Sensing he no longer wanted, or needed, the strain of talking to them, Romily hugged Edmund goodbye. ‘You know where I am if there’s anything I can do,’ she said softly. ‘And I meananything.’
She and Stanley had started to walk away down the length of the corridor when Edmund called after them. ‘Perhaps you could tell Evelyn and Kit what’s happened.’
‘We’ll go straight to Meadow Lodge,’ Romily assured him.
Using the payphone by the main entrance, which was where they’d left Tucker, they called for Jim Trent, their local taxi driver. He was with them within twenty minutes and was a welcome sight.
‘You two look like you’ve fair been in the wars,’ he remarked, when they climbed into the back of the Ford Popular and apologised for their dishevelled state. Stanley’s clothes were covered in Hope’s blood. ‘You been in an accident?’
‘Helping at the scene of one,’ Romily said cagily out of respect for Edmund, and knowing that Hope would hate to be at the centre of any gossip. ‘Could you take us to Meadow Lodge, please, Jim?’
‘I’ll have you there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. So long as we don’t come across any more fallen trees. It’s a filthy old night, isn’t it?’
‘It certainly is,’ she agreed, staring grimly out of the car window as the rain continued to beat down and the windscreen wipers swept ineffectually back and forth. She was thinking of Jack and how all those years ago he had entrusted her with the task of taking care of his family. She knew it wasn’t her fault that his daughter, Hope, was now lying in a hospital bed, but her heart ached with sadness and the feeling she should somehow have stopped the accident from happening. Had Hope not been so wound up and cross with Edmund she might not have gone for a walk this afternoon. Why hadn’t Romily paid more attention to her stepdaughter’s mental state?
‘You cannot save everyone,’a gentle voice from the past whispered to her,‘it is not possible. God does not expect you to do it all on your own.’
It was Matteo’s voice, reasoning with her that she had to accept her limitations, something she had never been able to do, as she’d told him.
The conversation had taken place at Tilbrook Hall when she had been grumbling that she needed to be back at Hamble, ferrying aircraft about the country. She had been stuck in bed with her leg in traction for over three weeks and by then it was May. She had heard the awful news the day before that one of her colleagues hadcrash-landed in a Mosquito and had not been as lucky as she had been when the Walrus had dropped out of the sky. Poor Mildred had died on impact.
‘I’m needed,’ she’d said when Matteo had tried to reason with her that she was in no state to fly. ‘Look at your leg,’ he’d said. ‘You are not going anywhere.Sei pazza!You are mad to think you can!’
His diagnosis had not been far off the mark. She had indeed gone slightly mad, having succumbed to a fever because the wound to her leg had become infected. Only later did she know that Matteo had been instructed to sit by her bedside to keep an eye on her while the fever had raged. She was told it had caused her to hallucinate that she was back in the Walrus trying desperately to land the aircraft.
‘Here you go, then,’ said Jim, bringing the taxi to a stop in front of Meadow Lodge.
‘Oh Lord!’ exclaimed Romily when she reached for her handbag and realised she didn’t have it.
‘That’s all right, MrsDevereux-Temple, I’ll put it on account.’
His hand inside his sodden overcoat, Stanley pulled out his wallet. ‘I’ll deal with this, you go and ring the doorbell,’ he said to Romily.
He’d caught her up just as Jim drove off and Evelyn opened the door. ‘What on earth are you two doing out in this weather?’ she greeted them, ushering them inside and into the hallway.
When her comment didn’t receive thelight-hearted response she probably expected, her face turned serious. ‘What is it? What’s happened? It’s not Kit, is it? Or the children?’
‘No,’ replied Romily. ‘It’s not Kit, or Pip and Em, it’s Hope. I’m afraid there’s been an accident and she was hit by a car. At least that’s what we think has happened. We’ve just come from the hospital. Edmund is with her. He wanted us to tell you. Is Kit here?’
‘No, he’s been in London for the day. I have no idea if he’ll manage to get back if this storm keeps up. How badly hurt is Hope?’
But before Romily had a chance to reply, Evelyn said, ‘What am I thinking? Give me your wet things and come into the drawing room and warm yourselves in front of the fire. Then tell me everything you know. You both look like you could do with a stiff drink.’
‘We won’t say no to that, will we, Stanley?’ said Romily.
He nodded his agreement and handed his coat over to Evelyn. Romily was about to do the same when the soggy envelope she’d earlier stuffed into her coat pocket slipped out and fell to the floor. She’d forgotten all about it, and stooping to pick it up, and curious to see if it was important or not, she looked at it more closely. The flap of the envelope was open and just as she pulled out what was inside and unfolded it, she heard a sharp intake of breath at her side.
She looked up and saw what could only be described as an expression of stunned confusion on Evelyn’s face. But something else. If Romily didn’t know better, she would say it was recognition.
‘Evelyn,’ she said, holding out the letter, ‘do you know something about this?’
Evelyn said nothing, just stared at the jumble ofcut-out letters, some of which were beginning to come unglued.
‘What is it?’ asked Stanley, leaning over to take a look. ‘Good God,’ he then said, reading the words aloud. ‘“I warned you before about neglecting your husband. You’ll pay the price one of these days.”It’s a poison pen letter!’
‘It would appear so,’ said Romily, once more regarding the other woman’s face closely. ‘And judging by your reaction, Evelyn, I suspect you do know something about it. Am I right?’
Evelyn hesitated, her eyes flicking between the piece of paper and Romily’s gaze. ‘How did you come by it?’ she asked.
