The Locked Room (Ruth Galloway #14)(10)

‘Will we have to wait until the inquest before we can have the funeral?’ asks Brady.

‘No,’ says Judy. ‘You can plan the funeral as soon as you have a death certificate. Did Samantha leave any specific instructions?’

‘No,’ says Saffron. ‘And she didn’t leave a will either. Mum was such an organised person. I’m sure that, if she’d meant to die, she would have made some plans, written something down.’

Judy has made a will and even Cathbad has left a long list of his burial requirements, including a funeral pyre and ritual chanting. She thinks it’s strange that someone who colour-coded their books didn’t draw up a will. Strange, but not necessarily suspicious.

‘She would have wanted a church funeral,’ says Brady. ‘Will that be allowed?’

‘Of course,’ says Judy. Suicides were once denied burial on hallowed ground. Thank goodness this is a thing of the past. Judy asks if Samantha attended a local church.

‘She went to evensong at St Matthew’s sometimes,’ offers Saffron. ‘And she used to go to that special service at the cathedral.’

‘Which service? Christmas? Easter?’

‘No. The one for the dead,’ says Saffron. ‘The outcast dead.’



Ruth gets held up in traffic and is ten minutes late to collect Kate. She finds her daughter sitting smugly in the secretary’s office pretending to read a library book.

‘I’m so sorry,’ says Ruth, half to Kate and half to Mrs Chambers, ‘I got held up on a dig.’

‘I know,’ says Kate. ‘You’re all muddy.’

Ruth looks down and sees that she’s left dirty footprints on the grey carpet. She starts apologising again but Mrs Chambers says that it’s no problem. ‘I’ll just pop the hoover over it.’ This makes Ruth feel worse than ever.

In the car, Kate embarks on a long description of the Year 6 trip in the summer term. She’s in her last year in primary school and, from the PTA newsletter, it looks as if her final term will be full of valedictory events: picnics, discos, rounders matches, concerts, even a prom. Ruth always feels slightly guilty, knowing that she won’t be able to get away from work for all these festivities. Nor will Nelson, although he’ll want to come to Kate’s final assembly and will embarrass everyone by taking too many photographs.

Kate’s next educational step has also proved controversial. Ruth was determined that Kate should have a comprehensive education, as she did. ‘But she’s so bright,’ said Nelson. ‘So was I and I did OK,’ countered Ruth. ‘Comprehensives are for everyone, that’s the whole point.’ Nelson wanted Kate to go to the private girls’ school attended by his older daughters. In the end, Ruth consented to take Kate to the open day at St Faith’s. She’d been slightly afraid that Kate would be swayed by the facilities, especially the theatre with real swishing curtains, but Kate announced that she preferred the comprehensive. ‘Why?’ asked Ruth, masking her relief. ‘Because it’s got boys in it.’ Ruth had filled in the forms that night.

Is Ruth sacrificing Kate’s prospects for her own political beliefs, as Nelson clearly thinks? No, she tells herself. Kate would do well anywhere, and Ruth wants her daughter’s schoolfriends to be socially diverse, and to include boys. She thinks back to the reunion at the weekend. Ruth’s old classmates are certainly a mixed bunch: hard-working GP Fatima, successful plumber Daniel, much-married Kelly. Would they have been different if she’d attended a private school? Did Ruth’s parents ever consider another option? They couldn’t have afforded private school fees but there might still have been the odd grammar school around. Ruth has an opportunity to ask her father about this because he rings later that evening, after Kate has gone to bed.

‘Hallo, Dad. How was Eastbourne?’ Arthur and Gloria were staying with Gloria’s eldest son, who runs a restaurant.

‘Fine. Very pleasant. Cleaner than Brighton.’

‘That’s nice.’ Ruth loves Brighton but she can see why it wouldn’t be her father’s favourite town.

‘Thank you for what you did, Ruth. For taking care of . . . of Mum’s stuff.’

It still makes Ruth’s heart contract to hear her father say ‘Mum’ without the determiner, as if Jean is still there somewhere. Mummy, Daddy and two children. Just like an old-fashioned reading book.

‘That’s OK. Happy to help. Dad, I was going through some of Mum’s old pictures and I found one of the cottage.’

‘Cottage? Which cottage?’

‘This cottage. Where I live.’

‘She must have taken it when we visited.’ Those visits were few and far between. Jean always refused to stay the night at Ruth’s house because she thought the stairs were unsafe.

‘It was taken before I moved here. On the back it said, “Dawn 1963”.’

There’s a silence. Then Arthur says, ‘1963. That’s before you were born.’

‘Yes.’

‘You were born in 1968. Simon in 1966.’

‘I know, Dad.’

‘Then why would Jean have a picture taken in 1963?’

‘I don’t know. That’s why I was asking you.’

‘Well, I don’t know.’ Arthur sounds confused and rather upset.