George shrugged. ‘It’s impossible to keep tabs on everyone,’ he said. ‘We think there must be many babies born after the parents arrived in England that were never registered, purely out of ignorance. People come to join relatives, then move on to other cities. The children might be in school for a year, then they’re gone. It’s just not possible to check up on them all. I just hope that whoever it is that’s got Petal – if someone has got her – he’s taking good care of her. Of course, he could’ve taken her to London, Birmingham, or Cardiff – anywhere with a sizable immigrant community – and finding her will be like looking for a needle in a haystack.’
‘But Petal was a very bright little girl. I couldn’t imagine her not telling someone about her mother. And if she saw what happened to Cassie, she’s likely to be distraught,’ Molly said.
‘That has occurred to me,’ George said. He looked hard at her face, as if taking in the fading but still visible black eye. ‘It also occurs to me that you are avoiding discussing what you’re going to do about your violent dad!’
Molly was embarrassed. ‘I’m planning to leave home as soon as I can get a job. I’d put off applying for any until after the inquest, and now there will be the funeral. As soon as that’s over, I’m going. But don’t tell anyone, because if it gets back to Dad, he’ll go mad.’
‘I thought perhaps you were waiting for the posh writer chap to sweep you off your feet.’
Molly looked at him. Had someone seen her go into Simon’s flat? She couldn’t think of any other reason for him saying such a thing. ‘Simon’s just a friend,’ she said indignantly. ‘I’m surprised at you. I never had you down as a nosy parker.’
‘I’m not, but I have to confess I’ve been keeping an extra sharp eye on you, what with the murder, and your dad.’
‘That’s very kind, but unnecessary now. Thanks to you, Dad has calmed down. I like Simon, and it’s good to talk to him, because he’s the only other person in the village who liked Cassie. But if you want to keep your eye on someone after I’ve gone, I’d appreciate it if it was my mum. Could you do that?’
George put his hand over hers. ‘Of course I will, and if you send me your address when you’re settled, I’ll write and tell you all the gossip. I think it’s the best thing for you, Molly, but I’m going to miss you, all the same. Have you decided where you’ll go?’
Molly looked at his big hand over hers and thought how nice it felt. ‘London seems the best bet,’ she said. ‘Maybe I could get a job in one of the big shops? I believe Selfridges and Harrods are both very special.’
‘You’ve always been a bit special to me,’ George suddenly blurted out, his face flushing a bright pink.
Molly was surprised at him saying such a thing, but touched, too. ‘What brought that confession on?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘I was just suddenly aware that I’ll really miss you. But if you do go and you want to come back and see your mum sometimes, without having to face your dad, you can come and stay with my folks. They would love to have you.’
‘That’s such a kind thought,’ said Molly, moved to find George so empathetic. She’d already wondered how she could see her mother away from her father. ‘I might very well take you up on that.’
George smiled. ‘I’ll be hoping!’
‘Not many people here are there?’ George said in a whisper as he and Molly took a pew in the church for Cassie’s funeral.
Molly glanced round and saw there were around twelve mourners in all, including Simon and Enoch Flowers, Cassie’s landlord.
‘I’m relieved to see this many,’ she whispered back. ‘I thought it might be just you, me and Simon, especially as it’s raining so hard.’
It had been warm and dry for several days, but at seven this morning the heavens had opened and the rain hadn’t let up since.
Molly’s mind had been all over the place since her long chat with Simon. One minute she could think of nothing but moving to London and working in a smart department store, the next she was plunged back into mourning for Cassie and feeling desperately afraid for Petal. She was finding it hard to dance attendance on the customers in the shop the way she used to, and she often forgot to order items they were low on. On top of this she kept slipping into little romantic fantasies about Simon.
He was so much more mature and articulate than the boys she’d grown up with. Most of them could barely string a sentence together, let alone talk coherently about the situation in Europe or equality for women. She knew, of course, that the attention he paid her was just his gentlemanly way, but she couldn’t help but wish it was more.
Looking across the nave at him now, he looked so handsome in his dark, well-cut suit. She wondered what a kiss from him would be like, or even to be naked beneath the sheets with him, his slim body pressed against hers.
She pulled herself back from that titillating thought. It was entirely inappropriate in a church. She glanced sideways at George beside her, almost afraid he’d read her mind, but he was looking off into space. She wondered if he ever had such thoughts about her.
The organ wheezed and sighed before one of the Bach Preludes began. Reverend Masters has asked Molly what music Cassie would like, but that was just another thing Molly didn’t know about her friend. Cassie hadn’t even had a wireless, so the subject had never come up. But Molly had chosen ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ as the hymn, because she’d heard Petal singing it once, and, even though Cassie had claimed to be an agnostic, she would like that, just because of her daughter.
The responses to the prayers were muted, the hymn was sung only marginally louder, and Reverend Masters’ eulogy could have fitted almost any average housewife. He mentioned Cassie’s love of books and gardening, but not her indomitable spirit, her sense of humour or her intelligence – all things Molly thought she had impressed on him. He mentioned Petal being missing still almost as an afterthought, and didn’t even speak out to tell the congregation that, if they knew anything at all about where she was, they should go straight to the police.
It was exactly the kind of funeral Molly had expected, yet she had hoped she would be pleasantly surprised and uplifted. As it was, she felt that, once again, she’d been slapped in the face with the knowledge that no one apart from her and Simon had liked Cassie. Even George hardly knew her. She guessed the other people here, with the exception of Enoch Flowers, had only come to the funeral to make themselves look good.
The second Cassie’s coffin was in the grave and the last prayer intoned, they all scuttled off. Even Simon went, though, to be fair to him, as he’d seen her and George arrive together, perhaps he thought it inappropriate to hang around when no one else was.
Molly stood silently in the rain, looking down at the casket, which she knew had been paid for from church funds, and cried. It wasn’t right that such a memorable, bright and fascinating woman should have such a weak and meaningless send-off.
George let her cry for a few minutes, holding his umbrella over her without saying a word. Finally, he touched her shoulder. ‘Let’s go and have a drink. Not here, where people will talk, but in Midsomer Norton.’
Molly smiled weakly at him, touched that he’d sensed that she really needed someone, or something, to delay her return home. It was bad enough having to say her last farewell to Cassie, but she was also anticipating a great deal of ridicule and sarcasm from her father when she got back.
There had been an atmosphere ever since he’d hit her. He hadn’t apologized, not even when her eye was black and swollen and she had weals on her cheek and neck, but he had let her stay upstairs until the swelling went down without saying anything nasty again. It was tempting to think he felt bad about attacking her as, even when she went back to work, he restocked the shelves in the shop, a job he normally left to her, and unpacked several deliveries, too – he hadn’t even admonished her when she’d forgotten some orders, but she thought it was more likely he was just brooding and waiting for an excuse to pounce again.