‘He won’t say anything of the sort,’ Edie had said, ‘because I shall make Mr Grafton tell the truth.’
‘How?’
‘I have my ways,’ the woman had said mysteriously. ‘You just have to trust me.’
It was some years later that Edie had admitted to Venetia that her way of making Mr Grafton and Miss Selby tell the truth was because not only had she observed the two of them snooping through Lady Constance’s private things in her office, but she had also caught them having sex in one of the store cupboards. Understandably Miss Selby had been mortified and had begged Edie not to say anything to anyone, especially not Lady Constance. Hearing this from Edie, Venetia had finally understood why Mr Grafton had said what he had the night of the fire –This is the last bloody thing we need.
When Lady Constance had finally arrived home from her extended honeymoon with Mr Butler, everyone was shocked at the news that followed: she was desperately ill and had been given just months to live. She’d thought her lack of energy was due to all the travelling and sightseeing she and her husband had been doing, combined with a chest infection which had stubbornly refused to budge. It was only after she’d begun coughing up blood that Mr Butler had insisted she see a doctor at a hospital in Florence and she was then told that she had an aggressive formof lung cancer and it was beyond treatment. The advice was that she should travel home as soon as possible.
Venetia was devastated at the news, and by the sight of Lady Constance, who looked a shadow of her former self. She died in July of that year and her funeral was held at Farleigh Fen Church. The older children from the Hall were allowed to attend and Venetia sat with Edie, both holding back the tears as Mr Butler gave the eulogy. Standing at the lectern, his voice shaking with emotion, he’d looked utterly broken.
More bad news followed in the days after the funeral when Mr Butler announced in morning assembly that Hope Hall would have to be sold. Edie explained to Venetia that it was to do with death duties and that by the time these had been paid there would be hardly anything left to keep the place going.
‘But it’s our home,’ Venetia had cried, ‘it can’t be closed! What about all the children here, where are they supposed to go? And you, Edie, this is your home too, what will you do?’
‘You mustn’t worry about me,’ the woman had assured her. ‘I have my savings, and I’m sure I can find another job without too much difficulty. And anyway, it won’t be long before I’ll have to retire. I shall find a cosy little flat in Cambridge to rent and live very quietly.’
‘Take me with you!’ Venetia had begged. ‘I promise I won’t be any trouble and then I can look after you, you know, when you’re old, or if you get ill like Lady Constance.’
‘Now don’t you go fretting yourself about me, dear girl, I’m as fit as a fiddle, nothing’s going to happen to me.’
‘That’s what Lady Constance probably thought and look what happened to her!’ Venetia had said wretchedly.
In the end, and after Venetia kept up a steady stream of promises that she wouldn’t be any trouble to Edie and that she’d get a job and help pay her way, the woman gave in.
Venetia had thought Lucien’s running away and then LadyConstance’s death were the saddest things she would ever have to deal with, but leaving Hope Hall, her home since she was a baby, and even though she had a new home to go to with Edie, was just as painful. Never again would she sleep in the dormitory with the girls she’d known for so many years. Never again would she spend a quiet few hours reading in the library. And never again would she play in the idyllic grounds, walk along the river, or hide out in the woods with Lucien, her best friend and soulmate.
‘That was your old life,’ Edie said when they set up home together in a small flat, not in Cambridge as originally planned, but in London where Edie had a job in a home looking after disabled children. ‘Now begins your new life.’
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Still lazing around in her warmest fleecy pyjamas, Cassie wondered at the energy some of her neighbours were exhibiting for a Sunday morning, especially on such a drearily cold day.
First, she’d spotted Venetia tramping about the grounds and now, clad in running gear and hats and scarves, Nina and Jakob were sprinting energetically along the riverbank. Their pace, Cassie observed as she stood at the kitchen window, was perfectly matched, even the pom-poms on their hats bounced in time on the top of their heads.
And don’t go reading anything into that,she imagined Nina saying to her.
Jakob had become a regular fixture at Hope Hall since his return from Oslo and even Ben had commented on how happy and more animated Nina now looked. To Cassie’s eye, Nina positively glowed with a radiance that spoke volumes of a woman currently enjoying the delights of a fabulous new sex life. And good for her!
Moving over to the coffee machine, she set it going and then opened the fridge. Never mind flogging herself half to death by doing a virtuous early morning run in the freezing cold, what she needed to set herself up for the day was a big greasy bacon sandwich, and to hell with the calories or whatever else would put her into an early grave! When the others were up, she’d makethem one too. It was the least she could do for her wonderfully ingenious daughter.
Emily had disputed that she’d been ingenious. According to her, any fool could have done what she had. All it had taken was time and a bit of stealth and guile. But thanks to her efforts, they could now expose Rosalyn for the lying narcissist she really was. Cassie just wished they’d known the truth before, because then she would have had the perfect right to boot Rosalyn out of the apartment weeks ago. And if she had done that, the Devil Child wouldn’t have drowned poor Bon-Bon. Okay, calling Finlay a devil child might be slightly unfair, but there was no getting away from the fact that if it wasn’t for the boy’s actions, Venetia’s beautiful little dog would still be alive.
Ever since their chat at the coffee shop in town, when Cassie had shared with her daughter that she didn’t believe a word of what Rosalyn had told them about Drew abusing her, Emily had applied herself with all the meticulous precision of a forensic scientist to scrutinising Rosalyn’s social media accounts. It was a few days into the process when she admitted that she’d really struggled to believe the awful things that Rosalyn had accused Drew of and that she had been torn between wanting to support Rosalyn and wanting to defend the man she’d come to know as her dad.
‘He’s not alive, so he can’t defend himself,’ she’d said to Cassie, ‘so I have to find a way to know the truth. Even if it means I discover Rosalyn was right and he was abusive. I have to know.’
After an eternity of scrolling through the endless responses to Rosalyn’s social media posts, yesterday Emily had finally found the missing link to the truth. After an exchange of private messages, she had FaceTimed the woman in Dubai, a woman who had a very different version of Rosalyn and Drew’s marriage. And today, all of Rosalyn’s lies were going to come crashing down on her.
Emily had wanted to be the one to confront Rosalyn and to do it alone. ‘You have to let me do this,’ she had said last night. ‘I got us into this mess, so it’s my job to finish it.’
Cassie couldn’t be prouder of her daughter, but she and Ben had agreed that Cassie should be with Emily when the conversation took place. After all, with a narcissist in their midst anything was possible.
Much to their collective relief, Rosalyn and Finlay had moved out three days ago, and this morning they were returning to collect the last of their things. The plan was for Ben to occupy Finlay with some game or other while Emily and Cassie tackled Rosalyn with what they now knew.
It was gone midday when Rosalyn showed up, bringing with her an act of airy self-importance, as though she were doing them a big favour by bestowing her presence upon them.
Seeing the two large suitcases which Ben had put ready for her, she had the cheek to say, ‘Ben, while I say goodbye to Cassie and Emily, would you be a total sweetheart and take the cases down for me?’ She nonchalantly tossed him a bunch of keys like he was her lackey. ‘You can’t miss it,’ she added with a flutter of false eyelashes, ‘it’s a silver BMW.’
