‘Then simply tell the truth.’
It was a harrowing day but, by four o’clock, she and Pearl had been released. Freddie was still in custody.
Agatha’s main problem was where to go. Because she had been on her way to Germany, she had formally vacated Muntham Court. When she mentioned this to her solicitor, he had explained that – because the owner and her friend had lost their home – they would be moving into Muntham Court next week. ‘Under the terms of my husband’s will, she’s not supposed to have that property until she’s twenty-one,’ Agatha spat.
‘Under the terms of that self-same will, should you vacate the property, it’s up to the Trustees to determine what happens next,’ the solicitor reminded her. ‘They have deemed that – under the circumstances – your daughter can make it her home.’
There was no way Agatha wanted to be under the same roof as Millicent and that creature, so she had no other choice but to find somewhere else – and she had less than a week to do so. Thus, Warnes Hotel along the seafront became her and Pearl’s home while she worked out what to do. It was time to call in a few favours.
It wasn’t until the following Wednesday that Bunny Warren offered her a workman’s cottage on his estate for as long as she wanted it. It was a bit of a climb-down but Agatha accepted it as graciously as she could and, seeing as Pearl would be with her too, she was relatively safe from Bunny’s advances. She even submitted herself to one of his wet kisses and allowed him to knead her breast to seal the deal.
Back at the house, she and Pearl were collecting the few things they had left behind. Her daughter seemed strangely quiet but that was hardly surprising with her husband still being held in a police cell.
It came as a shock when they found Freddie’s note on the kitchen table. ‘Thanks for the memory,’ Pearl read aloud.
‘Can you believe the audacity of that man!’ Agatha fumed. ‘I wish I could wring his bloody neck.’
The note brought tears to Pearl’s eyes. ‘He had no intention of taking me with him, did he?’
‘Well, he’s locked up now,’ said her mother. ‘Let’s hope they throw the book at him.’
The doorbell rang but, before she opened the door, Pearl peered through the glass. She came running back to her mother. ‘It’s Milly,’ she gasped.
Agatha strode down the hall and swung the front door open. ‘What do you want?’ she said coldly. ‘The solicitor says you don’t move in until Monday.’
‘Hello, Mother,’ Milly said pointedly. ‘I thought out of common courtesy I would ring the bell rather than walking straight in.’
‘What do you want?’ Agatha repeated coldly.
‘I just came to say that you can both still live here if you want to,’ Milly said calmly. ‘There’s plenty of room. Things have changed and I shall be moving myself shortly—’
‘We don’t need your charity, thank you very much,’ Agatha interrupted spitefully.
Behind her back, Pearl looked crestfallen. ‘But Mummy . . .’
Agatha was already closing the door.
Milly shrugged. ‘Please yourself,’ she said as she turned to go.
They buried Nan in Durrington cemetery. There was a large turn-out. Nan had been a friend to so many people. The hearse was so full of flowers that the undertaker had to ask the mourners themselves to take them up in their cars to the graveside.
The service had been held at All Saints Church in Findon Valley. Nan and Cyril had been going there ever since it had opened in 1934 when, alongside a small band of churchgoers, they had attended services held in what was a storeroom at the Highfield Dairy on Findon Road. The pair had been part of the group that had set about raising money for the building of a more permanent church, something that had been completed a couple of years later in 1936 when it was dedicated by the Bishop of Lewes. It was now packed with mourners but, even though he was surrounded by his friends, Cyril seemed to be a lonely man.
At the wake which took place in Cyril’s cottage, Milly and Lena played hostess. When it was over, Cyril looked a shadow of his former self. It had been arranged that his recently recovered brother would take him back to Horsham with him for a few days’ rest away from the cottage’s memories.
Once Milly and Lena had cleared up and Seebold had taken borrowed chairs back to their owners, the three of them sat at the kitchen table over the inevitable pot of tea.
Milly took the opportunity to tell them about the Camouflage Directorate.
‘Sounds amazing,’ said Lena.
‘You deserve it,’ said Seebold.
They were both delighted for her, but she could still see their sense of loss.
Seebold stared into the depths of his half-empty cup. ‘They tell me that Freddie has been charged with Nan’s murder,’ he said eventually.
‘See, I don’t understand that,’ said Milly. ‘Why on earth would Freddie want to kill Nan? He hardly even knew her.’
‘Perhaps she found out something about him,’ Lena suggested.
‘Like what?’ said Milly.
Lena shrugged.
Milly chewed the side of her cheek. ‘There was always something about that man that made me feel uneasy, but I could never quite put my finger on it.’
‘Like what?’ said Seebold.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Milly. ‘Little things, but they all added up.’
‘Okay,’ said Seebold, ‘let’s write them down.’
‘Well, the first thing was that I saw him the day we collected your friend’s old dog to take the place of the wolf,’ said Milly. ‘He was chased by the same swan.
‘I never saw him,’ said Seebold.
‘Because you were driving,’ said Milly. ‘The thing is, and I’ve asked myself the same question over and over again, what was he doing up there?’
