Page 62 of Murder in the Winter Woods
The fellow in question slapped his tail on the floor so enthusiastically that the table shuddered, and the little glass salt and pepper shakers clinked against each other rather prettily.
Julia had made a promising start on the Sudoku in the morning newspaper when Flo came back with her coffee. ‘I’ve realised why it’s so quiet this morning, Julia. It’s poor Lydia’s funeral at eleven o’clock. The locals are all there, I reckon.’
‘Oh yes, poor Lydia from the butcher’s. I didn’t know her well myself, but she was well-known and liked around the village.’
‘She was indeed. Berrywick born, but she left for the bright lights of Bristol after school, like so many do. But Lydia came back a few years ago and got a job at the butcher’s. And quite a character she was too.’
‘A sad day for many in the village, I’m sure. And such a shock. She wasn’t even unwell, from what I hear.’
‘Fit as a fiddle, other than the bunions. Still, I must say, they’ve got a lovely day for the funeral. It’s turned out nice, after the week we’ve had.’ Flo smiled cheerily at the atmospheric good fortune, and returned to the kitchen.
It seemed an odd thing to say – ‘lovely day for the funeral’ – as if it were a picnic or a little summer party that was being planned, not a burial. Besides, some might say that a gloomy mood would be more fitting for the occasion than the bright, rain-washed day that sparkled outside the window. Julia was still thinking about funerals and weather when Flo returned with a large and brimming plate. ‘Soft eggs, crispy bacon, just the way you like it,’ she said, placing it in front of Julia. In her other hand was a smaller side plate with a doggy treat biscuit in the shape of a corgi, and an additional slice of bacon. ‘And your breakfast, sir,’ she said to Jake, putting the plate down on the table. Jakesmiled his most charming smile, which was very charming, if you didn’t mind the sight of drool.
Julia hadn’t even speared the yolk of her runny fried egg when she saw Tabitha come in the door. She came over and sat down.
Julia smiled at her. ‘This is a surprise. I thought you said you were going to Lydia’s funeral this morning?’
‘I was going to go, but it’s been postponed.’
‘Postponed? Whoever heard of a funeral being postponed? Why, was one of the family members ill-disposed?’
‘I’m not sure, but it was all very sudden. They sent out a message this morning, and asked that it be passed on to everyone who might be coming. Some of us were already on our way to the church when we heard.’
Nicky Moore came into the tea room, and hung up her coat to reveal a subdued navy blue dress, tights, and black court shoes. It was a far cry from her bold everyday wardrobe choices, from which Julia surmised that she, too, had been dressed and headed for the funeral which had now been postponed.
‘Well heavens, I must say this funeral business is all very mysterious,’ said Nicky, sitting down at Julia’s table without so much as an encouraging beckoning of the hand. ‘There might be more to this than meets the eye.’
‘There was a daughter in Perth,’ said Tabitha, who tended towards more straightforward, less dramatic explanations than Nicky did. ‘Perhaps she was coming for the funeral and her plane was delayed? That would explain the postponement.’
Nicky widened her eyes with the excited look of someone with high-value information to share. She paused to look furtively around the Buttered Scone to make sure she wasn’t going to be overheard gossiping – as if there was anyone in Berrywick who didn’t know that Nicky was one of the biggest chatterboxes in the village, perhaps in the district. Although nota malicious one. Seemingly satisfied that she wasn’t going to be overheard, she leaned in. Julia and Tabitha couldn’t help but lean in too.
‘Apparently,’ she said quietly, ‘when they organised the funeral, nobody thought there would be a problem. But late yesterday the post-mortem results came out and the police said that the funeral can’t go ahead yet, not if they want to have the body in attendance.’
‘I didn’t realise that there’d been a post-mortem,’ said Julia. ‘Why was that?’
‘Well, the death was very sudden and unexpected. Right as rain she was, until she felt ever so faint and dizzy, went for a lie-down, and never got up. You need to know what the cause of death was, don’t you. For the doctors, in case they missed something. Or maybe, I don’t know, maybe they think it could be something genetic that killed her. Like a wonky heart valve or something. A girl I was at school with had that, her whole family did. There was a wonky heart valve gene, and you wouldn’t know there was a thing wrong with you and then one day – poof! – the wonky heart valve would give up the ghost and you’d just keel over, dead. She got hers fixed – the valve, I mean, not the gene – and she’s right as rain. Just had a baby, in fact, eight and a half pounds, Lord help her. What a size! I hope they check the baby’s heart valve too, after that difficult birth.’
Tabitha and Julia sat quietly for a moment, processing Nicky’s story, which had started with a sudden death and somehow ended in a challenging childbirth. Two more women came in, both in funeral attire, and took a table near the counter. Next came DC Walter Farmer, looking very smart in uniform, his shoes shined, and comb marks visible in his hair. He stopped to greet them.
‘You all dressed up for the funeral, are you?’ said Nicky. ‘Ah, strange times, poor things. Well, I’d best be getting my owntable, Kevin said he’d meet me for a quick cuppa. Give my love to Amaryllis, will you, Walter? Tell her I said to put her feet up while she can. Once that baby comes, there’ll be no sitting about reading a magazine.’ Nicky cackled heartily at her own wit, and decamped to a table a few over.
‘Goodness, look at the time. I’d better be going too. I cancelled the locum librarian when I heard the funeral was postponed and it’s only ten minutes until I have to open the doors of the Berrywick Library to mobs of eager readers.’ Tabitha stood up too.
Julia laughed and stood up to hug her friend goodbye.
‘So, how is Amaryllis doing, Walter?’ Julia asked, sitting back down. ‘And how are you doing?’
‘Ah, all good, Mrs B. We had an ultrasound scan yesterday. We saw the baby. Would you like to see…?’ Walter blushed. ‘I mean, only if you have the time.’
‘Of course! I’d love to see a picture, Walter.’
Walter sat down and pulled a square of shiny grey paper from his top pocket, where, she suspected, he had stashed it for ease of retrieval throughout the day. He wiped the table with a paper napkin and gently laid the paper on the surface, as if it were made of crystal. The dark and light grey smudges could have been anything or nothing, at first glance. But in a moment the splotches resolved into a pattern that Julia recognised. The bean-shaped pale area was a foetus, lying on its back. Walter pointed: ‘That dot is a foot, and that there’s the spine.’
‘Oh, how marvellous, Walter. Your little baby.’
‘The spine…’ said Walter, wonderingly. ‘I mean, the little vertebrae…Imagine how small they must be…’ His voice tailed off, leaving just a bemused and somewhat terrified grin on his face.
Flo came up with her pencil poised over her notepad. ‘What can I get you?’
