Molly wasn’t sure what was going on. ‘Condition? What, condition?’
‘It’s really none of our business,’ Vera said, searching in her handbag.
‘It was all so long ago,’ Rita declared, waving a hand in the air. ‘And our memories aren’t what they were.’
Vera frowned at her sister. ‘My memory is fine, thank you.’
‘Yes. So is mine. But…’ she tipped her head in Molly’s direction. ‘We promised.’
‘I’m aware of that.’ Vera tutted, and snapped her handbag shut. ‘I give up. I’m sure I put my key in my handbag but it isn’t there. Do you have yours?’
‘No,’ replied Rita. ‘But why do you need a key? We left the front door unlocked as we always do … didn’t we?’
‘Of course we did!’ Vera beamed at Molly. ‘We’d best be off, dear. We’re sure you’ve got plenty to do. It was lovely to see you again.’
‘Wait!’ Molly pleaded as they began to move off. ‘What condition were you talking about? Was there something wrong with my great-grandmother?’
‘We hardly knew her, dear,’ said Vera, linking her arm through her sister’s and hurrying them both away.
‘Ask your father, dear,’ Rita called over her shoulder. ‘We promised we wouldn’t say.’
Molly stared after them, trying to figure out what they’d meant. They were walking even faster now than they had been earlier, and they soon closed their front door behind them after each of them shot a final look in Molly’s direction.
She was tempted to go and knock on the door and ask for an explanation. But perhaps there wasn’t one. They were both elderly, and that business with the key, and the very fact that they left their front door unlocked, indicated that, despite what they thought, their memories might not be as good as they believed. After all, what condition could Millicent’s mother have had? And why would it have dictated when people could visit? Molly’s dad had never mentioned anything. But Rita had told her to ask him.
Molly reached into her handbag and took out her phone. She stared at the screen for a few seconds, umming and ahhing and trying to decide what to do. And then she pressed the icon for her dad and waited for him to answer.
‘Hello, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Hi, Dad. I’m not sure. I’ve just had the strangest conversation with two of grandmother’s neighbours. The Boot sisters. Do you remember them?’
He laughed. ‘Who could forget the Boot sisters? Of course I remember them. They gave me sweets when I was a boy. And even when I was a teenager, come to think of it. In fact, even when I became a man. Anyway, they must be in their seventies or eighties by now. They sent flowers to the undertakers, and your mum and I sent them a little thank you note explaining that your grandmother had stated that she didn’t want a funeral, so only family would be at the cremation.’
Molly shivered at the memory of that day. The day her grandmother was cremated. No funeral service, no music, no words of goodbye, just Molly and her parents sitting in the crematorium to watch the coffin going on its way. It took all of five minutes from start to finish. A send-off as miserable as her grandmother had been.
‘They were eighty in March,’ Molly said, absentmindedly.
‘They’ll live to a grand old age, I don’t doubt. So why was the conversation strange?’
‘What? Oh. Because we were talking about grandmother and how anyone who visited her had to have an invitation, and then they said it had been that way all her life. Even when she was a child. But that it was because of her own mum’s condition. And then they became flustered. As if they’d let the cat out of the bag or something. And when I asked what condition they were referring to, they said it was none of their business, and that they had promised not to say. And then they virtually ran away. But one of them – Rita – said I should ask you. So I’m asking. Was there something wrong with my great grandmother?’
‘What? Not that I know of. Only that, from memory, she was even more miserable and unkind than my own mother. And that is saying something.’
‘But … she wasn’t … unwell or anything?’
He didn’t reply right away and an ominous silence hung in the air.
‘Not … not that I recall. No. Was that all they said?’
‘Yes. And it sounded … weird. Almost as if … the family had something to hide. Something … more sinister than just being thoroughly unpleasant people.’
‘Hmm. Well then, I think we need to have a word with the Boot sisters and find out what they meant. Although I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart. I lived in that cottage until I met and married your mum, and in all those twenty-five years I never saw or heard anything … sinister. Do you think there might be a body stashed somewhere?’ His laughter made Molly grin.
‘Of course not, Dad. But … well … it was the way they said it, and the expressions on their faces. It made it seem as if it might have been something serious. And something no one was allowed to talk about.’
‘I can’t think what that could be. Honestly, Molly, I don’t think it’s anything you need to concern yourself with. We’ll have a chat with them and sort it all out. Okay? That cottage has been in our family for generations. Mum’s parents lived there all their lives, and her dad’s parents lived there before that. That’s more than two hundred years of the Law family living in Oak View Cottage. Betancourt Bay is a tiny village. People have probably said all sorts of things about one another and the other residents, over the centuries. That doesn’t mean any of those things are true. It’s probably just gossip.’
Molly let out a sigh. ‘I suppose you’re right. Grandmother wasn’t pleasant, and she wasn’t particularly liked, so if her mother was the same way, people possibly made things up about her. Sorry I bothered you with this.’
