Contents ( 57)
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by Sharon Gosling
Rachel laughed. ‘That sounds awful.’
Ron grinned gleefully. ‘Doesn’t it?’
After the important ritual of tea and biscuits, they got to work. Between them they were slowly sorting through and boxing anything personal of Cullen’s, and also, as per the solicitor’s request, making a note of any piece of furniture they thought might be valuable enough for auction.
‘It makes a person think a bit, doing this,’ Ron said a while later, after another hour of sorting through personal but ultimately worthless piles of paper and accumulated knick-knacks. ‘All this flotsam and jetsam we accumulate, and for what? Most of it ends up going up in smoke or into landfill once we’re gone, doesn’t it? What’s that to show for a life, eh?’
Rachel watched him for a moment. ‘Ron, you know how grateful I am that you’re here, but if this is too difficult for you, I can finish this alone. We’ve done most of the work now anyway.’
Ron brushed the suggestion off. ‘He was my friend,’ he said simply. ‘Besides, this is what we do, isn’t it? When someone we love passes on. We make sure we’re the ones who look after what’s left behind. To remember them.’
Rachel shook off the suddenly maudlin thought that she had no idea who would do the same for her when the time came, or where on earth she would be living when it did. It also made her think anew of the camera obscura. It had been all Eveline MacDonald had had left, in the end. Even if she’d gone on to scrape together life somewhere else after the fire, what she’d left here was a tragedy in the extreme.
She was taking down another book from Cullen’s shelf when the gatehouse telephone rang. Rachel answered it and heard the sombre tones of Alan Crosswick on the other end of the line.
‘Rachel,’ he said heavily, ‘Gilly told me I’d find you there.’
‘Is this about the newspaper article?’ Rachel asked. ‘You know there’s no truth in it, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do,’ the solicitor said, ‘and I’ve already sent a letter to the Press Complaints Commission and the paper.’ He sighed. ‘The problem is that someone got hold of Ms Goodwin’s email address and forwarded her a scan. I’ve tried to reassure her, but she’s… concerned.’
Rachel’s heart sank. ‘I see.’
‘She seems to be a young woman who feels the weight of her responsibilities keenly,’ the solicitor continued. ‘I’ve told her that in this case in particular the right thing is to back you to the hilt. The problem is that she doesn’t know you as well as I do and she has no family. I think the sudden revelation that she has a history for which she is responsible, coupled with the fact that someone seems to be feeding her misinformation, is taking its toll.’
‘What should I do?’ Rachel asked. ‘Should I speak to her myself?’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ the solicitor cautioned. ‘Look, I am sure we can work this out. But I would advise you to secure legal counsel with regards to this article. I can’t offer you my services – it’s not my area of expertise and it would be a conflict of interest – but I can recommend a colleague.’