Friday 30th September – 2 p.m.
Two days later, Rav was waiting for Conor in the churchyard, giving him space. He was probably thinking about yesterday’s very different visit to this church.
From the movement of his back in his dark suit jacket, Conor was clearly speaking as he stood alone between Sean and Siobhan’s fresh graves, in the shadow of the stone church.
The afternoon sky was luminous grey, with shafts of sunlight breaking through the clouds and igniting the autumn colours on the trees.
After a while, James – suited and shaved – joined him.
They murmured for a moment, glancing towards the mound of earth that was Finn’s grave, then turned to the church. There, the vicar was in solemn conversation with Conor’s parents under the arching doorway.
Conor’s deep breath drew his shoulders up as he walked over to them. He hugged them and they walked inside.
And Rav took his cue to head towards the church gate.
Sylvia rounded the corner to the church as the shrouding cloud lifted, unleashing the full autumn sunshine – almost as bright as Sylvia’s eyes.
She looked like she was walking a red carpet, not a country lane, in her ivory satin-lapelled, cigarette-pant, three-piece tuxedo. Her ruby lipstick matched the single long-stemmed, thornless rose she carried.
Sylvia’s ease made Shannon – in her slinky gold gown – look like she was trying too hard. And even though both women looked incredible, Rav only had eyes for Nell.
It was clear she’d bought her outfit while shopping with Sylvia. The forest-green palazzo pantsuit was more Sylvia’s style than hers, but Nell looked sensational, and his heart nearly burst.
The three women hesitated at the gate, looking towards the graveyard, but then Nell squeezed Sylvia’s hand and they headed up the path to meet Rav.
‘Got the rings?’ Sylvia asked him.
Patting the breast pocket of his Savile Row suit, Rav nodded. ‘Oh, yes.’ He leaned forward, tilting to avoid the brim of her hat to kiss the bride. ‘You look stunning, Sylvia. Conor’s a very lucky man.’
‘Oh, I know!’ Sylvia winked at him and, despite being surrounded by reminders of tragedy and heartbreak, they managed to smile.
Rav knew that Conor had offered to elope with Sylvia, but she’d suggested they sneak the wedding in before they left. She’d hoped it might help if his parents shared one happy occasion with one of their sons.
Wheeling in next to Nell, along the pew from James and Shannon, Rav scanned the church, hushed conversation just audible over the organist’s gentle melodies.
Brandon was absent. Conor had made it clear that he wouldn’t be welcome, and this time, no one expected him to turn up to sour proceedings. Maeve was also absent, since she remained under arrest.
Rav was amazed at how Conor’s parents were rallying. They’d been stooped with grief yesterday. But Aoife was sitting in between them now, with Conor’s mother gripping the hand of her granddaughter like she would never let go.
It was clear to all that Aoife welcomed the affection, like the love was healing her as well as them.
Sylvia’s parents, back from their impromptu tour of Ireland, took the front row on the other side, across the aisle from Conor’s mum and dad. But the mothers had obviously bonded, and were exchanging smiles and quick comments across the aisle.
Then the organist’s gentle tones shifted to the rousing arpeggios of ‘The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba’. As the tiny church brimmed with the bold, celebratory music, Rav inwardly saluted the choice. It set such a different tone from yesterday’s sombre mood. He watched as the small congregation mopped noses and sat straighter, expectant … hopeful.
He couldn’t help but smile at Sylvia’s timing. She let anticipation build, only entering the church at the final minute, so that the glorious crescendo carried her down the aisle to Conor.
Gazing at her, the lines on Conor’s face etched by sorrow and grief melted. Pure love shone from him as he held out his hand to her and pulled her close.
As Conor and Sylvia said their vows, Rav took Nell’s hand and gazed at her, watching the amber flecks dance in her eyes as she smiled at him.
I’ll ask her soon. But not until I can walk properly. Will she say yes …?
Suddenly everyone around him was clapping, and Rav realised that Conor and Sylvia were kissing.
As they were bustled out, it was on to the taking of photographs and throwing of confetti, before a beribboned vintage bus gathered up the guests, following Conor and Sylvia, in their hired classic Aston Martin DB5, to Cailithín Castle.
Nell was pleased that Shannon hadn’t taken no for an answer when it had come to the hasty reorganisation of the wedding. And, since the library was part of her suite, the hotel was happy to accommodate their impromptu party.
To the sound of popping champagne corks, waiting staff offered canapés as guests made themselves at home.
Conor’s and Sylvia’s parents were given premium seats beside the fire, with Aoife still very much the focus, fielding endless questions about her life over the past twenty years.
As she chatted with her grandmother about her studies and work at the Visitor Centre, Aoife confided that she was joining a new project to conserve the cloudberry plant on Ben Portach. She shot a sidelong glance at Nell. ‘My manager sent me the action plan and monitoring programme today. I’ll PM the project, so I can learn a bit more botany. You never know when it can come in handy.’
Nell grinned, pleased at Aoife’s involvement, then noticed Conor and his father were deep in conversation.
‘Sean had wanted the farm. We knew he’d take care of it, and us. But what now? Brandon doesn’t want the responsibility. Would you …’ Even as he asked, his father looked like he knew the answer would be no.
‘Look, Sylvia and I are open to whatever you and Mammie want. But you could sell up and downsize. Go wild. Have some holidays. Go on a cruise. Treat Mammie to dinner somewhere other than the local pub.’
‘Well …’ His eyes flicked to his wife. ‘It would be nice to spoil her. But we wanted to keep it going, to give you boys some options.’
‘We’re not boys any longer, Father,’ Conor said gently, ‘and there’s just two of us now. You’ve always given us everything we need. Have something for you, for a change.’
As his father went over to sit with his mother, Conor walked to the fireplace and tapped his glass. ‘Thank you all for joining us today. We’ve got through a terrible time together, so I’d first like to raise a toast to absent friends.’
He swallowed and couldn’t repeat the words as everyone raised their glasses, but the company said the toast for him.
With a grateful smile, he continued, ‘So the fact that you’re all here, finding the generosity in your hearts while we’re grieving, to still celebrate with us, means the world.’ He swallowed again. ‘Thank you.’ He tilted his glass at his parents and they nodded at him, his mother wiping away tears.
‘But one thing I’ve taken to heart over the past few days is what a precious thing love is. Sean had it right, treasuring his loved ones, bringing people together and making the most of every second.’ He turned to Sylvia and smiled at her. ‘I can’t believe my luck, Sylvia. You’re beautiful, you’re talented, you’re strong and I know only too well you make me a better person. I love you, and I treasure you, and I’m looking forward to making the most of every second with you.’
Sylvia accepted the accolades with a graceful nod. ‘And you, my darling, are always right.’
The gentle laughter increased when Conor’s eyebrows flashed. ‘Now there’s a promising start to marital bliss. I’ll just get that down in writing …’
He pretended to reach in his jacket pocket for a pen, then raised his glass instead. ‘Please all join me in raising a toast to the most beautiful bride … in the room.’ Sylvia mock-tutted, eyes twinkling. ‘My wife,’ Conor couldn’t hide his pride at finally being able to say it, ‘Sylvia.’
Nell raised her glass and as she repeated the toast, Rav joined her, taking her free hand and threading his fingers through hers.
There was cake cutting and mingling, and finally Sylvia came over, her arm still round Conor’s waist, glowing at Nell’s congratulations. ‘Thank you, darling. And thank you for helping to make this day as lovely as it could be, considering the circumstances. Today was always going to be under the shadow of so much loss, but I thought we should just try to bring everyone together today if we could.’
Nell hugged her. ‘And how do you feel about Aoife?’ she whispered. ‘Still shocked?’
Sylvia shot her a sly glance. ‘If our evening at The Boxing Hare is anything to go by, I have the chance to get to know a lovely young woman who can mix a mean cocktail. I can certainly do my level best to cope.’
A hint of Sylvia’s twinkle was returning, and Nell was pleased to see it.
‘We’re taking a detour on the way home, to see her family. Conor’s keen to meet them.’ She looked fondly at her new husband, then nudged Rav.
‘And, speaking of home …’ Sylvia fixed Nell with a significant look. ‘We could give you our pitch now.’
‘Now?’ Rav glanced from Nell to Sylvia, then nodded. ‘Why not?’
‘Excellent!’ Sylvia purred. ‘We’ve put our heads together on the marketing master plan.’
‘Oh! When did you manage that?’ Nell asked.
‘We had four hours in a car, sweetie – two of which were devoted to this. You can cover a lot of ground.’
‘OK.’ Nell grinned. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Finchmere is a haven of wildlife thanks to your ecological stewardship. You’re making the house and events more and more environmentally sustainable. The rewilding is a triumph and a daily adventure.’
Nell smiled, appreciating the remarks.
‘But you’re making a fatal mistake.’
‘I am?’
‘You are,’ Sylvia asserted. ‘You’re only sharing the end result. And that end result – for some of your endeavours at least – will be a long time coming.’
‘Yes, well, we know that. It’s a long term plan—’
‘Yes. But it could be so much more, darling.’
‘It could?’
‘It could – if you share the journey.’
As Nell frowned, Sylvia asked the big question. ‘Tell me – what makes popular TV?’
Blinking, Nell asked, ‘Are you thinking about making nature documentaries?’
‘No, darling. I’m thinking bigger than that. I’m thinking wildlife and rewildling docuseries meets reality TV, meets stately home eco-restoration, meets glamorous yet environmentally sustainable events. The success, the achievement, the part you’ve considered sharing is the last scene. You’re denying people the film.’
‘This could be a Springwatch, Chateau DIY, Made in Chelsea mash-up,’ Rav added.
‘Isn’t that a bit of a fractured demographic?’ Nell frowned.
‘Or wide appeal,’ Sylvia countered.
Nell’s mind spun. ‘I’m not sure about making our private life public. I don’t see TV being interested. And I wouldn’t enjoy someone else having editorial control—’
‘Who needs TV? We’ll stream on social media. Then you will have total editorial control.’
‘Oh …’
‘I’m thinking one episode a month. We’ll cut sponsorship deals. And with that kind of focus on the estate work, you’ll be able to make faster progress, so our stories will be compelling. Even the mistakes.’ She eyed Rav and Nell over her champagne. ‘And you’ll both be completely scrumptious on screen’
Nell looked at Rav. ‘What do you think?’
He shrugged. ‘I think it’s great. As far as I’m concerned, anything that accelerates the ecological work is win-win to me.’
Nell couldn’t disagree. But she shot Sylvia a wry look. ‘When you asked me what makes popular TV, I was going to say murder mysteries.’
‘Pfft!’ Sylvia shook her head. ‘Just because you identify with all the sleuths … Don’t worry. On my watch, there’ll be sweeping scenery, epic wildlife shots, environmental challenges – but definitely no murder.’
Rav laughed. ‘Don’t make that a money-back guarantee, Sylv.’ He turned to Nell. ‘So? Are you in?’
‘Yeah.… ’ The agreement slipped out before Nell realised. And as she looked at their bright, hopeful faces, she knew they were on to something. Ideas were already spilling over. ‘There are so many opportunities. Stunning scenery, rare wildlife, conservation plans …’ She grinned at Rav, and excitement fizzed more than the champagne sparkling in her glass at the thought of working with him on this.
Sylvia pretended to buff her nails. ‘I know, I’m a genius. I can’t wait to get started.’ Beaming, she invited the toast. ‘To Following Finchmere. And getting you two into more mischief. On camera.’
If you can’t get enough of Dr Nell and her twisty cosy mysteries, then don’t miss out on A Swarm of Butterflies, another addictive case you won’t be able to put down.