‘Darling, how nice! Are you staying for tea?’
Whatever had happened in her world or the world in general, Simon thought, his mother would never present anything other than this calm, cool charming face to it. She looked as elegant as ever in a pale blue cashmere sweater and navy jeans. Her hair was swept up, her brooch and necklace were in place.
He put his arms round her. ‘I think you’ll look like this at the Second Coming, Ma. “Darling, how nice! Are you staying for tea?”‘
‘Well, I hope I shall be polite, and don’t call me Ma.’
‘No, Ma. Any cake?’
‘Probably. Tell me about Marilyn Angus. I thought that broadcast was perfectly shocking. Whoever set her up to do it?’
‘She’s in a very bad state – unsurprisingly.’
‘No need to slate the police in that way – of course you are doing everything. And I do so dislike these public parades of grief. Well, are you any nearer to finding the little boy?’
‘Nope.’
‘It is simply unimaginable. Who has done this, Simon?’
‘A pervert … a psychopath … a random murderer. I came for some tea and cake, Ma.’
‘Darling, I know, I’m sorry, I am thoughtless.’
‘And to ask why you rang me in such a state the other night.’
He looked at Meriel closely. She opened her eyes wider.
‘I was in no such thing.’
‘Your message was a bit odd … panicky?’
‘Why on earth should you think that?’
‘You tell me.’
‘I simply wanted … well, now, I have fixed a date for a short service, but I did want to check it with you. The stone which will cover Martha’s ashes is ready. It will be in the walled burial ground behind the cathedral of course … and the stone is very plain. It’s made of Welsh slate.’
‘What does it say?’
‘Martha Felicity Serrailler, her dates and then “Blessed are the pure in heart”.’
‘I like that.’
She had put her spectacles on and was flicking through the diary. He watched her. He knew her too well. Something had made her agitated.
‘Here we are … Sunday May 12th. At two. We’ll gather in the Lady Chapel – only the family and one or two others, nothing formal. Is that all right with you?’
‘Fine. Is Dad in?’
‘He’s playing golf. Now … cake. Yes.’
‘Are you sure something wasn’t worrying you when you rang me?’
But his mother had gone towards the larder. Simon filled the kettle and began to take down cups and saucers. Something had been wrong but there was no point in pushing at it. She had blocked it out and she would not now refer to it again.
As she came back carrying a couple of cake tins there was a ring at the front doorbell.
‘Darling, that will be Karin McCafferty – she did say she might come – will you let her in?’
Karin was looking well, better than Simon remembered. She had lost a strained look about her eyes and a gauntness. She even seemed to walk in with more vitality and confidence.
‘I knew you’d want to hear all about it.’ She sat down at the table, at ease in this house as people always were when his father was not around. Even he felt the lightness in the atmosphere.
‘I should say so. Karin has been up to Seaton Vaux.’
‘I hear money is no object.’
‘Certainly isn’t. The estate village is looking brighter already – the roofs are being repaired, everything’s being painted, fencing is getting mended for the first time in half a century. And the house and gardens are going to be amazing.’
‘And you got the job?’ Meriel brought the teapot to the table.
‘It’s a bit more complicated than that. I think I did … but it’s a huge project, beyond me on my own. I did try to explain that I wasn’t a Chelsea Gold Medal winner with twenty years of experience.’
‘And how was the beautiful young Mrs Philips?’
‘Beautiful. Bubbling. She’s like a child – she is a child. It’s a strange set-up. He’s fifty-six, she’s twenty-two. He wasn’t there, she was flying back to London later in the helicopter. It’s another world.’
‘You mustn’t do yourself down, Karin. You take that contract. You can always employ other people. But you’re good enough and you know it.’
‘Hm. It is exciting.’
‘I don’t suppose you’d have any use for a young man who trained in horticulture – market gardening – and who needs a job?’
‘Just who is this, Simon?’ Meriel interrupted, suspiciously.
‘Someone I’ve had to do with lately. He’s young and fit. All right … he’s an ex-con.’
‘Simon, really.’
But Karin waved her away. ‘Yes,’ she said to Simon, ‘I would. Tell me a bit more.’
Later, as he was leaving, the station called.
‘Message, guv … DCS Jim Chapman from the North Yorkshire force is on his way down to start on the Angus case review. He’ll meet you first thing tomorrow.’
‘Good.’
If anyone thought DCI Serrailler felt in any way put out by the appearance of someone senior from an outside force coming in to conduct this review, they could not have been more wrong, he thought, as he drove back to Lafferton. He needed a new pair of eyes on the case, a new view of things. They had trawled over the ground and they were stale and exhausted, all of them. If someone else could give them a fillip and spot something, anything, they might have overlooked, all the better. It was going to be a shot in the arm, not an insult.