Phaedra dropped her gaze to the earth at her feet. “You know he’s not in there, don’t you?”
“Sorry?”
“Oh, his body’s in there, of course. Like the shell of a tortoise or the skin of a snake. But George, his essence, his soul, the person who looked out at us through his eyes, he’s somewhere else.” She looked about her. “He could be here, right now.”
Antoinette let her eyes wander, hoping for a flicker of light, a shimmer of shadow, a vague outline . . . anything. “Do you think he’s here?” she asked.
“I know he is.” Phaedra’s voice was now a whisper. “He lives on, Antoinette. Don’t think he doesn’t. You have to believe he’s with you.”
“I want to. I so desperately want to.”
“Then close your eyes and feel him.”
Antoinette closed her eyes and felt the breeze brush her cheek and the sunlight warm her skin. Perhaps George was in the wind and in the sunshine. She felt the tears squeeze between her lashes and slide down her face. As much as she tried, she felt nothing extraordinary at all. She opened her eyes. Phaedra was still standing with hers closed, a beatific smile giving her beauty an unearthly sheen. Antoinette felt the stirring of something deep inside her, something that had died when, as a teenager, she had discovered that all things come to an end eventually: moments, friendships, life. Nothing was forever. Father Christmas was just her father, and the Easter Bunny her uncle Douglas with a basket of chocolate eggs. God was not a friendly bearded man in the clouds but a primitive invention, like totem poles and ceramic idols. But now, the little nugget of faith buried in the dark recesses of her soul began to glow with life and fill her chest with something warm and sweet. What if Phaedra was right and George lived on? She closed her eyes again and smiled at the wonderful possibility.
* * *
“Well, she’s not here!” Margaret announced, stalking back to the car. “I’ve knocked several times, and no one answers. The door is locked. No one’s home. Where do you think they went?”
“Maybe they’ve gone for a walk?” Joshua suggested.
“Well, where’s Antoinette?”
“Gone to the garden center,” he lied.
“Are they all coming back for lunch, or am I going to have to race about the countryside in search of them?”
“They’ll be back for lunch.”
Margaret sniffed, dissatisfied. “Let’s go and have a look in town. Antoinette has taken to disappearing lately; perhaps they’re at George’s graveside. Come on, Basil, back in the car.”
Joshua motored down the narrow lane into Fairfield. Margaret sat with her jaw set in a grimace, unmoved by the wondrous display of nature bursting into spring. She didn’t see the blue tits darting in and out of the hedgerows, or the lime-green color of the fields and emerging buds. She ignored the primroses and pansies planted in people’s gardens as they drove down the street towards the center of town, and she was impervious to the charm of the multicolored Georgian houses, having lived among them for so much of her life. In fact, she noticed nothing at all except the incessant whirring of her brain as she focused on trying to track down George’s elusive daughter.
At last they reached the church. Margaret smiled triumphantly at the sight of Antoinette’s car parked on the verge. “Ah, you see, I was right. They must be here. Now we’ll find them.”
Joshua drew up beside it. “They’ve probably gone shopping,” he suggested lamely.
“No, they haven’t. They’ll be here in the churchyard. Mark my words.” She waited for her grandson to open her door and help her out.
“Good God!” Antoinette exclaimed, spotting Joshua and his grandmother down by the church gate. “That woman is a curse. Come on, Phaedra. We have to get out of here.”
“Who is she?” Phaedra caught sight of a stout old woman in a navy-blue dress and long cardigan being escorted up the path by Joshua.
“I’ll explain in a minute. Come, I know the escape route now. It’s really very simple, and I’m sure Dr. Heyworth won’t mind my barging in again.” She hurried off around the back of the church with Phaedra following behind, wondering who could have sent Antoinette into such a panic.
* * *
Margaret put her hands on her hips. “Right, you look in the church, I’ll wander around the graveyard, though it’s not a place I’m keen to linger. I might never leave!”
Joshua did as he was told and went to look inside the church. Margaret walked hesitantly over the grass. All those dead people beneath her feet made her feel decidedly anxious. It wouldn’t be long before she joined them, and that was a most unsavory thought. She cast her eyes about the graves, sure that Antoinette and her granddaughter would be among them.