“Don't get upset Clive. I just wanted you to listen,” said Max. “I suppose I'm being very unfair unburdening to you but it's just for the record you know. Normally I would confide in Sarah but she's been through enough.”
Clive grinned, “That's what I'm here for, both as your cousin and your minister, but you didn't do this thing. You couldn't have it's not in your nature. I must go now Max, another duty call, but why don't you stay here in the church for a while and think about what I've said, it might help.” He smiled, “I know you don't pray but if you can't talk to God, perhaps he will talk to you.”
Max closed his eyes and was surprised when after a few minutes the quiet sanctity of the building began to ease his anxious mind. Or was it, he wondered, the sharing of his guilt, the same transformation he had witnessed in confessed criminals? Clive would say it was the hand of God. Max believed in a divine presence of some sort but unlike Clive, who expected results from his devotions, his own worship had been more ritualistic. On special occasions, weddings, baptisms or at Christmas surrounded by his family, he never forgot to say a private thank you for his good fortune and his oft-used saying in the midst of such happiness, âmy cup runneth over,' was biblical, but as for seeking help from the unseen power, that was another matter. It was his nature to suffer alone, struggling for the right path, agonising in isolation. Now he bowed his head, closed his eyes and silently begged for help, for peace of mind and for truth without harm to those he loved.
The church door opened and closed and seconds later Heather passed without seeing him, carrying a large bundle of flowers and greenery. She hummed softly to herself. Her baby was due and she had about her the glowing essence of life itself, the wholesome embodiment of goodness. Despite her encumbrance, she moved gracefully in and out of the vestry collecting vases and arranging displays with surprising skill. Max had no idea his daughter arranged the flowers in the church, another example of how neglectful he had been of his family.
Heather suddenly looked up and saw him. “Dad!” she exclaimed, “Have you been sitting there all the time?”
“I was enjoying watching you, I didn't know you were so clever with flowers,” he said mockingly as she sat down beside him. “Are you both keeping well?” He patted her large bump.
“Of course we are but I'll be glad when I can put this lump in a pram rather than hauling it around. It's so unfair, Anna's due at the same time and she looks as sleek and elegant as ever with just a dignified little swelling. I feel like a carthorse.”
Max kissed her forehead, “You look wonderful.”
“And you Dad, are you all right? You don't look so good. We were all devastated to hear about you and Mum. I know it's probably private but what the devil happened?” She looked around guiltily, “Not a good word for in here is it.” They both laughed. “But what happened Dad? I mean you and Mum you're the moral compass for the rest of us. We all aspire to have a marriage like yours. I can't believe there was anyone else involved.” She looked at him questioningly, “And then I hear you've been in hospital! I assume it wasn't Mum who hit you over the head?”
“No, on both counts, it was a misunderstanding and totally my fault and I was hit on the head in the line of duty. Does everyone in the family know?”
“Dad, everyone in Oak Hathern knows and if Ruby Rudge had a bike the rest of Hampshire would know. The few quid a week you give her isn't the only price you pay for a super-efficient cook and cleaner, everything you say and do goes on the public record.”
Max laughed heartily, something he hadn't done for a while. Heather's blunt and basic sense of humour never failed to amuse him. She was so much like her mother and, of course, he now knew how Douglas Hood was so well informed. He would have seen Ruby at the house on many an occasion, how easy it would have been for him to bump into her in the village and elicit information. Poor, unsophisticated Ruby would have been flattered he even remembered her and happy to discuss the private lives of her employers.
He touched Heather's arm, “As you say it's private my love, but rest assured your mother and I are back together and nothing, absolutely nothing is ever going separate us again.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The new grandchildren arrived just two days apart. A second girl for Heather and Stephen and a third boy for Jules and Anna instead of the other way around but no-one seemed to mind or even remember expressing any preference.
Darrington returned to his old job and the buzz around the police station was that in spite of such a prolonged absence, âRed Max' had lost none of his bite, perhaps the bark was a little softer, but give him time. Happy to be in harness again and with the trial of Ivor Calway looming he was soon up to his neck in police business but as promised, he kept an eye on his family life and set aside time to be more supportive of Sarah.
The question of Claudine's death and his possible involvement hung heavily over him and he knew that if he were interviewing a suspect with so many inexplicable coincidences he would be certain he was on the right track. However, he took the advice of Alice Bevis and Clive to heart and hoped the passing of time would diminish the rock of guilt still sitting in his gut. At the end of his days, he would be judged either for a heinous crime or cowardice whichever he was guilty of.
The double baptism saw the family congregated at Oak Hathern church with Clive conducting the auspices. Max watched his mother clucking over her new great-grandchildren; she couldn't quite hide her sadness, these were the times when, to the amusement of some and outrage of others, Alexander would make a derogatory remark about one of the babies and be chastised by her. He wondered if anyone else was feeling his absence and glanced at Julia standing by the font listening to her father eliciting promises from the godparents. She had quite suddenly blossomed from child to young woman, possibly with the passing of Alexander for such things were the benchmarks of life. She seemed to grow more like his mother, beside whom she now stood, every time he saw her. She had green eyes and a long, swan-like neck and when Heather's baby screamed in protest at the trickle of holy water poured across her brow, they looked at one another and smiled identical smiles. Julia leaned forward to see more clearly and twined her fingers in the chain hanging around her neck. Max's stomach lurched. His eyes riveted to the silver cross she twirled around and around.
Champagne toasts to the babies and a sumptuous afternoon tea, prepared at the vicarage by Ruby Rudge, followed the service. The noisy gathering ate, chattered and laughed as they caught up on happenings since the last such family occasion. The mothers of the new babies proudly displayed their infants. Jane introduced a new boyfriend she had brought with her from Berlin and David regaled his young nephews with tales of the navy.
Max made his way through the gathering to Julia, who blushed self-consciously when he remarked on her grown-up appearance. His fingers trembled as he touched the silver cross. “That looks very pretty, Julia.”
“Yes, Grandpa Alex left it to me,” she said proudly. “It's got an âE' engraved on the back,” she turned the cross to show him, “it belonged to his mother, Eloise but my second name is Elizabeth so it could be for me too, Aunt Clarissa said so. Grandpa Alex wore it when he went to the war or something.”
An ice-cold shiver ran the length of Max's spine, “Yes, I wore it too Julia when I went to war, but I'm sure it looks better on you.”
Looking up he caught sight of Charles staring intently at him. Max stared back. Years as a policeman had taught him to recognise fear when he saw it.
Clarissa spoke at his elbow, “Isn't this a wonderful day Max. I'm so glad David managed to get here and Jane with her charming young man. I've just been talking to them and I wouldn't be surprised if we don't have another wedding in the family soon.”
Max smiled indulgently at his mother. “Stop matchmaking, Mother,” he said pleasantly.
Clarissa touched his arm, “And it's good to see you and Sarah looking so happy although you still look a bit pale. Everything is all right now isn't it?”
“Yes, Mother, everything is perfect, especially today. I see Julia is wearing one of the silver crosses.”
For a split second Clarissa's eyes darted to Charles. “Well yes, Alexander left it to her, surely you knew that; it was on the list of bequests I gave you.” He looked at her blankly and she lowered her voice, “The list of bequests Alexander made out for the family. I did give you a copy and you said you had looked at it.” She paused and looked around, making sure she was not overheard, “Quite honestly Max I think your mind was on other things at the time, but if you felt it was yours and you didn't want Julia to have it, you should have spoken up earlier.”
Max ignored the rebuke. It was easier not to refute the generally accepted story of him having gone off the rails with a younger woman, causing Sarah to leave him, only coming to his senses after a blow to the head landed him in hospital. “No, it's nothing like that Mother. I just wondered how Alexander came to have it.”
“We're not sure,” Charles quickly interjected moving closer to Clarissa.
“Well, not absolutely sure,” Clarissa added uncertainly, “I thought you had them both, but apparently Alexander had one.”
The vision of Claudine astride her lover with the cross hanging from her neck revisited him and a new appalling realisation crowded in on his mind. “Sorry, what did you say Mother?”
“I said you don't mind Julia having the cross do you?”
Max's smile was too wide. “No, of course not, she was very special to Alexander and she should have something that was special to him.”
Sarah came towards them holding Jules and Anna's baby tenderly in her arms. “Would you like to hold your great-grandson?” she asked Clarissa.
“Yes, of course, but I would like to sit down first.”
They moved away and Charles grasped Max's arm with remarkable force for such an elderly man, “Whatever you're thinking Max, please leave it alone, let it go!”
“Not a chance Uncle Charles,” he hissed back while removing his arm from Charles's grip, “if you know the truth I need to know it too, we can't talk about it here, but I'll come up to the cottage later and I want the straight story this time.”
Max and Sarah strolled home across the green. It was dusk but still warm after a long, sunny day and they walked with their arms around one another.
“Wasn't it a perfect day,” said Sarah, smiling. She looked up at Max and wished the anxiety still showing in his face would disappear.
Suddenly he bent over and kissed her hard on the mouth, “You know you're far too sexy to be a grandmother,” he said when he released her.
“Is that a proposition Max Darrington?” she asked playfully. “Perhaps I should get you home quickly before you change your mind.”
“Well, I really do hate to disappoint you,” Max answered, “but I promised to go up to Top Cottage to see Mother and Uncle Charles. They're obviously missing Alexander and I want to make sure they're all right, but you can go ahead and get the bed warm. I'll take the car and I won't be long.”
As they entered the house the phone was ringing. “It's for you Max,” Sarah called, as he looked for his car keys. “Seems you're in demand tonight,” she smirked across her shoulder when he playfully patted her bottom.
In his distinctly Cornish accent, Sebastian Penhelligan apologised for taking such a long time to return Max's call explaining he had misplaced the telephone number and only just found it again. As his wife had done, he gave a long, rambling account of the night he had rescued Grannie during the Blitz and Max wondered at the accuracy of a tale that would have been embellished and exaggerated in the retelling again and again over the years.
“Grannie's still alive and kicking at ninety-four and still as cantankerous. I sometimes think I shouldn't have been quite so brave that night,” he laughed loudly at his own joke.
“But you did see a man in naval uniform leaving the house, Mr Penhelligan?”
“Well, that's why I rang you Chief Inspector; I've been talking about it to Grannie just today she's still got all her faculties. We both saw the man but it wasn't a naval uniform, it was a navy coloured uniform,” Max held his breath, “you know what I mean like one of those ARP Warden uniforms. Grannie and I explained that to the police at the time, but I suppose we didn't make it clear what we meant. We were still both a bit shook up and ⦔
Max cut him off, “Mr Penhelligan, thank you so much for returning my call, you've been most helpful in tying up the loose ends in the case you really have. My compliments to your grandmother.”
Replacing the receiver he closed his eyes and reluctantly recalled Alexander sitting at his hospital bedside during the war, grinning as he opened his coat showing his ARP uniform, â
I'm supposed to be on a training course'.
That's where he was supposed to be on the night Claudine was killed. The night he had gone missing. They had both been at Claudine's flat.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
At Top Cottage, Clarissa and Charles were waiting for him. Side by side they sat on the sofa in front of the long French windows. This was the room where they had dined that first Christmas Eve of the war, where Alexander had presented him with the keys to the MG and where, on New Year's Eve, they had danced and sang
Auld Lang Syne
while the snow fell and he had fallen hopelessly in love with Claudine.
“What is it you want to know Max?” Charles asked.
Max glanced at his mother, he would have preferred to speak to his uncle alone but the two of them remained determinedly together.
“Clarissa knows as much as I do, so she should stay,” Charles said firmly, guessing his thoughts.