‘I remember, she did,’ Beatrice sighed. ‘Poor Oenone.’ ‘That’s so dreadful,’ Lucy whispered. ‘And it’s never been rebuilt. Who owns it now?’
‘Peter,’ Hetty said. ‘Though he never wanted it.’ Then she looked straight at Lucy. ‘Peter told me he was leaving it to Tom, but Tom’s dead. So, Lucy, Carlyon will one day be yours. Not long now, I shouldn’t think – poor old Peter.’
In the car on the way back to St Florian, Beatrice surprised Lucy by remarking, ‘You know, I’m thinking that I’ll drive over and see Hetty again. It might help her to talk more. She’s a crusty old thing, but she must be lonely. And she remembers, Lucy. It’s so nice when you’re old to talk to others who remember.’