The Wilt Inheritance (21 page)

‘But we’d never dig a grave big enough to hold it,’ Emmeline objected. ‘I mean, that coffin’s huge.’

‘We could take the dead body out, so it would look like it had been stolen.’

‘Who on earth wants to touch a dead body? I know I don’t.’

Samantha spoke up next.

‘Don’t be such a stupid coward. All we’d need would be some plastic gloves or something. That way there would be no need actually to touch the body, and there’d be no fingerprints if anybody did find him.’

‘I still don’t see what we’re going to do about digging the grave.’

‘Don’t have to dig one,’ said Josephine. ‘We can always take him into the woods and make a big pile and do what Sir George wanted to do.’

‘You mean, burn him? How horrible.’

‘It isn’t. They cremate dead bodies all over the country every day. A lot of people put it in their wills that they don’t want to be buried at all. They want their ashes scattered over their gardens. Or somewhere beautiful.’

‘That’s true. I read about some man the other day who wants to be taken to the moon and scattered there when he kicks the bucket.’

‘Silly sod. He’d just float away, wouldn’t he?’

‘OK, we’ll burn him. But we’ll need some matches.’

‘Check no one’s coming, I’m going to the cottage. There was a packet of plastic gloves in the kitchen and there are bound to be matches as well,’ Samantha told the others.

She set off, keeping well under cover, and twenty minutes later had returned with eight disposable gloves and a matchbook.

At the gate to the graveyard Josephine called out, ‘Something weird’s going on up by the drawbridge. They have two furniture vans and men are unloading tables and chairs. Anyone would think they were going to have a garden party.’

‘For a funeral? Don’t be silly.’

‘Well come and see for yourselves.’

The other three did, lying one at a time where she had lain. Then they all went behind the hedge.

‘More likely the guests will be mourners coming for the burial which isn’t going to happen.’

‘With coloured umbrellas?’

‘No, I have to admit, that’s odd,’ agreed Emmeline. ‘Now if they were black it would make more sense.’

‘I bet it’s the food bit and not the mourners. They’d have to set up first and they might need brollies in case of rain.’

‘Oh, well, never mind that,’ said Samantha. ‘We’ve got to get the body out very quickly and hide it somewhere. We can come back later and take his uniform off.’

‘How gruesome. Why can’t we burn him with it on?’ asked Penelope.

‘Because his medals and belt buckle and cap badge are made of metal and it doesn’t burn.’

‘What are we going to do with his clothes and the wooden leg?’ Emmy asked.

‘We can’t leave them here or anywhere nearby. Someone is bound to find them.’

‘The wooden leg will burn, won’t it, stupid? And as for the clothes, I suppose we could take them out to sea in a plastic bag and weigh them down with a rock. Nobody would find them there,’ Josephine declared.

‘Except for a skin diver,’ Samantha replied. ‘Or someone fishing with a hook and line.’

‘Please, can we just get on with it before someone comes and catches us? We’d never get all his stuff back
to the guest house without Mummy seeing us, in any case. We’ll just have to bury it all somewhere they won’t think of looking. We don’t need to decide where now.’

‘There’s no need to be so bossy! OK, let’s see if we can move him.’

They pulled the late Colonel out of the coffin quite easily and disappeared with him into the thick stand of pines behind the chapel

Up at the Hall Eva was hoarse from calling for the quads and had begun to think they might have gone off in search of the beach. She’d had to borrow money from Mrs Bale to pay the taxi driver, who’d turned quite nasty when she had told him she’d pay him as soon as her husband came back.

‘All I’m telling you is that I’m adding all this waiting time and I’ll bloody well get my solicitor to take action if …’

There was no need for him to go on. Eva had dashed back to the kitchen where, to her relief, Mrs Bale had re-emerged and asked if Wilt had returned. Mrs Bale had said she scarcely thought so given that his car was not parked in the yard. She was about to say she could
understand why, with a wife like Eva, but changed her mind because the woman was on the verge of tears. A moment later she was crying properly and tears were coursing down her cheeks.

‘I don’t know where my girls are and Henry’s gone off with the car and I’ve got no money … We should never have come.’

‘All right, I’ll lend you enough to pay the taxi out of the housekeeping tin, but I’ll have to tell her ladyship. She may want to deduct the charge from this month’s earnings.’ Eva gave another great sob and Mrs Bale felt even guiltier for misleading her over Lady Clarissa and Wilt. ‘Don’t worry, it’s going to be all right. Now, it’s about time we both had something to eat. I’ve got a steak and kidney pudding which needs warming, and you’ll feel better after a spot of gin and tonic. I know I would.’

After paying the driver, Eva let Mrs Bale lead her to a chair and for once appreciated the extremely strong gin with a minimum of tonic that she was given. In fact, she had three altogether, after which she felt decidedly better. So much so that she forgot all about the girls’ disappearance and let herself be helped up to Wilt’s bedroom where she promptly fell asleep.

In his study, Sir George was still extremely angry. On the way back to the Hall he had decided his violent quarrel with Clarissa in the cemetery should be resumed more decorously in the house. He didn’t
want Mrs Bale to hear him shouting so waited for his wife to catch him up and then shut and locked the study door behind them. Clarissa still maintained that, because she had married into the Gadsleys, she was now a member of the family, and Sir George still maintained that she wasn’t.

‘George, I haven’t wanted to bring this up before now but you’re being so horrible you’ve forced me to. Mrs Bale told me that you’re not even a Gadsley yourself.’

‘Downright nonsense!’ Sir George yelled at her, forgetting to lower his voice. ‘I’ll sack the bloody woman for impertinence! I’m more of a Gadsley than even the Gadsleys were.’

Clarissa wondered what on earth he meant by this, but before she could ask him he went on.

‘I know the family history better than anyone. Ask me anything. Go on, ask me.’

‘I have no desire to ask you anything, you stupid, horrible man.’

‘Well, I’ll tell you then. I’ll tell you all you want to know about the cemetery you want to bury your bloody uncle in. It was first created by a Gadsley Blisett after the Battle of Hastings and remained private and secret so as to prevent the Normans from desecrating it by burying their own dead in it. And it’s not going to be desecrated now!’ He glared at his wife. ‘It’s remained private and to an extent secret ever since. In fact, the headstones were always laid
horizontal, level with the ground, so that it wasn’t immediately obvious anyone lay in graves below them – a small detail you might have observed for yourself if you hadn’t been so intent on annoying me.’

‘What about the chapel? Is it consecrated ground?’ asked Lady Clarissa, thinking that if only she could calm him down they might at least have a rational conversation.

‘Of course it isn’t now, but it was when it was built in the sixteenth century. It’s merely ornamental today, but recognised by the family as a fitting burial place.’

This reminded him of their original argument and he banged his fist on the table so loudly that Mrs Bale rushed to the study, thinking she was wanted. An embarrassed Sir George unlocked the door and claimed that he needed to make a phone call, an important and confidential one that he needed her to take notes on, and after hustling Clarissa out of the room promptly phoned directory enquiries. Getting through, he left the receiver on the desk and helped himself to a large brandy before picking it up again and starting a one-sided conversation about shares with his nonexistent financial adviser. Every now and then he paused for a couple of minutes before going on. Finally he put the phone back in its cradle, dismissed a perplexed Mrs Bale, and poured himself another brandy.

He’d have needed several more had he known what the quads were doing in the pine wood.

They had dragged the Colonel’s body to the edge of the plantation, where a band of mature conifers extending from the massive screen of mixed woodland helped to conceal the Hall from passers-by on the main road. Two hundred yards beyond them, in a wide meadow, cows and what looked suspiciously like a bull grazed.

‘We’ll cover him up for now and go back a bit into the wood to gather some sticks and things to make a pyre,’ Samantha told her sisters who had slumped on to the ground, exhausted after dragging the body over fallen branches. ‘There’s plenty of dry stuff there. But first we have to remove all the metal from his uniform and anywhere else he might have it.’

‘Even coins in his pockets?’ asked Emmeline.

‘There won’t be any. If the family haven’t taken it, the undertakers will have. That’s probably what they regard as their tip, like you give a taxi driver or a waiter.’

They moved back through the pine wood, gathering twigs and branches and stopping every now and then to listen for voices. While they worked they wondered what to do with the coffin.

‘Well, we definitely can’t take it anywhere and hide it.’

‘Why’s that?’ asked Josephine. ‘It isn’t as heavy as it looks. And without his body in it, it will be lighter still.’

‘Which will make the blokes carrying it suspicious. It’s a pity we can’t burn it too.’

‘Wood does burn,’ said Samantha helpfully. ‘That’s what we’re going to use to get rid of the Colonel when we set him on fire, isn’t it?’

‘If only the thing had a lock and key. If it did, we could lock it and throw the key away.’

‘What are you on about? I thought the whole point was to let Lady Clarissa find it empty and think that Sir what’s-his-name, her husband, had done something?’

But Josephine came up with another idea.

‘Why don’t we put something heavy inside? Not too heavy, of course. The Colonel wasn’t a heavy man. And then, when they open it up for a last look, they’ll be even more shocked.’

‘Now that is good idea. Let’s separate and look for a big log,’ said Samantha, the leader of the group.

By the time they had found a broken branch that fitted the coffin perfectly they were worried that they really had been gone too long and that either Eva or Wilt would have a search party out. They quickly cleaned themselves up in the lake, deliberately getting their hair wet, and returned to the kitchen where a slightly sleepy Eva sat nursing a black coffee and trying to wake up properly. ‘Where on earth have you been?’ she demanded.

‘We went down to the beach,’ Josephine lied.

‘And swam in your clothes, by your appearance. They’re wet through.’

There was a moment’s silence and then Samantha spoke.

‘There was a small boy of about five who got out of his depth and obviously couldn’t swim so we had to go in and get him out.’

‘Where were his parents?’

‘His father wasn’t down on the beach and his mother … I suppose it was his mother … was hysterical. So then we had to stay a bit longer and help calm her down. Anyway, we’re really sorry.’

Eva sighed. She’d never seen the quads looking less sorry but she wasn’t sure she had the strength right at this moment to find out what they had really been up to.

Mrs Bale took the girls off to her room to get their hair dry and left Eva wondering what on earth she had done to deserve all this.

‘That’s much better,’ she said when they all came back. Behind her Mrs Bale smiled to herself. She had not smelt any seawater on the blouse she was wearing when Emmeline had brushed against her. She’d felt the wet patch with her hand but there had been only fresh water and not a trace of salt on her finger when she’d licked it. She was certain the girls had been nowhere near the sea.

Wilt sat on the beach below the hotel, wondering where on earth his wife was. The receptionist at the desk swore she had no one by the name of Wilt staying, and in any case they were fully booked with no new arrivals all week. He ought never to have left his family
here, but at the time Eva had so annoyed him that he hadn’t considered the consequences.

He was wondering what to do next when, to his surprise, the barmaid from the village pub sat down beside him.

‘Good Lord. What on earth are you doing here?’ he asked.

‘Well, I do have some time off, you know. In fact, I’ve been for an interview at that posh hotel. I’m fed up with working in the pub and never meeting anyone properly. Or at least only meeting men like you who are too mean even to leave a decent tip.’

‘Yes, well, I was just about to go actually. I don’t think I should stay here any longer,’ he said hastily, getting to his feet.

‘Why is that? You’re all right. Don’t leave on account of me.’

‘Oh, no, I’m not. I’m growing worried about my wife and daughters.’

‘They aren’t ill or anything, are they?’

‘Good Lord, no. But I thought they were staying here at the hotel and it turns out they aren’t and never were in the first place.’

Seeing the puzzled look on her face, Wilt sat down again and told her the whole story.

‘So they left the Hall after they got shot at, yes? And then your wife insisted on staying here, but you weren’t happy?’

‘Well, it looked bloody expensive. God alone knows how much it was costing.’

‘So? You don’t have to pay. They’re not here.’

‘Theoretically, no. But if they were Eva had threatened to send the bill to wretched Lady Clarissa.’

‘By the sound of it, this Lady Clarissa could easily have afforded to pay?’

‘Ah, but if she refused to. What then?’

‘You mean, you’re going to be left with an enormous bill? Or, rather, you would have been left with an enormous bill had your wife and daughters been staying there. Here. Which they aren’t,’ said the barmaid, wishing she’d gone straight home after her interview.

‘Worse even than that, Eva said she was going to sue the Gadsleys if they didn’t pay up. And if she did sue, they’d hire the most experienced and expensive lawyers. And if we lost, as seems only too likely, the cost would bankrupt us. In fact, it’s not just likely: it’s damned well certain. And what really pisses me off is that Eva sucked up to this bloody woman like mad because she thought she was a so-called aristocrat and my wife is a raving snob. And she isn’t even a Lady!’