Creature Comforts

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘“Secured” would seem to be a bit of an overstatement, then,’ Rufus said.

  ‘We’ve accepted more dogs than we should lately,’ Judy admitted. ‘So we had to house them quickly. But from now on, we’re going to send any rehomable strays straight to other charities and return to accepting only the absolutely desperate, last-chance ones that no one else will.’

  ‘You mean all the huge, vicious, uncontrollable ones? Great,’ he said gloomily.

  ‘Though we could still do with a little more space than the Lodge garden,’ Debo coaxed.

  ‘Not if it looks like a scrapyard.’

  ‘A nice trellis fence along that bit of the drive would hide everything, and with climbing roses planted along it, it would actually make a nice feature,’ I suggested.

  ‘Oh, yes, with a bit of funding from you, we could certainly do that,’ Debo said eagerly.

  ‘Using what for money? I live off what I earn,’ he protested.

  ‘But – Baz’s literary estate? He was a major bestseller,’ she said, for until Harry’s death, Baz had produced a big, blockbuster thriller every three years with clockwork regularity.

  ‘“Was” is the operative word. He hadn’t written for a long time,’ Rufus said. ‘And apparently, the royalties on the books have been slowly decreasing. I’ve got his agent to help me, but Baz left strict instructions in his will that he didn’t want anyone else using his name to write his novels. And of course, there are expenses like death duties to pay.’

  ‘So you haven’t got pots of lovely money?’ Debo said.

  ‘No. I need lots of lovely customers for that. If I can get them past flimsy pens full of huge rabid, slavering dogs, that is.’

  ‘Don’t exaggerate,’ Debo said mildly. ‘We’ll sort it. Izzy’s going to help us get straightened out and she’s very practical.’

  ‘Is she?’ He gave me another of those unfathomable looks, half-human, half-merman.

  ‘She certainly is. And meanwhile, you can tell Dan to stop harassing us and threatening to shoot my dogs, because if he did I’d prosecute him … if there was anything left of him after Sandy got her hands on him.’

  ‘She’s a very tall girl,’ Rufus commented. ‘She practically frogmarched me right in here with no trouble.’

  ‘Six foot. The Lanes are a tall, well-built family. You should see her little sister.’

  Rufus rubbed his forehead, as if we had somehow given him a severe headache. ‘I won’t have any guns or shooting on my property, so I’ll speak to Dan about that. And perhaps he’s been overstepping his mark, but as estate manager, I suppose he had my best interests at heart.’

  ‘Baz employed him as a gardener, that’s all. Dan just started fancying himself as some kind of estate manager-cum-gamekeeper after Baz went abroad,’ Judy said bluntly. ‘There isn’t that much estate left. Most of it was sold off to local farms a couple of centuries ago. I mean, it’s not like there’s game to protect, or acres and acres of managed woodland, like Grimside.’

  ‘Grimside?’

  ‘Sir Lionel Cripchet’s estate on the other side of the village, though most of the house and most of the land is over the hill nearer to Mossedge, so we don’t see much of him in Halfhidden,’ Judy said.

  ‘Which is fine, because he’s a horrible little man. He made a pass at me once, while his first wife was still alive,’ said Debo. ‘I told him even if I’d been interested, which I wasn’t, he’d have needed a stepladder.’

  And as to Dan gardening, Myra’s son, Olly, does what he can, otherwise the whole place would be a wilderness by now,’ Judy said. ‘Myra says Dan’s never touched a garden tool since Baz left.’

  ‘I do seem to be paying Olly Graham for two days a week gardening,’ Rufus admitted. ‘But I thought, with his mother being housekeeper …’

  ‘It’s not any kind of favour to Myra, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ I said indignantly. ‘Olly’s a hard-working, wonderful gardener and already has a weekend job up at the alpine nursery. Just because he has Down’s syndrome, it doesn’t mean he isn’t great at what he does.’

  ‘No, of course not. I wasn’t implying that at all! It’s just I haven’t really seen anyone I’m employing in action yet. Even Myra pops in and out of the door from the Victorian wing like one of those wooden figures on a weather house. She told me she only cleans, she doesn’t cook or anything, but then leaves pies and cakes in the kitchen and stuffs the freezer full of food. I’m going to be the size of a house at this rate.’

  ‘Did she give you a marmalade cake?’ asked Judy, interested. ‘It’s her speciality.’

  ‘Yes, a whole one with lemon icing.’

  ‘Then she must like you,’ Debo said encouragingly.

  He gave me an unfathomable sideways look from those sea-glass eyes. ‘I’m glad someone does.’

  ‘Myra likes to cook and clean, so she’s probably enjoying herself,’ Judy said. ‘Her husband, Laurie, has his own job. He’s a university librarian, though I think he retires soon.’

  ‘I’m used to looking after myself,’ Rufus said. ‘It’s odd to have staff – Dan and Olly and Myra – and I’ll need someone to help me renovate the garden antiques who can also hold the fort when I’m away on buying trips. The man I had in Devon didn’t want to relocate.’

  ‘Oh?’ Debo said, perking up. Then she exchanged looks with Judy.

  ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ Judy asked.

  ‘Foxy Lane?’

  ‘That’s it,’ Judy agreed.

  ‘Where’s Foxy Lane?’ Rufus asked, baffled.

  ‘It’s not a place, it’s a person,’ I told him. ‘Foxy is the younger sister of our kennelmaid, Sandy, and she’s the village “handyman”, so to speak.’

  ‘All the Lanes have got reddish hair and nicknames to match,’ Debo said. ‘Sandy and Foxy were christened something everyday, like Jane and Susan. Everyone still calls their father Ginger, though he’s bald as a coot.’

  ‘Right …’ Rufus said slowly. ‘Is she like Sandy? Only when I asked her if she worked for you, she behaved as if she suspected I was going to steal something.’

  ‘Sandy’s not really a people person. Foxy’s more sociable because of having to deal with customers, but she’s not finding enough of those locally and she won’t travel.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ he said morosely. ‘The valley is really Shangri-La and she’d crumble to dust if she left?’

  Debo was not a great reader, so this allusion puzzled her. ‘No, it’s all called Halfhidden,’ she assured him.

  ‘Fox has epilepsy so she never learned to drive,’ Judy explained. ‘But she’s totally stable on medication and never has fits.’

  ‘She’d be perfect!’ Debo said enthusiastically. ‘She’d enjoy all the renovation and cleaning stuff, run the place while you were away, plus she’s completely honest.’

  ‘Yes, and anyone trying to nick an antique would be sorry, because she’s done a bit of karate, so she’d probably pin them down and stamp on them, or whatever it is they do,’ Judy agreed.

  They beamed at him. ‘There, problem solved,’ Debo said. ‘I’ll get Sandy to tell her to come and see you to sort out the details.’

  Rufus looked slightly stunned. ‘Thank you … I think.’

  ‘Have another cake or a cheese scone. There are plenty left on the bottom tier of the stand,’ Judy offered hospitably.

  ‘I would, but that huge dog has just eaten the last one,’ he said.

  And he was right, because with a stealth I would never have believed, the greedy creature had snaffled the lot.

  Chapter 12: Reverse Alchemy

  After Rufus had gone, Judy and Debo decided that he might prove to be quite malleable on the subject of the kennels after all and I didn’t say that I thought they were deluding themselves, because only time would tell.

  We walked those of the dogs safe enough to be taken out in a group, though even divided between four of us, this meant stopping every five minutes to untangle leads. Vic and
Ginger ran free, as did Belle, though in her case she didn’t run but instead followed me so closely that her wet black nose constantly bumped into the back of my legs.

  We took a circuitous route from the Lodge that avoided the vicinity of the big house, since we didn’t want to rub Rufus up the wrong way – or not any more than we already had.

  After that, we had dinner, before Judy and Debo went out to settle the dogs down for the night. Being early risers, they generally went to bed at around eight or nine, unless some exciting entertainment was on offer, and there were not many of those in Halfhidden.

  I decided to have another go at the paperwork. I’d bought a couple of big lever-arch ring binders from Lottie’s shop on the way back from the gallery earlier, in which to file the bank statements and invoices in date order. I thought that would be a good start.

  But before I could begin, Cameron rang to say he was back at Spring Cottage and Tom had agreed to talk to me.

  ‘If I were you I’d come now,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘He’s really reluctant, but I explained about the confusing dreams and how you’d like to understand what happened so you could finally put it behind you, and in the end he said yes.’

  ‘Oh, thanks, Cam,’ I said gratefully. ‘I’ll grab my notebook and be there in ten minutes.’

  It was still light and I could hear Debo and Judy clanking buckets and rattling bedtime treats into bowls as I tiptoed past the kennels: Babybelle really hadn’t wanted to go back in after the walk but had been lured into one of the stronger pens by the prospect of dinner.

  It was darker in the woods, but I was never afraid of meeting Howling Hetty for, despite what Lulu told her visitors, she only ever appeared on the drive to Sweetwell, nowhere else. You wouldn’t catch me or any of the locals walking along it in the dark … which, now I came to think of it, made it even stranger that I’d driven the Range Rover up there that night, since I must have realised I’d have to walk back down it on my own to get home.

  I did have a strange feeling of being watched, though … but probably the way Dan suddenly appeared last time had made me edgy.

  In the hushed twilit clearing, Spring Cottage looked even more like something from a Grimm’s fairy tale than usual. I tapped gently at the door and Cameron let me in. I’d miss old Jonas calling me into the cottage to drink foul nettle tea out of thin Japanese porcelain cups painted with dragons, but on the whole, it was a tradition I was prepared to do without.

  Tom was in the armchair by the fire and though he looked up and smiled at me, it seemed rather strained.

  ‘Here we are, Uncle Tom! Izzy only has a few quick questions, so it’ll take no time at all. I’ll just make us a cup of tea first, shall I?’

  ‘You do that, lad, and then let’s get it over,’ he agreed, as if he was at the dentist facing his worst fears.

  I handed Cameron some of Judy’s gingerbread, which I’d purloined from the kitchen on the way out, and by the time he came back with it on a tray, along with three mugs, Tom and I were talking about Prince and Duke, the dogs he’d had from Judy and Debo, and how well they’d turned out.

  ‘We’re ready to get another, though one hasn’t taken my fancy yet,’ he said. ‘But if it’s a young dog, our Cam may have to take it on if I get past it.’

  ‘You’re only seventy, Uncle Tom,’ Cameron said affectionately. ‘And look at Granddad – he’s bright as a button and pretty spry most days, despite the rheumatism.’

  ‘The Tamblyns do tend to live to a ripe old age,’ Tom admitted. Then he sighed deeply and looked at me.

  ‘Well, let’s get it over with. I never wanted to talk about what happened that night because it was such a terrible accident … not to mention my Pauline taking ill and dying right afterwards.’

  His face twisted at some remembered pain. ‘But anyway, Debo and Judy asked me never to speak of the accident to you.’

  ‘I think they asked everyone and I suppose they meant it for the best, but because of the head injury, I’ve got no recollections of my own about the accident. The last thing I remember is seeing Harry, Simon and Cara in the car park when I was on my way home.’

  ‘None of us thought you’d survive,’ Tom said. ‘Debo and Judy were beside themselves when the hospital started talking about turning the life support off.’

  ‘I expect that was when I was in Heaven with my mother, before she sent me back.’

  He nodded, for like his father, Jonas, accepting I’d been to Heaven and the existence of guardian angels had never been a problem to him.

  ‘It’s hard to shoulder the responsibility for something so awful when you don’t remember a thing about why you did it.’

  ‘I suppose that’s true enough. What do you want to know?’

  I opened the notebook. ‘That night, you were in the woods when you heard the crash, weren’t you?’

  He gazed away into the heart of the fire, as if he could see it pictured there. ‘That’s right. I’d been to our Lottie’s for supper and a game of Scrabble and I was on my way back here when I heard an almighty bang and then the horn blaring, so I headed back up the path.’

  ‘So you got to the scene of the accident quite quickly?’

  ‘Well, the path’s all uphill, as you know, so it took a few minutes, but Dan Clew was practically on the spot when it happened.’

  ‘And what did you see?’

  He closed his eyes as if the picture in the flames hurt them, and then opened them again: they were the same clear, periwinkle blue as Cam’s.

  ‘I came out onto the drive and when I turned the sharp bend, I saw the Range Rover lying on its side in among the trees and bushes. The headlights were still on … and there was a great big branch sticking through the car, front to back.’

  I shivered. ‘Who could you see, at that point?’

  ‘Simon. He must have got himself out, because he was sitting on the bank, looking pretty ill. Dan was lifting you out and then he laid you down on the grass near Simon.’

  ‘Did you actually see him getting me out of the front of the car?’

  Tom frowned. ‘It’s all such a long time ago now … but yes, I’m sure he was just lifting you out when I turned the corner. Then that Cara climbed out of the back with her face all bloody and screaming like a banshee.’

  ‘And then?’ I prompted.

  ‘I told Dan he shouldn’t have moved you with a bad head injury, but he said there was a strong smell of petrol so it seemed the best idea. And I think I asked him if you were driving and he said you were, then told me to take a look at Harry, which I did, poor boy.’ His hand holding the mug trembled.

  ‘I’m sorry to bring it all back to you, Tom,’ I said.

  ‘It haunts me anyway. Maybe it will be good for me to talk it through – you never know.’

  ‘Did anyone else say anything?’

  ‘Cara said everything was your fault, but she’d had a shock and she was hysterical. And I could see that Simon was drunk straight away, even if his father didn’t believe me.’

  ‘Did Simon say anything?’

  I thought Tom wasn’t going to reply for a minute and he seemed now to be studying the pattern on his mug more intently than it merited. ‘Only something about having seen a ghost,’ he finally grudgingly admitted. ‘I took no notice and his father told him not to be daft.’

  A shiver went down my spine. ‘Was it Howling Hetty? Because that’s the spot she haunts, isn’t it?’

  ‘So he said, but I’ve never seen her, nor has anyone else that I know. It’s an old wives’ tale, that one.’

  ‘But surely something must have made me swerve off the road?’

  ‘You’d barely been behind the wheel before, so I reckon you just forgot about the dip after the sharp bend or maybe mixed up the brake with the accelerator. But whatever caused it, take it from me that it wasn’t a ghost,’ he insisted stubbornly.

  ‘I really can’t imagine driving up from the pub at all and I must have been petrified! So if Harry had talked me int
o it, surely I’d have stopped by the Lodge so that he could have taken over the wheel? He would have been safe from the police once he was on private land.’

  ‘We don’t know, except that Cara told the coroner you’d insisted on driving them from the pub all the way up to the house, which neither he nor anyone else with any sense believed. But then, you weren’t expected to live, so I suppose she thought she could safely lay all the blame on you.’

  ‘Yes – you and Lulu said much the same earlier, didn’t you, Cam?’ I said. ‘But what about Simon, Tom? Couldn’t he remember anything?’

  ‘He said it was all a blur after they got to the pub that night. He wasn’t just drunk, he had some kind of reaction to the alcohol, which I suppose accounts for why it never had any attraction for him.’

  ‘I think Simon probably felt guilty about the accident too, though with less cause, because when it comes down to it, I had a choice about whether to get behind that wheel or not, while Harry spiked Simon’s drink without his knowledge.’

  ‘But if he hadn’t done that, then none of it would have happened at all, would it?’ Cameron pointed out reasonably. ‘Go on, Uncle Tom – what happened next?’

  ‘I rang 999, seeing no one else had had the sense to think of it, and then Debo and Judy arrived … It seemed a long time till the police and ambulance came, but it wasn’t really.’

  ‘And they took me off to the hospital – and presumably Cara and Simon, too?’

  He nodded. ‘Judy insisted to the police that you couldn’t possibly have been driving, but the evidence was against her.’

  ‘Cara hasn’t spoken to me since that day,’ I said, ‘but Debo and Judy said Simon wanted to talk to me while I was in hospital, only I was too ill.’

  ‘Simon was in a state, poor lad. Harry was his best friend as well as his father’s employer, so he was lost.’

  ‘I suppose he must have been. How awful of me that I’ve never really thought of how Simon felt about it until recently,’ I said contritely.