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She had tried, many times and in many ways, but each time someone mentioned Sally, the funeral, or the fair, the mental image of Moss popped into her head. It was as if he was hovering in the darker recesses of her mind waiting to remind her of his deep-rooted presence whenever her guard was down. He always seemed to appear in her mind’s eye with such startling clarity he might as well have been in the same room as her. It was shocking, and annoying.
“Maybe one day I can forget about him.”
“Eh?”
“Tea?” Clementine repeated looking askance at her sire.
Cameron nodded. “I think that is just what we both need. And some of that nice sponge cake if we have any?”
Clementine made her way into the kitchen to put a pot of water on to boil. While she poked at the flames in the fireplace, her thoughts strayed to the morning’s events. Funerals were a sombre affair at the best of times, but this morning there had been an air of watchfulness about the attendees at Sally’s funeral that was more than a little disconcerting. It was as if nobody believed for a second that Sally had died of natural causes, but everybody was waiting for someone else to be the first to broach the subject. Of course, nobody did because it was a funeral and a highly inappropriate time to discuss such matters. But the wake had been no better. There, everyone had remained polite but in a somewhat forced way that made conversation awkward. It had shrouded the heavy atmosphere in an unease that had left everyone on edge, especially Clementine and her father.
“I have never known anything like that,” Cameron said as he entered the kitchen and slumped into the chair beside the fire. He had untied his cravat but left it hanging loosely on either side of the open edges of his shirt. “I have never known a wake to be that, well, awkward. I mean, it is to be expected of a funeral, I suppose, but not like that.”
Clementine nodded. “It is almost as if everyone knows something, a secret, we aren’t privy to.”
“I know.” Cameron lifted his brows at her. “I don’t suppose you are in on it, are you?”
Clementine shook her head. “Have any of the church ladies said anything to you?”
“Why would any of them discuss such things with me?”
Clementine’s grin was brief. “Well, you are best friends with the vicar.”
Cameron snorted and threw her a dour look. “Aside from the usual platitudes, nobody has mentioned anything to me about her death or who is going to take on Sally’s work now she has gone. Everyone is doing their best to carry on as usual but are a little lost without Sally because she was the one who usually managed practically everything around these parts. Without her, everyone is looking for someone else to take charge. Nobody wants to because of stepping into Sally’s shoes so soon after her death. It just seems in poor taste.”
Clementine did indeed know. “Someone has to. The village cannot carry on as normal if it doesn’t hold the village fair. It has been held every year for centuries. Not even the plague stopped it. There is no reason why it should stop because someone involved in the its organisation has passed away. I mean, this isn’t the first time someone who is involved in the organisation of it has died, surely to goodness?”
“What about you?”
Clementine gasped. “I don’t want to be the one to step into Sally’s shoes.”
“I think you should prepare yourself for someone asking you to,” Cameron warned.
Clementine paused and lifted her brows at him. “Pardon?”
“I overheard two of the church ladies discussing who was going to take over. They kept sliding looks at you, but I don’t think either of them had the nerve to come and ask seeing as you were so close to Sally, and she has barely relocated to her grave and all that.”
“I am not doing it,” Clementine snorted. “I shouldn’t even know where to start.”
“When is the next meeting of the Fair Committee?” Cameron asked, forcing himself to show at least a modicum of interest. He didn’t give a damn who organised the village fair. It was Clementine’s world not his and he was glad of it.
“There is an impromptu meeting this afternoon in the village hall. Mrs McGaffney suggested it this morning. I should be on my way there now,” Clementine informed him but with little enthusiasm.
“So soon? God, they don’t waste any time, do they?”
“The fair is going to be held next month. There isn’t much time to plan everything and there is a lot to sort out,” Clementine reasoned.
Not for the first time whenever she thought about the Autumn Fair, Clementine found herself thinking about Sally. Once again, Clementine’s thoughts turned to the morning of Sally’s death, and her experience with the intruder in the house, and Moss. Of course, she could not tell her father what had happened that morning, not least because he would have a conniption at her snooping around in there in the first place. If there was one thing her father was a stickler for it was respecting another’s privacy. He just would never understand. Unfortunately, that also meant that she couldn’t tell him about her meeting with Moss either.
“Look on the bright side, if Mrs McGaffney is calling a meeting then she may be happy to take over the running of the committee,” Cameron offered.
“I hope so,” Clementine whispered fervently.
“Have you heard from Elaine recently?” Cameron asked just as Clementine was about to fetch her cloak.
“I am having tea with her tomorrow, why?” Clementine asked.
“Just wondering,” Cameron replied. “I saw her at the funeral but that father of hers hustled her away before I got the chance to talk to her.”
