Epilogue

Hotel de Lille, Paris

October 1945

Dear Kitty (and Mrs B Dilys),

Your letter cheered me up no end, thank you! I must say, Paris hasn’t been quite as expected, what with Rose’s murder and James being devastated by the fact that he was growing rather attached to the murderess. I’ll tell you all about it when I’m home, if an invitation stands to come and bed down with you three at the farm?

I just wish James could have such good friends as I have to help him through his grief at the moment. Thank you for looking into his family circs for me, I had no inkling that he’d been through so much. Well, that’s not true – I had an inkling…he said he’d lost someone special when I first met him and told him about Arthur, and just recently he was so quick to throw his lot in with the first pretty girl who showed an interest. Finding out she was a cold-blooded killer – and double agent! – was a bit of blow for the poor chap. I think I’m starting to understand him now; he’s noble all right, and not just in a born-with-a-silver-spoon type way. I’ll keep an eye out for him, though; it’s what Arthur would have wanted.

Good luck with the winter beet, ladies, and don’t let Mr Travers name a cow after me like he did last time. One Fenella the Friesian is quite enough! Oh, and Kitty, here’s one more clue to keep you busy til I see you again. This flower floated up, we hear (4). Hint: I think she’s looking down on me now and hopefully laughing through her cigarette smoke.

Much love,

Fen xx

Fen sealed the envelope up and put it to one side, ready to take down to reception. James had, indeed, been very generous in stumping up the cost of a room for Fen, who felt it wasn’t right to lodge with Joseph and Magda, even though they’d offered. She was just pleased that they could start their life anew, in a decent apartment and with at least a few of their old treasures and what remained of Rose’s.

It was a small battle won against the evil that had trodden the world over the last few years and Fen felt Rose would have been pleased with the outcome. When she was packing up her bedroom, Magda had softly knocked on her door and limped in. She’d packaged up a few pieces and had made Fen promise not to open the parcel until she got back to the hotel, and even then, to promise not to return any of it to the Bernheims.

‘Don’t worry, Tipper isn’t in there,’ Magda had joked as the little dog had scampered in and jumped onto the bed, too. Fen smiled, thinking about him and how much Magda doted on her new pet.

Fen looked over to where she had laid out the contents of the parcel on the bed. Her first impulse had been to ignore Magda’s stern instructions and package it all back up and return it to her, as she didn’t feel she deserved such beautiful things. But Magda had said, as they’d kissed goodbye outside the apartment, ‘Rose would want you to have those things. And those bits you chose for your parents, too. We want you to have them. It’s the least we can do to say thank you.’

The Delance was the bulk of the package. Its backing paper still slit open where the Alberti cipher had been kept. Magda had slipped a note inside it though… Since I have my own copy, this one can be yours.

Fen smiled to herself, remembering Magda and Rose laughing about how many times the teacher had made her student copy it. A thought suddenly occurred to Fen – hadn’t Rose called this “my little Impressionist”? She smiled. I bet it’s a forgery – or, as Rose would say, “an homage”. The thought didn’t make her love the painting any less, in fact, if it was a copy by Rose, Fen would love it even more, as it would be her version of the painting, her soul put into it.

Wrapped up in a silken handkerchief was one of Rose’s bejewelled hatpins, so often used to secure those bizarre turbans in place. It was made of a peacock feather studded with what must be fake emeralds and sapphires, and when Fen pressed it to her nose, she could just about smell the familiar scent of ylang-ylang and tobacco.

The last piece that Magda had saved for her was the long string of pearls that Fen had found down the side of the armchair. They had been carefully slipped into a black velvet pouch and Fen had poured the threaded beads into her hand in wonder as she’d opened it. The pearls were exquisite and, unlike most things in Rose’s apartment, quite genuine. And, what’s more, they would look fabulous paired with Rose’s old bright yellow tea dress when James treated her to tea at The Ritz tomorrow afternoon.

* * *

Were you absolutely swept away by Fen Churche in this fast-paced historical mystery? If so, don’t miss A Dangerous Goodbye– your lost love never came home after the Second World War. Would you risk everything to find out what happened to him?