floor, filling the washing machine and doing the rest of the chores as though the past week had never happened. Natalie made no comment, deciding it was easier to go with the flow.
This was how they got through the next three years.
Sarah was never mentioned. All her belongings were packed neatly into boxes, along with the many photographs that had been scattered around the house. For a few months the boxes remained heaped in her old bedroom, gathering a grey film of dust. Then one day they simply vanished. It was as though Sarah had never existed.
Magda got a job at the local beauty salon, and then another at a local wine bar. Regardless of her frosty demeanour, she seemed to have no trouble attracting new admirers, which was perhaps why Sir Henry, despite agreeing to let them live at the Lodge rent-free, never visited again.
Nor did Sir Henry ever employ another head gardener. He closed the castle and grounds to the public and took up blasting the local wildlife to death instead. Shortly before Natalie left to go to college, he was dead too. Natalie liked to think it was divine retribution for all those poor rabbits and birds he’d shot, but the mundane reality had been an accident while re-loading his gun. The title passed to a cousin; the castle, grounds and the little that remained of his personal fortune went to his wife, to be held in trust for his only child, Alicia.
9
Present
Alicia Vyne Fitzpatrick always bought yellow roses for Sarah’s grave. Had they been her favourite? Alicia had no idea. They were a bright, cheery colour and it was the right thing to do.
The roses looked so beautiful against the white headstone it was a shame no one ever saw them. Natalie never visited her sister’s grave and, as far as Alicia was aware, neither did anyone else. Perhaps no one knew the grave was here, hidden away behind this little church, the headstone engraved with only one word.
Sarah
Alicia had often wondered what Sarah would have been like if she’d lived. Would they have gone to university together, and been bridesmaids at each other’s weddings? Would they have even remained friends? Sarah had always been the kind of girl who would have gone places and done amazing things. Alicia had the idea that both she and Calahurst were likely to have been left trailing in Sarah’s wake years ago.
Dispirited, Alicia took this week’s yellow roses out of their wrapping and tried to arrange them in the little stone vase on Sarah’s grave. Whatever she did, the roses looked as though they’d been plonked in. So in the end she gave up and settled for checking that the marble chippings covering the grave were free of weeds, and picked up a stray cigarette butt that had fallen amongst them.
St Daniel’s Church was a Victorian addition to the Hurst Castle estate, built to replace the ruined chapel in the gardens. Of the same grey limestone, it was almost hidden by the surrounding woodland. The church was always kept open for the tourists, although there were considerably less of those now the castle was no longer open to the public. The grander family tombs were inside the church, or outside on either side of the main path - all the better to be admired.
Sir Henry had suggested Sarah should be laid to rest here, right at the back to discourage the ghouls from seeking her out. She was well hidden. The graves here were over a hundred years old and mostly belonged to the castle servants. Some didn’t even have proper headstones, and those which did exist were so worn the inscriptions were impossible to read. It broke Alicia’s heart every time she saw them. She would have loved to have had these little headstones repaired but James would not hear of it.
“Why waste money on the dead?” he’d told her (even though it was her money). “Your mother should flatten the lot, before one of those old headstones falls over and breaks someone’s foot. And they sue her skinny arse.”
So today, as always, Alicia
This was how they got through the next three years.
Sarah was never mentioned. All her belongings were packed neatly into boxes, along with the many photographs that had been scattered around the house. For a few months the boxes remained heaped in her old bedroom, gathering a grey film of dust. Then one day they simply vanished. It was as though Sarah had never existed.
Magda got a job at the local beauty salon, and then another at a local wine bar. Regardless of her frosty demeanour, she seemed to have no trouble attracting new admirers, which was perhaps why Sir Henry, despite agreeing to let them live at the Lodge rent-free, never visited again.
Nor did Sir Henry ever employ another head gardener. He closed the castle and grounds to the public and took up blasting the local wildlife to death instead. Shortly before Natalie left to go to college, he was dead too. Natalie liked to think it was divine retribution for all those poor rabbits and birds he’d shot, but the mundane reality had been an accident while re-loading his gun. The title passed to a cousin; the castle, grounds and the little that remained of his personal fortune went to his wife, to be held in trust for his only child, Alicia.
9
Present
Alicia Vyne Fitzpatrick always bought yellow roses for Sarah’s grave. Had they been her favourite? Alicia had no idea. They were a bright, cheery colour and it was the right thing to do.
The roses looked so beautiful against the white headstone it was a shame no one ever saw them. Natalie never visited her sister’s grave and, as far as Alicia was aware, neither did anyone else. Perhaps no one knew the grave was here, hidden away behind this little church, the headstone engraved with only one word.
Sarah
Alicia had often wondered what Sarah would have been like if she’d lived. Would they have gone to university together, and been bridesmaids at each other’s weddings? Would they have even remained friends? Sarah had always been the kind of girl who would have gone places and done amazing things. Alicia had the idea that both she and Calahurst were likely to have been left trailing in Sarah’s wake years ago.
Dispirited, Alicia took this week’s yellow roses out of their wrapping and tried to arrange them in the little stone vase on Sarah’s grave. Whatever she did, the roses looked as though they’d been plonked in. So in the end she gave up and settled for checking that the marble chippings covering the grave were free of weeds, and picked up a stray cigarette butt that had fallen amongst them.
St Daniel’s Church was a Victorian addition to the Hurst Castle estate, built to replace the ruined chapel in the gardens. Of the same grey limestone, it was almost hidden by the surrounding woodland. The church was always kept open for the tourists, although there were considerably less of those now the castle was no longer open to the public. The grander family tombs were inside the church, or outside on either side of the main path - all the better to be admired.
Sir Henry had suggested Sarah should be laid to rest here, right at the back to discourage the ghouls from seeking her out. She was well hidden. The graves here were over a hundred years old and mostly belonged to the castle servants. Some didn’t even have proper headstones, and those which did exist were so worn the inscriptions were impossible to read. It broke Alicia’s heart every time she saw them. She would have loved to have had these little headstones repaired but James would not hear of it.
“Why waste money on the dead?” he’d told her (even though it was her money). “Your mother should flatten the lot, before one of those old headstones falls over and breaks someone’s foot. And they sue her skinny arse.”
So today, as always, Alicia
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