Page 175 of The Love Letter
‘Goodnight, sir,’ Simon stood up and walked towards the door. Then he paused and turned back.
‘Just one more thing, sir.’
‘Yes?’
‘Perhaps I’m being sentimental, but do you by any chance happen to know where Grace’s remains are? I rather thought that after all this, it might be the right thing to do to reunite her with the husband she loved.’
There was a pause before the old man answered. ‘Quite. I will see to it. Goodnight, Warburton.’
Simon just managed to hold it together until he reached the men’s toilets further along the corridor. There, he vomited copiously, then sank to the floor, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, empathising completely with what had driven Ian Simpson over the edge.
He’d never forget the fear in her eyes, the look of betrayal as he’d pulled the trigger. Simon put his head in his hands and sobbed.
On the drive down to Dorset at dawn the following morning, Sir Henry Scott-Thomas studied the short article on the third page ofThe Timesnewspaper.
JOURNALISTS KILLED IN BOMB BLAST
A car bomb exploded near an industrial estate in Bermondsey last night, killing both the driver, a 27-year-old journalist, and her editor. The explosion came after an evening of hoax calls, which resulted in part of the West End being closed to traffic for two hours due to bomb alerts. The victims are believed to have been Joanna Haslam, who worked for theMorning Mail, and Alec O’Farrell, the editor of the news desk at the same publication. Police suspect they may have been close to uncovering an IRA plot. After the bomb attack at Canary Wharf in February, police have been on high alert . . .
He sifted through the other articles in the newspaper, until his eyes fell on a short piece at the bottom of page fourteen.
RAVENS RETURN TO TOWER
It was announced this morning by the Beefeaters at the Tower of London that the world-famous ravens have returned home. The ravens, who have by tradition guarded the Tower for 900 years, mysteriously vanished six months ago. A nationwide hunt ensued, but to no avail. Although during the Second World War the disturbances caused by the Luftwaffe bombing raids reduced their number to one bird only, at no time has the Tower been without a raven to guard it. Protected by the Royal Decree of King Charles II, legend has it that should these birds ever leave the Tower for good, the monarchy would fall.
It was with considerable relief that the raven keeper found Cedric, Gwylum, Hardey and the rest of the ravens back at their lodgings near Tower Green late last night. After they’d had a good meal, the keeper pronounced them in excellent physical condition, but was at a loss to explain their temporary disappearance.
‘We are here, sir.’
‘Thank you.’
The driver made the necessary manoeuvres to remove Sir Henry and his wheelchair from the car.
‘Where to, sir?’
Sir Henry pointed in the direction of the spot.
‘You can leave me here and collect me in ten minutes.’
‘Very good, sir.’
Once the driver had gone, Sir Henry studied the grave in front of him.
‘So, Michael, we meet once again.’
It took all of his energy to twist the top off the canister he clutched in his hand.
‘Rest in peace,’ he muttered, as he threw the contents of the canister onto the grave. The particles seemed to dance in the glow of the early-morning sun, many of them settling on the rose bush that grew atop the grave.
Sir Henry saw his gnarled hands were shaking and he was aware of a steady and increasing pain across his chest.
No matter. At long last, it was over.
42
Zoe watched the coffin as it made its way into the ground, trying to suppress her sobs. She looked at the drawn, pale faces of Joanna’s parents, standing opposite her by the head of the grave, and at Simon, whose face was a mask of misery.
When it was over, the crowd began to disperse, some heading for the tea provided at the Haslams’ farmhouse, others straight back to London and their newspapers. Zoe walked back slowly towards the church gate, thinking what a peaceful, beautiful spot this was, tucked away on the edge of the small moorland village.
