Chapter thirty

B

y the time Charlotte arrived home it was after five and she found Andy drinking coffee in the kitchen. He jumped up as she came in, asking, ‘What happened with the rector?’

‘He’s agreed to go round tomorrow morning to see Maud and witness her signature. And he’ll ring me when he’s been. All we can do is hope she’s well enough to sign,’ she said, giving him a kiss.

Andy frowned. ‘Maud’s that ill? Hmm, it’d be sod’s law if she died before he got there.’ He pushed a hand through his hair as he paced around. Suddenly he stopped and grabbed her. ‘Whatever happens, I now know the truth and can tell Dad who killed Edmund. Which is something. And it’s down to you, the most clever, beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Thank you.’ He kissed her hungrily on the mouth and she melted into his arms, all the excitement and worry pushed aside as the heat rose in her body. Whispering, ‘Come on, let’s go upstairs,’ Andy led the way to the bedroom.

Later, languid from their lovemaking, they lay in each other’s arms as they talked about the possible repercussions of Maud’s shock confession.

Andy stroked her cheek as he said, ‘If, and I know it’s a big if, but if we get a signed statement and then Maud dies, then Martin or whoever, is free to report it to the police, right?’

She nodded, almost asleep under his touch.

‘So, assuming Harold’s arrested, and by God I’d do my best to make sure he was, then Dad would be acknowledged as Edmund’s heir. Agreed?’

‘Yes, but something still doesn’t add up. Even without Harold being proved to be the killer, your father’s the natural heir and always has been. But he hasn’t pursued it for some reason. I wonder what really happened when he met Harold? And whether or not Harold’s guilt changes that?’

Andy fell onto his back and stared at the ceiling. ‘I don’t know and can only hope when he knows the truth about Harold he’ll change his mind. Perhaps he’s had a misguided sense of loyalty to Harold for working on the farm over the years and didn’t want to deprive him of his livelihood. It beats me! But once Harold is charged I’ll encourage Dad to make a claim. Surely he couldn’t want that bloody cousin of mine to inherit!’ he said, banging his fists together in anger.

Charlotte reached over and kissed him. ‘Hey, stay calm. I’m sure it will all be resolved. It might take some time, but I have a feeling in my bones–’

‘Oh, do you? Well, please tell me more,’ he teased, taking her in his arms again and dropping kisses on her breasts. As her own body responded all thoughts of explaining anything disappeared and she gave herself up to his lovemaking.

Andy left the next morning looking, Charlotte thought, like the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof. She didn’t blame him, she felt on edge herself and it wasn’t her family’s skeletons coming out of the cupboard. Wondering briefly if there were any in the Townsend dynasty, and deciding she couldn’t cope with any more angst, she tried to focus on her writing. It took a while for her to pick up where she had left off the previous day, but the words finally made a reluctant appearance on the screen, absorbing all her attention. Charlotte stopped only to make a coffee late morning and was tapping away happily when her mobile rang.

‘Hello, Charlotte. It’s Martin. Just to let you know I’ve been round to see Mrs Batiste and she’s signed the statement and I acted as witness.’

Relief flooded through her and she punched the air silently. ‘Thanks for letting me know, I can relax knowing it’s what she wanted. How – how was Mrs Batiste?’

‘Worse, I’m afraid. But oddly, she seemed relieved, more peaceful. I think telling someone what happened has freed her in some way. She has my word nothing will be made public while she lives and is now ready to accept the inevitable.’

‘Do you know how long…?’

‘Her doctor arrived while I was on the way out and said he thinks it’s a matter of days, a week at the most.’

‘Oh dear. Well, again thank you for phoning, Martin. I’m leaving on Saturday so may not see Mrs Batiste again, but I do plan on coming back soon.’ They said their goodbyes and Charlotte immediately rang a delighted Andy. It was now only a question of time…

***

After receiving Charlotte’s call Andy let out a whoop. Fortunately he was alone in the office, his client having left moments before. Pushing his hands through his hair he stood up and did a circuit of the small space between the desks. He found it hard to take in. After more than sixty years Edmund’s name was about to be cleared. He could no longer be made to feel ashamed of his grandfather. Not that he had for one moment accepted his guilt, but others had. In his mind it was what others thought of him and his family that mattered, though Andy was aware it was stupid. His father had been perceived as the “poor relation”, the “outcast”, and Andy’s short fuse had been lit too often by snide remarks from other boys at school. In a small island like Guernsey even an old scandal like Edmund’s had not been allowed to die completely. Thinking about it now, Andy wondered if Harold had kept the embers burning over the years, determined to paint a black picture of James Batiste, son of the traitor Edmund.

Sitting down again, Andy phoned his father to ask if he could come round and see them both. Jim sounded surprised but said they were in for the rest of the day. Thinking there was no time like the present, Andy grabbed his keys and left.

His mother answered the door and smiled.

‘It is lovely to see you, mon chér. There is something wrong, no?’ she asked, the smile replaced by a frown.

‘No, Maman, there’s – there’s something important I need to tell you both.’

Yvette’s eyebrows rose. ‘You are making a mystery. Let us go into the sitting room, your father is reading the paper.’

‘Hi, Dad. How are you? Back okay now?’ he said, sinking into the sofa.

Jim folded up the copy of the Guernsey Evening Press and studied his son. ‘I’m okay, lad. That nice physio lady, Louisa, says I can start doing a bit more fishing as long as I don’t spend too much time out in the boat. Did I hear you tell your mother you’ve something important to say? If so, you’d better spit it out because you look as if you’re about to burst.’

Andy took a deep breath. ‘Remember I told you Jeanne was writing a book set in the occupation?’ His parents nodded. ‘Well, she…asked a friend to do some research, which included talking to people who were here at the time and one of those who came forward was Maud Batiste,’ he said, seeing his father’s head jerk in surprise.

‘Old Maud? But she’s bed bound, so I heard. How could she have–’

‘The researcher had apparently requested the help of the vicar to find old parishioners willing to talk. The rector of St Martins visits Maud regularly, so I understand, and how it came about she interviewed Maud at home.’ Andy felt his palms moisten at the white lies but believed it was justified.

Jim nodded. ‘Go on.’

‘It turns out Maud had something on her conscience and called the woman back a second time to…to confide in her.’ He noticed his mother lean forward and clasp his father’s hand. Jim’s face was inscrutable. ‘What she told her was to be kept confidential until after her death, which is likely to be within days according to her doctor.’

‘So how do you know about it then?’ Jim butted in.

‘I’ll explain later, Dad. What it boils down to is this. She saw Harold fight and kill Edmund and has kept it a secret until now.’

Yvette gasped, her hand flying to her mouth and Jim’s eyes widened in horror.

‘You’re telling me Harold killed his brother? I know he’s a bully and a cheat but…to kill his own brother! I find that hard to believe. Couldn’t she have made it up?’

‘Why would she? Maud doesn’t come out of this at all well. She witnessed a murder and did nothing about it. Even went on to marry the bastard. But it’s been on her conscience all this time and she wants Harold to get his just deserts.’

Yvette, looking dazed, asked, ‘Did she not say why he killed Edmund?’

‘Yes, she heard them arguing. And this is crucial, Dad,’ he said, ‘Edmund knew Harold was an informer and told him he knew, so Harold started the rumour it was Edmund. Your father found out Harold was still playing dirty and was going to report him. It’s why Harold killed him.’ Andy sat back on the sofa, feeling drained.

‘So the ol’ bugger really did it, did he? Can’t say I’d be sorry to see him banged up. He could share a cell with his no-good grandson of his. That’s assuming the police can prove it, which I doubt after all this time,’ Jim said, stroking his chin.

‘Maud signed a witnessed statement describing what happened, and we…I think it should be enough to convict him. At the very least, Dad, it means he’d be stripped of everything he owns – the house, land, various properties and cash – and you’d be entitled to them. You’d be a wealthy man, Dad,’ he said, leaning forward.

Yvette gasped. ‘Wealthy! Us! Oh, that would be–’

‘Impossible! I’m not the heir and never was. So forget about me inheriting anything,’ Jim said, red-faced.

Andy couldn’t believe it. ‘Not the heir? But of course you are, Dad, you’re Edmund’s son–’

Jim, his shoulders sagging as if bearing a heavy weight, shook his head. ‘No, that’s where you’re wrong, lad. I’m not Edmund’s son. My mother…had an affair. I…was illegitimate.’