CHAPTER 34
I awoke that next morning with a renewed sense of purpose.Awokeisn’t really the right word, since I’d barely slept. I’d spent what was left of the night combing through the letters—and now the diary, too—looking to fill in the gaps in the story, looking for more clues that would lead me to more places. There were a few references to a small room under the stage at the town hall where the two of them had met. And, today, I was going there.
But there was something else on my agenda first. I had to think of some excuse about last night and apologize to Ash, because I wanted to find out as much as I could about this house and Edith, who I now suspected was her relative.
I made sure that Mike had left before I walked round to the front of the house. I didn’t go through the passage this time; I didn’t want to surprise her. I walked up to the front door and stopped. It was grand: an old stained-glass door with a big brass bell hanging from it. I rang the bell and waited. I still hadn’t quite worked out my excuse yet. I was toying with three in my head and I was sure the right one would pop out of my mouth when I saw her, now that I was such a bloody seasoned liar.
The door swung open and Ash was standing there, paint-stained as ever.
“Hey,” I said, and then launched right into it. “I’m so sorry about last night. I was just—”
“No worries!” she cut me off quickly.
“No worries?”
“Yeah, it was a very casual thing. No worries if you couldn’t make it; you can come round another time,” she said, with a smile.
Well, that was easy.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling relieved that she had spared me my bullshit explanation, but I decided to add one anyway, just in case she thought something bad about me. “Stomach thing. I had to go to the chemist.”
She nodded. “Nasty. You okay now?”
“Much better.”
“You want to come in?” She opened the door even wider.
“Do you mind?” I said innocently. But of course I wanted to come in.
“Sure.” She walked back inside and I followed her into another grand entrance hall with big, golden chandeliers and black and white tiles. Dark grey, velvety-looking walls made the pristine, white, pressed ceiling pop. Antique chairs, covered in dark green damask, lined one of the walls; they looked like they’d been put there because they had nowhere else to go.
“I was just busy painting,” she said, walking through the huge hall. I followed close behind her. The walls here were covered in old oil paintings, all set in ornate gold frames. I stopped and looked at one.
“Oh, those are my great-great-grandparents and their family.” She came up behind me and said, “This was in the 1940s.”
“Wow—that’s amazing.” I scanned the picture, looking at the faces of the children. One of these could be Edith. But which one?
“He had four daughters,” she said, behind me. “In those days, it was a tragedy not to have sons. My grandmother said that her father was very strict. Dictated who they married, dictated their lives.” She shook her head. “Women really had it hard then.”
I nodded. “They did.” I wondered if she knew just how hard one of these four daughters had it. “Are any of them alive today?” I asked, still scanning their faces. I was trying to see inside them, to look past their painted eyes to the person within, who may have written that diary.
“No, they’re all gone now. My one grandma only passed away last year, though,” she said softly.
I turned and looked at her. “Sorry for your loss.”
She shrugged. “She had a really good innings, you know. She was over ninety when she died. That’s when my brother and I inherited this place.”
At that, I swung around. “Your . . . uh . . . brother?” My heart started drumming a big rock solo in my chest.
“Yes—Mike. He lives here, too,” she said casually, not knowing that the information she’d just given me was like music to my ears.
“Brother?” I asked again, in case I hadn’t heard correctly.
“He’s two years younger than me. We fought like cats and dogs when we were little, but get on like a house on fire now. Weird,” she said.
Weird. That was an understatement. If Mike was her brother, that meant he was also related to Edith. He was her grandson. How was this all happening and unfolding like this? Like there was some preconceived plan out there that was playing out, and we were all just pawns in it, falling into place, falling into predestined roles. Did I even believe in all that? But what was the other explanation? That this was all some huge coincidence, right from the moment the lift had fallen?
“My brother is actually the sheriff of this town.” She smiled proudly.
