Authors: Ann Granger

A Restless Evil (8 page)

BOOK: A Restless Evil

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III

Someone else was having a frustrating morning.

âHello again!' said the young man breezily.

He wore a white shirt and garish tie. His jacket hung on the back of his chair. He had one of those well-fed and well-pleased with life faces topped with hair cut and gelled in the fashionable spikey style. Meredith was pleased to note that, despite his age which was probably a good ten years younger than she was, he
had the beginnings of what was popularly known as a beerbelly.

âHello again,' she echoed, taking the chair opposite him.

He leaned his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. âWell,' he said cheerily. âDid you go and look at the Lower Stovey property?'

âWe did. Mrâ' Meredith glanced at the plaque on his desk. It read simply âGary'. âGary,' she began again. âWe went to see it. Tell me, have you seen it?'

He blinked. âNo, I don't think I did the valuation on that one. Let me see.' He shuffled papers. âNo, Cindy did that one.'

And how old is Cindy? Nineteen?
snarled an inner Meredith.

âBut I can tell you,' Gary was breezing on. âThat my colleague was very impressed by the property. Very impressed indeed.'

âBy colleague you mean Cindy, I suppose,' said Meredith icily and without waiting for his acknowledgement, went on. âJust as a matter of interest, what impressed Cindy in particular about the Old Vicarage, Lower Stovey?'

âIt's unique,' he said solemnly. âA quality residence on a practical scale.'

âIt's huge. It has five bedrooms without counting the maids' rooms up in the attics.'

âThe attics could be turned into a super recreation room. Snooker, ping-pong, a gym â¦' He beamed. âCindy thought you could get all that up there, lovely place. Enough room for a bowling alley.'

âI don't need to play snooker at home or bowl. As for a gym, I've got an exercise bike and it takes up very little room. I'm not so much bothered about space, in any case, more general
condition. You know the central heating system is out of the ark and broken? I hate to think what the electrics are like.'

âIt does need some modernisation,' he agreed reluctantly. âBut that is reflected in the price, Miss Mitchell.'

âThe kitchen is out of Dickens.'

âBut a lovely size.'

âIt's got sash windows which stick.'

âPeriod features.'

âA garden which is completely overgrown.'

He had his answer ready. He beamed at her. âI understood that Mr Markby is a very keen gardener! Plenty of scope for him there! Grow all your own vegetables,' he added, inspired. âOrganic, natural, full of flavour.'

âAnd Lower Stovey is totally cut off, down a road which leads nowhere, only to some woods.'

He jabbed his index finger at her. âGot it. Entirely secluded and â¦' his voice rose in triumph â¦ âno risk of further development. The old drovers' way runs just behind the village and right through the woods. It's protected. It's, you know, historic. No one's going to put a motorway through there, are they? Or put up two hundred starter homes. Believe me, a location like that doesn't come on the market every day.'

Meredith sat back in her chair and heaved a sigh. âHaven't you got anything else on your books?'

âYes, lots,' he nodded. âBut not what you're looking for. Three bed semi? No problem. Detached with garage and room for extra parking? Show you two or three. Nice little bungalow?' He shook his head. âBut you don't want any of those, do you. You and Mr Markby, you want character. You want period charm.' He leaned across the desk and added in a hoarse
whisper, âYou want to go up-market.' He made it sound like the last word in degeneracy.

âHow about a biggish cottage?' she asked desperately.

He spread his hands. âAt the moment, not a chance. Wouldn't I like to be able to show you one? Of course I would. But they're like hot cakes, they are. Hardly touch the books. Word gets out one is for sale and I've got prospective buyers tripping over one another trying to get through that door first.'

âBut they're not tripping over one another to offer for the Old Vicarage?'

Gary folded his hands. âI'm sure,' he said confidentially, âthat Mrs Scott, the owner, would accept any reasonable offer.'

Meredith, although she knew it was a mistake, heard herself ask, âHow reasonable?'

He tapped the side of his nose. âLeave it with me. I'll talk her down a bit.'

âHang on!' Meredith protested, knowing she was being outmanoeuvred here. âLet's leave Lower Stovey on the back burner for the moment. We're bearing it in mind.' She got up. âIn the meantime, we'll look further.'

He rightly interpreted this as meaning they were going to consult the books of a rival firm.

âDon't be hasty. Let me talk to Mrs Scott. While you're waiting â¦' he cast about and brightened, âyou could go and take a look at Hill House. It commands spectacular views over unspoilt countryside. Mind you, it's been empty two years and about a year ago there was a bit of trouble when some hippies broke in and camped in it for a month or two. Since then it's been boarded up. But it's a beautiful late Georgian house.'

âForget it,' said Meredith.

âYou let me talk to Mrs Scott,' he urged. âAnd why don't you go and take another look round the property? I can tell you, once word gets outâ'

âThey'll be tripping over one another in your doorway, I know.' On the other hand, Hill House sounded immeasurably worse. âLet me think about it,' she said.

Meredith was still thinking about the lack of success she and Alan were having house-hunting as, the following morning, she journeyed up to London by crowded commuter train and packed Tube to her Foreign Office desk. Gary, she decided, had only told her about Hill House to make the Old Vicarage sound positively desirable.

At lunchtime a friend, Juliet Painter, rang. âI haven't seen you in ages, Meredith. I was thinking, if you haven't got to rush off home after work today, we could have a bowl of spaghetti together somewhere.'

âWhere's Doug?' Meredith enquired.

âDon't ask me. Working.' There was a touch of annoyance in Juliet's voice.

âThat'll teach you to date a copper,' said Meredith unsympathetically. As Juliet was finding out and Meredith had already learned, policemen, like doctors, were apt to be called out at inconvenient times. âWhere do you want to meet?' she said more kindly.

The restaurant Juliet had in mind was in Soho, off Dean Street.

âBecause,' she said, when she and Meredith were settled at a table, âit's lively down here. You can watch the street life through the windows. See?' She pointed through the glass at the thronged pavement. âDoug and I like it.' There was a touch of defiance in the last words, Meredith thought.

âThis is getting very serious with you and Superintendent Minchin, isn't it?' Meredith studied Juliet. âThere's something different about you. Where are your specs?'

âGot contact lenses.' Juliet took one of the two menus a waiter was holding out to them. Her tone was suspiciously airy.

âI thought you couldn't get on with them.'

âThey've got new types now. I'm managing better.' Juliet tilted her chin and tossed her single long plait of hair. âIt's not because of Doug, if that's what you're thinking. We're not that serious, thank you. Not as serious as you and Alan.' She was getting her own back.

Meredith glared morosely at the menu. âIf that's what I am. Alan's serious.'

âHey, getting cold feet?'

âI suppose so,' Meredith admitted.

âIt's all this talk of marriage,' said Juliet firmly. âLook, I can understand your jitters, even if Alan can't. It's because he's been married before and he thinks in those terms. He must be forty-five now and it's a funny age. He wants to settle down. Now you and me, we're used to our independence. But life's got to move on. You're what, thirty-seven? Does Alan want kids?'

âI've never asked him! In any case, I don't think he's marrying me because he fancies sitting at the head of the table, gazing down at a line of scrubbed little faces. I should bloomin'
well hope not. Anyway, I'm too old to start a big family. One child or two, I might â might! â be able to cope with. I'm not even sure about that. I've never had anything to do with babies. I'm an only child. Right now it just appears another complication and marriage, to me, already sounds complicated enough. I've never even lived with anyone, not under the same roof for any length of time. Whether it's been Alan or earlier relationships I've had, I've always insisted on my own space. When I was overseas with the Diplomatic Service, of course, I got my own flat as part of the job.'

She sighed. âI did love my time overseas. For ages after I got back I tried to get posted out somewhere, anywhere, again. Now I know that's not going to happen and I'm stuck at a Foreign Office desk until pension day. I'll be honest. I did resent that. It made me very dissatisfied for a long time and poor Alan bore the brunt of it. It's been difficult for him. I can see that. I can also see that those years living abroad weren't the absolute good thing I thought they were. They cut me off from normal life. I was living a very satisfying, but distinctly peculiar, artificial life. It made me into a peculiar sort of person.'

âWho isn't?' asked Juliet.

âYou know what I mean. This setting up together which everyone else seems to take for granted makes me feel odd. Look, Alan and I did try living together in his place whilst mine was being fixed up, but it just didn't seem â seem natural. To be frank, after years of a nomadic life, even the idea of putting down some real roots terrifies me.'

âYou'd manage fine if you were married. You've just got to take hold of your courage and go for it, Meredith.' Juliet smiled brightly at her.

âIt's all right you talking like an agony aunt,' Meredith defended herself. âI love Alan, I do! It's just the idea of always being under one another's feet â¦ Every evening coming home and asking, “How was your day, dear?” Having to check with someone else before you accept even a casual meal out with a friend, like this. Being, being beholden to someone. You see, that's Alan's idea of domestic bliss.'

âGive the poor guy a chance. He wants to look after you.'

âBut I can look after myself, thank you very much, and I've been doing it for quite a while now. The habit's hard to break.' She sighed. âI'm sure Alan suspects I'm deliberately dragging my feet over the house-hunting. But honestly, we've yet to view any house that makes me feel that I can really live in it â with or without Alan.'

The waiter arrived to take their order.

âThe spinach and ricotta cannelloni,' said Meredith.

âFor me the pollo milanese,' said Juliet. âAnd a bottle of the house red. It's very good here, Meredith. We can manage a bottle between us, can't we?'

âThe way I feel I could manage a bottle on my own!' retorted Meredith as the waiter left them. âJuliet, in your line of business, don't you know of any nice houses which would suit us?'

âI'm not an estate agent,' Juliet reminded her. âI'm a property consultant. I look out for houses for the rich and famous and sometimes for the even richer who take good care not to be famous. If I knew of anything, I'd tell you. But you want to be in the Bamford area, don't you? There aren't that many houses of the type you're after around there, not in good condition, anyway.'

Meredith told her about the Old Vicarage and, for good measure, about Hill House.

âForget Hill House,' advised Juliet immediately. âI've seen it. It's as near derelict as makes no difference and would cost a small fortune to put right.'

âThat rules us out, then!' said Meredith in relief.

âBut this Old Vicarage place, that might be a possible. I think you ought to take another look. As for worrying about all those bedrooms, you haven't thought it through. Look, five main bedrooms, right? One you'll turn into a study for you so that you can work from home sometimes, everyone does. Another Alan will turn into his den. That just leaves three of them for sleeping in which is only what you'd have with a semi.'

âThere are another five or six cubbyholes up in the attics! Apparently, Cindy, who works at the estate agent's, thinks someone might build a gym or gamesroom up there.'

âCindy's got the right idea. Look, if Mrs Scott is keen to sell and if the central heating is on the blink and the windows stick and all the rest of it, she can't hold out for top whack. Hey, you can do business!'

âAll right, then,' Meredith agreed, bowing to the force of Juliet's enthusiasm. âI'll take a couple of days off next week and go and take another look.'

âIf it's still on the market,' Juliet had a caveat.

âBelieve me,' Meredith assured her, âI've every confidence it'll still be on the market.'

BOOK: A Restless Evil

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