Rina shook her head. “I’d have thought the same about you. But no, I was really shy. I know that’s hard to imagine now, but back then I just didn’t seem to know how to talk to other girls and being at an all-girls school, I certainly didn’t know how to talk to boys!”

  The truth was she’d only really started to gain confidence once she’d learned she had a talent for being someone else.

  “There was a teacher,” Rina said, “really into amateur dramatics and she wanted to start an after-school drama club and put on plays as fundraisers for the school. I got involved behind the scenes and then got a tiny part and then realised I’d got the bug.”

  Bridie nodded. “Funny how great big things can start with really tiny stuff,” she said. “Me, I came here just so I wouldn’t be left behind and I ended up really enjoying it. The place was run by this Christian trust that had taken over the monastery but none of what we did was really about religion. It was about food and dancing and meeting new people and having fun in the lake and talking about all these philosophical questions I’d never even thought about. I mean, no one would ever think about me discussing that sort of stuff, would they?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Rina said. “From what I’ve seen there’s not much you’re not interested in. So, there was a more serious side to the trips?”

  “Yeah, we also had seminars and workshops, I discovered I liked singing, had my first crush, told ghost stories in the tunnels under the house.”

  “There are tunnels under the house?”

  “Oh, I thought you’d like the sound of that! The entrance is in the sunken garden and the tunnels used to go right under the house. I think some of them have been filled in because they were threatening the foundations and I guess the lower sections might even go below the level of the water. They were certainly damp and chilly with water running down the walls even back then, but the first section’s been restored, and we’ll be taking a trip later on.” She giggled suddenly, reminding Rina of Joy. “Hopefully not a literal trip. I remember the first time we went in there. About a dozen of us students, one teacher, one torch. It’s a wonder no one broke their necks.”

  “I don’t think health and safety was a thing back then,” Rina agreed. “And I doubt anyone had even heard of a risk assessment. What were the tunnels for?”

  “I don’t think they were for anything. The story is that there was some problem with the mines, put a lot of the miners out of work and so the owner of the big house, one of the Milbourn bigwigs paid them to dig the sunken gardens, and then the tunnels, to keep them going until things got back to normal. Like the rest of the house, it all fell into disrepair. I suppose it got too expensive to maintain. I certainly wouldn’t want the bills for a place like this. It was in such a sad state the last time I saw it that I half expected it to have fallen down.”

  “And then you came across it when you were looking for a wedding venue?”

  “No, actually, that was Fitch. I must have told him about coming here and he remembered and anyway I was looking, he was looking and he came across an advert for this place and realised it must have been the house I’d told him about.”

  Rina smiled. She could just imagine how pleased Fitch must have been. When she’d first met him she’d marked him down as nothing more than a paid thug. Then, after the Peters sisters and Montmorencys had plied him and his then boss with a rather fine meal followed by chocolate dessert, revised that to a polite thug. Later she had come to realise that Fitch — no one called him by his first name — was far more than that. Loyal and fiercely protective and, Rina thought, essentially a good man . . . with a not so good past. He adored Bridie and loved Joy as though she was his own daughter and Rina was now very happy to think of him as her friend.

  “Where is he, anyway?” she asked.

  “Picking up the flowers and other bits and pieces. The caterers arranged for the floral displays in the house and the marquee but the flowers for me and the girls, well, I’ve sorted those out and I’d rather Fitch collected them today than risk a last-minute hitch tomorrow. There’s a big cold pantry at the back of the kitchen, they’ll stay nice and fresh in there.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing the dresses,” Rina hinted.

  “Ah, Rina, even you will have to wait until tomorrow,” Bridie told her and Rina could see that her friend was fizzing with excitement. “We are going to look magnificent.”

  Rina had no doubt of that.

  Bridie glanced back towards the ferry as they heard the sound of a car coming up the drive.

  “More guests?” Rina asked.

  “Shouldn’t be. A few people are arriving this evening, but most will be coming in the morning. There’ll be a buffet lunch and drinks and then the wedding at three o’clock, then photographs and so on and then the wedding breakfast at five . . . It should be wedding afternoon tea really, shouldn’t it? Then dancing and more food and we’ll be leaving at about nine and heading to the airport. We expect everyone else to keep on dancing, of course.”

  It sounded like a long, busy day, Rina thought. She wondered how long she’d actually be able to stay on her feet and how much this had all cost.

  They had turned back towards the house on hearing the car and now rounded the side of the building and looked across the water.

  “A few people will be staying the night and leaving the following morning,” Bridie went on, “and a few of you will be staying on for another day. Oh, Rina, I hope you all enjoy it. I’m so glad you could all come.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Rina told her. She glanced curiously at Bridie who had paused and was now looking at the man who had got out of a black four-by-four, grabbed a suit bag and overnight case from the back seat and was now walking swiftly towards the boat.

  “Who’s that?” she asked.

  “An early guest,” Bridie said. She didn’t sound too pleased. Rina watched as her friend fixed the smile back on her face and headed towards the jetty. They waited as the man was brought over, jumping impatiently from the boat before the boatman had cut the engine.

  “Charlie, we didn’t expect you until this evening. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, thank you. Looking forward to you finally tying the knot. Bridie, I know I’ve turned up before you expected me, if it’s a problem I can go away again.”

  “No problem,” Bridie reassured him. “Your room’s ready anyway, you’re over in the monastery guest house. I’ll show you. And this is my friend, Rina. Rina, this is Charlie Brewster.”

  He shook her hand, studying her face, Rina felt, as intently as she was examining his. He was a handsome young man, olive skin, dark hair, very dark brown eyes, approaching six feet, she thought, but Mac would have the advantage of him by several inches. Well-cut suit, expensive nails and soft hands that had, as Rina’s father would have said, never done a day’s work. Her father’s classification of work being only that which constituted manual labour.

  “I’ve put your sister in the main house,” Bridie commented, trying for casual, Rina thought but not quite making it. The young man laughed and Rina heard the relief in the sound. “Well, thank you for that,” he said. “I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour. I really can’t speak for her.”

  Interesting, Rina thought. Sibling rivalry writ large. Now who the devil was he and why was Bridie being so careful with him?

  She excused herself and went back into the house. Glancing back, she saw Bridie and Charlie Brewster heading towards the monastery. She really must go and have a poke around in there, Rina told herself. After she’d finished exploring the house and gardens and not before she’d asked Mac who the young guest was and why he disliked his sister. Instinct told Rina that this was a shadow from Bridie’s days with her first husband. One of the criminal fraternities that Jimmy Duggan had been embroiled with before events had killed him and his son, and nearly taken Joy.

  * * *

  Crick had watched from the shelter of the woods as the two women walked by, unconcerned and unknowing. He had shifted his position when they had headed back towards the house, their attention attracted by the little ferryboat crossing noisily with its single passenger. Watched as Bridie Duggan had greeted Charlie Brewster and the other woman had left them to return to the house. He didn’t know who this older woman was, but she was clearly a good friend of the bride-to-be. Unlike Charlie Brewster; even at this distance he could sense that Bridie Duggan was handling Charlie with kid gloves.

  But then she would, wouldn’t she. Bridie had been around long enough to know the score and now Brewster senior was dead everything was in flux. The old man had left a vacuum that the siblings had as yet failed to fill. And that was something a great many people would come to regret.

  Chapter 4

  Dinner had been excellent, Rina thought. Good food, very good company and she had even allowed herself a couple of glasses of wine. Bridie had suggested an evening adventure to the sunken gardens which Rina, George and Ursula had decided sounded fun. Mac and Miriam had gone for a walk by the lake to watch the sunset and the Peters sisters, Eliza and Bethany, and Matthew and Steven Montmorency, had joined the older couple who had been sitting at their table for coffee in one of the smaller sitting rooms off the main reception.

  Rina had been slightly surprised to find other guests already present but it turned out that the older couple, the Chapels, had been neighbours of her grandparents when Bridie had been a child and the Myers had worked for Jimmy Duggan’s grandparents in the corner shop and then the little chemist’s shop which had also doubled as an informal café and community meeting place. Bridie’s grandmother had also worked there part-time which was how Bridie had come to meet her first husband. Bridie, Rina knew, held very tightly to her childhood. She had adored her grandparents, who had pretty much raised her, Bridie’s mother having moved back home with them when her father had walked out. The Formica-topped table that had once stood in the shop and around which thousands of cups of tea and coffee had been drunk over the years still had pride of place in her very modern kitchen. Rina asked the Chapels if they would be staying on after the wedding but was told they would not be. The Chapels planned to spend a few days touring the area before returning home.

  After dinner Rina had gone upstairs to change her shoes, when she came back down it was to find George and Ursula in conversation with Charlie Brewster. Charlie had sat at Bridie’s table at dinner, with Fitch and the Chapels, the Myers on the next table along with the Peters sisters and their corner of the room had been particularly lively. Not that the Frantham contingent had been exactly quiet, Rina thought.

  When Rina came back down the stairs she saw that George, Ursula and Charlie were sitting on the mezzanine landing and seemed to be getting on famously. George was telling Charlie Brewster about his apprenticeship in the boatyard. He’d worked there casually for the past year and would be starting full time at the end of September. Ursula would be at university a week or so after that.

  “I’m learning to sail,” Charlie was telling them. “I’m not very good yet, but I love it.”

  “I’d love to give it a go,” George told him. “But it’s far too expensive to even think about. We’re looking for a place to live closer to the boatyard,” he added. “And then any spare cash we’ve got has to go into me learning to drive. Ursula passed her test a while ago so she can at least drive to uni, but I’ve got to be closer to work.”

  “Can your parents not help out?” Charlie asked.

  Rina saw George and Ursula exchange a glance. “We don’t really have family,” she said. “Or at least not actual relatives. I’ve got an aunt I see occasionally but George and I have been in care since we were thirteen. We’re in local authority accommodation at the moment, we’ve both got these little bedsits they call studio flats and that’s all fine, but we’d like to get somewhere together when we can.”

  Rina could see Charlie appraising the two young people with interest and, she thought, a certain respect. Footsteps on the stairs drew his attention away and the party turned to see Bridie and Tim and Joy making their way down.

  “So, here we all are,” Bridie said. “The intrepid few ready to adventure.”

  She was still wearing her heels, Rina noticed, but come to think of it, she’d never really seen Bridie in flats and wondered if she even owned a pair.

  Bridie led the way, George and Ursula falling in behind and Tim and Joy following on. Rina found herself walking beside Charlie Brewster. “You’re on the television,” Charlie said. “You play that detective. Lydia somebody.”

  “Lydia Marchant,” Rina told him. “Yes, I do.”

  “Didn’t it get cancelled and then revived? My dad loved it, used to watch the reruns on one of the cable channels. He lived long enough to see the first new series and was very relieved to see they’d not ‘mucked about with it’ as he put it.”

  “I was relieved about that too,” Rina told him. “Often these things get new and improved and it’s rarely an improvement. Did you lose him recently?”

  “Almost four months ago. It was a funny thing, he’d got no time at all for police drama or thrillers or anything like that, but he really liked your show.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. And what do you do, Mr Brewster, apart from learn to sail.”

  He laughed. “At the moment I’m negotiating with my sister, or rather our lawyers are negotiating with each other on our behalf, as to how our father’s business interests are divided.”

  “Did he not leave a will?”

  “He left a will but let’s say it was open to interpretation,” Charlie said. “He never did anything the easy way. You might say he left instructions and suggestions and left the rest for us to work out.”

  He sounded decidedly bitter, Rina thought. “Family disagreements are always painful,” Rina said. “I think we might be here.”

  Bridie had halted and waited for everyone to gather around. She held a powerful torch in her hand even though it was not yet fully dark. Rina supposed they would need this for the promised tunnels and was glad she’d thought to tuck her own penlight into her pocket.

  “Be careful on your way down,” Bridie warned. “The steps are quite steep and narrow and it’s a bit of a drop if you should happen to slip.”

  Charlie raised an amused eyebrow. “After you, Rina,” he said.

  Bridie hadn’t been joking about steep and narrow, Rina thought. There was a handrail on the open side of the steps, supported every few feet by a series of metal poles but Rina felt wary of trusting it. She kept one hand on the wall as they descended, making a mental note that she should come back for a proper look in daylight. The earth wall had been faced with stone and the steps constructed of more dressed stone — here and there infilled with concrete in what Rina regarded as a not very sympathetic attempt at restoration. She was relieved when they arrived on the terra firma of the sunken garden.

  Large flagstones marked the paths around raised beds, low walls built in the same grey gritstone, filled with lavender and rosemary and other fragrant herbs. It was surprisingly dry down here, Rina thought, though if you got bad weather would it flood? She could see that the garden designer had taken this problem on board. Spaces had been left at the base of the retaining walls, from which loose gravel spilled onto the paths to keep the beds free for drainage.

  “It’s still going to flood in winter,” Charlie said, “however well the beds drain.”

  Rina looked at him in surprise. “You like gardening?” she asked.

  “Not something I’ve got time for, but I like gardens. I take it you do?”

  “I take great pleasure in making things grow,” she told him. “I suppose for you it’s all business?”

  “I suppose it is. Especially since my father died. There’s a lot to work out. Things he let slide when he was ill that now have to be put right.” He smiled tightly. “I’m afraid I can’t abide a mess.”

  “I always think that depends on the context,” Rina said cheerfully. “I do like a clean workspace, I prefer to be organised, but where the garden’s concerned for example, I like a bit of disorder.”

  They had reached a small iron gate set into the wall of the garden and Bridie undid the padlock holding it shut. “Here we go,” she said. “Everyone got their torch?”

  Rina took hers from her pocket and Charlie produced his mobile phone and switched on the torch app. Tim did the same. Joy had a proper torch, as did Ursula. Of course she did, Rina thought, Ursula was always prepared.

  The passage they entered was narrow and low enough that Tim had to duck his head. Bridie led the way, Tim and Joy next in line followed by Ursula and George. Then Rina, Charlie bringing up the rear. It occurred to her suddenly that she’d much rather he was ahead. It was like being followed by an irritating tailgating driver; always a relief when they overtook and zoomed away. Rina analysed the feeling. Charlie had been pleasant enough, had done or said nothing that made her feel wary of him, but all the same she found she was on full alert when he was around. Was it just Bridie’s reaction to his early arrival? That sense of barely concealed anxiety Bridie had exhibited. Or was it also that Rina had always been very good at recognising a predator?

  The tunnel was narrowing now, close and claustrophobic and in places brushing both of Rina’s arms.

  “Almost there,” Bridie reassured them and a moment later the space opened out into a rough circle with stone benches cut along the walls. Above them the ceiling arched and here and there Rina could make out rough carvings; faces and swirls and leaves. While in the tunnels the air had felt close and damp and every sound — breathing, footsteps, murmured conversations had been both amplified and dampened — here the sounds seemed to echo to an extent that seemed at odds with the quite small space.

  Rina estimated that about a dozen people could be seated comfortably around the walls and recalled what Bridie had told her about the first time she had been in the tunnels.

  “Was this where you told the ghost stories?” she asked.

 

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