The Unburied Past

Table of Contents

Recent Titles by Anthea Fraser from Severn House

Title Page

Copyright

The Families

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Rona Parish Mysteries

(in order of appearance)

BROUGHT TO BOOK

JIGSAW

PERSON OR PERSONS UNKNOWN

A FAMILY CONCERN

ROGUE IN PORCELAIN

NEXT DOOR TO MURDER

UNFINISHED PORTRAIT

A QUESTION OF IDENTITY

 

Other Titles

PRESENCE OF MIND

THE MACBETH PROPHECY

BREATH OF BRIMSTONE

MOTIVE FOR MURDER

DANGEROUS DECEPTION

PAST SHADOWS

FATHERS AND DAUGHTERS

THICKER THAN WATER

SHIFTING SANDS

THE UNBURIED PAST

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

 

First published in Great Britain and the USA 2013 by
SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of
9–15 High Street, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM1 1DF.

eBook edition first published in 2013 by Severn House Digital
an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

Copyright © 2013 by Anthea Fraser.

The right of Anthea Fraser to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

Fraser, Anthea.

The unburied past.

1. Brothers and sisters–Fiction. 2. Alienation (Social

psychology)–Fiction. 3. Suspense fiction.

I. Title

823.9'14-dc23

ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8111-3 (cased)

ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-481-3 (trade paper)

ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-414-0 (epub)

Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

This ebook produced by
Palimpsest Book Production Limited,
Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.

Harry Carstairs

Lynne Carstairs

 

Mark Franklyn, Lynne's brother

Emma Franklyn

Roy Marriott

Janice Marriott, Emma's sister

 

Bob and Thelma Franklyn, Mark and Lynne's parents

Clive and Louise Grenville, Emma and Janice's parents

L
ynne Carstairs glanced up from the list she was making. ‘I'm beginning to dread this party,' she remarked. ‘It's bound to be emotional – the last time we'll all be together.'

‘Oh, come on!' her husband protested. ‘No one's going to
die
!'

‘Mum's dreading our going; I just hope she doesn't break down in front of everyone.'

‘No reason why she should,' Harry said. ‘We're not leaving for another six weeks, and with the buyers wanting immediate possession, we'll be with her and your dad for the last four of them. Plenty of time for tears then.'

Lynne put down her pen. ‘We
are
doing the right thing, aren't we, Harry?'

‘Hey, it's too late for cold feet! Of
course
we're doing the right thing! We've a lovely new home awaiting us, a job with considerably better pay, excellent schools for the kids and a fantastic country! What more could you ask? And there'll still be family on hand – just the other side of it. My folks can't wait to have us there!'

‘I'm only just realizing what a wrench it must have been, for you to up stakes and come over here.'

He shook his head. ‘Not so – I couldn't wait to do my own thing. And if I hadn't come, I'd never have met you, would I? I've had eight great years in the UK, but now I'd like the kids to get to know Canada and their other grandparents. They're half-Canadian, after all.'

‘I know, I know, and I'm looking forward to it really. It's just the thought of all the goodbyes …'

‘Well, as I said, we've six weeks to go so don't let it spoil Claire's party. Mark at least will enjoy himself, recording the event for posterity!'

Lynne smiled. Her brother, an enthusiastic photographer, insisted on preserving every occasion on film. ‘He'll be in his element!' she agreed.

Five miles away, Mark Franklyn's mind was, indeed, on photography, though specifically the competition he was about to enter.

His wife glanced over his shoulder at the entry form. ‘Have you decided which class to go for?'

‘Well, black and white, certainly. And I'd been leaning towards landscape, but Graham mentioned yesterday that's what he's picked.' Graham Yates, who'd been best man at their wedding, was also a keen photographer, and the rivalry between them added an extra dimension to their hobby.

‘So what? It'd make for an even keener contest.'

‘True,' Mark conceded, ‘in which case the timing of the holiday couldn't be better – mountains and lakes galore.'

‘Uh-oh! If it would mean you waltzing off with your camera leaving me with the kids, you can opt for still life!'

He grinned. ‘As if I would!'

‘Just saying, it's my holiday too. I've been checking what we need to take and they don't provide towels or bedding, which is a pain considering everything else we have to pack into the car.'

‘Were you able to arrange cots?'

‘Only one, unfortunately. We'll have to push Adam's bed against the wall and put a chair or something on the other side, to stop him falling out.'

‘It's not his falling out I'm worried about,' Mark answered grimly, ‘it's being woken at some ungodly hour by his jumping on top of me.'

‘One of the joys of parenthood! So, this Saturday is Claire's birthday party, and the next we're off to the Lakes.'

‘And when we get back, it'll be only a couple of weeks before Lynne and Harry leave.' Mark shook his head despondently. ‘It'll be odd, not being able to phone when the mood takes us to suggest going out somewhere. Adam will miss playing with Claire.'

‘Once he starts playschool he'll have lots of new friends. It's your parents who'll miss them most.'

‘True. I'll take a photo on Saturday and frame it for Mum's Christmas present.'

‘It'll produce floods of tears,' Emma warned.

‘Par for the course – she cries at everything!'

Emma laughed. ‘That's a bit harsh! She'll be losing not only her daughter, but half her complement of grandchildren.'

‘Then she'll have to make the most of ours.' He gave her a quick glance. ‘Will Janice and Roy be there?'

‘I should think so. Charlotte's in Jan's class and they're family, after all.'

Emma's
family, not Lynne's or Harry's, Mark thought privately. He always felt ill at ease with his sister-in-law, her colourless face and pale shoulder-length hair, suspecting that a will of iron lay behind that self-effacing exterior. Added to which, with no children of their own, Jan and her husband seemed out of place at a child's party. Still, as Emma had reminded him, she was Charlotte's teacher at primary school, not to mention being his own daughter's godmother. It seemed politic to change the subject. ‘What have we got for Claire?' he asked.

Emma gave a short laugh. ‘It was a challenge, I can tell you, to think of something they could take on the plane. In the end I went for a fairy outfit: wings, spangles, wand – the lot.'

He nodded absently, turning back to the entry form. ‘I'd better fill this in and post it before the expiry date.'

‘You're settling on landscapes, then?'

‘Yep, and I promise they won't monopolize the holiday!'

Emma patted his shoulder and went to prepare supper.

It was Saturday afternoon and Roy Marriott ran up the stairs two at a time.

‘Ready for the gathering of the clans?' he asked, putting his head round the bedroom door. Then, seeing his wife's face, his smile faded. ‘Oh, love, not again?'

Janice nodded, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I was so sure this time. Damn it, I'm five days late, Roy!'

He put a sympathetic arm round her shoulder. ‘Never mind, honey, perhaps next month. At least we have fun trying!'

‘I can't go to the party,' she said, ignoring his attempt at humour. ‘Lynne and Emma will be playing Happy Families and I just couldn't bear it.'

‘But we have to go, love,' he said gently. ‘It'll be the last time we're all together.'

She turned in the circle of his arm, burying her face in his chest and gripping his shirt with both hands. ‘Oh, God, Roy, why can't we have a little girl of our own?'

‘Or even a little boy?' he asked, smiling, but she shook her head.

‘No, it must be a girl. I see more than enough boys at school.'

‘Well, we'll face that when it comes. In the meantime, wash your face like a good girl and put on your glad rags. We owe it to Lynne and Harry to put in an appearance.'

Lynne stood in her kitchen surveying the pink and white birthday cake with its three candles. The children were playing Pass the Parcel, and occasional shrieks of excitement reached her from the sitting room. Once the game was finished she'd call them in for tea.

So far, she reflected thankfully, the party seemed to be going well. Mum, bless her, was putting on a brave face, and it was Janice who looked subdued, God knows why. Since she was always quiet, Lynne mightn't have noticed if Roy hadn't been extra hearty, as if to compensate.

She sighed, wishing she could feel better disposed towards Janice. They'd met at Mark and Emma's engagement party five years ago, and even then Lynne had surprised herself by feeling grateful it was Emma rather than her sister whom her brother was marrying. But it was only when Charlotte started school and was assigned to Janice's class that they met on a regular basis, and the awkwardness between them intensified. Lynne concluded it was the possessiveness in Jan's voice that raised her hackles, the implication that she knew better than herself and Harry what was best for their daughter.

Charlotte, on the other hand, adored her, and had begged for her to be invited to her own birthday party in April, thereby making the invitation to Claire's almost obligatory. Well, this was the last time, Lynne reflected, her stomach lurching at this reminder of their impending departure.

‘Need any help?'