Fear in the Cotswolds (22 page)

‘Oh, hello,’ she said, tentatively. ‘Hi Dorothy. Are you still poorly?’

The woman nodded on behalf of the child, and Thea wondered whether she herself had ever looked so terrible, even in those first days after Carl was killed. This was a figure of desperate misery, a young woman, barely thirty, with greenish skin and sunken eyes. Not fit to be in charge of a child, or a car. When she spoke, her voice was strained: ‘She said I should stop for you, because you were at Nicky’s party. I’m Philippa – her mother.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Thea, thinking she’d now got the full set, although little Wilf seldom seemed to put in an appearance, but also wondering how it was that she had taken back childcare from the capable Barbara. Dorothy looked anxious, and it occurred to Thea that the child had wanted help in dealing with this distraught mother.

‘Can we take you somewhere? It’s cold out there.’ The politeness suggested good upbringing, Thea noted, despite the undercurrent of something like hostility.

‘Well…thanks. If you’re passing the turn to Hampnett, that would be helpful. Is the dog all right? She can sit on my lap.’

The answering grimace ensured that Hepzie remained firmly off the upholstery, which was certainly spotlessly clean.

Thea had been a nervous passenger ever since Carl’s fatal accident. She greatly preferred to be the driver, despite several minor collisions of her own. But it was not always possible to avoid riding with other people, and she made a point of concealing her feelings. Admitting to weakness only made everything worse, as far as she could see. Besides, her bag was uncomfortably heavy.

But Philippa was in no condition to drive competently. The car lurched in spasmodic surges, as she tormented the accelerator like a woman three times her age. ‘Mother!’ squealed Dorothy from her booster seat in the back. ‘You’re kangarooing.’

‘Shut up, Dorothy,’ snarled Philippa. ‘You’re making me worse.’

The drive should have taken three minutes at most, but there were traffic lights where the small road crossed the A429, and they had a long wait. Opposite them was a large building, and for something to say, Thea read out the lettering above one of its portals. ‘The Old Police Station,’ she murmured. ‘Sounds interesting.’ The building did seem incongruous, with no houses or other structures nearby. Thea tried to imagine how it would have been to be an inmate in one of the police cells. Without the busy road – which appeared to be a recent construction – it must have been quite isolated. ‘I ought to go and
have a look,’ she said. ‘I’m quite keen on local history.’

‘You can’t – it’s closed in the winter, except for coffee.’

It was nowhere near enough time to gain a reliable impression of this ex-wife, friend of Bunny and young but neglectful mother. She must only have been in her early twenties when Dorothy had been born; Bernard past fifty. ‘So…you’re taking a turn with the invalid, then?’ she ventured.

‘What? Oh, you mean Barbara generally has them. Yeah. Well, it’s complicated.’

She doesn’t want to discuss it in front of Dorothy, thought Thea, understandingly, while at the same time intensely curious about her. This was a woman whose best friend had just been murdered, and who had taken it extremely badly, to judge by her appearance. The few reports Thea had gleaned about her suggested somebody selfish and of illiberal views. Bunny must have been at least ten years her senior, and therefore likely to have been a mentor. Had they enjoyed trenchant conversations over coffee, putting the world right while signing up for membership of the BNP? Or if not quite that, then UKIP?

She could not refrain from broaching the subject that could not fail to be on both their minds. ‘You must be very shocked by what
happened.’ It seemed a safe enough thing to say, even in front of the child.

The response came readily enough. ‘I’m devastated. Absolutely flattened. I can’t even think straight. I’m scared stiff.’

‘Oh?’

‘Well, who wouldn’t be?’ Impatience with Thea’s obtuseness made her operation of the foot pedals even more erratic, as they were released by the traffic light turning green.

‘This is very kind,’ said Thea. ‘It’s out of your way, I expect.’

‘Only slightly, and there’s no hurry. Besides, I didn’t think you should be out on your own. Who knows what might happen?’

This ludicrously extreme version of Thea’s own anxieties almost made her laugh.

They had both forgotten the child in the back. Now she spoke up. ‘What happened to Ben’s mummy?’ she demanded. ‘Babs says she’s dead.
How
is she dead? Where did she go?’

Thea found herself approving greatly of the
how?
question. It made a pleasing change from the everlasting
why?
that she remembered from her sister’s children. Her own daughter had not been given to asking questions much at all.

‘Shut up, Dorothy,’ pleaded the child’s mother, abruptly stemming any feelings of approval that might have come her way. ‘Bunny was my
best
friend
. And I just wish I could get my hands on the bastard that killed her.’

From being scared stiff to seeking physical vengeance in twenty seconds was not unusual, Thea told herself. Shock led to erratic emotions, after all. ‘I’m sure the police will do a good job,’ she said carefully.

‘Are you? Seems to me it’s a bit late for that, letting psychos go free to do whatever they like. This is what
happens
, don’t you see? Not one of us is safe in our beds.’

A whimper from the back activated Thea’s own anger. ‘That’s rubbish,’ she snapped, turning to smile tightly at Dorothy. ‘Absolute rubbish. A bed is the safest place in the world. So is a house, and a school. The world has never been as safe as it is now. You’re not scared, are you, pet?’

Dorothy looked doubtful. ‘I want Babs,’ she said, undiplomatically.

‘Well, bloody Babs can have you,’ snarled Philippa, making Thea’s blood run cold. The woman might be well brought up, with a nice car and good clothes, but she was every bit as monstrous as the rumours had implied.

‘Drop me here,’ said Thea, gripping the dog on her lap. ‘I can walk the rest of the way.’

The car jerked to a halt, and Thea scrambled out. It was only a hundred yards or so from the track down to the barn.

‘Thanks very much,’ she said, throwing a last supportive smile at Dorothy. The little girl returned an oddly complacent grin, and the car made a sudden leap forward almost before Thea had closed the door.

Rather to her disappointment, there was no visitor waiting for her at the barn. No Gladwin or Janina or sniffing Tony Newby. No lost children or stiffening corpses, either. The very absence unnerved her. Increasingly, she felt a tremor when she walked into an empty house, aware of potential attack on a burgeoning number of fronts. In the months after Carl had died, she had often entered her own house with a secret hope that he would somehow have come back, and be there waiting for her with his reliable smile and a mug of coffee. When that finally faded, she had progressed to a numb stoicism, which held no fear, only a dogged need to fill the rooms with light and music as substitutes for company. The house-sitting had seen her in charge of a number of empty rooms and strange dark corners, along with a few frightening incidents that she had coped with quite valiantly at the time. Fear had never been a problem – so why now? Why had she become this timid stereotype of a woman alone, scared of every sound, flinching
at shadows, unable to escape the clutches of cold implacable fear?

Because, she answered herself, there was nobody on her side this time. Because it was wintry and frosty and everything was so unpredictable. And because the shock of seeing those footprints on a snowy morning a week ago had never really worn off.

She was quite aware that there was every chance that she had not encountered the person who had murdered Bunny. There were plenty of residents of Hampnett she had never even seen, not to mention people from further afield. And yet, the situation suggested that the murderer had not travelled far, the way the weather had been when Bunny died. Cars could hardly leave their driveways, buses and trains had been cancelled. All that was left was a person’s own legs, or possibly horseback. And on the principle that most murders were committed by close relatives, she very probably
had
met the killer – however much she wanted to think otherwise.

She had nothing to congratulate herself for –Gladwin must have given her up as useless days ago. As a helpful amateur detective she had totally failed, unlike on previous occasions. Or had it perhaps been that she had never really made a difference? That it had been DS Phil Hollis all along, quietly pursuing his professional
work and letting her think she was serving some purpose, when in fact she had just been a bit of decorative distraction? Looking back, it seemed all too persuasive a summary of all that had happened. Even when she had found herself in the thick of an investigation, in at the final revelations, she could hardly claim to have played a central role. And now, without Phil to guide and provoke, she was irrelevant.

Jimmy’s next toilet outing was due. Although he was obviously able to wait for indefinite lengths of time, it seemed mean to expect it of him. Outside there was a glimmer of weak sunshine, and if she could keep him out of the east wind, he might actually enjoy the fresh air. That, after all, was what she was being paid to do: to make the impaired dog as happy and comfortable as possible. He seemed to take a faint sort of pleasure from the trips outside, especially if Hepzie was beside him. He walked delicately on his long, thin legs, head down, but ears erect. His unself-conscious emptying of bladder and bowel seemed to leave him satisfied.

‘Come on, old boy,’ Thea crooned at him, going into the conservatory. ‘Come for a little walk, OK?’

She was used to having to lift him to his feet and wait as he got his bearings and his balance. Then she would hold his collar and direct him out
into the garden. He never resisted, but stepped willingly after her. It was a melancholy task, in many ways, but from the dog’s point of view, it wasn’t so sad. He didn’t know what he was missing, what his life might have been, running free over the paddock, chasing a ball or sniffing after wildlife. Hepzie apparently accepted his limitations without surprise or disappointment.

She could not explain afterwards why she did what she did. Something about giving Jimmy some extra time outside, or simply a whim of her own, born of nothing she could identify. Whatever the reason, she left the dogs in the wintry garden and went around the side of the house to the rabbit shed. Leaving the door half open, she went to the big cage, and unlatched it, and then bent down to extract two or three carrots from the bag on the floor. Sensing the treat to come, one of the rabbits began to nudge at the cage door, and finding it loose, lost her balance and fell out onto the floor of the shed.

Before Thea could grab her and put her back, the door of the shed was pushed further open and an unrecognisably energetic Jimmy came in like a bullet. The rabbit stood no chance, and with a muffled scream it died in the dog’s jaws, after one swift neck-breaking shake.

‘Jimmy!’ Thea shrieked, and aimed a kick at him. Even as her foot connected with his
shoulder, she regretted her action. He dropped the limp body and backed away, eyes staring. Thea picked up the victim and stupidly let it lie across her hands, willing it to revive. ‘Don’t let it be the mother of the babies,’ she prayed aloud, all the time knowing that it was. Obviously she would be the most hungry, the one to come impatiently forward for the carrots. She knew from the colouration, the prominent nipples amidst the belly fur, and the cussed behaviour of Fate.

The disaster was as deep and terrible as that of the dead man in the field, in that moment. Was it remotely possible that she could rear the babies by hand, and if so, how? Would it mean being up all night with tiny bottles of special milk? Would she have to make a nest for them in the house, and ensure exactly the right temperature? Were they that important?

First, she dragged Jimmy back to the conservatory, clenching her teeth against an urge to thrash him for what he’d done. It was not for her to judge, she reminded herself – he was Lucy’s first priority, and when it came to the point, a rabbit was almost certainly dispensable. Next, she switched on her laptop and searched the Internet for instructions on hand rearing baby rabbits.

There was plenty of it, and she began to hope she might save at least some of them. It appeared that the two primary requirements were infinite
patience and warmth. They could manage baby formula, dropped extremely carefully into their mouths, and at their age it appeared that they might last through the night without a feed. They might even nibble at some solid food. Weaning could be achieved by seven weeks – which meant Lucy would be saddled with them for some time after her return.

The sense of loneliness increased, as she collected the babies in a cardboard box and took them into the house. With a teammate, the task would be fun, as well as much quicker. Carl would have revelled in the challenge, insisting on the immense care necessary if the milk was not to go down the wrong way and drown the poor little things. As it was, she would have to keep the dogs and cat firmly away from the improvised nest, sitting for hours in isolation. And for what? Was it possible that it was worth the trouble? Lucy hadn’t even known the babies were expected. If only Thea hadn’t said anything, she might have quietly let them die, and buried them out of sight, no harm done – apart from the slaughter of the poor, pretty doe.

But they were so very much alive that such a course would never have been an option.

She would have to go out and buy milk powder and a small feeding bottle, at the very least. Bourton-on-the-Water was the nearest place likely to sell such items, but she was not familiar with the shops there, and would hardly know where to start. Stow was better, but even then, she was unsure whether to try a normal chemist or a farm supplies place. Only after much dithering did she think she might walk down the track to the farm, and ask Old Kate. She would surely have everything necessary, readily to hand. But she would scoff at the idea of hand rearing rabbits. She would regard them as worthless rodents, something to be shot,
not nurtured as beloved pets. And Kate’s scorn was something Thea preferred to avoid if at all possible.

The websites had stressed the difficulties of the procedure; the need for experience and infinite care. Thea had never bottle-fed any creature, not even her own daughter. Kate would know how to do it – would give her instruction and perhaps active assistance, even while disapproving. It would be dark in an hour or two, the short day closing down far too early for comfort, making normal activity much more of a performance, with the need for a torch amid unseen hazards. Besides, people would not take kindly to unheralded knockings on their doors after nightfall. Where you might readily stroll down for a chat at nine on a summer evening, such a visit even at five in the winter would be seen as an intrusion.

But something had to be done, and the image of a large bag of specially formulated milk powder for baby animals, waiting only a quarter of a mile away, spurred her on, quelling the bubbling fear that threatened to prevent her from going outside at all, once it got dark.

She pulled on boots, gloves, hat and coat, shut both dogs in the conservatory and was just opening the front door when the phone rang.

She almost didn’t answer it, thinking it was
Lucy. If so, she would have to report the death of the mother rabbit. On the other hand, if it was Lucy, she could shoulder the decision as to what should be done with the babies. So she turned back and picked up the phone.

At first she couldn’t make sense of what was being said. ‘Could you come, do you think? There isn’t anybody else at such short notice. They’ve all got their own families. Just for a couple of hours, until I get home.’

Eventually she worked out that it was Simon Newby, asking her to babysit his boys until he could get home to them. ‘Or Tony,’ he amended. ‘I mean, it might be Tony who gets there first. I’m trying to get hold of him.’

Why me?
Thea wanted to shout at him.
You
hardly know me
. But she had been at Nicky’s party, demonstrating her competence and goodwill. ‘Where’s Janina?’ she asked.

‘I
told
you,’ he snapped. ‘She’s got to go back to Sofia tonight. Her stepmother’s been in a car crash and there’s nobody to take charge of the little brothers.’

He had not told her properly, burbling about an airport and sudden changes. ‘Tonight?’ she echoed incredulously. ‘When exactly did the accident happen?’

‘Yesterday, I think. Look…I realise this is a dreadful imposition. But the kids like you, and
to be honest, I think they need a woman. I’d ask Kate, but she’ll be too busy with her sheep and Granfer. He isn’t at all well. We had all this before. There just aren’t enough women around these days.’

She wanted to tell him about the rabbits and the dogs, and her disabling anxieties about going out. But she was, at heart, glad to have been asked. Just to be remembered as somebody who might come to the rescue was flattering. ‘Where are you now?’ she wanted to know.

He sighed deeply. ‘At the hotel. I’m always at the hotel. If you can’t come, I’ll have to have the boys here. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it’s far from ideal. They’re not really old enough…’ He tailed off, and Thea could imagine the difficulties all too clearly.

‘Is somebody collecting Ben from school?’

‘Oh yes. Janina’s doing that. She’s ordered a taxi to the airport for four o’clock. God knows how she got herself packed in time.’

By Thea’s calculations, the au pair had had all day for that. A new thought struck her. ‘The police,’ she blurted. ‘Have they said it’s all right for her to go?’

After a short silence, Simon said, ‘You mean they think she’s a suspect for my wife’s murder?’ He gave a little snort. ‘I think they abandoned that idea quite a little while ago.’

What have I missed?
she wondered. Was the whole investigation over and done with, and she never even knew? Why would she find that so enormously startling?

‘OK…well, it’s ten past three now. I have a lot of things to do here. I
am
being paid to do them, after all,’ she added defensively. ‘It would be a stretch to get done by four.’ It would be impossible if she were to attempt to feed the baby rabbits. Even acquiring the necessities would take longer than that. ‘What time are you coming back?’

‘Seven at the absolute latest. All you have to do is those three hours.’

‘Can I bring the dog?’ she asked daftly.

‘Of course. Benjy loves your dog. Besides, we’re convinced she’s your daemon – how could you manage without her?’

Demon?
She let it pass, suspecting she’d failed to grasp an allusion that anyone else would get instantly.

She persuaded herself that the rabbits would survive for a few more hours, nestled in their box in her bedroom, the door securely shut. Not only were they potential prey for the bizarrely murderous Jimmy, but Spirit the cat was undoubtedly at least as great a danger. She hurriedly fed the donkey and the
remaining rabbits, and scrambled into her car at six minutes to four, the dog following her unenthusiastically. ‘Your supper will have to wait until we get back,’ Thea told her. ‘It’s too early to have it now.’

She arrived with a whole three minutes to spare, ahead of the taxi. Janina threw open the door, her eyes red and her hair in a mess. ‘Oh, God, you are so good,’ she exclaimed. ‘Such a good woman. I feel so very terrible and guilty about all this. It is like knives in my heart, to leave the boys at this time. And it is all stupid Bunny’s fault.’

Thea flinched at this fearless breaking of the taboo concerning speaking ill of the dead. Mightn’t there be a thunderbolt any moment now, as a result?

‘Are they all right?’ she asked, only now really facing the implications of this drastic new loss. ‘I suppose they can’t be, really.’

‘I told them I am coming back,’ said Janina in a quiet voice. ‘But it is not true. My stepmother’s neck is broken. I guess she might never walk again.’

Or move her arms, thought Thea with an icy shiver. A paraplegic, with four small sons. ‘That’s dreadful,’ she said.

‘She was driving fast on an icy road. We have told her to be more careful, but she never listens.’

Which only made it worse, thought Thea.

‘Listen,’ said the girl urgently. ‘I have things I must say. Things I ought to tell Simon, but he—Well, never mind. He is a child, in many ways, like a lot of men. Bunny did not talk to him like a grown man, and that was how it rested between them. Do you understand?’

‘Not really,’ frowned Thea. ‘What are you trying to tell me?’

‘Bunny – she had a lot of stupid ideas. About men abusing her sons, and the world being full of danger and risk. She was full of hate and fear. So stupid.’ Janina shuddered. ‘But she never said these things to Simon. He would not listen to them, just smiled and laughed if she was worried about anything. Always told her things would be fine, that everything was working well. And I…I was always on his side. Always thinking he was right. But now, she is dead. So she could have been the one who knew best, after all.’

An engine outside announced the taxi, and Janina wrung her hands. ‘I do not know what is true any more,’ she wailed. ‘Perhaps the world is cruel and sick, as Bunny said. But listen, Thea Osborne…the important thing is that Simon knows nothing. We have protected him, in our different ways, even Ben. Even Tony. Everybody. So Simon is innocent, do you understand? More innocent than little Nicky
even. More innocent than your fluffy spaniel.’

Thea’s mind seized up under this urgent lastminute assault. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘OK…now you’ll have to go. You can phone me, if you like, tomorrow.’ She grabbed paper from the hall table and rooted for a pen amongst the scatter of junk mail and newspapers. ‘Here’s my mobile number. I’ll be able to tell you how everybody’s doing.’

Janina finally departed with agonisingly minimal farewells. ‘I will not see the boys again,’ she said, with tears in her eyes, as she got into the back of the car.

The boys were in the playroom, watching television. Hepzie trotted in ahead of Thea, and permitted herself to be greeted violently by Benjamin. There was something disconcerting in the exaggerated hugs the dog was expected to endure, and Thea quickly interposed. ‘Don’t squeeze her so tight,’ she said. ‘You’ll hurt her.’

Nicky was sucking his thumb, his gaze fixed on the TV. ‘Hi, Nicky,’ said Thea. ‘Have you said bye-bye to Janina?’

The smaller boy shook his head, without shifting the thumb. ‘It’s sad, I know,’ she pressed on, without yielding to the temptation to give empty reassurances. ‘I’m going to stay with you until Daddy gets home… OK?’

The house was too hot, the radiators pumping out heat as if to compensate for the cold misery the family was living with. Nicky’s cheeks were flushed, and Hepzie was panting from more than the vigorous affection she was receiving. Thea went in search of a thermostat – a search that took her upstairs, where she felt she really had no business to be.

She found the dial on the landing, between two bedroom doors. An irresistible curiosity made her peer through one open door into what was evidently the master bedroom. A large double bed took up a lot of the available space, the covers rumpled, and a pile of clothes dumped on one side. Had Simon started sorting through Bunny’s things already? Or had the police left it like that after their searches? Never having met the dead woman, Thea had no sense of absence. The house she knew had only ever contained Simon and his children – and Janina.
There
was the absence, the loss of somebody crucially important. How fragile everything seemed, how truly terrifying. For a moment, Thea’s nose and throat filled with sharp tears, her head constricted with the pain of what was happening.

It was a full ten minutes before she went downstairs again, to her poor little charges. She met Nicky in the main living room, apparently heading for the kitchen. ‘All right?’ she asked him.

‘Need a drink,’ he said.

‘Come on, then,’ she said. ‘I’ll get it for you. Maybe it’s time for a biscuit or some cake as well, do you think?’

He looked at her, his head held sideways as if listening acutely for something. ‘We had cake,’ he said. ‘Janina gave us cake.’

He climbed onto a chair, and sat tidily at the kitchen table, waiting for the drink. Thea found pineapple juice in the fridge and gave it to him in a glass. ‘No,’ he said. ‘That’s my cup,’ indicating a blue beaker on the table.

‘Sorry. Do you think Ben would like some as well?’

There was no response to that.

‘I’ll go and see, then.’

She went back to the playroom, but was arrested at the door by a high voice, apparently addressing the spaniel. ‘No, Benjamin, you can’t come. Go
home
, Benjamin. Mummy has to talk to George by herself.’

Thea froze, dimly aware of some kind of acting out going on. Something that might well be therapeutic if allowed to continue.

‘You
pervert
, you
bloody pervert
,’ shrilled the child. ‘You just leave my kids alone, do you hear me? I’ll make you sorry, I’ll make you a…’ The little voice sank and faltered. Whatever the word had been was lost, and then he recovered,
‘You have to leave. Do you hear me? You have to leave this place and never come back.’

Hepzie suddenly became aware of her mistress standing just outside the door, and began to wriggle from the child’s clutches. She whined when Ben held her tighter. Thea had little choice but to make her presence known.

‘It’s OK, Heps,’ she said, approaching the huddled pair. ‘Just let her breathe, Ben, OK?’

The look on the boy’s little face was stony. What exactly had he witnessed? Would it ever release its grip on him, or were nightmares and flashbacks his lifelong fate? What was the current thinking on debriefing a six-year-old, anyway? Encourage him to relive it, or change the subject and hope to bury it deep?

Benjamin made the decision for her. ‘I was bad,’ he said. ‘I followed them, when Mummy told me not to. She said I had to go home. I was shivering in the snow, and it was nearly dark, and she said
Go home, Benjamin. Do as you’re
told for once
.’

‘Where did
she
go?’

‘To George’s house. We were going to find his sledge, and go out with it the next day. I was excited. But she said we couldn’t. Then she shouted a lot at him.’ He bowed his head, weighed down by what he had witnessed. ‘He hit her and she fell over.’

‘George hit Mummy?’

Ben nodded.

Thea tried to make sense of the story. When had it happened? Thursday – it had to have been the Thursday, when the schools were closed, and the world was in snowy chaos. ‘Where was Daddy?’ she wondered.

‘In the house. Mummy came back, and I saw her in the lane, out of my window. I ran out and told her about the sledge, and she said,
I’ll see
about that
, and she went to shout at George.’

‘So Daddy didn’t know she’d come home?’

Blankness greeted that question. How did he know what adults knew?

‘Why didn’t you tell him? Or Janina?’

‘George said I shouldn’t. He said we could go sledging if I never said what had happened. But if I told them, he would have to go away and never come back. He was crying,’ added the child, and his own tears began.

‘But he’s gone anyway,’ said Thea, without thinking.

‘It was
me
. I was bad. I told Uncle Tony. George never said I couldn’t. So George had to die, and it was because of
me
. And now Janina has gone as well, because she doesn’t like me.’ Quiet tears slid down his cheeks, and Thea knelt down and wrapped her arms around him, some commiserating teardrops falling onto the top of his head.