rubbish, dead-end jobs. There was no better person than Nat when you needed a sympathetic ear. She always understood better than anyone else, because she’d been through it all herself.
‘Anyway, the hall sounds lovely,’ Gemma said. ‘I’ll definitely take a look at their website. I came across something at the museum today, relating to Red Hill Hall. Bit of a coincidence, having had the wedding invitation this week as well.’
Ben looked at her with interest. ‘What did you find?’
‘More fossils?’ Nat rolled her eyes.
‘Guns. Well, duelling pistols. Apparently they were used in a shooting at the hall.’ Gemma picked up the half-empty bottle and topped up everyone’s glasses.
‘Oh my God. Don’t tell Anna that – she’d have a fit if she thought someone had been murdered at her wedding venue.’ Ben took a sip of his wine.
‘Duelling pistols? So was there, like, a duel there? Does a duel count as murder?’ Nat looked as though she wanted all the juicy details.
‘Well I don’t know yet, whether it was a duel or even if anyone died. I came across the pistols – very ornate ones – in their case, and there was a note saying something about an infamous shooting. Tomorrow’s job is to research it and try to find out what happened.’
‘Wow. Your job is so much more interesting than mine. Most excitement I get is to work out lifeguard rotas and arrange five-a-side tournaments for school kids.’ Ben’s job was manager of a sports centre. He shook his head and laughed.
‘I don’t know. I’d rather do what you do than faff around with dusty relics all day like Gemma does.’ Nat flashed him a look. ‘I reckon my new job’s the best one though. All day playing with make-up and doing people’s nails – like being a little kid at your mum’s make-up drawer. I love it. Well, I would love it, if only Bitchface Boss wasn’t always on my case.’
Gemma smiled but didn’t say anything. How she and Nat were such close friends was a mystery. If she was honest, they didn’t really have a lot in common, other than their shared memories of course. Nat liked gossip mags, reality shows and loud, modern nightclubs. Gemma preferred historical novels, costume dramas and quiet, ancient pubs. And she’d been with Ben for seven years whereas Nat’d had a string of boyfriends, none of them lasting more than a month or two. Still, ever since starting secondary school at the age of eleven they’d been best friends. They’d been put next to each other in maths class, and Gemma had whispered the answer to a question when the teacher put Nat on the spot. In return Nat had picked Gemma first for a netball team, and the two had become inseparable. Over the years they’d each spent time doing what the other one liked, and somehow their friendship had worked and indeed, had deepened. She would do anything for Nat, and knew Nat would do anything for her as well. Opposites attract – that was as true for friendships as it was for romance – and she and Nat were a great example of that rule.
‘Hey, I know!’ Nat turned to Gemma, her eyes shining. Gemma knew that look. It meant Nat had hatched a plan, and it was probably something Gemma wouldn’t feel completely comfortable with. ‘Why don’t I do your hair and make-up for Anna’s wedding? As the girlfriend of the bride’s brother you’re quite an important guest, you know. You’ll have to look stunning, but not so stunning you upstage the bride of course. I could put your hair up, in some sophisticated up-do, and shape your cheekbones, even out your skin tone, accentuate your eyes. Oh there’s so much I could do to improve your looks, Gemma! Do say yes!’
Gemma squirmed. Nat knew how she felt about too much make-up. She was happy wearing her usual subtle bit of mascara and lip gloss but anything else made her feel deeply uncomfortable. As well as making her skin feel itchy. She remembered how they’d experimented with make-up in their early teens, including going through a short-lived Goth phase of deep purple lipstick and heavy black eyeliner. Perhaps that was what had put her off make-up. ‘Well, maybe my hair, but I’m not sure I’d want it up…’
‘I love your hair left loose and long.’ Ben kissed the side of her head and she smiled at him gratefully.
‘Oh, well, if you don’t want me to, I won’t bother. Your loss.’ Nat drained her glass and smiled at Gemma. ‘More wine? It’s your round.’
May 1830
Rebecca couldn’t remember a time when Sarah hadn’t been there. All her life, all ten years of it so far, Sarah had been at her side, her best friend, her confidante, her playmate and her partner in crime. Today was no exception.
‘Look at the sun shining!’ Sarah said after breakfast, when the two girls were supposed to be going upstairs to the schoolroom for their daily lessons with the governess, Miss Albarn. ‘It’d be wrong not to go out and enjoy it. Who cares about French, drawing and grammar? Rebecca, we must go outside and have a run around the gardens. Come on!’ She caught hold of Rebecca’s arm and tugged.
‘But Miss Albarn will be waiting for us. We can’t, Sarah!’ Rebecca was halfway up the stairs, and almost overbalanced as she tried to pull her arm free from Sarah’s grip.
‘Miss Albarn can wait. It’s the first sunny day for months and there’s a blackbird’s nest I want to show you. Come on!’
As usual, Sarah won the battle and Rebecca followed her outside, through the kitchen garden and into the park beyond. In a hedgerow that marked the perimeter of Rebecca’s father’s estate, there was indeed a blackbird’s nest. The tiny, naked baby birds cheeped loudly, their beaks open wide in expectation of food.
‘What do they eat?’ Rebecca asked. Sarah was almost a year older than her, and as far as Rebecca was concerned, she was the font of all knowledge. Miss Albarn was all very well for piano and drawing lessons, but if you wanted to know something about the real world, Sarah was the person to ask.
‘Beetles,’ Sarah said, with conviction. ‘If we found some, we could drop them in their mouths.’
‘Where would we find beetles?’
‘There are woodlice in the stables. Those will do.’
Rebecca stared at her friend. ‘How can we carry woodlice all the way back here? In our hands? Ugh!’
‘We can take the birds there.’ Sarah reached into the hedge and grasped the nest with both hands. As she pulled it free it fell apart, and the baby birds tumbled into the depths of the hedge.
Rebecca felt a pang of sorrow for the tiny, helpless creatures. ‘You’ve broken their home. What will their parents think when they come back?’
‘Serve them right for leaving their babies alone. Pah! They’ve fallen right down now. I can’t reach them.’ Sarah flung the remains of the nest on the ground and started running off across the park. ‘Come on. Let’s find something else to do. Race you to the climbing tree!’
Rebecca peered into the hedge and whispered an apology to the little birds, then gathered up her skirts and began running after Sarah. They weren’t allowed to climb the climbing tree – ever since Sarah had fallen and had only been saved from broken bones by her skirts catching in the lower branches and tearing. Sarah’s mother, the housekeeper at Red Hill Hall, had been furious. Rebecca had stood with her head bowed while Mrs Cooper shouted at Sarah. Mrs Cooper had been cross with her
