A Crowded Coffin (11 page)

‘Oh, nothing concrete. It’s just that I’ve been getting the impression he’s up to something that might be illegal. I can’t give away too much, but as you’ll imagine, I’m pretty hot on drugs and so forth, and one or two of the things he’s said to me suggest there’s something pretty dicey going on. It’s very recent; I bumped into him at the pub the other day and stayed for a pint. He and that American, Goldstein, were thick as thieves and Brendan let slip a couple of things that made me wonder.’

He refused to elaborate, in spite of her urgent questioning. ‘It’s too vague,’ he told her. ‘I’ll sound Brendan out again. Oh, don’t worry,’ he laughed at her expression, ‘I’m no hero, I’ll keep a low profile.’

Edith was astonished. This was the last development she had anticipated. A cold dash of cynicism suggested that John could be deflecting suspicion onto the other two men, but why should he? Harriet was the only person who had articulated any misgivings about him, and then in the privacy of her own home. Besides, even Harriet seemed more dismayed at the idea of the vicar coming on to Edith, rather than engaging in some – what? – criminal activity.

It was nearly half past nine. ‘I know it’s early, but I really ought to be getting back,’ she told him. ‘I love being at home but the downside is that the grandparents can’t get to sleep until I get safely back. It’s a bit like being a teenager again.’

When he drew up at the front door, she was taken aback as he reached over and pulled her to him. This time, when he kissed her, there was a pent-up passion that shook her, and try as she might she couldn’t help a slight recoil. He let her go at once, with a rueful laugh,

‘Sorry, Edith. Snogging in a parked car is completely naff. It’s been a long time, is the only excuse I have; next time I’ll be a perfect gentleman, I promise.’

Flustered, she scrambled out of the car, murmuring thanks for the evening and as he drove away, she was torn between slight indignation at his assumption that there would
be
a next time, and the lost opportunity to question him further about his keen interest in her family history.

There was only panic. Harriet held herself completely still, afraid to move, aware of pain and worse than pain: complete and abject terror. Whatever cradled her, some kind of metal framework she concluded, reaching out a tentative finger to touch, rocked and shivered precariously under her, frightening her so much that she could scarcely breathe. There was something else, its weight heavy on her chest and in the moments of consciousness she explored that too. Gradually, thankfully, she recognized her handbag and there, tucked in the bag’s front pocket and blessedly easy to reach, sat her phone.

The darkness came and went, along with fragments of memory. Driving down the track, an impression of danger screaming down on her, then silence and the fearful rocking.

‘My head hurts.’ Harriet struggled to turn away from the bright light shining down on her. What was happening? Where…? ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I’m
not
going to say it….’ But she did, anyway. ‘Where am I?’
Damn
! ‘I was in the car….’

A soothing voice hushed her. ‘Don’t worry, Harriet, you’re in hospital; we’re just taking you down to X-ray,’ it said. ‘You’ve been in an accident but you seem to be all in one piece and it looks as though everything is working. We think you might have had a bit of a bump on your head so we’re just making absolutely sure you’re all right.’

There
was
a car; she definitely remembered a car coming
full-on
at her, headlights blazing.

‘Somebody drove into me.’ She was awake again and aware of a uniformed policewoman standing a few feet away. The girl’s face brightened into interest and she bent over Harriet. ‘Did you see who it was, Miss Quigley?’ she asked, pen poised over her notebook.

Harriet tried to shake her head. ‘Ugh, that hurts,’ she muttered. ‘No, his lights dazzled me but I think it was a sports car, long and low, anyway.’

She roused herself and was glad to see a cup of tea wavering into view. ‘Concussion?’ she asked the nurse who turned out to be holding it.

‘Only a mild one. You were incredibly lucky.’ The middle-aged man helped her to sit up to drink. ‘You went through the
barricade
and over into the quarry. You must have been very brave, managing to get hold of your phone, or you could have been there all night. The crew who brought you in said it was a miracle you survived at all. God knows what would have happened if you hadn’t been driving such a light-weight, ancient vehicle. As it was, the trees caught the car and held you up there.’

‘Car?’ She let out a cry of protest. ‘Oh no, not the Mini. My mother loved that car; she had it from new, back in 1960,’ she mourned.

‘’Fraid so,’ he sympathized. ‘It’s a write-off. I’m so sorry, but maybe you should look on it as having saved your life. A guardian angel Mini?’

‘Edith?’ The voice was urgent, slightly familiar, a man she knew but couldn’t bring to mind straight away.

‘Hmm? Yes? Who? What’s the matter?’ A glance at her watch showed a quarter to seven; a call at this time of the morning wasn’t going to be good news.

‘It’s Sam Hathaway,’ he said, his voice ragged with anxiety. ‘I had a call from Harriet. She’s in hospital, Winchester. I don’t know the details but she seems to have had an accident last night. She swears she’s all right, apart from slight concussion, but she’ll need a lift home.’

He interrupted Edith’s cries of distress. ‘She sounded okay, honestly, Edith, just shocked and tired. The thing is, my plane is delayed with some technical fault so I’m still stuck in Belfast and won’t get back to Southampton airport till late this morning. Could you pick her up, do you think? You can? Great.’ His relief was audible. ‘She says any time after breakfast. And no matter how much fuss she makes, whatever she says, will you take her back to your place till I can get back? She shouldn’t be left on her own.’

A call to the hospital confirmed Sam’s message. Miss Harriet Quigley would be ready for collection any time after half past nine, so shortly after nine o’clock Edith and Rory set out on their way to Winchester in Rory’s car.

‘You didn’t get any details, then?’ Rory was taking the winding lane steadily, too many tractors in these parts to be complacent. ‘No idea what kind of accident? Or where?’

‘Nothing. Only that she’s okay apart from mild concussion. We’re to take her home with us, which I’d do anyway, even without Sam saying so. She’s family after all.’ The treacherous memory of Lara’s hint slid unbidden into her mind and she shied away from speculating about Rory’s own relationship to the family.

‘How was your evening?’ she asked.

‘Fine,’ he shrugged, looking surprised at the abrupt change of subject. ‘I managed to dodge any suggestion of another date – she’s so not my type.’ He grinned at Edith. ‘I’m not a tight-arse but I’m not made of money either and she’s pretty high
maintenance
, financially and every other way, I should think. We went
back to her place after dinner at the Hotel du Vin,’ he continued. ‘I managed to find out that her father
does
have interests in oil – North Sea, Middle East, mostly – but he’s also got some connections with a couple of on-shore drilling outfits.’

‘She surely didn’t tell you that, did she?’ Edith looked
sceptical
. ‘Oops, turn left here, sorry.’

‘Of course she didn’t. There were some papers left on a side table and I sneaked a look while she was getting the drinks. All I got from Lara was a hint that she and Brendan have an on-off thing going, whenever they both happen to be single. Apparently her father thinks highly of him, though whether he’d be quite as acceptable as a third son-in-law is open to
question
.

‘Anyway, I did find out that when Lara is otherwise engaged Brendan’s been lumbered with looking after their Texan visitor and that they were out on the town last night.’ He surprised her with a sudden laugh. ‘Apparently, both of them have been enthusing about you and are planning to ask you out, which Lara clearly doesn’t find amusing. She doesn’t seem to like Harriet much either, says she’s too inquisitive.’

He concentrated as they turned into the hospital multi-storey and as they parked he asked, ‘How about you and the vicar? Did you find out anything?’

She gave him a brief outline of John’s story, about his wife’s sorry end and about his theories regarding Brendan.

‘Hmm,’ was all he said as he held the door open for her.

‘You’re as bad as Harriet,’ she scolded him. ‘Why can’t you two just believe he’s a decent kind of guy, who has lost his wife and is trying to distract himself by doing his job, reading up on history and so forth? And that that’s all there is to it?’ The trouble was, she admitted to herself, that pretty much everyone was beginning to look suspicious to her, even the vicar.

‘You could be right,’ he surprised her, but there was no time
for more discussion. They’d arrived at the hospital. Edith explained who she was and the nurse nodded.

‘Miss Quigley just needs rest,’ she said, checking her notes. ‘She won’t be on her own, will she? Good. There’s just one thing,’ her voice was lowered. ‘When she first came in she kept insisting that someone pushed her car deliberately into the quarry….’

She looked startled at their outcry. ‘Oh, yes, didn’t you know? It’s a miracle that she wasn’t killed. Has to have been a drunk driver, of course, nobody would do such a thing on purpose, but somehow or other she ended up going through the barrier and landing in the trees.’ She dismissed them kindly. ‘You’ll find her in the day room,’ she said.

‘Shh, this isn’t the time to discuss it.’ Rory grabbed her hand as Edith opened her mouth. ‘Come on, let’s go and rescue her.’

Harriet had been leaning back in her chair, her hand to her head, and wondering whether her throbbing headache would ever go away. At Edith and Rory’s approach she opened her eyes and managed a smile of greeting.

‘I’m fine, Edith, don’t make a fuss, just—’ Her eyes widened as she saw John Forrester hurrying into the day room
accompanied
by the staff nurse on duty. ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she muttered and caught Rory’s eye. ‘Follow my lead,’ she hissed, to his bewilderment, reaching for his hand and shutting her eyes.

‘I came as soon as I heard,’ John told them, bending over to look at Harriet. ‘How is she? Hasn’t she come round yet? Has she said what happened?’

The staff nurse fluttered round him, and Edith eyed her with distaste. Is that how I was last night? she wondered, and frowned at the idea. The frown deepened as she spotted the undeniable interest in his eyes as he smiled down at the nurse. Never looked at another woman indeed, she fumed.

‘She can’t remember much,’ Rory said firmly, glaring at Edith
as she turned to him in surprise. ‘Except that it must have been a drunk going too fast.’ There was an approving pressure on his hand and he glanced down at Harriet. ‘Of course, she’s getting on, and at her age, memory loss is quite terrifying,’ he added, deciding to embroider the story. ‘And it’s very upsetting for her not to recall anything about her accident.’

‘Whenever she’s ready.’ The nurse nodded coolly to Edith and turned to the vicar. ‘Can I ask you to come and talk to one of our other patients?’ she suggested. ‘He’s very agitated and I’m sure he’ll calm down if you have a word.’

John nodded goodbye and followed in her train, leaving Edith puzzled, Rory amused, and Harriet torn between laughter and annoyance.

‘How dare you suggest I’m going senile,’ she snapped, opening her eyes and tapping Rory lightly on the hand. ‘That wretched man will patronize me now for the rest of my days.’

‘I’m sorry, Harriet.’ Rory was contrite. ‘It was the best I could think of at short notice when you did your dying swan act. But what’s this about someone driving at you deliberately? The nurse said that’s what you claimed when they brought you in here.’

‘Quite true.’ Harriet gathered up her handbag. ‘I’ll tell you about it later, not here, though.’ She thought quickly then, ‘Edith, do me a favour, will you? Rory will drive me home, I’m sure, but I’d be really grateful if you would run after the vicar and ask him to give you a lift to my cottage when he’s done here. I’ll need some clothes.’ She made a face. ‘Sam’s been on to me and the nurse was adamant that I’m to go to the farm till he’s able to look after me. Yes, thanks, Edith,’ she grinned as her former pupil spoke eagerly. ‘I’ve rather taken it for granted, I’m afraid, that I can cadge a bed from you for tonight and I’ve written a list of things I’ll probably need. Here you are, and please, not a word about what I just said, to the vicar or anyone
else. Keep to the story that it must have been a drunk driver. I don’t want anything else to get out.’

She and Rory watched as Edith disappeared after the vicar.

‘So?’ He looked at her. ‘
Were
you deliberately pushed into the quarry?’

‘Yes,’ she sighed, looking weary. ‘I’ll tell you about it when I’ve gathered my wits, but just now I really want to get out of here.’ She glanced at him with a speculative eye. ‘Can I persuade you to take me back to my place?’ she asked and made a face as he shook his head. ‘I thought not. The farm’s the best bet really; my closest friend in the village has just set off on a family trip to Cornwall and Sam is in the throes of packing up his flat. I suppose I can’t really stay with him among the tea chests but I’ll try to persuade him to move in with me. He’s due to do that next week. No,’ she rubbed her eyes, ‘I’m getting confused, it’s tomorrow the sale is due to be completed, so he can do some decorating in his new place. Meanwhile he’s got to report back to the office today on his Belfast trip, so a night or two at the farm will have to do.’

‘So, Harriet.’ Rory packed his cargo tenderly into the front passenger seat. ‘What is it that you want to talk to me about that you don’t want Edith to hear?’

He concentrated on navigating the hospital car park and headed for the hills. Harriet was frowning, so he asked again. ‘Well? I have no idea what the hell’s going on in Locksley but it doesn’t look good.’

Harriet shook her head. I don’t want to involve these two kids in whatever’s happening, she thought. Then she glanced at Rory. Nonsense, woman, she sighed. He’s a grown man, they’re both adults, come to that, and they’re involved anyway.

‘I think we covered everything yesterday morning,’ she told him. ‘Cousin Walter’s accident; the missing man, Colin Price, and his job at the archive; the news that valuable, if not
priceless
,
items from the archive have turned up in European auctions. And now there’s someone messing about in a field where it’s been rumoured for centuries that a Roman ruin exists. Just because you recognized them it doesn’t follow that they aren’t simply treasure hunters out on the off-chance, doesn’t have to be something more sinister. God only knows.’ She leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Sam has some more news,’ she said flatly, as she subsided into silence.

After a few minutes she perked up and smiled at her driver. ‘You’re a restful kind of man, Rory,’ she told him. ‘Thank you for not nagging me for an explanation. I just needed to gather my thoughts.’