Sunday, September 28, 2008
Clarissa seethed all the way to the church. How dare Millicent Waters make such vacuous comments about her son. Not good enough for her precious Rose, was he? After he’d given his life for his country? She’d show them all.
The sun slid behind the poplars, leaving deepening shadows as she made her way through the graveyard to Bertram’s grave. She rooted in her carpet bag and pulled out the stub of a tallow candle, lighting it with one of the long tapered matches from the Manor kitchens.
She marked the turf into twelve foot-square sections and began to dig.