A Cotswold Ordeal (18 page)

‘Help me shift the sofa,’ Hollis ordered her. ‘We’ll sit with our backs to it.’

But Thea had no wish to sit with him on the sofa. Or rather, the wish was so powerful she couldn’t afford to indulge it.

‘I’ll sit over here, where I can see you,’ she said
lightly, plumping into an armchair, having helped him move the sofa. The writing was still visible to her, but not full in her face.

He didn’t like her choice of seat, raising one eyebrow, and muttering, ‘It’s entirely up to you.’ She wanted to explain, and was annoyed that he didn’t understand.

The dry sherry seemed to revive him slightly, but he continued to give an impression of weariness. Thea watched him sipping from the glass, marvelling at the solidity of him, the three-dimensionality. She wanted to assess and compare, to maintain a grasp of her reason, to behave sensibly, but everything seemed clogged by the fact of his body in the room with her, despite the physical distance between them. She knew she’d acted wisely in rejecting a place at his side. From where she sat, she could watch his face, noting the way his eyes were set into his skull, small and deep. His nose was long, with narrow straight-sided nostrils. A dry mouth, thin-lipped, and an odd chin, square-cut. The face of a man not given to indulgences. No broken veins or pouches beneath the eyes. No grooved signs of pain or rage. A quiet face, she concluded, that gave very little away.

What had become of the mother of his two children? Why had she made the unquestioning assumption that he was now single and available? Why was she still so certain that this was the case?

‘You’re not married, are you?’ she blurted.

He gave himself a little shake, opening his eyes wider. ‘That’s a very direct question.’

‘Well?’

‘Divorced,’ he said. ‘Three years ago now.’

‘Right. I thought so.’

‘And otherwise unencumbered, for the record. Apart from the job, of course. That’s rather an encumbrance.’

‘And dogs.’

‘Oh yes. Except that I actually share the dogs. They don’t live with me full time.’

She waited for the explanation.

‘I have a sister, you see. She’s in Painswick and has some land. When things get busy, she takes them off my hands until I can be there for them again. It works very well.’

‘Useful things, sisters.’

‘So it would seem.’

Which would have been Jocelyn’s cue to call that the dinner was ready, except that there was still a few minutes to go. Thea fiddled momentarily with some loose cording on a cushion tucked beside her, remembering the dead Siamese, which had very probably done the damage to the furnishings. Then she looked up at him, mouth opening to speak.

He was asleep. His head flopped loosely against the back of the sofa, and his eyes were firmly closed. He breathed slowly and deeply. Thea sighed,
aware of irritation and embarrassment threaded into the surge of protective affection she felt towards him. People talked about total certainty in their relationships, unalloyed devotion, unwavering loyalty. She didn’t believe it. Nothing could ever be that straightforward. She dreamed, for a minute, of setting up a permanent home with this man. Of waking in the morning and finding him there, of worrying when he was late back from his dangerous job, of the dickering about territory and control that every couple had to put up with. And the image of Carl, her real husband, the man she had actually lived with, floated before her eyes. It superimposed itself onto Hollis, and made her doubt whether she would ever feel wholly ready for somebody new.

She got up and went out to the kitchen. ‘He’s dropped off,’ she said, quietly.

Jocelyn mimed laughter. ‘How rude!’ she said. ‘How terribly unromantic of him.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Thea said.

They woke him up for the meal, which Jocelyn had managed to delay for ten minutes, and he briefly apologised, with minimal embarrassment. ‘Call it a power nap,’ he said, with a single uneasy glance at Thea.

‘We were wondering if you think anything’s going to disturb our sleep tonight,’ Jocelyn said.

Hollis sighed. ‘I hope not.’

‘
Hope
,’ Jocelyn repeated. ‘Is that the best you can do?’

He flexed his shoulders, backwards and forwards. ‘If things are going to plan, we’ve got the Innes boy under arrest by now, and he’ll be locked up overnight. So that’s one less worry.’

‘Which Innes boy?’ asked Thea.

‘Dominic, of course.’

The news was startling. Thea felt a sharp pang of concern for the boy. ‘Why have you arrested him?’

‘A – because he broke in here and behaved threateningly, and B – because he’s got a lot he can tell us and we’d like to get it out of him.’

‘Are you going to keep him awake all night and then shine bright lights into his eyes?’ Jocelyn asked, with some aggression.

‘Leave him alone,’ Thea chided. Jocelyn gave her a mulish look, but said no more. They concentrated on the spicy chilli con carne that Jocelyn had prepared so effortlessly.

Thea thought about the bereaved parents and her suspicions of the boy’s father. There had certainly been irritation there, a bemused impatience with the person his son had been. She thought about Dominic Innes and his good-looking brother Jeremy.

‘You know what,’ she said, reverting to their earlier conversation, ‘of all the people I’ve met this week, not one of them seems to want the canal
restored. Which surely puts them all on the same side as Nick?’

‘If it was only the canal, that might be true,’ Hollis agreed. ‘But we’re hearing all sorts of tales about other schemes, which the locals think will wreck their way of life.’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, for one – Desmond Phillips wants to create a fishing lake, using the bed of the canal as the centre of it. Trout, apparently. Feeder streams, weirs, culverts, subsidiary ponds – all the trimmings.’

Thea choked on a piece of garlic bread, spraying crumbs across the table. ‘He can’t!’ she yelped. ‘He’d never get permission. That would
ruin
the whole canal project.’

‘Precisely,’ smirked Hollis. ‘As well as causing even more disruption to the wildlife, and attracting visitors, and so forth.’

Jocelyn spoke. ‘That must be why everybody’s so irate with the Phillipses, then.’

‘So it would seem,’ said Hollis.

Thea groaned wearily. ‘The plot is getting too thick for me. I’ll be glad when I can leave. The prospect of another whole week is beginning to look rather daunting.’

‘I’m not staying another week,’ said Jocelyn.

They both looked at her. ‘Aren’t you?’ said Thea.

‘Of course not. I’m not that irresponsible.’

‘Oh. When are you leaving, then?’

‘I thought probably tomorrow afternoon. Before Alex comes to drag me home.’ Thea wasn’t taken in by the casual tone. There was a lot of painful choice-making behind the words.

‘I understand, of course, that your family’s needs take priority. It’s just…’ Thea pulled a face. ‘You know.’

‘Thea, I never expected to have to chaperone you or guard you against local delinquents. I thought I was the one in need of sanctuary. It’s all got turned upside down and I’ve had enough of it now. This morning, quite honestly, was the final straw. I don’t want to have to go through anything like that again.’

‘I thought you’d just taken it in your stride.’

‘Have you ever had a strange man’s arm tight around your throat? No. It’s very unsettling, let me tell you. It shakes up some of your assumptions. Especially when…’ she glanced at the silent Hollis and stopped.

Thea heard the unspoken words.
Especially
when your husband’s started to use physical
violence on you as well.

‘Don’t underestimate the effects,’ said Hollis softly. ‘Feeling vulnerable is a horrible thing. But Dominic Innes isn’t going to do it again, and he’s going to be very sorry before we’ve finished with him.’

‘There!’ Jocelyn triumphed weakly. ‘I knew you were going to torture him.’

It was still light when Hollis left. Both the sisters went outside with him, Thea remembering her duties towards the pony. All forensic examinations of the stable complete, Thea wondered whether it would be a kindness to return him to his old home. His temporary quarters in the barn were cramped and insecure, and after the discovery of Flora, the barn felt vulnerable to intrusion and interference, even more than the stable did.

When they went to him, he seemed forlorn and abandoned. ‘Poor old fellow,’ crooned Thea. ‘Not having a very nice time, are you? Come on then. Let’s put you back where you belong, and see if that cheers you up a bit.’

Leading him with a halter, Jocelyn following behind, Thea watched for sore feet or other signs of sickness. He trod delicately, but appeared acceptably relaxed. Until, that is, he reached the door of his former home.
I am not going in there
, he said, in clear Ponyese. Jocelyn tapped him encouragingly on the rump, but still he baulked. Hepzie joined in, yapping behind him, to no avail.

‘He’s scared,’ said Jocelyn. ‘He remembers what happened.’

‘I think he might prefer the barn after all,’ said Thea. ‘While the weather’s hot, it’s more airy in there. Not so many flies, either.’

They had both noticed the flies at the same moment. ‘Um, Thea,’ Jocelyn began, her nose
twitching, ‘isn’t there rather a nasty
smell
?’

‘Too right,’ said Thea. ‘We’d better have a look.’

The body was not difficult to find. A cloud of greenish flies buzzed above it, giving its presence away. The spaniel darted forward, but as rapidly retreated. Some things were too appallingly dead even for a dog’s uncivilised tastes.

Thea edged closer, a hand to her nose. ‘God, what a vile stink.’

‘What is it?’ Jocelyn had remained in the doorway, holding the pony’s halter.

Thea tried not to see the heaving off-white movement in the decaying flesh, the skin shredding away from the skull and legs.

‘I think it must be Milo,’ she said.

Thea didn’t sleep at all well that night. Despite an underlying anticipation of future delight, the fact of a murder close by persistently dragged her into darker thoughts, and another late night conversation with Jocelyn about men and violence and the fragility of trust had been unsettling, at the very least. The smell of the rotting cat lingered horribly in her nostrils, and the motive for leaving it there bothered her considerably. Nothing could be relied on, there were no guarantees of happiness, or even survival. Malice lurked behind every bush; people would kill to defend their own personal passions or perversions. In the deep of the night, she found herself reviewing a host of reasons to be afraid. The Phillipses were not as they seemed. People wished them ill. Thea had been lured into danger by substituting for Julia and Desmond. It was a betrayal, and she was angry about it.

She fell asleep on a whole new collection of thoughts, involving Jocelyn and Alex and the trouble ahead for them and their children. She
admitted to herself that she disapproved in a free-floating way of people who produced five kids and then couldn’t maintain a secure protective parental shield over them. It wasn’t on, she thought, with a twitch of the lips, a brief rictus of condemnation.

‘Well, we survived the night,’ Jocelyn announced, at eight thirty the next morning. ‘True,’ Thea agreed. ‘Although I can’t pretend I slept very well.’

‘Neither did I. Let’s hope this business is settled quickly. I can’t cope with much more.’ Jocelyn was fingering her neck, pressing gently here and there.

‘Does it still hurt?’ Thea asked her, thinking how long ago the previous morning seemed.

‘Not really,’ she said. ‘Why is it always me, do you think?’

‘No reason. At least, nothing personal. Your bedroom window’s easier to climb through. He’d probably have opted for me, given a choice. I’m smaller.’

‘Oh, hell. We can’t go on like this, can we? We’ve got to face up to it all.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘We’re in denial. If we don’t do something, there’ll be another murder. This house’ll be set on fire, and the pony slaughtered. Your dog’ll be shot, and my car tyres slashed. Bad people will do bad things to us. To be honest, I can’t wait to get away. Although I’m not relishing home particularly,
either.’ She gazed miserably into her mug of coffee.

The peacocks had been quiet during the first hours of daylight, but were making up for it now. Their eerie cries gave an exotic backdrop to the yard and the wider area.

‘I think I could get to like the sound they make,’ Thea mused. ‘It’s rather lovely, in a way. Maybe they can sense thunder coming. The forecast said there’d be storms later today.’

‘What? That ghastly screeching,
lovely
! You’re mad.’

Thea smiled forbearingly and wondered why she was feeling so tense. The obvious explanation was Jocelyn’s promised departure, and the unhappiness ahead if she went through with her decision to file for divorce. Plus the discovery of Milo’s body in the stable had been sickening and frightening. Somebody had deliberately put it there as a message, and the obvious candidate was Jeremy Innes since he’d been last to take possession of the corpse.

‘I think I’ll go to the Innes house,’ she said. ‘If that Jeremy dumped Milo on us like that, he needs a good talking to.’

‘You’ll report him to his mother, you mean? Isn’t he a bit old for that?’

‘I don’t need his mother’s support. I can deal with him myself. It was a disgusting thing to do.’

‘And somebody should come and help us scoop it
up,’ said Jocelyn, rolling her lower lip in exaggerated horror. She paused. ‘Don’t you think we should tell the police about it? It’s obviously connected to the murder in some way.’

‘We should, and we will. But I don’t think it’s going to change anything. Phil seems to have all his plans laid already. And I have a very strong feeling we’re about to see the whole thing settled during today.’

Jocelyn gave her a narrow look. ‘Are you saying that to try to persuade me not to leave? You think I’ll want to hang on here to catch all the excitement? Because if so, it won’t work. I’ll stay until after lunch, and then I’m off.’

‘Alex hasn’t been to collect you, then,’ said Thea, with some obviousness.

‘I did say he’d have trouble getting away. But he won’t wait much longer. That’s another reason I’ll have to get my skates on. I don’t want to be dragged home like a naughty child.’

Thea was walking over the grass, down to one corner, along to another, and back towards her sister. She’d done it four times so far. Jocelyn had been forced to close her eyes to avoid being driven mad. As the fifth circuit began, she cracked. ‘Thea, please stop doing that. I know it helps you think, or something, but I can’t bear it any more. It’s neurotic.’

‘Aren’t I allowed to be neurotic in the
circumstances? Every time I try to get going on something, I’m blocked. Thwarted.’

‘I don’t see that at all. What are you talking about?’

‘Oh, never mind.’ She flopped down on the grass, stretching her arms over her head, pointing her toes. ‘This was meant to be
fun
. And I wanted to think, read, explore. When you showed up, that was meant to be fun as well.’

‘Is that some sort of exercise you’re doing?’

‘Not really. It helps me feel free. Loosens the bonds.’ She rolled over onto her front. ‘And this weather! It’s glorious. Why can’t we just enjoy it?’

‘I’m enjoying it, more or less. I’m definitely managing not to think about skin cancer.’

‘Freedom’s an illusion, you know.’ Thea’s voice was muffled, most of it directed into the grass. ‘A meaningless concept.’

‘Gosh. Are we doing philosophy this morning?’

‘I’m thinking about you.’ Thea sat up in a graceful feline movement. ‘How can you hope to be free, with all those kids and everything? You’re anchored, hogtied, imprisoned.’

Jocelyn grinned. ‘You think so?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘I think it’s all down to how you look at it. I chose to have the kids. They define who I am, and make me proud of myself. They’re not stopping me
from doing whatever I want to do. I’m not a
wanting
sort of person.’

‘But you’re not happy.’

‘If freedom’s a meaningless concept, then surely happiness must be as well? Listen, Thee – I’m not like you. I never did concepts and that sort of stuff. I know what things feel like. Sudden moments of joy, especially. I’m good at them. Take last week. One morning, when they’d all gone off to school and Alex was at work, and I didn’t have to be anywhere. I’d cleaned the kitchen – everything shiny and smelling nice. I stood there, looking round at it all, and felt this great – well,
uplift
is the only word I can think of. As if I was standing on tiptoe, all buoyed up and pleased with myself. There was nothing more I needed at that moment, but a lovely clean tidy kitchen.’

Thea stifled a groan.

‘I know. It sounds pathetic. And it wasn’t exactly about the house, anyway. It was just knowing I had a place and was alive and at least some things were under control.’

‘And then Alex whacked you with a cricket bat.’

‘Right. It was that same day, I think.’

‘It doesn’t make any sense. You still haven’t said why you think he does it.’

‘He does it because he can. And because he thinks, like you, that there’s no such thing as freedom, and he can’t take it. He’s trapped and it’s
my fault. He’s scared of something – or everything. Just panicked and lost.’

‘Has he said all that?’ Thea was instantly absorbed, glimpsing a hint of an explanation for Alex’s behaviour, at last.

Jocelyn shook her head. ‘Not exactly. He doesn’t like modern life, somehow. The supermarket shopping, the electronic games. He’s like you and Carl in some ways. All for healthy outdoor living, and keeping life simple. I think he’s terribly frustrated by the reality. He wanted a lot of kids, to show his own parents how it ought to be done, and then couldn’t manage to live up to his own principles.’

‘What? Was his childhood so miserable?’

‘He always felt his mother was doing it wrong. She didn’t listen to him, denied his feelings, told him lies. He wanted to be a much better parent than her.’

‘That must be why most people have kids – if they think about it at all. They want to create some idyllic childhood – to have another go,’ Thea mused. ‘I never thought of that before.’

‘And it’s doomed. For one thing, the kids themselves never cooperate. And everybody’s so tired, and society puts all that incredible pressure on you, and money runs out, or you lose the thread.’

‘And that’s why he hits out. Do you think?’

‘Something like that. Maybe. It might be something completely different. I meant it when I said I don’t care what his reasons are. Being here has shown me that I don’t want him any more. He’s faded in my mind, just in these few days. Quite honestly, I think he’s been fading for ages.’

‘Maybe that’s why he hits you. To try to convince you he’s not just a shadow or a phantom or something. He wants to make himself substantial. But none of that is any excuse. What keeps coming back to me is the feeling of
betrayal
. It shouldn’t be too much to ask, to be able to trust your own husband not to hit you.’

Jocelyn closed her eyes again. ‘I’m not going to stay with him, anyway,’ she said calmly. ‘I’m getting a divorce.’

‘Oh,’ was all Thea could think to say to that. This was another of those moments in life when everything changed from minute to minute, and the safest reaction was to wait quietly for the eventual outcome. Announcements were likely to be out of date within seconds, decisions altered and circumstances turned around in a chaotic whirl. Already she had lost count of Jocelyn’s switches, staying and not staying, caring and not caring. It would be useful to know if and when her sister would depart from Juniper Court, but it wasn’t crucial. Thea’s place continued to be at the eye of the storm, despite the flurries of activity and alarming moments.

‘What do you mean –
Oh
?’ Jocelyn demanded. ‘Can’t you say anything more than that?’

‘Like what? As I understand it, divorce is a protracted and complicated exercise, particularly when there are children. It isn’t enough just to say you’re going to do it. It won’t simply
happen
by itself. And right at this moment I’ve got quite a lot else to think about.’

Jocelyn went very still, turning away from her sister in a familiar huff. ‘I’d have thought my marriage was more significant than the problems of a bunch of strangers,’ she said.

‘It’s not a question of significance. It’s more a matter of immediacy. Here we are, surrounded by all sorts of conflict and bad feeling and mysterious comings and goings, with people insisting that this is the final day, when it’s all going to come to a head. To be honest, Joss, I’m getting really scared. Not just for myself but for Flora and Pallo and Hepzie. If you go off now, then that’s up to you. I’m not pretending to be pleased about it. I’ll cope. But don’t ask me to get into deep emotional agonisings about you and Alex, because I’m not up to it today.’

‘So why don’t you get out of here as well? The Phillipses are giving you the runaround, let’s face it. You don’t owe them a thing.’

‘I might just do that,’ said Thea.

But half an hour later, the mood had lightened again. The sisters had gone out into the paddock with the dog, throwing sticks which Hepzie seldom bothered to retrieve and reviewing their options.

‘I do feel a bit bad about leaving before the final act,’ said Jocelyn. ‘I can’t help being intrigued by all these local goings-on. It’s so very different from my own home life.’

Thea giggled, but soon reverted to seriousness. ‘I find it hard to believe there’ll be a conclusion as quickly as Phil says. How can he possibly know, anyway?’

‘We’ve been kept dreadfully in the dark. Unfair, really. We don’t know how worried we ought to be, or which people we can trust.’

‘The sad fact is that we’re irrelevant to whatever’s going on. They would all obviously prefer us not to be here—’

‘
Very
obviously. Every time I go into the living room it hits me all over again.’

Thea frowned worriedly. ‘I probably ought to be doing something about that.’

‘Not up to you, surely. Anyway, it’s evidence. They’ll want it left as it is.’

‘Well, when’s all this action due to start, do you suppose? I expected helicopters and men with megaphones by this time.’

‘I hear an engine, as we speak,’ said Jocelyn, nodding towards the road gate. ‘But only a car.
Helicopters would be too much to ask.’

Thea cocked an ear, assuming it would simply be a local resident driving off to work, or a delivery van with a parcel. But she was wrong. The familiar Mondeo swept into the yard. Thea started to trot towards it, behind the exuberant spaniel, who got there well ahead of her.

Two men got out of the car, and Thea realised she knew them both. Hollis had brought the Franklyn man to the scene of his son’s death. She stared, collating the different remembered images of the face with the reality before her. The first time he had been wet and the light had been bad. Next he’d been in his car, staring ahead, his features wooden. Then in grief, with his weeping wife and tangled emotions. But always the same man, and one that Thea realised she had been suspicious of since the first glimpse.

‘Hello,’ she said warily.

‘Thea.’ Hollis was all briskness and control. ‘You remember Mr Franklyn.’

‘Yes, of course I do.’ He looked ravaged, bemused, entirely dependent on Hollis for the next move.

‘We won’t be needing you,’ the detective went on. ‘We’re just going into the pony shed for a minute, and then for a bit of a walk over the fields. You carry on with whatever you’re doing.’

‘Well, that’s told us,’ said Jocelyn, standing with
folded arms. ‘Best do as we’re told, then. Check the pony, collect the eggs and do a bit of dusting.’

‘He doesn’t really mean it,’ said Thea.

‘What doesn’t he really mean?’

‘To dismiss us. He was just being professional.’