Chapter thirty-two

S

he burst out laughing. She knew she shouldn’t, but the sight of Andy on one knee holding out the ring-pull was too much.

‘If you really mean it, then yes, I’d be honoured to be your wife. Now, please get up before anyone notices,’ she said, allowing him to fit the ‘ring’ on her finger. Glancing around she caught a few people giving them funny looks.

‘Thank God for that, I didn’t want to look a prat only to get turned down,’ he said, kissing her before regaining his chair. A huge smile filled his face and she smiled in return, her heart thumping with excitement and love.

‘I hadn’t planned to ask you yet, hence the lack of a ring. But having to say goodbye yet again, brought it home to me how much I love you and didn’t want to lose you.’ Andy picked up her hands and kissed her fingers one by one, avoiding the piece of metal on her ring finger. His eyes locked onto hers as he went on, ‘Since learning the truth about Harold and…and everything, I’ve gained more self-respect. I needed to be worthy of you and now I feel I am.’

‘But Andy, you were always worthy of me. You’re a wonderful, clever, loving man and any woman would be proud to call you hers. I’m just glad you chose me,’ she said, still shell-shocked.

Before he could say any more the tannoy interrupted, announcing the departure of her flight. They scrambled downstairs and Andy stood by while she headed towards security.

‘We’ll choose a ring when you get back!’ he shouted, waving. She smiled and waved her left hand, remembering to remove the ring-pull before going through the metal detector. ‘My engagement ring,’ she explained to a puzzled looking security guard as she binned it. Once through she ran to the gate where she was the last passenger to arrive. Even a frown from the check-in girl couldn’t burst her bubble of happiness as she followed the other passengers out to the plane.

After take-off the drinks trolley was wheeled out and Charlotte ordered champagne. Although the norm would be to share it with her new fiancé, this wasn’t possible so she raised her plastic glass in a silent toast to Andy – cheers!

On Sunday morning Charlotte woke up momentarily disorientated. A grey light filtered through the curtains and as her eyes adjusted she realised she was in her own bedroom in London and not in Andy’s. The pang of disappointment was soon replaced with the memory of his proposal. She lay on her back and stretched, luxuriating in the knowledge of her engagement, albeit unofficial while sans ring and sans fiancé.

They had talked for what seemed like hours the previous night after she arrived home. It was agreed neither would say anything to their respective parents until they were together again and had bought a ring. This meant Andy would need to fly over to England to meet her mother, something Charlotte was, at this time, not entirely happy about. Still, it could hardly be avoided, she told herself. But Annette could be charming when she wanted to be, particularly if the man concerned was shortly to become heir to an estate.

Reluctant to get up and face the first day on her own for weeks, Charlotte padded barefoot across the Aubusson carpet to the window and drew the curtains. The first day of November lived up to its poor reputation with fog swirling around the square, obscuring the central private garden. Not much of a welcome home, she thought, frowning. She tried to conjure up the image of the view from La Folie on a bright, spring day and failed. All she saw was grey fog enveloping the grey figures of those brave enough to venture out.

Turning back into the room Charlotte decided the only thing to do was to enjoy a long soak in the bath, enveloped in the scent of exotic oils. Her en suite was spacious enough to accommodate the swinging of a family of cats, and as she turned on the tap over the voluminous bath tub, wished Andy was there to share it. While waiting for it to fill, she called Mrs Thomas on the house phone to ask for a pot of coffee. Once the oils were added to the steaming water, a fragrant mist filled the room and Charlotte felt more cheerful. Mrs Thomas arrived with the coffee, placing the tray on a small table beside the bath. After she left, Charlotte sank into the bath with a sigh of contentment.

Then the doubts crept in. This house – her house – was a stunning, Georgian house immaculately and expensively furnished. Complete with the most efficient housekeeper Charlotte had ever known. And she was planning to give it up for a charming, but comparatively small cottage in Guernsey, minus any help. Could she do it? She loved Andy to bits and wanted to spend her life with him, but it would be at a high cost. Money wasn’t an issue. She had loads and Andy was successful in his work, so not exactly broke. But financially not in her league. She couldn’t imagine him letting her pay for everything, he had his male pride. And he was not likely to inherit from Jim for many years so…How could she suggest a compromise without either hurting or angering him? No solution popped into her head. Oh, hell, why can’t life be simple? She sank under the bubbles, thinking she would have to speak to Andy about it. Soon.

Later that morning, Andy phoned and after a few moments of catching up, Charlotte brought up what was on her mind.

‘Andy, everything has happened so fast and we haven’t had time to discuss where we’ll live and how we’ll pool our resources. Both quite important issues, don’t you think?’ She held her breath.

‘I assumed we’d live in the cottage or is it not grand enough for you?’ He sounded hurt.

Oh dear. This wasn’t going to be easy. ‘I neither want nor need grand. But it’s not exactly large, is it? And I’m happy to help with buying something bigger–’

‘I don’t need your money! And I’ve put so much of myself into the cottage–’

‘I know you have. Let’s talk about it later shall we? When I get back,’ she said hurriedly, not wanting to have a row only hours after becoming engaged.

‘All right, if we have to.’

Charlotte rang off, feeling frustrated. Why did Andy have to be so pig-headed about money and property? Richard had been only too happy to accept her not inconsiderable financial contributions after their marriage. And she couldn’t help but see the irony in Andy shortly becoming heir to wealth in his own right.

After giving herself a few minutes to calm down, she phoned her mother. Annette confirmed she would be arriving on Monday at lunchtime and planned to stay for two or three nights, but would be out most of the time. This suited Charlotte as she needed to spend time at the office catching up with Tony. With the weather so grim she could not face leaving the house and made herself comfortable in what had been her father’s library, now housing a desktop computer on the Victorian partners’ desk. Looking around at the serried ranks of books safely stored behind the glazed doors of the floor to ceiling bookshelves, Charlotte had a brief vision of her father, content in the old leather armchair, a book in his hands and a glass of wine or brandy on a table by his side. On occasion a cigar was lit, but more often than not, would burn itself out in the ashtray if her father became engrossed in his book. Closing her eyes now, she could discern the faint smell of cigar smoke which had permeated the fabric of the room. Her chest tightened with the pain of her grief and tears seeped down her cheeks.

Oh, why did he have to go and leave her? She needed him now, wanted him to say her mother would be fine, there was nothing to worry about. Just as he had said many times when she was a child and something had upset her. She whispered to the empty room, ‘Daddy, I’ve met this amazing man and…and we’re engaged. Richard left last year so I’m free to start again and Andy makes me feel happy and…loved. Though there are some problems…I’d like your blessing, please, and wish you could meet him.’ Brushing away the tears, she continued, ‘Mother’s ill again, and we don’t know if she’ll pull through. Can you help? I’m not sure how, but–’ she broke off as her mobile trilled into life. She blew her nose and answered it, not checking the caller.

‘Charlotte? Martin Kite. Hope I haven’t disturbed you?’

‘Not at all, Martin. Has…has something happened?’ Her pulse quickened in anticipation.

‘Yes, I’m afraid Mrs Batiste passed away last night and I thought you might like to know.’

‘Of course, thank you. Were you with her?’

‘I was. Sal had phoned to say the doctor thought it was imminent and I sat with her. It was peaceful, which is always a blessing in these circumstances,’ he said, sombrely.

‘Was…her husband there?’

‘Actually, he wasn’t. He had gone out earlier in the evening to have dinner with some friends, I believe, but hadn’t left a contact number with Sal.’ Charlotte heard him sniff.

‘Oh. I don’t suppose there’s a date arranged for the funeral? I’d quite like to attend if I can make it.’

‘Not yet, no, but it’s likely to be the week after this. I can let you know.’

‘Thanks.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Mm, what will you do about the statement, Martin?’

‘Ah, yes. It’s been very much on my mind these past few days. I spoke to an old friend here who happens to be a retired policeman and sounded him out. He said I should arrange to see the Chief Officer and has offered to go with me, as they worked together. Naturally, I didn’t mention any names to John, but now Mrs Batiste is no longer with us, it doesn’t matter. I shall go along tomorrow but will request no action is taken until after the funeral. A reasonable compromise, I thought. Do you agree?’

She did and as they finished the call, was left experiencing a mix of sadness and relief. As she scrolled to Andy’s number on her mobile the thought crossed her mind the ‘John’ Martin referred to might be John Ferguson, the retired inspector who helped Louisa track down her mother’s killer. If it was, then she thought Maud’s statement would be in safe hands. And now she had good news for Andy.

The fog lifted on Monday and with it Charlotte’s spirits. She made an early start and was in the office by eight thirty, much to the surprise of the receptionist who, judging by her flustered appearance, had only just arrived herself. Charlotte smiled and after exchanging greetings, headed to her office. The Georgian building, minutes away from her house in the heart of Bloomsbury, had been divided into three and Townsend Publishers occupied the entire first floor. The rooms were light and airy, enjoying high, elaborate ceilings and original marble fireplaces. Charlotte’s father always referred to it as “a home from home” and she could see why. It was like a cosy club, with panelled rooms leading off the central staircase. Charlotte had just settled at her desk when Tony appeared.

He grinned at her. ‘The grapevine announced your arrival and it’s good to see you here, Charlotte. How’s things?’

‘Fine, thanks. You’d better sit down, Tony, we’ve a lot to discuss. First of all, can we talk about Chris’s books?’

Once they had discussed those books and others in the pipeline, Charlotte explained about her ideas for the future and her intended move to Guernsey. Tony was surprised and pleased she had met someone and confirmed he would be happy to take on a bigger role within the company.

The walk back to the house took five minutes and Charlotte dawdled, keen to enjoy some fresh air after a morning in the office. The deciduous trees in the square were shadows of their former selves, stark against their evergreen neighbours. The overcast sky emphasised the bleaching of colour from the area, leaving only white, grey and splashes of green. Charlotte felt as if the city was telling her to move on, find somewhere with more light and colour. As she approached her house, a taxi drew up outside, depositing her mother on the pavement. The driver carried the case up the short flight of steps before leaving.

‘Hello, Mother. Did you have a good journey?’ Charlotte asked, kissing her cheek before opening the front door.

‘Yes thank you. For once the train was on time and the heating worked.’ Annette was muffled up in a heavy wool coat, scarf and gloves as if venturing to the arctic rather than London in November. Charlotte left the case in the hall and went in search of Mrs Thomas while her mother unwrapped herself. She came back to find her in the sitting room, rubbing her hands by the fire.

‘Lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes, Mother.’ She went and stood by her, trying to examine her face as she warmed her own hands. The dark shadows had gone and it looked as if her mother had put on some weight. Good. ‘You’re looking well. How’s it going with the treatments?’

‘Quite well, I believe. It’s why I’m here as Gillian wants to run some tests to check my progress. Are you free to take me this afternoon? I have an appointment at four.’

‘Of course. Will you be seeing her again this week?’

‘On Wednesday or Thursday, depending when the results are ready. Then we’re to discuss the new protocol she’s excited about and wants me to consider.’ Annette turned to face her. ‘What are your plans, Charlotte? Are you back for good?’

‘Not exactly. I’m happy to stay if you need my help with anything and I’ve things to sort out here, but I might need to return to Guernsey next week. A funeral,’ she added, thinking at least that was true.

Her mother’s eyebrows shot up. ‘A funeral! But surely you haven’t lost a friend so soon?’

‘No, no, it’s…a friend’s aunt, and they would like my support. But it’s not important, if you–’

Annette waved her hand. ‘I don’t need you to be here, Charlotte. Go and be with your friend if you wish, I’m sure she would appreciate your thoughtfulness.’

Charlotte felt her cheeks redden but didn’t correct her mother’s assumption. But one day there’d be a lot of explaining to do…

Mrs Thomas came to announce lunch was ready and they moved to the morning room at the back of the house. They were greeted by the enticing aroma of home-made vegetable soup, accompanied by plates of salad and glasses of freshly made juices, Mrs Thomas having been advised of Annette’s strict diet. Once settled at the table conversation was desultory, consisting mainly of observations on the weather and what the local WI had planned for the winter months.

Later Charlotte drove her mother to Richmond and waited while she was with Gillian. She was pleased to see them come out smiling from the consulting room.

‘Your mother’s doing really well, Charlotte, and assuming the blood tests are good, I think we can say the programme’s working,’ Gillian said, patting Annette’s arm. ‘It might mean Annette spends some further time at La Folie and I’m sure a room could be found, if it suits you both?’

‘It’s fine by me, if Mother’s happy to go back,’ Charlotte said, giving Annette a quizzical look.

‘I can hardly refuse to go if it’s improving my chances of recovery, can I?’

‘Good. I’ll see you on Wednesday afternoon and we can go over the results and confirm the ongoing treatment,’ Gillian said, guiding them to the front door. After exchanging goodbyes, they left.

Once in the car Charlotte asked her mother if Gillian had said when she would need to return to Guernsey. Annette replied the following week had been suggested, subject to room availability. Charlotte nodded, thinking it could work out well with her own plan to return for Maud’s funeral. And she and Andy could announce their engagement to both sets of parents at the same time. Perfect!

The next morning Annette disappeared to meet up with a fellow WI chairwoman, saying she would be out for lunch. Charlotte was happy to return to the library and her writing, glad to be relieved of chauffeur duties. She had not made much progress when she received a call from the rector. He started off by saying the funeral was arranged for the following Monday at 2 pm, if she still wished to attend.

‘It looks as if I might be coming back next weekend anyway, Martin, so that’s fine. How…how did it go with the police?’ she asked, keeping her fingers crossed.

‘The Chief Officer was, to put it mildly, astonished to be presented with evidence relating to a crime which took place more than sixty years ago, but he agreed it would be pursued. Mr Batiste will be taken in for questioning after the funeral as I’d suggested and, in the meantime, the police will dig out the old files. I’m glad my friend John was with me as apparently he solved another war-time case, which meant the Chief took it seriously. Right, I’d better get on and I hope to see you next week,’ he said, briskly, before ending the call.

Charlotte immediately rang Andy with the news and he, in turn, said he’d pass it on to his father. They had arranged to see an advocate later in the week to discuss Jim’s claim to the estate. She heard the excitement in his voice as the time was fast approaching for Harold’s downfall.

‘I only wish I could be there when he’s arrested but guess I’ll have to settle for reading it in the Guernsey Evening Press. Dad’s still not taken it in, but once we’ve seen the advocate, it should become more real. Mum’s already looking at holiday brochures!’ he said, laughing.

‘Good for her! They deserve it. Perhaps they should consider a world cruise, it would give them a chance to enjoy some well-earned pampering while seeing the sights. You said they haven’t travelled much.’

‘No, they couldn’t afford it. A cruise sounds a good idea, I’ll suggest it. But as it could take ages for the legal stuff to get sorted, I’d better tell Mum to hang fire for the moment.’

Once Charlotte had said goodbye she returned to her writing powered up by the phone calls and looking forward to seeing Andy, trying not to think of their own unresolved issue. And as long as her mother’s blood test results were good it wouldn’t be long before they were back together.