A single tear slipped down Lady Bramlington’s face, causing Ava to swallow. Perhaps she had gone too far. Henry moved to his mother’s side and placed his hand on hers. She brushed him off.
‘Ah, ignore me. There’s no point crying over what can’t be undone.’
Henry passed her a tissue and moved back to his seat.
‘What is it? What can’t be undone? If you were once dear friends, what caused you to fall out?’ Ava felt her pulse quicken. She knew she was pushing for answers when Lady Bramlington was clearly upset, and possibly still fragile from being in mourning for the loss of her husband, but now she was here, she had to know. Time slipped by as they all sat silently, theroom filled with the ticking of the grandfather clock Ava hadn’t noticed on her way in.
Finally, Ava spoke. ‘When you found me, us, at the lake, you were furious. You told me to go, forbade me to come onto your land. Why did you dislike me so much? What had I done?’ Ava was surprised to feel tears prick at her eyes, a release of the pent-up frustration of that day; she determined not to let her emotion show.
‘I’d like to know too.’ Henry looked at his mother. ‘Before then my life here was tolerable, after—’
‘I did it for her!’ Lady Bramlington croaked out the words.
‘Me?’ Ava was confused.
‘No, not you — Lily. I did it for Lily. It would have broken her heart if she’d seen you that day. I knew you visited the grounds, often. And I am not a fool. I know you still do. But on that day, I saw the way you looked at each other, the way you were both behaving. I knew you were infatuated with each other, perhaps, even as young as you were, falling in love.’ Lady Bramlington shook her head.
Ava looked at Henry, neither of them denying it.
‘Why? Why would my mum have hated it? I mean, I know she didn’t like me visiting the grounds, but your reaction . . . There was more to it than trespassing wasn’t there? What is it? What happened?’ Scenarios fired into Ava’s mind, none of them good.
Henry took the picture from his mother, turning it over in his hands as he looked at the image and then the words on the back.
‘You have to tell us. Whatever the reason, whatever the secret, it’s time to tell us now.’ Henry’s voice was calm as he urged his mother to speak.
‘It never should have happened.’
‘What? What shouldn’t have happened?’ Ava felt a cold shudder run down her spine as an ominous feeling crept over her.
‘I killed your father.’
‘What?’ Both Ava and Henry spoke in unison.
‘But you can’t have. My father died in a car accident. Were you there when his car hit the tree? What do you mean?’ Ava’s mind spun.
The door to the room opened, and Mrs Jenkins walked in, carrying a laden tea tray. ‘Refreshments, as requested.’ She placed the tray on a low, French-polished table in the centre of the room, stood and stared at the three ashen faces before her. ‘Shall I pour?’
‘Not now, Mrs Jenkins, thank you.’ Henry spoke calmly but authoritatively and stood as if to urge her out of the room. Once she left he closed the door behind her. Henry poured three cups of tea, putting sugar in each without asking if it was wanted.
Taking the seat next to Ava, he put his hand over hers. She welcomed the comforting gesture.
‘Mother, you’re not making sense and this isn’t fair to Ava. You need to explain what you mean. I think you need to tell us everything.’
Despite the steam coming from it, Lady Bramlington lifted her tea and took a sip. Ava watched as the woman, looking frailer than her years, readied herself to speak.
‘We were great friends, your mother and I. There was something special about our friendship, it was as if we were always meant to find each other. Living here, it’s like a fortress. The world goes on outside while you’re trapped inside. When I was first married, I was barely twenty-one. I had married the man of my parents’ dreams, not my own. I liked him, of course. He was wealthy, titled, good-looking and he could be fun, but I didn’t love him, that came later.’ She sipped her tea.
Ava moved her hand so that she could squeeze Henry’s reassuringly. Her own father died when she was two. While she sometimes felt she had fleeting memories of him — the briefest of images of him locked in her mind — she rationalised that they were inspired by stories her mum shared or photographs she had seen. What she did know for certain was that her parents had shared a great love. For Henry to hear that his own parents didn’t must be difficult. But then his world was very different from hers. She only had to look at her surroundings to know that.
He accepted the gesture, thanking her with the briefest of looks, before returning his attention to his mother.
‘Lily and Connor Flynn were a breath of fresh air. They were passionate in their beliefs and actions. They both loved the grounds here, like you.’ Lady Bramlington looked at Ava.
Ava nodded silently as she sat, enthralled to hear about her parents in their youth, and confused as to where this story was leading.
‘I envied them their freedom of mind, body and spirit. Some thought them hippies, but they weren’t like those who checked out of life — they lived. I mean really lived, and they had strong beliefs. Their energy was intoxicating.’
Ava began to wonder if she was going to hear her parents were cult leaders. If Lady Bramlington started talking about them chanting or dancing naked around campfires, she was going to have to ask her to move the story on. As intrigued as she was, there were some images she didn’t need in her mind. She wanted to hear about the rift — whatever it was that had torn their friendship apart, because, despite what Lady Bramlington thought, Connor Flynn died in a car accident.
