Fifty-Nine

Juliet stood in the chapel of the crematorium at Boston, her head bowed, as the three coffins were carried in. It was a very small congregation. Besides herself, there were two other representatives from South Lincs police, Giash Chakrabati and Verity Tandy. Katrin, now visibly pregnant, was also there, as well as Dr Louise Butler and Nick Brodowski. Juliet was grateful because she knew that the reason for the presence of all three was that they had come to support her. They knew how much she had invested in finding out who the dead black women were. Like her, they were also there to show respect for these victims of abuse who had died in unknown horrific circumstances so long ago.

Somewhat unexpectedly, Jackie Briggs had also crept into the chapel shortly before the service was due to begin. Juliet guessed that she’d come as the self-appointed representative of Laurieston House. She’d known that Kevan de Vries would not attend. He and Archie had left for the other Laurieston, the one in St Lucia, about a week before, but he’d made it clear that he would not have come even if he’d still been resident at ‘Sausage Hall’.

They had been obliged to opt for a humanist funeral because no-one knew for sure which religion the three women had practised. However, Juliet knew that if she was right about who had ‘owned’ them, it was likely that they’d been brought up as Christians, so she’d asked an Anglican minister to give one of the readings. He and the humanist officiant brought the total number of mourners to nine, not counting the undertaker’s men. Tim Yates had hoped to be present, but a few days previously Stuart Salkeld had released Joanna Sale’s body and, by coincidence, her funeral had been arranged to take place at Peterborough Crematorium on the same day. Tim had decided to attend in the slim hope that the other mourners might offer him some further clue about how to find Tony Sentance.

Juliet had chosen the order of the service. She’d gone for simple, mainly secular music: Morning Has Broken and Wonderful World, but she’d decided to conclude with Amazing Grace. She’d been convinced that the women would have liked it. She’d followed her hunch that they’d have been dismayed not to have some Christian element included. For the same reason, she chose Walter de la Mare’s Silver and Keats’s Ode to Autumn for the two of the readings, but had asked the clergyman to give the 23rd Psalm as the third.

Perhaps it was because she’d been so ill, perhaps because she’d had a small but terrifying glimpse of the atrocities that must have gone on at Laurieston House a century or so before and had imagined the unknown details all the more vividly, that she felt consumed with grief. The tears rolled down her cheeks, unstoppable. Katrin, who was standing next to her, caught hold of her hand. Nick Brodowski, on her other side, awkwardly patted her arm. The experience was yet more harrowing because, in the absence of any other information, each of the three women had been given an identical name: Louisa Jameson. It was as if their very identity, every trace of their individuality, had been stripped from them as a result of the barbarous treatment they had suffered.

She hadn’t wanted them to be cremated, but the local authority had been obliged to bear the brunt of the costs (South Lincs police had also made a contribution) and it was the authority’s practice always to choose cremation in such cases unless there was a very good reason for incurring the extra expense of a burial. She’d made a tentative approach to Kevan de Vries to see if he would be prepared to contribute, but he’d made it clear that the idea appalled him. In some odd, superstitious way he seemed to think that the undetected presence of the three skeletons in his cellar had been at the root of all his misfortunes. He hadn’t even considered it appropriate to send wreaths: each of the coffins had borne just one modest wreath, these also paid for by the police.

One by one, the curtains closed round the coffins. Juliet had always hated this part of the cremation ceremony, considering it to be ghoulish and theatrical, qualities that were even more exaggerated when the identical procedure took place three times in quick succession.

Afterwards, the small group filed out slowly to the strains of Amazing Grace. As they emerged into the crematorium’s small courtyard, they were enveloped in a burst of golden sunlight. It was far fiercer than usual for the time of year. Juliet felt her spirits lift. She felt as if she’d been sent a sign, some token of approval, from the deceased, perhaps even a message that they had been liberated from their dreadful limbo at last.

Nick Brodowski drew her quietly to one side.

“Well done,” he said. “I know what this has cost you, but you’ve seen it through perfectly. It makes me very proud . . .”

Juliet’s head jerked up sharply. She wasn’t ready for such proprietorial behaviour. He read her mood instantly.

“. . . to be your friend.” He finished lamely. He took hold of her arm again. “You must be exhausted. And I’ve been working away from home, so I’ve not been able to drop in much lately. I’m sorry for that. If you’re not too tired, would you like to come for dinner this evening?”

“I . . .” Juliet glanced beyond his solid bulk and saw that Louise Butler had been standing close by. Now Louise turned suddenly on her heel and walked rapidly away. Juliet longed to run after her, to ask her to wait, but she hesitated and the moment passed. It wasn’t in her nature to cause a scene or draw attention to herself, especially on this solemn occasion. She watched as Louise negotiated the next funeral cortège as it lumbered through the gates before marching on towards the car park.

“I think I am a bit too tired, to be honest, Nick,” she said. “I’ve only been back at work for a couple of weeks and it’s still taking it out of me. But thanks, all the same. It was a very nice idea.”

Nick shrugged.

“No matter. Some other time, then. I’d best be getting back to work. Take care.”

Juliet nodded. “Thank you for coming,” she called softly after his retreating back. If he heard her, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“Who was that?” said Katrin, coming to stand beside her. “I don’t think I’ve seen him before.” Her curiosity was almost palpable.

“Oh, that was Nick, my neighbour,” said Juliet. She tried to sound casual, but she knew that the lump in her throat was putting a strain on her voice. “You must have heard me talk about him. He’s the one who found me after I collapsed.”

“Mm, yes, I do remember now,” said Katrin. “He seems very keen on you.” Her eyes twinkled.

“Nonsense!” said Juliet. “He was just being kind, that’s all.”

She hoped that Katrin had not noticed Louise Butler, or seen her walk off without a word. Without trying to analyse her feelings, she knew that this was the real reason that she was still upset. She was relieved that Katrin didn’t mention it, though she knew that this might just have been tact on her part. Not much escaped Katrin’s observant gaze.