‘We haven’t heard anything.’ Cornwallis gazed at us, searching for words. ‘What happened at the funeral … is there a connection? I mean, there must be! When Irene told me about it, I thought it was just an unpleasant joke …’
‘Someone with a grudge. That’s what you said,’ Barbara reminded him.
‘That seemed the obvious conclusion but, as I said, it was completely outside my experience. But if Damian’s been killed, I would imagine that puts everything in a very different light.’
Hawthorne had had second thoughts about the crisp. He dropped it back in the bowl. ‘Somebody put an MP3 recording alarm clock inside the coffin. It went off at half past eleven and played a nursery rhyme. I think it’s a safe bet that there is a connection. So I want to know how it got there.’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Why don’t you have a little think for a minute?’ Hawthorne was on edge. I think the mess of the place, the children bouncing up and down, Barbara with her wine and her crisps, everything about Willesden Green was beginning to get on his nerves.
Cornwallis looked at his wife as if seeking her support. ‘I can assure you that it wasn’t placed there by anyone who works for me. Everyone at Cornwallis and Sons has been with the company for at least five years and many of them are part of the family. I’m sure Irene told you. Mrs Cowper was taken directly from the hospital to our central mortuary at Hammersmith. We washed her and closed her eyes. Mrs Cowper did not wish to be embalmed. Nobody asked to view the body – even if they had, there would have been no opportunity to do anything amiss.
‘She was placed in the natural Willow Weave coffin which she had chosen. That would have been at around half past nine this morning. I wasn’t there but all four pall-bearers would have been in the room. She was then carried to the hearse. We have a private courtyard with an electric gate, so no-one can come in off the street. From there, she was taken directly to Brompton Cemetery.’
‘So she would have been in someone’s sight all the time.’
‘Yes. As far as I can see, there were perhaps three or four minutes when the coffin was left unattended: when it was in the car park behind the chapel – and, incidentally, I shall make sure that in future this never happens again.
‘But that was when the alarm clock could have been put in the coffin.’
‘Yes. I suppose so.’
‘How easy would it have been to open it?’
Cornwallis considered. ‘It would have been the work of just a few moments. If it had been a traditional coffin, made of solid wood, the lid would have been screwed down. But with a willow coffin there are just two straps.’
Barbara had finished her drink. ‘Are you sure you won’t have a glass of wine?’ she asked us.
‘No, thank you,’ I said.
‘Well, I’m going to have another. All this talk about murder and death! We never discuss Robert’s work in the house, usually. The children hate it. At Andrew’s school, they had to give a talk about their dad’s business in front of the whole class and he made everything up. He said Robert was an accountant.’ She gave a hoot of laughter. ‘I don’t know where he got his facts from. He doesn’t know anything about accountancy.’ She went to the fridge and poured herself a second glass of wine.
As she closed the fridge door, another boy came in, wearing tracksuit trousers and a T-shirt. He was taller than the other two, with darker hair that fell clumsily over his face. “Why are Tobes and Seb in the garden?’ he asked. He noticed us. ‘Who are you?’
‘This is Andrew,’ Barbara said. ‘These men are policemen.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’
‘It’s nothing for you to worry about, Andrew. Have you finished your homework?’ The boy nodded. ‘Then you can watch television if you want to.’ She smiled at him, showing him off. ‘I was just telling these gentlemen about your school play. Mr Pinocchio!’
‘He wasn’t very good,’ Cornwallis said. Then he mimed his nose stretching. ‘Wait a minute. That’s a lie. He was brilliant!’
Andrew plumped himself out, pleased with himself. ‘I’m going to be an actor when I grow up,’ he announced.
‘Let’s not talk about that right now, Andrew,’ Cornwallis interrupted him. ‘If you want to help, you can go out and tell your brothers it’s time for bed.’
Out in the garden, Toby and Sebastian had moved onto the climbing frame. They were shouting at each other, overtired, sliding into that zone where they lost almost any resemblance to rational human beings. It was something I remembered well from my own children. Andrew nodded and did as he had been told.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I knew I was risking Hawthorne’s anger but I was interested. ‘It’s not completely relevant but I’d like to know why you chose this line of work.’
‘Being an undertaker?’ Cornwallis didn’t seem bothered by the question. ‘In a way, it chose me. You saw the sign above the door of our South Kensington office. It’s a family business. I think it was started by my great-great-grandfather and it’s always been in the family. I have two cousins working in it. You met Irene. My cousin George does the books. Maybe one of my boys will take it over one day.’
‘Chance will be a fine thing!’ Barbara scoffed.
‘They may change their minds.’
‘Like you did?’
‘It’s not very easy for young people these days. It’ll be good for them to know there’s a job for them if they want it.’ He turned back to us. ‘After I left college, I did other things. I travelled and in my own way I suppose I sowed a few wild oats. There was a part of me that resisted the idea of becoming a funeral director – but if I hadn’t joined the firm, my life would have been very different.’ He reached out and took hold of his wife’s hand. ‘It was how we met.’
‘It was my uncle’s funeral!’
‘One of the very first where I was officiating.’ Cornwallis smiled. ‘It’s probably not the most romantic way to meet your life partner, but it was the best thing that came out of that day.’
‘I never much liked Uncle David anyway,’ Barbara said.
It was getting dark outside and the two children were now arguing with their older brother, who was trying to bring them in. ‘I’m afraid if you have no more questions, we’re going to have to ask you to leave,’ Cornwallis said. ‘We have to get the boys into bed.’
Hawthorne got to his feet. ‘You’ve been very helpful,’ he said.
I wasn’t sure if this was true.
‘Can you let us know if you find anything?’ Barbara asked. ‘It’s hard to believe that Damian Cowper has been killed. His mother first, then him. It makes you wonder who’ll be next!’
She went outside to gather up her children while Cornwallis took us to the door. ‘There was one other thing I thought I ought to mention to you,’ he said as we stood on the crazy paving outside in the grey light. ‘I’m just not sure if it’s relevant or not …’
‘Go on,’ Hawthorne said.
‘Well, two days ago, I got a telephone call. It was someone wanting to know where and when the funeral was going to take place. It was a man at the other end of the line. He said he was a friend of Diana Cowper and that he wanted to attend, but he refused to give me his name. In fact his entire manner was – how can I put it? – rather suspicious. I won’t say he was deranged but he certainly sounded as if he was under a lot of strain. He was nervous. He wouldn’t even tell me where he was calling from.’
‘How did he know you were in charge of the funeral?’
‘I wondered about that myself, Mr Hawthorne. I imagine he must have telephoned all the undertakers in west London, making the same enquiry, although we’re one of the largest and best respected so he could have started with us first. Anyway, I didn’t think very much of it at the time. I simply gave him the details that he wanted. But when Irene told me the awful things that had happened today, well, of course I was reminded of him.’