Deception in the Cotswolds (8 page)

‘But surely you can’t think about moving if she’s
like that? How can you? And where does she think you are today, anyway?’

‘I didn’t really say.’ His look was forlorn. ‘I keep assuming she’ll get better. Or maybe a move will jolt her out of this state she’s in. But probably I’ll have to give it all up,’ he said again.

‘Let’s hope not,’ said Thea doubtfully. ‘That would be a waste.’

‘The worst thing,’ he burst out, ‘is not being able to
talk
to anybody about it. Maggs is too protective of Karen to let me make any hard and fast arrangements, which is a real pain. The business is stagnating, while we dither about how to carry on. Other alternative funeral people are setting up and doing quite well, even though they charge double what I do. Those willow coffins are extortionate, for one thing. And the public are being stitched up just as badly as they always have been, even if it’s got a lovely environmental ticket on it. I do it at rock-bottom prices, no frills, no fuss, and hardly anybody’s interested any more.’

‘Hey!’ she soothed softly. ‘Steady on. It’ll come right, you see if it doesn’t. I’ve never heard you talk like that before. Let’s change the subject before we both end up in tears. Let me tell you a secret that nobody else knows.’

‘Are you sure you should?’ he asked anxiously.

‘If you promise not to breathe a word to anybody within fifty miles of here.’

‘I promise.’

She told him about the dog and her pups hidden away in the woods. At first he interrupted with irrelevant questions about the owner and whether the babies could hope to survive, but then he went quiet and something of Thea’s delight got through to him.

‘I know it’s irresponsible of me to help her,’ she admitted. ‘But what else can I do? If I can keep her going while I’m here, she might rear at least some of them. She’ll be able to leave them and go off to catch a rabbit or something. She’s chosen a good time of year for it.’

‘But then what? She’s sure to be found eventually, even if she doesn’t go back home.’

‘I know. But there’s no sense in worrying about that in advance. Who knows what’ll happen?’

‘It’s a fairy tale story,’ he smiled. ‘My kids would be enchanted.’

‘Maybe you should adopt one of the pups, then,’ she flashed. ‘Why don’t you?’

He smiled again. ‘Maybe I will,’ he said recklessly. ‘The kids would love that. How many are there, anyway? Maybe I should take all of them.’

‘No more than six,’ she said. ‘As far as I could tell.’

‘Fine.’ He waved an airy hand. ‘The more the merrier.’

‘If I can find a home for one, when they’re only a day or two old, then what’s to stop me fixing it for all of them by the end of next week?’

He laughed away all residual worry about Karen and the business and being thwarted of the Cranham funeral. ‘Let me help with the cooking,’ he insisted. ‘What did you say we were having?’

Thea showed Drew the geckoes, which left him unimpressed, and then sent him into the garden with a fruit drink while she fed the dog and concocted a meal from the items available. When he had pleaded with her to let him help, she had flatly refused. ‘It’s not going to be anything elaborate,’ she said. ‘Baked potatoes, I think, and a meat sauce, with most of it out of a jar. Two minutes work for one person. Go outside, and I’ll be with you before you’ve chosen where to sit.’ She had gradually abandoned cooking as a serious activity over the past two or three years. Without Carl it had lost most of its purpose, and the short periods she had spent with Phil Hollis had generally included eating out, rather than home-cooked candlelit suppers.

As it turned out, she took rather longer than planned, because the cooker was so complicated to operate. Lights and buzzers and incomprehensible symbols defeated her at first. Feeling it was wasteful to turn it all on just for two potatoes, she also put in a ready-made apple pie that she had bought on a whim.

‘It should be ready in about forty-five minutes, I think. I’m not a very capable cook, to be honest,’ she confessed when she finally joined Drew. ‘I’m ashamed
to admit all the things I don’t know how to do – or have never even tried.’

‘It can be quite boring,’ he said. ‘Karen used to be brilliant at it. She grew all our own veg, and made amazing things.’

‘But not now?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s funny how much has fallen away, without us properly noticing. To begin with, we were just terrified that she was going to die, or be in a coma for years. When she recovered, bit by bit, we treasured every returning memory and ability, without thinking of how she’d been before. If that makes sense,’ he added. ‘We just sort of forgot where the baseline had been. It’s only in recent months that I’ve allowed myself to remember much about how she used to be, before the injury.’

‘And the children? What about them?’

‘They can’t remember any of it, as far as I can tell. Stephanie was very puzzled and upset to start with, of course. Timmy was just happy to have the physical contact. He clung to her when she came home, like a baby monkey, burrowing into her. I think that did her a lot of good, actually. It made her feel needed and grounded. He was in our bed for the next year.’

‘I can’t imagine how traumatic it must have been for all of you.’

‘People cope,’ he said shortly. ‘Everybody does.’

‘Maybe they do. You’d know more about that than me.’

The phone in the house began to ring, as Thea took a generous swig of the gin and tonic she’d prepared for herself. ‘Bother!’ she said. ‘I think I’ll just leave it. It’ll be somebody for Harriet.’

‘Up to you,’ he said, with a pointed look that clearly said he disapproved.

‘What? You think I should answer it?’

‘A man died close by, today, and you found the body. I think you might find there are people wanting to speak to you.’

‘I doubt it. Anyway, it’ll stop before I can get there, now.’

She was right. The ringing ceased and she sank back into her seat. ‘I don’t like telephones,’ she said. ‘They’re so intrusive and badly timed. Mobiles are ghastly things.’

‘They’ve transformed my business,’ he said mildly. ‘Maggs and I used to have to spend all our time at home, in case there was a call. Now we’re free. Though we did take ages to take the risk. We thought we’d never give a proper service unless we had all the diaries and papers and stuff at our fingertips.’

‘The diary must still be pretty important,’ she said.

‘Not really. We’re not so busy we can’t remember what we’re committed to. At least – most of the time,’ he amended, recalling a very embarrassing omission he had made during his previous involvement with Thea in the Cotswolds.

The phone began again, and Thea stood up without
any further prevarication. ‘OK, I give in,’ she said. ‘They obviously mean business.’

It was a woman’s voice, with plummy vowels that sounded familiar. ‘Is that Harriet’s house-sitter? I’m sorry, I haven’t got your name. This is Edwina Satterthwaite. Perhaps you know who I am?’

‘Oh, yes. My name is Thea Osborne. You must be Donny’s friend. I met your sister.’ She waited to glean the reason for the call, without asking directly.

‘Did you? Now, I wonder whether you’d agree to meet me? I was hoping I could come up for a little talk.’

‘When?’

‘Now. If that would be convenient.’

‘I have somebody here, and we’re eating in a little while.’

‘It is quite important.’ A wobble came into the voice, and Thea reminded herself that Edwina had just lost somebody that she had been fond of, perhaps more than that. ‘Donny told me you might arrange a natural burial for him. That’s what I would like to discuss with you.’

‘In that case, do come right away. I have the undertaker here. He would be very happy to talk it over with you.’

‘Thank you, my dear. Give me five minutes.’

She had expected a car, but two figures came walking up the drive, shortly afterwards. A woman and a man approached purposefully, the woman obviously lame,
but moving fast nonetheless. Drew and Thea watched from the small front lawn. Thea had rapidly explained to Drew that he might yet find himself with a new burial for his cemetery, if Edwina’s hints were to be believed. ‘It’s all very mysterious,’ she said. ‘I’ve not met the woman yet. I hope this won’t lead to a fight with Jemima.’

Thyrza Hastings’ sister turned out to have the same family mouth, but was several inches shorter, stouter and with none of the frizz to her hair. She was in her early seventies, and walked with a pronounced sideways lurch at every step.

The man with her was in his forties, ginger-haired and monosyllabic.

‘This is Toby Brent,’ said Edwina. ‘He was married to Donny’s daughter.’

‘Cecilia?’ Thea queried. ‘You’re Cecilia’s husband?’

The man nodded, with a brief scowl. He gave the strong impression of wishing he was somewhere else. Thea hoped Drew would be able to keep up without a need for explanations. The wretched Cecilia with her failed heart transplant felt like an irrelevance to the more immediate matter of Donny’s death. It seemed slightly bizarre that Edwina should have brought the widower with her, under the circumstances.

‘It would appear that you know something of the family’s recent history,’ said Edwina, with the same archaic delivery as her sister. Thea found
herself instinctively wanting to respond in a similar manner.

‘Donny spent two afternoons with me here, and told me some of it,’ she confirmed.

Edwina was wearing good-quality dark clothes over unmistakable corsets that must have been hot, given the season. Her grey hair was pulled back and coiled tidily on her neck. There was more than a hint of Queen Victoria about her. ‘It was good of you to spend time with him,’ she said.

‘It was a pleasure. Really – I enjoyed his company. He was a nice man.’

‘Yes,’ said the older woman, averting her face. ‘Yes, he was.’

‘Donny was great,’ endorsed Toby, with a flicker of spirit. ‘Really great.’

‘This is Drew Slocombe,’ Thea made the introduction. ‘He runs a natural burial ground in Somerset. Donny was due to meet with him this afternoon to discuss his funeral arrangements. I’m afraid it was all a bit clandestine because for some reason Jemima is against the idea.’

Edwina thrust out a hand for Drew to shake, and nodded acknowledgement of Thea’s confession. Drew gave Thea a sharp look, reminding her of his disapproval of anything underhand. She grimaced apologetically at him. Only then did all three notice that Toby was turning red, anger clear on his face.

‘What do you mean?’ he demanded. ‘How could
he have been?’ He was barely articulate for rage.

‘Have been what, Toby dear?’ Edwina asked placatingly.

‘Planning to talk about his funeral? He wouldn’t do that.’

‘I’m sure he wanted to get it settled,’ said Thea. ‘He told me his family refused to discuss it, and he found that very frustrating.’

‘Oh, did he?’ The snarl was brief, to be replaced by a sudden slump of the shoulders. ‘That was Mimm. She doesn’t like morbid talk.’

‘So I understand. Listen – Donny
asked
me, with no prompting at all, whether I knew somebody who might be able to help. And I did. I knew Drew. It all seemed to fit so well. But I’m sorry now. I was wrong to go behind Jemima’s back.’

‘And
mine
,’ he insisted. ‘He’s
my
father-in-law. I’ve got a part in all this.’

Edwina patted him, plainly to his annoyance. ‘Nobody’s questioning that, dear,’ she said. ‘You know how grateful we all are for the way you’ve looked after him.’

The four of them had disposed themselves around the beautiful living room. There was seating for eight or nine people, arranged in smaller groupings. Toby and Edwina sat together on a wooden settle strewn with plump cushions. Thea took a window seat, with Drew across the room, near the fireplace, looking rather out of place. He and Thea were both very
aware of their supper waiting for them. A cooking smell was filtering through from the kitchen.

After a short silence, in which everyone seemed to wonder why they were gathered there in the first place, Drew cleared his throat and produced a notebook. ‘So am I right in thinking you’d like your … friend … to be buried in my ground?’ he began. ‘Obviously, it would have to be his daughter’s decision, as next of kin.’

‘No, she’s not,’ said Toby.

‘Pardon?’

‘Mimm isn’t next of kin. That must be his wife.’

Drew’s eyes widened and he looked to Thea for help. ‘Wife?’ he stuttered.

Thea tilted her chin at Edwina, reluctant to say the wrong thing, annoyed with herself for forgetting to tell Drew there was a wife. Of course, this would be a crucial detail when it came to funeral arrangements. Edwina said nothing, either.

‘Yes. Mrs Janet Davis,’ Toby informed him. ‘She’s in a nursing home near Cirencester.’

‘I see,’ said Drew, clearly not seeing at all.

‘She’s senile,’ said Edwina. ‘Mimm has power of attorney. It comes to the same thing.’

‘You mean, in effect the daughter makes the decisions,’ said Drew.

‘Precisely.’

‘But Janet
is
the next of kin,’ persisted Toby.

‘All right, Toby. We know how fond you are of her. But
the truth is – well, she hasn’t been able to function for a long time now.’ She looked from Thea to Drew and back. ‘It’s very sad.’ There was no hint of embarrassment that she should have at least in part replaced Donny’s wife as his female partner, nor was there any sign that Toby resented this, however loyal he might be to his
mother-in-law
. More briskly, Edwina went on, addressing Drew, ‘How far away is your burial ground?’

‘Nearly sixty miles from here, I would guess. I’m in the process of establishing a new one in Broad Campden, but it won’t be ready for a long time yet.’

Edwina glared at Thea. ‘But I understood from Donny that it was something local.’

Thea blinked. ‘Hang on,’ she said. ‘You mentioned on the phone that he’d talked to you about it, as well. When did this talk take place? I thought you’d been away.’

Edwina widened her eyes at the sharp tone, but replied quite readily. ‘Last night. As soon as I got back from my daughter’s, I popped in to see him. I live barely a quarter of a mile away, after all.’