Framed in Cornwall (21 page)

Gwen jerked around in her chair. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Can’t we challenge this? She can’t have been in her right mind when she made this will. What about us? We’ve got the children to think of.’

Henry Peachy hid his indignation well. ‘My client was of perfectly sound mind when she came to me with her instructions and we have discussed the matter again recently regarding a trust fund when she provided me with a list of all her valuables and their estimated worth. We also have a record of her savings.
As executors my firm has been instructed to arrange for the sale of any goods Mrs Pengelly has not been able to dispose of, the proceeds of which are to be placed in the said trust fund for Martin.’

There seemed to be nothing more to say. Gwen and Peter left first, followed by Martin and then Rose who had stopped to thank Mr Peachy. At the door she took Martin’s arm. ‘Great, isn’t it? You’ll never have to worry now.’ But Martin was too bemused to reply.

Back at the farm she went in with him to tell Jobber the good news. Tears filled his eyes. ‘I always had my tea in that mug, she never cared that it was worth a bit. Still, the boy’s taken care of, that’s what matters.’ They had a celebratory drink then Rose drove home planning where to hang the painting and what sort of car she would exchange the Mini for.

Peter and Gwen did not speak on the drive back to Hayle. When they reached the house Peter remained in the car. ‘I’m going for a drive. Alone,’ he said. At some point since his mother’s death he had come to see how much Gwen had influenced him where Dorothy was concerned. ‘You’re sick, do you know that? Martin deserves it, he deserves the whole bloody lot if you ask me.’

‘I’m sorry, Peter. Look, at least we’ll be able to move.’

‘Will we?’ He crunched the gears, prior to pulling away from the kerb. ‘You’re forgetting that the house was left to me. It’s my decision whether we stay here or move to Venn’s Farm. When I’ve made up my mind you can decide what you’re going to do.’

With a sinking feeling Gwen watched him drive away. She knew what his decision would be and that she would have to spend the rest of her life in that awful place without enough money to restore it for years.

Rose stopped at the Co-op in Newlyn and bought a bottle of champagne. It was far too early in the day to be drinking but she didn’t care. Once home, she placed it in the freezer section of the fridge to chill quickly. A new car and the painting, a new life
and a date with Nick Pascoe tomorrow – and the mystery of Dorothy’s death had been solved. So had another, one which had taken place years ago, Harvey’s, and she, Rose, had helped to solve it. ‘I deserve it,’ she said as she popped the cork and watched the pale gold liquid effervesce in her glass.

On Monday night Nick Pascoe lay in bed, his hands clasped behind his head. He was smiling. Tomorrow he was seeing Rose Trevelyan. He did not know which excited him more, the woman herself or her painting.

Snapped in Cornwall

Framed in Cornwall

Buried in Cornwall

Betrayed in Cornwall

Plotted in Cornwall

Killed in Cornwall

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