Page 147 of The Love Letter

‘Yes.’ Simon paused for a moment. ‘I can imagine.’

‘And poor Ciara Deasy was told she was mad. I must write to her, maybe go and see her to tell her the letter is gone, that it’s all finally over.’

Simon covered Joanna’s hand with his own and squeezed it. ‘I’m afraid Ciara died that night too, Jo. At Ian’s hands.’

‘Oh God, no!’ Joanna shook her head, wondering if she could cope with more horror. ‘This is all so ghastly. Something that happened over seventy years ago destroying so many people.’

‘I know, and I agree. But as you just said, if it had leaked out, it would have caused an enormous scandal, even seventy years on.’

‘Still . . .’ Joanna took a deep breath, feeling her lungs labouring from all the speaking. ‘There are things that still don’t seem right. For example, why on earth would the palace send the Duke of York over to Ireland just after Partition? I mean, the English were hated, and the son of the sovereign must have been a prime target for the IRA. Why not Switzerland? Or at least somewhere warm?’

‘I can’t say for sure. Possibly because it really was the last place anyone would think of looking for him. He was sick, and needed time to recover in complete peace. Whatever,’ Simon sighed, ‘it’s time to close the book now.’

‘Something is still not right.’ Joanna ground a tuft of grass with her boot. ‘However, you’ll be glad to know I’m officially giving up. I feel so . . . so bitter, and angry.’

‘You have a right to feel that. But it will pass – the grief, the anger . . . One day you’ll wake up and it won’t control you,’ he reassured her. ‘And I do have one bit of good news for you.’ Simon fished in his jacket pocket and handed her a letter. ‘Go on, open it.’

She did so. The letter was from the editor of her newspaper offering her her job back on the news desk with Alec, as soon as she was fit enough to return. She looked at Simon, her mouth open in surprise. ‘How did you get hold of this?’

‘It was passed on to me to give to you. Obviously the situation was explained to those who needed to know and has been rectified. Personally, I’m only sorry you can’t go back in a blaze of glory with the scoop of the century. After all, it was you who beat us lot to the pot of gold. Right, let’s go. I don’t want you getting a chill.’ He helped her gently to standing and gave her a careful hug. ‘I’ve missed you, you know. I hated it when we weren’t friends.’

‘So did I.’

They walked back down the hill arm in arm.

‘Simon, there’s one last thing I wanted to ask you about that night.’

‘What?’

‘Well, this sounds very silly, and you know I’m not a believer in any of this kind of thing, but . . . did you hear a woman’s scream coming from the house?’

‘I did. I thought it was you, to be honest. That’s what alerted me to where you were.’

‘Well, it wasn’t me, but I think Ian heard it too. He had my head under water, then all of a sudden he let me go and put his hands over his ears, like he was hearing something unbearable. You . . . didn’t see a woman’s face at an upstairs window, did you?’

‘No, Jo, I didn’t.’ Simon grinned at her. ‘I reckon you were hallucinating, sweetheart.’

‘Maybe,’ Joanna acknowledged as she stepped into the car. She sighed as she saw the woman’s face as clear as day in her mind’s eye. ‘Maybe.’

An hour later, Simon pulled his car away from the farmhouse, giving a last wave to Joanna and her parents. Before he headed back to his own parents’ house across the lane, he had to make a telephone call.

‘Sir? It’s Warburton.’

‘How did it go?’

‘She came close, but not close enough for any panic.’

‘Thank God. You’ve encouraged her to drop the whole thing, have you?’

‘I didn’t need to,’ Simon reassured him. ‘She’s finished with it. Although she did tell me something that I think you should know. Something that William Fielding told Zoe Harrison before he died.’

‘What?’

‘The full name of our “Lady”’s emissary. I think we may have got our wires crossed there.’

‘Not over the phone, Warburton. Use the usual protocol and I’ll see you in the office at nine tomorrow.’

‘Right, sir. Goodbye.’