The Moon Spun Round (48 page)

‘What’s going on?’ Abbie looks stunned. ‘You had this all planned, didn’t you?’

‘Not all of it. But, yes, I was planning to leave him. I moved most of my stuff out yesterday, not that
he
noticed. I thought I would slip away unobserved while he was taking the service. Then Ayden got in on the act. Edward wouldn’t tell me what his sermon was about, you see—he usually rabbits on about it for hours. That’s when I guessed what they were up to. So I stowed the rest of my stuff in the car and left it parked out the front of the church in case I had to make a quick getaway. Which, as it turned out, I did.’

‘What happened?’ asks Claire. ‘Was it what we expected?’

‘More or less. He was working himself up to the burning-at-the-stake scenario when I jumped up and opened my big mouth. I’m so sorry, Claire,’ Fran takes her hand. ‘I spilled the beans about you and Ayden.’

‘That’s all right, Fran, it’s not important now.’ Claire leans her forehead against Fran’s shoulder. ‘I told you, you must do whatever you have to do. We had to protect Naomi.’

‘Would somebody please mind telling us what this is all about?’ pleads Abbie.

‘Sorry to put you through that, Abbie.’ Fran blows her nose again and stuffs her hankie back in her pocket. ‘But I needed you and Sally to be there. Moral support and all that. It was obvious that Ayden was manipulating Edward into doing something to get at Claire or anyone who was helping her. Naomi was the obvious target. It’s happened before, this witchcraft business. Edward’s got a real thing about it.’

‘Yes, I remember that,’ says Abbie. ‘Shortly after Naomi moved here, wasn’t it? Didn’t he start some sort of campaign? But I thought that was all forgotten?’

‘Not by Edward, it wasn’t. Besides, this time it’s different. For one thing, seven years ago he hadn’t realized she was gay as well as a heathen. And the villagers weren’t harbouring a murderer in their midst then. Right now they’re all feeling paranoid, looking over their shoulders all the time, just waiting for trouble. And with the murderer himself pulling Edward’s strings, God knows what might have been stirred up.’

‘And Naomi will keep winding Edward up, you see,’ says Claire. ‘You know what she’s like.’

‘I had to protect her. So I planned some diversionary tactics. And by the Goddess, it worked, didn’t it?’ Fran is beaming now.

‘What do you mean?’ says Sally.

‘What do you think people are going to remember about the service? Edward’s history lecture? Or will they remember how the vicar’s wife stood up and denounced her husband? Can you imagine the gossip outside the school gates? How I swept out of the church, never to darken his doors again? The WI will have a field day. Everyone will have forgotten whatever it was Edward was banging on about while I become a local legend.’ Fran closes her eyes, her voice suddenly serious. ‘Unfortunately, they’ll also be talking about Claire’s marriage.’

‘But he never got as far as naming Naomi, right? That’s the important thing.’ Claire seems very calm about the whole thing.

‘Well, you might have let us in on it.’ Sally sounds as if she’s about to sulk.

‘No. More effective, your not knowing. Especially when you ran out after us, Mrs Hunter-Gordon.’

‘Oh, hell—George. He’ll be like a bear with a sore head when I get home. I’ll never hear the last of it.’

‘Well, don’t go home, then. Stay and have lunch here.’

‘It’s Sunday. I can’t just—Oh, what the hell. All right. What about you, Sally?’

‘Might as well: you’re here now,’ says Fran. ‘And this might be a good time to make our announcement, eh Claire?’

‘Why not? Champagne’s in the fridge. I’ll see if I can find Naomi.’

‘But not a word about what happened in church.’

Claire is wrestling with the wire twist on the champagne cork. ‘Never could get the hang of these things.’

‘Not enough practice, that’s your trouble.’ Fran has spread a white cloth over a table and is laying out small plates and silver forks. ‘Found that black forest gateau yet? And no helping yourself to the icing.’

‘As if I’d do such a thing.’ Abbie comes in from the kitchen bearing a frosted cake, her chin daubed with chocolate.

‘Ah, be sure your sins will find you out.’

There’s an explosion as the cork fires at the ceiling. Claire squeals and attempts to catch the bubbling wine in the row of glasses. Sally is sitting next to Naomi, who is trying to smile and failing.

‘Do you know what this is about?’ Naomi asks.

‘No idea, apart from Fran leaving Edward.’

‘Which she should have done years ago.’

‘Yes, that’s what
she
said. But I think there’s something else they haven’t told us. Look,’ Sally puts her arm around Naomi’s shoulder, ‘Claire thinks the world of you, you know that. Whatever it is, it won’t be anything that would hurt you.’

‘I’ve got so used to her being here, you see. I never expect anything more. Only, I thought, I hoped…She knows she can stay with me as long as she likes.’

‘Let’s just see what they have to say.’

‘Now everyone, champagne.’ Claire carries two dripping glasses over to where Naomi and Sally are sitting.

‘Well,’ Abbie raises her glass, ‘what
are
we drinking to?’

‘You tell them, Fran.’

‘A toast, ladies,’ she raises her glass, ‘to the new proprietors of the village store and tearoom.’

‘
What?
You mean—’ Abbie’s glass is frozen in mid-air.

‘Claire and I, we’re partners.’ Fran sweeps the room with a grand gesture of her arm. ‘We’ve bought the business.’

‘Well, not the building, of course,’ says Claire. ‘That still belongs to Jack. An investment for the family. But we bought the stock and the goodwill. And a five-year lease. The rent will give him a bit of extra income now he’s retiring, and he’ll keep the chickens on as a part-time thing. He’s been very generous, even helped us negotiate with the bank for the loan.’

‘So that’s what all the trips to Cambridge were for?’ whispers Naomi.

‘Of course, it won’t make us a fortune,’ Fran takes a decent gulp of her wine, ‘but we church mice are used to existing on thin air. I’m moving into the flat upstairs. At least it’ll be warmer than that barn of a vicarage. And, with no rent to pay, I’ll able to save up a few quid. Five years ought to be long enough.’

‘Enough for what?’

‘To save up the fare to India. Only an extended holiday, six months in an ashram. But I’m going. This time, I’m
really
going.’

‘And what about you, Claire?’ Naomi’s voice is quiet, barely a whisper, as if she is afraid to know the answer. ‘What are your plans?’

‘My plans? I’m not sure I have any. Learn to live again, I suppose. Run the café. Bake cakes, talk to people.’

‘And where will you live?’

Claire looks at Naomi, seeing for the first time the anxiety in her eyes. In all the excitement she hasn’t realized how Naomi must be feeling. ‘Oh, well, I think Fran needs her own space now, don’t you? I’d rather hoped…If I’m not too much in your way, that is?’

‘No, that’s all right. I think I can put up with you for a little while longer.’ Naomi’s smile lights up the room.

It’s not long before the bottle is empty. They might have to open another one.

A
ND WHAT DELIGHTS
do you have in store for us next, Sergeant?’ Detective Inspector Hobson rubs the palms of his hands together.

‘You’re sounding unusually bright and cheerful for a Monday morning, sir.’

‘Am I? There are times when life seems to be on my side. My team won on Saturday, five three, my mother-in-law went back to Sheffield yesterday, and I’ve just heard that the Greek broker we had up for money-laundering got sent down this morning for a two-year stretch. Now, that’s not a bad start to the week, is it?’

‘Better than a poke in the eye with a sharp pencil.’ Shaw flips through a file before placing it on Hobson’s desk.

‘Ah, the house fire at Hallowfield. You got my message then? You managed to get hold of him?’

‘Yes, he’s here now. But I didn’t think we had anything else on him?’

‘No, we don’t. Fire service have closed their books on it. But I’m not happy with that, not happy at all. Got an itchy feeling about this one. So, I thought we’d have him in and tell him the good news in person. Press a few of his buttons, see what pops up.’

‘Well, he looks like a man with a lot on his mind.’ Shaw grins.

‘OK, let him stew for another five minutes, then you can show him in.’

The five minutes seem like fifty to Ayden. They’ve plastered
No Smoking
signs
all over the place, which doesn’t help. Bloody Big Brother government, they’ll be telling us when to take a piss next. How long are they going to keep him hanging about? He’s got a business to run. Not that customers are queuing up at the door. Still, they’re not to know that. What the hell do they want him for now, anyway? The bloke who phoned said it was about the fire, but it could be, well…‘Christ, I’d kill for a cigarette,’ he realizes he’s muttering the words out loud. He cringes, wiping his hand down his face. Probably got hidden microphones and cameras in here. Thank God he’d had that drink before he came. Just the one to steady his nerves.

The door opens. ‘Inspector Hobson will see you now, sir, if you wouldn’t mind coming through to his office.’ Shaw is being overly polite. Ayden catches the smear of sarcasm in his voice.

‘Ah, Mr Drayton, do come in.’

The man who enters looks around the room, his gaze darting in all directions as if expecting to see more than is there. He looks rough, thinks Hobson, gone a long way downhill since we last interviewed him. What, a week ago? Looks like he hasn’t slept since then. ‘Please take a seat.’

Ayden sits down as directed and fishes his cigarette packet out of his pocket.

‘Ah, sorry sir, no smoking area, I’m afraid.’ He’s aware of Drayton’s glance shifting to the filing cabinet where there’s an ashtray overflowing with half-smoked butts.

‘So, what’s this about then? What’s happened now?’ Ayden watches Hobson shuffle through a folder of typed forms. He seems to be taking his time. ‘Should I get a solicitor?’

‘And why would you need a solicitor, Mr Drayton?’ Hobson looks directly at him, faking a broad smile.

‘Nothing. I just thought, with me having to come in here…’

‘Ah, didn’t Shaw here explain when you arrived? Sorry about that. It’s simply that we’re bit snowed under at the moment. Seems you’ve been causing a member of the public some undue stress, Sergeant.’

‘Oh, dear. My apologies, sir.’ Shaw is sitting behind, by the door, so Drayton can’t see the smirk flicker across his face.

‘Anyway, I thought I ought to bring you up to date with the situation as regards your house fire. I received a report—ah, here it is—from the fire department. Lot of technical jargon that I won’t bother you with. What it boils down to is that, even though it was an unusually fierce fire, they couldn’t find anything out of order. They’re satisfied, in the absence of any further evidence, that it was probably started by the accidental dropping of a cigarette. Therefore
we’re now able to close the file on this one.’

Ayden sags back in his chair, eyes closed, as waves of relief wash over him. He takes several breaths before he tries to speak again. ‘So that means the insurance company will have to pay out?’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t know about that, sir, not part of our jurisdiction. Insurance companies, eh Shaw?’

‘Look, they sent me this letter.’ Ayden rummages in his inside pocket for a folded sheet of paper and hands it to Hobson. It’s dated last Thursday, but is already creased and grubby. ‘See what it says? They’re withholding a decision pending results of official investigations by the police and fire services. So you need to tell them it’s all been cleared up now. Tell them they can go ahead and pay out what I’m due.’

‘Well, I can’t instruct your insurers as to how to handle their claims, Mr Drayton. Naturally I shall be sending them a copy of my report, as will the chief fire officer, but I have no influence on whatever action they decide to take. It’s all down to the assessors, although I’m aware they were expressing concerns—’