Priscilla Masters: Frozen Charlotte

She closed her eyes, remembering the rain splashing off the edge of the umbrella, the wetness of the driveway, the sound of water everywhere, the eagerness in both their voices because they had both known they had met someone on the same plane.

Sukey’s eyes were bright. ‘I wish he was still around, Mum. I wish I could remember him.’

Martha nodded. Sam was looking across. ‘Me too,’ he said gruffly. ‘I wonder what he’d think of me being a footballer.’

Although Martha couldn’t know she gave the right answer, the one Sam needed to hear. ‘He’d have been very proud of you.’

‘Sometimes,’ Sukey said dreamily, ‘I think I can remember things, a snatch of a laugh or fingers tickling me.’ She closed her eyes as though struggling to conjure up these faint and elusive memories. ‘I so wish I had a dad.’

Martha stood back from the Aga. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I just have to concentrate on being very glad that I have you,’ she said. ‘Both of you because it’s all I have of your father.’ She smiled at Sam. ‘You’re so like him, you know, in many ways. You look like him. Apart from…’

‘The hair,’ Sam said, smiling at her. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

Sukey was quiet for a moment, too motionless not to be forming some other thought. ‘Mu-um’, she said at last, ‘does it always happen that the guys you fancy don’t fancy you?’

Martha laughed. ‘Mostly. In my experience anyway.’

‘Did you fancy Dad right away?’

She needed to be truthful. ‘Not at first, no. He wasn’t the most handsome of men. It was later, when I talked to him, that I realized what a very nice, kind and intelligent person he was. That was when-’

‘So he fancied you first.’

She nodded. ‘He said he thought I looked different.’ She smiled. ‘He said later on that he’d been right.’

She laughed then realized Sukey was watching her, needing something from her. ‘Darling,’ she said to her daughter, ‘you’re very young. You will meet people you think you love and find out you were wrong and you’ll meet people who don’t initially attract you but interest you and quite often they turn out to be the really good things in your life. Now then,’ she said, wiping her hands down her apron, ‘enough chatter. It’s time to get the breakfast on.’

‘What about Agnetha?’

‘She’ll be down when she smells the bacon.’

Martha enjoyed herself cooking the huge breakfast for the family. Perhaps it was the Irish in her but it felt so normal, the house filled with the scent and sound of bacon frying. A warm, comfortable, greasy, sizzling, winter’s smell. As they sat around, munching toast and the fry-up, sipping juice and coffee, Agnetha appeared, already dressed in tight skinny jeans and a scarlet sweater. Sam and Sukey were teasing each other.

‘So how was last night,’ Sam asked his twin as he crunched on a bit of crispy bacon.’

Sukey shrugged. ‘Oh, you know. OK, I suppose. You ought to come out with us one evening.’

‘Maybe I will,’ Sam grunted, ‘though it’s not really my scene.’

‘Not sure it’s mine either.’ Sukey sighed loudly. ‘But I must have a “scene” otherwise there’s no point being a teenager. Dire. Let’s change the subject. How long do you think you’ll be injured for?’

‘I’ve got to have a check-up with the doctor next week,’ Sam said. ‘But really I feel absolutely fine now. One hundred per cent so I think I should be playing again by next weekend.’

‘Don’t you ever get fed up with football?’

‘Never,’ Sam answered fervently, as though she had asked a devout Christian whether he ever got fed up with God. ‘But…’ He stopped abruptly and they all looked at him, his mother, sister and Agnetha. He went red. Almost red enough for his face to clash with his hair.

‘What is it,’ Martha prompted gently.

Sam coloured even more. ‘It’s only been mentioned .’

They all waited.

‘It’s just a possibility,’ he said carefully, ‘that I might be lent to Stoke too – just for a season.’

Martha’s heart leapt but it was Sukey who said it. ‘You could live at home with us?’

Sam grinned at them all. ‘Except Agnetha. You won’t be here, will you?’

‘I will be a married woman,’ she said primly, ‘back in Sweden.’

‘But it would still be good,’ he said uncertainly, ‘wouldn’t it?’

Martha raised her glass of juice. ‘Certainly would,’ she said. ‘We’ll drink to that.’ She gave the slightest of glances in her daughter’s direction. ‘Won’t we, Suks?’

Her daughter went only ever so slightly pink.

‘I was wondering,’ Agnetha continued tentatively, ‘if you would allow her to be one of my bridesmaids possibly?’

‘Yes. Yes, Agnetha. Of course, provided she’d like to. You know Sukey.’

Sukey was beaming. ‘I’d love to, Mum. My friends at school will eat their heart out. A Swedish wedding. Wow.’

Talith had had to apply to the magistrate for a warrant to search the Sedgewick abode. It was granted without demur. He then tried the home telephone number Alice had given him but, as he’d expected, no one picked up. Instead the call was diverted straight to answer phone. He left no message. Perhaps Aaron really was abroad, as his wife had claimed, though surely he would have a mobile phone? Practically everyone did these days. He rang the number Acantha Palk had left him and explained that they needed access to the Sedgewick’s house.

She seemed unsurprised. As a solicitor she would have anticipated this request. Maybe had even warned her client/friend of this likelihood. There was no ‘I’ll have to check’. Instead she responded calmly. ‘That’ll be fine. We’ll meet you there in half an hour to let you in.’

‘How is she this morning?’

‘Calmer.’

He wanted to ask so much more, whether Alice had said anything about how she had found herself at the hospital with her bundle, but instinctively he knew all this would have to be done formally, according to the book and on the record, so he arranged to meet them both at The Mount in half an hour.

At eleven, as she was putting on her make-up, Martha was surprised to have a telephone call from Simon Pendlebury. Simon had been married to her friend Evelyn but Evelyn had died of ovarian cancer almost a year ago and since then they had shared the odd friendly dinner every couple of months or so. It was uncharacteristic for him to ring her early on a Sunday morning and when he spoke she quickly realized that this was not the only uncharacteristic thing about his telephone call. He sounded agitated – a little nervous. Almost unsure of himself. He was a strange man, who had been a great friend of Martin’s in their university days, an accountant who seemed to have made an awful lot of money in a very short space of time. Martha didn’t quite trust him. There was a dangerous aura around him but she did enjoy his company – perhaps because of this. He spoke urgently. ‘Martha,’ he said, ‘I’d really appreciate it if you could spare me an evening. This week?’

‘Of course, Simon. Is Wednesday any good?’

‘Yeah. Yeah. I’ll see you at Drapers’. Eight o’clock?’

‘Fine.’

‘Thanks, Martha, I appreciate it,’ and he put the phone down, leaving her to wonder what on earth was going on? She had never heard him so unsure of himself, or so grateful for her company. It was all odd. She smiled at herself in the mirror. She was going to learn something new about this man she’d known for almost twenty years. In the meantime, she looked out of the window and watched a few flakes of snow swirl outside. What were they going to do today?

It was midday by the time Talith had gathered his team together. They arrived at The Mount in a large van and a police car. Talith looked up at the property. It was imposing. A three-storeyed Victorian house with black and white gables in perfect condition and well tended gardens. The snow lay thickly on the roof giving it a Christmas card air. Talith had to remind himself what he was here for – nothing like a Christmas card, more like a horror film. His policeman’s eye registered the oblong shape in the snow where a car had recently stood and the skid marks in the drive, presumably where Mrs Sedgewick had driven out – in a great hurry by the look of the gravel spewed up and slushy. He indicated the marks to the police photographer who snapped them obediently. Beneath a thick blanket of snow lay another car, a white Mercedes with a personalized number plate. AS 10. Aaron Sedgewick’s presumably? This car had obviously sat here for the last few days, which gave further credence to the ‘away on business’ claim. In fact there was no sign of life around the property at all. No lights, no roar of a central heating boiler. The front curtains were tightly drawn. The Mount looked abandoned.