‘How do you know he did?’
‘I looked in the wardrobes in their bedroom, and the cupboards in the dressing room; there wasn’t a single item of her clothing to be seen. Not a one. There was no sign of any make-up, perfume or that ridiculously clunky jewellery she loved so much.’
‘When did you look?’
‘The day of the funeral.’
Getting her own back on Sorrel, Frankie said, ‘Yousneakedinto their bedroom on that day of all days?’
‘I didn’tsneakanywhere. I walked in quite openly.’
‘But why? What made you want to look?’
Sorrel brushed at a speck of something on the sleeve of her jacket – a speck that was invisible to the naked eye, other than Sorrel’s. ‘I was curious,’ she said.
If Frankie was shocked before, she was lost for words now. Curiosity was one thing, but blatant suspicion was quite another.
Perhaps sensing she had gone too far, Sorrel drained her coffee cup, and when she’d settled it back into place on the saucer, turning it so that the handle was at a perfect ninety degree angle, she said, ‘Well, that’s quite enough about my thoughts on Orla.’
I should think so, thought Frankie. ‘How’s Rachel?’ she asked. ‘Jenna told me last night that Paul ended things with her the evening before.’
‘Yes. Apparently he’s gone back to his ex. I told Rachel to be grateful for a lucky escape. Better she realises now that he wasn’t right for her than years later.’
Frankie could well imagine the exchange between Sorrel and Rachel, and while the advice was undoubtedly true, it probably wasn’t the sympathetic response the poor girl might have hoped for. But from what Jenna had shared with Frankie, Paul had not made a great impression on her, so maybe Rachel was better off without him. A change of scene in Norfolk would probably do her the world of good.
So much seems to be happening to us all right now, thought Frankie, thinking of the many changes going on around them, not least the transformation in the woman sitting opposite her. ‘Sorrel,’ she said, ‘you said earlier that it was a relief after all these years to say what you really thought about Orla and Alastair; what’s changed for you that you now feel able to be honest?’
Once again Sorrel flicked at an invisible speck of something on her sleeve. ‘I suppose it’s thinking about what lies ahead for us the day after tomorrow at Linston End. It’s not exactly going to be a lot of fun, is it?’
‘You mean meeting Valentina?’
Sorrel nodded. ‘It’s going to be a huge challenge pretending we like her.’
‘We might find that we do.’
‘Yes, and we might find there really are fairies living at the bottom of our gardens.’
Frankie smiled. ‘I still don’t see how that’s created this change in you.’
‘It’s a combination of things, I suppose. But you know how contrary I can be,’ Sorrel went on. ‘Well, a part of me had begun to think it would be good to have this stranger forced onto us, especially as Simon kept going on and on about her. I thought her presence might shake us up. But now, after helping Simon to go through an old box of photos of us all, nostalgia and sentiment got the better of me and stirred up the memories. Some good. Some not so good.’
‘What were the not-so-good memories?’
Sorrel hesitated. ‘Mostly situations when I’ve held my tongue, but longed to be honest. When I’ve wanted to admit how I really felt about something.’
‘And now you plan to speak your mind?’
Sorrel gave a small laugh. It didn’t have the slightest ring of warmth or humour to it. ‘That will depend on what provokes me.’
Or who, thought Frankie.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Remember what I said, that I’d be more than happy to come in and help while your guests are here,’ Sylvia said as Alastair saw her and Neil to the door. They’d spent the day at Linston End helping to get the house and garden ready for tomorrow when everybody would be arriving. He’d broken the news to them about selling the house, but they had, of course, heard rumours already, the Broads having its own bush telegraph that worked as effectively as high speed broadband for spreading news.
‘Oh yes, please let her help,’ urged Neil, ‘I could do with the break at home. Although God knows what I’ll do when you’ve sold up.’
Sylvia tutted and swished her husband lightly on the shoulder. ‘You mean it’s the other way around, coming here has always been a way for me to escape from you!’
