The Last Letter from Juliet - Melanie Hudson Page 0,50

He says you’re avoiding him! Have told him you are deep in research and cannot be disturbed. He’s arranged the village meeting for 2pm Boxing Day – you can deliver your verdict then.

I knelt at the altar, looked up at the angel and said a little prayer for George (and for a miracle answer to the apostrophe question to appear). I’ve never been sure what to do on leaving an altar, but on films they always seem to sign a cross across their face and chest and reverse out, so I copied that. I raised my coat collar to avoid detection, felt my stomach growl and rather than head to the care home at lunchtime (surely the worst time to pitch-up) I slunk down the hill and knocked on Fenella’s door (she was bound to feed me up). Twenty minutes later I was sitting at the table enjoying yet another hearty meal and listening to a Christmas CD.

The conversation consisted mainly of me asking questions.

Yes, Fenella did believe in angels – hurrah – but then clarified this by explaining that they usually came in the form of dogs. But to be very clear, not Chihuahuas, who were the spawn of Satan. She refused to explain why.

She had no opinion regarding the apostrophe and had decided in bed the night before that she cared even less about the issue. I was to forget about it until Boxing Day then make up the first thing that came to my mind (those idiots on the council would never know the difference!).

My questions turned to Juliet.

I confessed that I was reading her war memoirs and explained about the email from Sam asking me to look for a golden compass, which I had failed to find.

‘Sorry, Lovey,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I’ve known her for years, spent lots of time up there having a good old chinwag, but she never mentioned any compass to me. I’m sure you’ll find it, though. You’ll just have to have a good look see.’

I studied Fenella across the table. I wondered if she was alive during the war. She looked like she might be old enough. How old was she? Seventy? Eighty? Hard to tell. She was fresh faced though, whatever her age. Must be all that gathering of the seaweed over the years … it was either that or the gin. She read my mind.

‘I was just a kiddie during the war, you know.’

My eyes widened. ‘Never! You don’t look old enough, not even nearly.’

She stood to turn on the radio because the CD had started to stick, took the boiling kettle off the Aga and made a fresh pot of tea

‘Well, they always did say I had the best complexion in Cornwall,’ she said, ‘and the best legs, ‘o course …’

Legs? She was tiny!

‘Did you live here during the war,’ I asked, standing to take the milk jug out of the fridge.

‘Yes, in this house.’

I sat down while Fenella delved into the biscuit tin.

‘Really? You’ve lived here all that time?’

‘I have. Mother lost both her brothers – they were a bit younger than her and she’d always mothered them – on the same day at Dunkirk, but she’d been told they were together when they fell, so she had that to comfort her, at least. Father worked on the farms.’ Fenella glanced out of the window. ‘He worked for Juliet’s crowd up at Lanyon – reserved occupation, you see, farming – so he was saved from all the fighting, thank goodness. But Mother never got over losing those two boys. Never. Poor woman.’

Her eyes misted over and she stared up at the dead dogs, just as Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas came on the radio. That bloody song (not the Chihuahuas) really was the spawn of the devil! I stood and crossed to the windowsill.

‘Do you mind if I change the station, Fenella?’ I asked. ‘I can’t abide Christmas songs. The happy ones remind me that I’m on my own, and the sad ones are just too bloody depressing.’

‘Of course, you can, lovey. How about a bit of Radio 3?’

‘How about I just turn it off?’

I sat back down and picked up my teacup. The newfound quiet in the room was harder to listen to. It needed filling. Fenella tipped her head to one side and smiled.

‘It’s a difficult time, Christmas,’ she said. ‘Gerald was hoping you’d buck up a bit this year. Shame he had to go away, and I’m not much company for