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She would have to start her life afresh . . . alone. She looked at Alfie, peaceful, pink and cherubic again after Fleur’s careful ministrations and looking like the angel that she believed he’d become in her life. ‘There you go, Alfie,’ she whispered and placed a gentle kiss on the baby’s cool forehead. ‘Rest peacefully now,’ she murmured as she lifted the tiny body into a satin-lined coffin wrapped in the softest of woollen baby blankets.
All of this, including the burial licence of three pounds and fifteen, she would gift to the family. And in that moment, Fleur decided that every infant under twelve months who came into her care would be given the same treatment, at her expense. It would be her new company’s way of showing understanding to grieving parents, and they would use her business and recommend it, she was sure.
Alfie was ready now, and so was Fleur to set out on their new and separate journeys.
26
After making all the final arrangements for Alfie’s burial and asking for a full account to be sent in the name of Appleby’s, Fleur wrote a letter to the Wrens explaining everything. She summoned Robbie again and asked him to deliver the note. It was better than another phone call.
‘You’ll take the coffin to Cheltenham Cemetery for eleven tomorrow morning?’
He nodded. ‘You’re not coming?’
‘Probably not, Robbie. I spoke to the parents earlier. Only they will be there – they want to keep it private.’
‘Right. And all the paperwork is sorted?’
‘Yes, I’ve taken care of it.’
‘See you soon, Fleur.’
She smiled, not wishing to give him the truth yet. ‘I don’t really know what’s going to happen beyond today, if I’m honest. Irma is now the owner of Appleby’s.’
His mouth opened in surprise.
‘But it will sort itself, I’m sure,’ Fleur continued. ‘In the meantime, your job is safe and should anything change, I want you to call me at this number.’ She gave him a second note with the hotel’s telephone details. ‘You’re not to worry. Tell Albert the same, will you?’
‘Right.’ He looked unsure. ‘I don’t want to work for Irma, Fleur.’
‘I understand, but don’t do anything rash for now. Let’s talk when we know the outcome of the coroner’s report. Will you stay patient for me, Robbie? I won’t let you down.’
He nodded. ‘I trust you, Fleur.’
‘Thanks. See you soon.’
After he’d left, Fleur saw that it was nearing four and she phoned the pub. The wife answered this time.
‘Tom left us this morning,’ the publican’s wife offered. ‘I’ll be honest, I didn’t think he looked in any condition to be going anywhere but straight back to bed.’
‘And he didn’t say where he was going?’ Fleur tried again.
‘He didn’t say, love, and I didn’t ask. Not my place.’
Fleur’s hopes sank. ‘No, no, of course.’
‘You got his letter?’
‘Yes . . . if you could call it that. He was returning the money I left with your husband.’
‘Like that, is it? You two have a tiff?’
‘No! That’s the thing,’ she said, glad to be talking to another woman in this way. ‘I don’t know what’s happened.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Tom and I . . . Well, I thought we were going to be together for keeps.’ Fleur didn’t want to discuss the engagement so she kept it vague. ‘We talked about marriage and family – you know how people in love do.’
‘He didn’t strike me as a Lothario, love.’
