Chapter 15
It didn’t take Marnie long to unpack the car and move into Little Raspberries. By teatime her new kitchen cupboards were full of her baking equipment, her clothes were hanging in the wardrobe and her sheets were on the bed. The bedroom was at the back of the cottage and two deep bay windows afforded a view of the newly clipped lawn and the stream. It would be nice to be able to pull back the curtains in the mornings and not worry about seeing Suranna Fox standing on the street with a chainsaw.
She made herself a coffee and settled down with her new book: Country Manors Part One – Buyers and Cellars, which was nothing like as innocent as it sounded. ‘Makes Fifty Shades of Grey look like one shade of beige’, was its tagline. The author, Penelope Black, wrote about the comings – literally – and goings of a small English village, complete with a devastatingly handsome lord of the manor and what he liked to get up to in his specially adapted cellar with the local women, whose stupid husbands were blissfully unaware of what was going on under their noses. It was riveting stuff and the series had taken the world by storm.
She felt truly relaxed until someone knocked on the front door and she almost shot out of her skin and she knew she wasn’t out of the stress and anxiety woods yet. She opened it up to find Lionel Temple there, dog collar in place at his throat, bottle of wine in his hand.
‘Hello, Lion . . . Mr Lion . . . I mean Mr Temple,’ she stuttered, not quite sure what best to call him.
He chuckled. ‘You can call me Lionel, Mr Lion if you prefer. I don’t want to disturb you, but—’
‘Come in, do, please,’ said Marnie.
Lionel stepped over the threshold and wiped his feet on the doormat.
‘My, it feels lived in already. And smells like it too.’ He took a long sniff upwards.
‘I’ve not long since put a pot of coffee through, would you like one?’ asked Marnie.
‘I would, thank you. That’s no ordinary coffee smell.’ He followed her into the kitchen where Marnie took a mug from the cupboard and filled it from her trusty old machine.
‘It’s caramel coffee. Is that okay?’
‘Sounds wonderful.’ He handed her the bottle. It had a rustic label on it, the writing calligraphic. ‘Last season’s bilberry,’ he explained. ‘It trounced David’s rhubarb and ginger in the Christmas taste session.’
Marnie laughed. ‘Thank you. I can open it if you’d rather.’
Lionel declined the offer. ‘No, that’s for you. A welcome to your new home present.’
‘That’s very kind,’ said Marnie, putting it on the kitchen table. ‘Please take a seat. How do you take it?’
‘With the merest touch of milk to cloud it and no sugar, thank you.’
When she turned from the fridge, it was to find Lionel flicking through her Country Manors book.
‘So this is what everyone’s talking about. I did want to peep inside and take a look but they don’t have it in the village library.’
‘I thought it was about country life,’ Marnie blurted. It was an obvious lie and Lionel grinned, not taken in at all.
‘I’ve sat many an hour at this table talking to Jessie,’ said Lionel wistfully. ‘Eating fruit pie. She was a wonderful gossip.’ He laughed and Marnie thought it sounded like the laugh equivalent of church bells. Deep and resonant and joyful. ‘She is sadly missed.’
‘Well, I’m a cheesecake specialist, if that’s any consolation,’ Marnie replied, having a sudden vision of taking tea and cake with the vicar every week. Not something she would ever have imagined doing before.
‘Yes, Lilian told me so. Though . . .’ he held up his hand to reinforce the disclaimer, ‘she wasn’t gossiping about you. Fascinating story of how you came into contact with each other.’
‘Yes, it’s very odd,’ replied Marnie. She wondered if the vicar was here to suss her out, work out what her intentions were. He was understandably protective of Lilian, and she had no qualms about allaying any fears he might have.
‘I did get the feeling that Lilian thinks we might be related, but we’re not of course.’
‘Oh, you’ve seen the scarlet gypsy woman on the wall then,’ Lionel said. ‘In the very kindest way I shall tell you that Lilian sometimes sees what she wants to see.’
Time to put the cards on the table, thought Marnie.
‘If, by any chance, you’re afraid that I’m here to take advantage of Lilian, Mr Temple, can I just say that I’m not. This is a bolthole for me for a short time. I shall be paying rent and—’
‘Please, please, dear lady,’ Lionel interrupted and refused to let Marnie continue. ‘I am not here to vet you. I really am here to welcome you, with no hidden agenda. For however much Lilian’s memory is dissipating, her judgement of people remains sharp and steadfast.’
Then they definitely weren’t related, because Marnie’s judgement – at least of men she fancied – was more than crap.
‘Thank you, Lionel. I know you must all care for Lilian and her welfare very much.’
‘Well, some more than others,’ replied Lionel. ‘She hasn’t had the easiest of lives, despite being born into such privilege. But then it’s people that enrich us, not money, of course. Aurum Potestas Est; the Dearman family motto sums it up for them all – immediate and extended family – gold is power. Except for dear Lilian. If only the line could have continued under her.’
‘Lilian gave me a copy of the book you wrote,’ said Marnie with a wry smile. ‘It doesn’t pull any punches.’
‘As Lilian requested. I do pride myself on its accuracy, although I did have to check all the facts thoroughly. Lilian has a tendency to rewrite history when she dictates her memories.’ He gave her a wry smile of his own, before he drained his cup and then got to his feet. ‘I won’t take up any more of your time. I just wanted to say welcome. I don’t know if you are a believer or not, but Sunday service is at eleven a.m. There’s no pressure to attend, but I do like to play to an audience. An actor always gives a better performance when every seat is full.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Marnie. She wouldn’t be attending. Christianity hadn’t done her any favours in the past. ‘And thank you for the wine, Mr Lion. I shall put it to good use.’
At the door, Lionel Temple turned and then turned back, as if he had been about to say something but thought better of it. Then he decided to say it after all.
‘Marnie, be careful in Wychwell. It’s full of old families who are averse to change and anything new, unless you happen to be Herv Gunnarsen of course. He’s even got all the men fluttering their eyelashes.’
Marnie grinned. ‘I will.’
‘Not everything is as sweet as it might at first seem,’ he warned her then wished her goodnight. And as Marnie closed the door, she thought that she remembered Lilian saying something very similar only two days before.