that I can be trusted with anything you tell me, Lord Carlton.'

'Edwin, please,' he said, lolling from side to side.

'Edwin. I'm an old-fashioned girl. I've always prided myself on being completely trustworthy. I know that Gladys is worried that I might see something in the ledgers that maybe I shouldn't, but even if I did well, I'm a "secret-ary." And I'm a very good and loyal one at that.'

'You are the best,' said Edwin, dropping his hand heavily onto Joan's and squeezing it. He did not leave it there, though. His gesture was meant to be grateful and affectionate, not sleazy or seductive.

'What are the village secrets I should be aware of now that this is my home?' Joan asked brazenly, taking this up a notch or two now. Edwin was getting drunker by the second and yet he wasn't opening up. If she had been sitting here with Stanley Hawk, she would have leaned over at this point and started stroking his chest. But that would terrify Edwin Carlton, she knew. He was not hungry for s.e.x; he was hungry for company, for gentle affection.

'Oh, there are no secrets to Ren Dullem,' he said.

So he was still hanging onto the lie, despite the fact that he must be w.a.n.kered by now, thought Joan. He had dropped his spoon in the trifle twice in the last minute. Joan was getting frustrated but she also knew that she couldn't move quickly. Any drunker and he would pa.s.s out, and she didn't want his carca.s.s on her sofa all night.

'Let me make some coffee,' she said, touching him on the shoulder.

'Wonderful,' he said, not realizing there were beads of red jelly on his chin as he sc.r.a.ped his spoon in the bowl to retrieve every last bit of trifle.

By the time Joan had brought the coffees to the table, Edwin was asleep, leaning back at an uncomfortable angle in his chair and snoring softly.

s.h.i.t, thought Joan, shaking him gently and then more forcibly until he shuddered out of his slumber. His gla.s.sy eyes pulled in and out of focus on Joan, and now that drowsiness was coupled with alcohol all sorts of confused messages were being sent to his brain.

'Mary?' he said. 'Is that you?'

Bingo! 'Yes, Edwin,' Joan replied, altering her voice to the sort of thin, reedy posh voice that she thought Lady Mary Carlton might have had.

'Oh, it is good to see you, my love.' His hand rested on Joan's shoulder, touched her face tenderly.

'Edwin,' Joan licked her lips, 'what were you telling me just then? About the secrets in the village.'

Edwin closed his eyes, tired of trying to focus and just content to hear his beloved wife, touch her, take in her scent. 'Oh, Mary, there isn't anything you don't know. Nothing's changed.'

'I've forgotten, Edwin,' said Joan, trying to keep the excitement at bay in her voice. 'What's going on? Why are we paying out so much money from the estate to the villagers?'

'The twelve families, Mary. We shall always look after the twelve families.'

Twelve families? What the frig was he talking about? Why couldn't he give her a straight answer?

'Why, Edwin? Why will we look after the twelve families?'

'You remember, Mary. Gilbert shouldn't have made them go out.'

Gilbert, as in his father? Gilbert Carlton? Had to be.

'Gilbert, my love?' said Joan sweetly.

'They all told him it wasn't safe but he insisted and then the boat sank.'

'Ah, yes, and they all drowned. I remember.' Joan guessed at the most obvious conclusion. So this Gilbert's family paid out guilt money. And were still paying it?

'No, my love.' And he mumbled something.

Joan tried to decipher his words but they were sliding into each other. 'What did you say? Rain saved them?'

'Saved them all,' Edwin replied, then he slid into an unconsciousness that he would not be woken from.

Chapter 42.

The girls stayed in that evening and cooked one of Frank's pies, which they ate with two tins of mushy peas bought from the shop. It was a delicious supper.

'Don't panic if I'm not around in the morning,' said Clare. 'I might go off for an early swim before I go up and see the old lady.'

'There's a shocker. Bet you can't wait to get up in the morning to go for a dip and then whip out your J cloths you'll think you've died and gone to heaven,' chuckled Lara, and she yawned. This sea air was a killer. Either that or those funny clouds were full of valium. 'I'm off to bed. Enjoy your scrubbing in the morning, you mad bag.' She was asleep before her head touched the pillow and had a restful dreamless sleep, the type of sleep she rarely had any more.

Clare set her alarm for eight. She wanted to be out of the house early to clean Raine's cottage. She'd have a swim later, she decided.

May lay awake for what felt like hours. What Frank had said to her was playing in her head on a continual loop. She had so much wanted him to kiss her, but if he had kissed her then he wouldn't be the sort of decent man she thought he was. She had to stop thinking about him he belonged to another woman. She was already being punished enough for falling for a man whom she thought was attached.

Clare was awake before her alarm went off, ready and willing to go. Creeping about so she wouldn't wake the others, she left the house with a big bag of her most reliable cleaning materials and set off for Raine's cottage. As she walked through Spice Wood she saw the trunk where she and Val Hathersage had sat and eaten sandwiches, where he had leaned over and kissed her and pressed her against the forest ground. She wondered if they would have mad pa.s.sionate s.e.x when she saw him next. Would he be as good at it as his kissing suggested he might be?

Raine was up and waiting for her.

'I'm not too early, am I?' Clare asked.

'Not at all.' Raine's old weathered face split into a grin. 'Could you fetch Albert for me? He's having one of his turns.'

Albert was sitting staring at the wall, swinging his tail. Clare picked him up and he made a disgruntled yowl. She put him gently on Raine's lap where he settled immediately and started purring.

'He attacks the wall if you leave him and hurts himself,' Raine explained. 'It's dementia.'

'That's very sad,' said Clare, giving his old head a stroke. She'd always wanted pets but her parents wouldn't have them in the house. When she was little she had dreamed of having a lovely home full of children and cats and a big friendly dog with an extra-waggy tail.

'It's nearly time, isn't it?' Raine's old fingers stroked him under the chin. 'Nearly time to let go. But we won't go without a fight, will we, darling?'

'I've only ever had one pet,' said Clare with a sad smile as she snapped on her Marigolds. 'A goldfish that I won at a fair. I had him for a year and I sobbed for days when he died.'

Raine was curious. 'I thought you'd be the sort of person who had lots of animals.'

'I work too many hours.' Clare sighed. 'Wouldn't be fair.'

'Didn't you have pets as a child?'

'No,' said Clare, imagining a cat sitting on one of her mother's cushions and leaving hairs. She shuddered at the scene that would have followed. 'My parents aren't really animal people. Shall I make you a cup of tea before I start?'

'Just a cup of cold water will be fine, please,' said Raine.

'I should drink more water,' said Clare. 'I'm always telling myself that. Might lose some weight off my bottom if I flushed out my toxins.'' She fetched the cup for Raine and then rubbed her hands, impatient to get started on making the house spick and span. She didn't mind that Raine watched her. She liked the old lady, felt comfortable in her presence.

'What do you work as? A cleaner?' asked Raine after a while. 'You're very good at it.' She nodded with admiration at the shine Clare had brought up on her bra.s.s ornaments.

'Me? I'm an accountant,' replied Clare, squeezing a lemon into a bowl of water. She always had lemons among her cleaning materials. 'I work in London for one of the top-rated financial firms. So I sort out people's messes and try and save them from bankruptcy. And I've just been promoted to partner. I start my new job as soon as I get home.'

'That's very impressive.'

Clare dunked her cloth into the lemon water.

'I've worked long and hard to know what I'm doing.' No one had worked harder or for longer hours than Clare.

'There's no ring on your finger, I notice.'

'It's difficult doing the job I do and being in a relationship.' But as she was saying this Clare realized that the male partners in the firm seemed to manage it somehow.

'So there's no young man in your life.'

'No. But I'm fine with that.' Clare conjured up a smile. She would have to get used to saying that she was single again. 'I'm the first woman to be made a partner in the firm, ever. I don't need a man.'

'What a shame you have no one. You're a beautiful girl. Singular.'

'I'm nothing special.' This was not false modesty. Clare really didn't think she was.

'One day you will meet a man who makes you feel special.' Raine put her head to one side. 'If you haven't already.'

'I doubt it,' said Clare. 'I'm married to the job. I'm like a nun but my husband isn't Christ, it's a double-entry ledger.'

'I gave up everything to be with my husband,' said Raine, a mist in her eyes. 'My home, all that was familiar to me. But I knew from the first moment that I wanted to be with him and I never regretted following him.'

'Love at first sight?' Clare smiled. 'Does it really exist?'

'Those who fall in love at first sight would argue that it does.' Some wispy white strands of hair had broken loose from the long plait she wore and Raine tucked them behind her ear.

'There was someone,' Clare admitted. 'Until recently.' She climbed down from the sink and stepped back to check that the window was smear-free. 'We had known each other since primary school. He'd moved over from Germany and was a cla.s.s oddity, like me. He had his funny accent; I had my funny eyes. We were friends for many years before we became a couple. He's very clever, handsome, funny, kind . . .'

'And where he is now?'

'Dubai. He is doing the job he loves over there. I'm doing the job I love over here.' She rinsed her cloth in the sink then wrung it hard, twisting it with force. 'We obviously didn't love each other quite enough in the end. Work got in the way.'

'That's a great shame,' said Raine. 'Seymour was a very special man. I would have given up anything for him, and the reverse was true also.'

Seymour. The name on the mysterious gravestone that she had seen the other day. Clare wondered if she dare mention it and ask why it was that he was originally buried outside the churchyard. She decided that she daren't. Not yet.

Albert yawned and then stretched out his furry legs in an effort to ease out the stiff arthritic pains in them before settling down again in a different position on Raine's knee.

'I heard' felt 'you yesterday outside the door.' Raine pointed to an old locked door in the wall opposite her chair. 'You should have knocked and come in.'

Clare felt a blush spring to her cheeks.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I didn't know where the steps led until I heard your voice. I never thought that the two houses might be connected.'

Raine smiled. 'It's a smugglers' cave. Joshua Hathersage, who built both cottages, was a renowned smuggler of spices.'

'Clever.' Clare nodded, impressed. 'I'm presuming he's an ancestor of Gene Hathersage the guy we're renting our cottage from.'

'Oh yes. A renowned cad.'

Clare didn't know if Raine meant Joshua or Gene.

'Quite a feat, though carving those steps.'