Page 47

I think it was Dad who spoke first.

‘You know ?’ He placed his lap tray on the coffee table, switched off the television, and turned to face her. ‘Polly, are you serious?’

‘Aw, Jimmy, don’t let your dinner go cold,’ she said.

‘Sod the dinner,’ he told her. ‘Pol, this is important. Are you saying you knew who your murderer was, right from the moment it happened? Well, who? Who was it? And why the hell did you cover up for him?’

‘It’s not as simple as all that,’ she explained.

‘I had my reasons, believe me. And when I tell you the truth, you’ll know why I couldn’t say anything.

Please, just try to keep an open mind and don’t judge, okay?

This is really hard for me, and it’s only because of our Shona and Max that I’m doing this. ’

‘No, Aunt Polly,’ I said, my heart going out to her as I saw the anguish in her face, ‘don’t do it for us. If it’s too much for you then you don’t have to tell us anything.’

‘Doesn’t she?’ Dad demanded. ‘I reckon you’re hoping she’ll change her mind, so she doesn’t drop that Max’s grandad in it. You’re a bit too close to him for my liking.’

‘What?’ Pippa’s mug of tea wobbled precariously in her hand. ‘You and Max?’

‘It’s over,’ I said desperately. ‘Not that it really started. Just a few dates and some very innocent kisses, that’s it.’

‘Mum! Why didn’t you tell us?’

‘Because I wasn’t sure how everyone would react,’ I admitted. ‘Given the circumstances.’

‘She means me,’ Aunt Polly said sadly. ‘I put pressure on her not to carry on with the investigation, and she told Max she couldn’t help him. She told him about me. About the ghosts of Rowan Vale. Needless to say, he didn’t believe her.’

‘Oh, Mum, I’m so sorry,’ Pippa said.

‘Aren’t we getting away from the point?’ Dad asked. ‘Who was it, Polly? Was it that Gerhard Janssen? Because if it was, I think his grandson should be told, so he knows what kind of man his grandfather was.’

‘I think he knows exactly what kind of man his grandfather was,’ Aunt Polly said, suddenly sounding a lot stronger as she lifted her chin and faced her nephew. ‘A kind, sweet, wonderful man. A man of integrity. A man I loved.’

There was a stunned silence.

‘Pol!’

‘Aunt Polly, really?’

She got to her feet and stood in front of the fireplace, facing us as we all stared expectantly at her.

‘Gerhard Janssen,’ she said, ‘was a lovely man. And – and we planned to marry.’

‘No.’ Dad shook his head, dazed. ‘No, that can’t be right. You loved Uncle Charlie!’

‘Of course I did!’ Aunt Polly cried. ‘I loved him heart and soul, and if he’d still been around, I would never have looked twice at any other man, I swear it.’

‘Of course you wouldn’t,’ I said, giving Dad a fierce look. ‘But you’d been alone for a long time, hadn’t you?’

‘A war widow,’ she said, smiling gratefully at me.

‘It’s a horrible title, and not one I’d ever have wished for.

But I had to make the best of it, didn’t I?

I had to carry on with my life, and I did.

I went back to work. I went to the pictures with friends.

I put a smile on my face and just got on with it, because that’s what everyone did.

We all had to. What choice was there? I never expected to love anyone else, but Gerhard… ’

‘But he was a German, Polly,’ Dad murmured.

‘Meaning?’ I said coldly.

‘I’ve nothing against Germans, Shona,’ he said firmly. ‘Don’t you ever think that about me. But this was wartime, remember? He was an enemy soldier. A prisoner. Can you imagine what people would have said if they’d known about it?’ He faced Aunt Polly again. ‘ Did anyone know?’

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if for protection, and it was then that I noticed something. Something I should have noticed years ago.

‘Aunt Polly,’ I said slowly, ‘where’s your coat?’

Dad’s brow furrowed. ‘What are you on about?’

Aunt Polly, though, was simply looking at me as if she’d been waiting for someone to ask her that for decades.

‘She went out to lay flowers on a grave that evening,’ I said. ‘She was never seen alive again. But it was New Year’s Eve. It would have been dark and freezing cold. Why wasn’t she wearing a coat?’

Pippa let out a long, ‘Ohhhh!’

Dad rubbed his forehead, clearly confused. ‘Well…’ Having no answer, he simply stared at his aunt, a question in his eyes.

‘I should start at the beginning,’ she said.

‘There’s no point otherwise. It’s important that you know it all, so you can understand.

It was 1944 when Gerhard was sent to Chipping Marsham Camp and started working at Rowan Farm, along with another prisoner, Anselm.

I used to go to the farm for eggs and milk and the like, and I was friends with Helen, so I bumped into them a few times.

They were always very polite, but we didn’t make conversation.

Back then, they were under close supervision, and the rules were very strict, but gradually, things began to get more relaxed.

The war had ended, but the Germans were still held in this country. ’

‘Why?’ Pippa asked. ‘Why weren’t they sent home?’

‘Because the British government needed labourers,’ I said briefly. ‘The country was in ruins and prisoners were needed to repair it. Roads needed fixing, houses needed building, farmland needed working.’

Aunt Polly nodded. ‘By then, the prisoners were allowed to socialise a bit with the locals. And by the end of 1946, they were able to do almost anything. Gerhard and Anselm were billeted on Rowan Farm instead of being stuck at the camp.

‘They came into the teashop one day, and we got talking. It was just a friendly chat, that’s all, but I liked Gerhard straightaway. He was sweet, you know? And so polite and gentlemanly. He treated me with respect, he really did.’

I thought wistfully that it seemed as if Max had taken after his grandfather, then.

‘We started bumping into each other a lot. It’s a small village and by then, most people had accepted them and liked them.

Not everyone, but most. We saw each other at the farm, and at the pub sometimes, and he started coming into the teashop just to chat.

He couldn’t buy much – they were only paid pocket money.

A shilling a day, I think it was. I used to slip him the odd treat.

A slice of cake here. A sandwich there. You know. ’

Dad was staring at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but I could see Pippa was as entranced as I was.

‘So when did this new friendship turn to love?’ I asked.

She hesitated. ‘It was the summer of 1947,’ she said.

‘You must remember, I’d been a widow for six long years by then.

It’s not like I was carrying on with just anyone!

Gerhard was special, and yes, I’ll admit it, I was in love with him.

He was very handsome, and that voice…’ She gave me a wry smile. ‘You know what I mean, Shona.’

I nodded. I knew all too well.

‘Anyway, I won’t go into any details, especially with our Jimmy sitting here,’ she said. ‘I can tell this is making him uncomfortable.’

‘I don’t begrudge you a bit of happiness, Pol,’ he told her. ‘You’d lost Uncle Charlie a long time before that, and I know he’d have wanted you to be happy. But you were taking a risk, even in 1947.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘We both knew. There was a woman in a nearby village who’d been courting a German prisoner, and they made her life hell.

She was spat at and even slapped. The names they called her!

It didn’t stop them, though. They got married as soon as it was allowed, although it meant she had to give up her British citizenship, if you can believe that. ’

‘And even knowing that, you still planned to marry this fella?’ Dad asked incredulously.

‘I loved him, Jimmy,’ she said simply. ‘We’d have been happy. I know that.’

‘So – so Gerhard didn’t kill you?’

‘Do you really have to ask that, Shona?’ she said.

‘No. I just wanted to hear you say it. So I can tell Max. Put his mind at rest once and for all, even though he never believed his grandfather capable of such a thing anyway.’

‘And he’s right about that,’ she assured me. ‘He was the sweetest man.’

Dad ran a hand through what was left of his hair and gave a heavy sigh. ‘All right then, so Gerhard Janssen didn’t kill you. But, Polly, who did?’

‘Now, Jimmy,’ she said, holding up her hands, ‘I want you to be open-minded about this. You’re not going to like it and it’s going to hurt. Are you sure you want to know?’

‘Of course I want to know! Who killed you, Pol?’

We all waited anxiously as she closed her eyes for a moment.

Then she faced us all with as much calmness as she could muster and said, ‘Ray. It was your Uncle Ray. My brother.’

‘No way!’ Dad cried. ‘It can’t have been! Pol, you’ve got this all wrong. Ray wasn’t even in Rowan Vale when you died. He was in Northumberland, remember? Working for that pal of Sir Edward’s with the big estate.’

Aunt Polly took a seat next to him on the sofa. ‘I’m sorry, love. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I promise, it’s true. It was Ray all right.’

‘No.’ Now Dad got to his feet and began to pace up and down, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to work it all out. ‘It must have been the shock made you see things. Ray was in Northumberland. Dad told me.’

‘He was supposed to be in Northumberland,’ Polly agreed. ‘He never went there.’

‘What was he supposed to be doing in Northumberland again?’ Pippa asked. ‘I’m a bit hazy on the details.’

Aunt Polly turned to her. ‘When your Uncle Ray got back from the war, he was a changed man. What they called shellshocked in the Great War. PTSD, your mum says it’s called now.’

Pippa nodded. ‘Yes, I remember that. Normandy, right?’