Page 58 of Jingle Bells in June
Smiling, I wander happily into the living room, then I headupstairs to admire the bathroom with its gleaming white suite and large,walk-in shower.Plenty of space for two!
The main bedroom is indeed a bit untidy, with a fewhalf-unpacked boxes on the rug by the bed. I wander over to the window and sipmy wine, looking out over the back garden and across to the fields beyond. WillI wake up to this view tomorrow morning? Or will it be the view from one of thespare bedrooms?
A little shiver of anticipation rushes through me.
The evening has certainly started well. Who knows where itmight lead us?
As I turn away from the window, my eyes lands on one of theboxes that seems to be full of documents and photographs. Curious, wanting toknow everything there is to know about Aidan, I bend and pick up one of thephotos. It looks like an old family snap, taken on the beach, and I recogniseAidan. I smile. He looks about five and he’s eating an ice-cream, with twopeople standing smiling behind him. Presumably his parents.
There are more from the same holiday and I can’t resist lookingthrough them. I know Aidan won’t mind. There’s lots of pictures taken in thegarden of a house as well, and again, Aidan is young, probably about twelve.
Finding a picture of what was clearly graduation day, Ismile fondly. He’s hardly changed. Family members are gathered around him,smiling proudly–
My heart lurches with shock.
I peer at the photo more closely.
No, it can’t be...
My heart beats uneasily as I cross to the bedside lamp andswitch it on to get a better look. And at once, my head spins with disbeliefand I sink down on the bed.
‘Oh, you’re looking at old photos,’ says Aidan, coming intothe room.
I turn. ‘Yes. Um... who’s this?’ I holdout the photo, pointing at an older woman who’s standing at the edge of thelittle group, smiling into the camera.
He takes the photo with a fond, wistful look. ‘That’s myAuntie Peg. Well, she was my great-aunt, really, but I always called her AuntiePeg.’
‘Auntie Peg?’ I stare at him, confused.
But it can’t be her.
This is a photograph of Maggie!
His eyes glint with tears and he turns away. ‘Sorry, I actuallyfind it really hard to talk about Peg. I was gutted when we lost her.’
‘Of course you were,’ I murmur, my head reeling.
‘She’s entirely the reason I’m organising this fete. She waspassionate about helping the homeless, even to the extent of opening her hometo lost young souls who had no one else to turn to. She was incredible. And shedidn’t deserve what happened to her in the end.’
Icy fear clutches at my guts. ‘What happened?’ My voice is awhisper.
His mouth tightens. ‘She died after she collapsed on theroad outside her friend’s house. If Peg had had help at the scene, things mighthave been different. But Agnes didn’t call an ambulance for some reason. Sheobviously thought Peg was okay. But as for that heartless, bastard driver whocaused it all...’ He shakes his head, a thunderous expressionon his face.
‘What about her?’ I manage to whisper.
‘Flora Morris.’ He spits out the name as if he’s spent avery long time resenting her. ‘D’you know, she didn’t even bother contactingthe police until the following day. No concern at all for Peg. She just droveoff, without a care in the world.’
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
I now know what it means when people say the bottomhas fallen out of their world.
I can’t stop shaking.
Pieces of the puzzle are slowly starting to slot into place.Peg or Peggy is a short form of Margaret. And so, of course, is Maggie. ‘Peg’must have been Aidan’s own pet name for his great-aunt.
I get to my feet, grasping my hands together in an effort tostop them trembling.
It’s such a shock to learn that Maggie is Aidan’s aunt, Ican’t quite believe I’m managing to stand up. But I need to leave. Now. BeforeAidan realises there’s something seriously wrong.
