would be bestsellers even though young children were to be excluded from the museum.
Raffy was now not so much avoiding me as turning tail and fleeing whenever he glimpsed me, so I had no way of letting him know that I really had forgiven him. I didn’t know if I was making him feel so guilty he couldn’t stand the sight of me, or if he thought my kissing him was a sign that I expected him to take up where we left off…or maybe both?
But no, on reflection, I thought he was just indulging in a major guilt trip. And I was…sort of missing him, which was odd, since I hadn’t seen much of him to miss since he moved here. I even told Felix that he could invite him to go to the Falling Star with us any time he wanted, and he did, but Raffy said I didn’t really mean it!
But actually, I did, because something strange was happening between Poppy and Felix and I was starting to feel such a gooseberry that a fourth person would have been very welcome – even Raffy!
Poppy had stuck to the moisturising and minimal makeup routine she’d learned on my birthday and said she was never going back to frizzy hair again, now that she’d realised that conditioner and serum would instantly make her look more Pre-Raphaelite than unshorn sheep.
Chas emailed me to say that he’d pulled some strings and finally managed a quiet chat with Carr Blackstock, but it had been a really tricky meeting. For a start, he’d been angry that Chas knew anything about him and Mum, until he learned that Chas had been in the same boat. He was also very suspicious of my motives, though Chas reassured him that I only wanted to know whether he was or was not my biological father, but had no interest in him other than that. And, of course, I’d sent a letter for him via Chas that said the same thing.
Chas said it was clear he firmly believed he wasn’t my father and in the end agreed to provide a DNA sample to prove it once and for all. But actually, I hoped it was him, even if he was horrible, because then I’d be able just to draw a line under it and forget all about him!
When I went to collect Grumps’ chapter on Wednesday morning he was highly pleased with himself and insisted on showing me an old map of Sticklepond that he had acquired from Felix the previous day.
‘Have you found a new marker for your ley line?’ I asked, helping to hold down one curling end.
‘No, no – something quite different. A piece of extremely useful information about the lido field that I have passed on to Felix, so he may tell the rest of the Parish Council.’
‘Right,’ I said, putting his tea down on a corner of the map.
‘See here?’ He pointed, the large red stone in the silver ring he wore on his index finger glinting dully. ‘The so-called lido field has never been built on for it once formed the gardens of a long-gone small monastic house. But this map was drawn up later, after the first wave of the Black Death had swept the land, and you can see here that the area is now clearly marked as “Plague Pit Field”.’
‘Plague Pit Field? You mean there was a mass grave there for plague victims?’ I asked, startled. ‘I suppose they did have to bury them quickly.’
‘Precisely. And then over the years the name has been forgotten, until eventually the area became a popular local picnic spot, leased from the owner of Badger’s Bolt, by the council, as a public amenity.’
‘But how odd, to think what is there, forgotten.’
‘And it may well save the field from development – siting houses on top of a mass grave, however ancient, would hardly be popular with either the local people or potential purchasers.’
‘It certainly wouldn’t!’ I agreed.
Halfway through viewing the first property, while David was waffling on about knocking down walls and installing en-suite bathrooms, I told him I wouldn’t have time to come out house-hunting with him again. But unfortunately he took that as a sign that I was still piqued because he’d taken someone else to the Mann-Drake dinner party.
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