Murder at St Anne's (A Yorkshire Murder Mystery) by J. R. Ellis

Author:J. R. Ellis [Ellis, J. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer,
Published: 2021-12-07T06:00:00+00:00

After Alison’s visit, the Wilcoxes wanted to get out of the house again. Before it was dark, they put on their coats and boots and went for a walk, wending their way down to the river on the sloping streets and avoiding the church.

The town was beautiful in its winter garb. Roofs were laden with snow, and fine dustings clung to the branches of the trees like icing sugar. The river was partially frozen and a few rowing boats which had been left out were stuck in the ice near the river’s edge.

However, the beauty passed them by. They were all preoccupied with the death of their wife and mother, and the need to start to think about the practical issues involved. Wilcox himself had resolutely refused to say anything yet about registering the death or planning the funeral service.

‘Do you remember how we used to go rowing on those boats with your mum in summer?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ replied Jenny. ‘Sometimes we took a picnic and moored the boat in the fields opposite Conyngham Hall. Then we looked for bullheads and crayfish under the stones.’

‘Mum used to really enjoy that. It was always great spending time with all of us together when we were little. She took some persuading to come out though sometimes, didn’t she? A bit of a workaholic.’

‘Yes, very dedicated,’ said Wilcox. Her overworking was what had led to him and her spending so little time together, then drawing apart and then the subsequent affair. He couldn’t talk to his daughters about it. Instead, he started to ask them about their time at university. He didn’t want to face the subject he knew they wanted him to consider. Jenny and Fiona exchanged a glance, which meant they’d decided that it was time to prompt him.

‘Dad,’ said Jenny after a while. ‘Don’t you think it’s time to start to think a little bit about Mum’s funeral? I know it’s hard, but we’ve got to see the undertaker early next week and you need to tell him what you want. We can help you.’

Wilcox stopped walking, took a deep breath and screwed up his eyes. He seemed to be about to cry, but he shook his head. ‘You’re right,’ he replied. ‘I’ve been avoiding it I know. It’s just so hard and . . . I’m . . . I’m still in shock.’

Jenny put her arm through his. ‘I know, Dad; it’s really hard, but you need to do it. We’ve got today and tomorrow to think about it. Then on Monday we’ll go into Harrogate to register the death and then we’ll go to the undertaker’s on Tuesday morning. You’ll feel so much better when it’s done.’

Wilcox walked on slowly. They reached a lane with cottages by the river. A group of swans and ducks were crowded into a small area of water free from ice. ‘So, what about the funeral service then?’ he asked.

‘Fiona and I would like to speak for the eulogy,’ said Jenny.

‘Good, good. I’m sure I couldn’t .

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