Page 73 of The Diary at the Last House Before the Sea

‘You haven’t said yet why you’ve come looking for me.’

‘I…I…’ Clara blinked, unsure how to explain her motivation to the woman who had been in her thoughts for so long. ‘I saw your portrait which is hanging in the manor. The one of you in a yellow dress, and I became interested in you and your story.’

‘I never imagined that my portrait would still be on display.’

‘I believe that was my father’s doing,’ said River. ‘He insisted on it.’

Audrey’s lower lip trembled and her next words were so indistinct, Clara barely caught them. ‘So, he didn’t forget me, then.’

Clara had an urge to put her hand on Audrey’s, to comfort this elderly woman who had left behind a child she held dear. But she wasn’t sure that any show of affection would be welcomed from her or River. They were strangers to Audrey, and the three of them were walking an emotional tightrope between the past and the present.

‘How is Geoffrey doing?’ Audrey asked River, her voice more steady now.

‘He’s healthy and still living in the manor house for the moment. But the costs involved in keeping the place repaired and running mean that it’ll soon have to be sold.’

‘Brellasham Manor no longer belonging to the Brellashams?’ Audrey shook her head. ‘Edwin wouldn’t like that. He wouldn’t like that at all.’

Hearing Audrey speak the name of her abusive husband gave Clara a jolt. Would she want to know what had happened to him after she’d left? Clara had just decided it was best not to mention him when Audrey said unprompted: ‘I know that Edwin is dead. It said so the one time I looked up his name, a couple of years ago. I’d never tried before then to find out what had happened to my husband. I was frightened that if I asked any questions he would hear of it and find me.’

‘And you didn’t want to be found,’ said Clara.

‘It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be found. I couldn’t be found. But I don’t expect you to understand.’

‘The thing is, Audrey, we do understand, more than you think…is it all right to call you Audrey? Perhaps I should be calling you Violet or Ms Winter? Whichever you prefer is?—’

Clara stopped talking, realising that she was babbling because she was nervous. What she was about to explain would lead to her confessing that she’d read this woman’s diary, and her mother’s words were echoing in her mind: It’s a gross betrayal of trust.

‘I think at this point Audrey is fine.’ The elderly woman folded her arms, curiosity written across her face. ‘What exactly is it that you understand?’

Clara hesitated until a discreet nod from River gave her the courage to carry on. ‘From the outside, your life at Brellasham Manor looked amazing – a beautiful house, a handsome husband, ballgowns and dances. But we know that things weren’t what they seemed and Edwin wasn’t the loving husband he appeared to be.’

‘And how do you know all of that?’ asked Audrey, shifting in her seat.

‘We know because of your diary,’ said Clara, pulling it from her bag that was looped across her body. ‘I found it in my grandmother’s belongings after she died. She must have taken it from your bedroom.’

Audrey took the book in shaking hands and began to leaf through it. And as she ran her fingers across the words she’d written so long ago, her eyes began to brim with tears. ‘But how…how did this diary lead you to me?’

This was the part that Clara was dreading the most. How would Audrey react when she found out that the two strangers in front of her knew intimate details about her life and marriage? Details that she’d deliberately made unintelligible because they were a secret. Her secret. But Clara knew she’d come too far and this woman was owed both an explanation and an apology.

‘I’m so sorry but I read your diary,’ she blurted out. ‘I know it’s a terrible invasion of privacy, a gross betrayal of trust even, but I reckoned it was OK because you were dead, or so I thought. And then, when I saw the numbers you’d written and the coded message my gran sent you I was intrigued. I managed to decipher the numbers, using the dictionary we found in your bedside table and your final coded words, Can a flower bloom in the snow? Only time will tell, along with your love for the novel Rebecca, suggested to me that you might have chosen the new name Violet Winter, and I knew from your birth certificate that you had a link to Dorking.’ Clara swallowed. ‘I have a reputation for being stubborn and not letting things drop.’

Fake seagulls squawked from the speaker as Clara waited for Audrey’s response. She was expecting anger, upset, outrage even, but all Audrey said was: ‘So you know what Edwin was really like.’ Clara nodded, angered afresh by the lifelong effect that Edwin’s abuse had wreaked on this softly spoken woman. ‘And you too?’ Audrey asked River.

‘Yes, and I’m so sorry for what my grandfather did to you.’

Audrey regarded him for a moment, her eyes unbearably sad. Then she reached over and patted his knee. ‘It’s not for you to apologise for the actions of a man who’s long gone. His flaws aren’t your responsibility.’

‘I guess so.’ River’s voice was husky with emotion. ‘But I’m sorry all the same.’

‘Everybody’s sorry. You on behalf of a man you probably hardly knew, and you,’ said Audrey, turning her attention to Clara, ‘for reading a diary that I meant to destroy. But I suppose that reading the diary of a dead woman is allowed, and I’m impressed that you worked out my code. You’re a clever girl. Just like your grandmother.’

Clara felt her shoulders relax. She’d been holding herself tight, waiting for condemnation from Audrey that wasn’t coming.

‘I forgot to destroy my diary before I left and I was so worried it would get Violet into trouble. If Edwin had realised the message was in her handwriting…’ Audrey grasped hold of Clara’s hand. Her skin was cool and ridged with blue veins. ‘He never did find out, did he? She didn’t lose her job?’

‘No, he never found out and Gran didn’t lose her job. But she was spotted in your bedroom and was under suspicion for a while of stealing the diamond necklace that went missing when you did.’

Audrey pulled back her hand. ‘Of course Violet didn’t steal the diamonds. That must have been dreadful for her. I’m terribly sorry, after she’d helped me so much.’

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