Creature Comforts

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing any jewellery, Debo!’ I exclaimed, surprised. ‘Or only in magazine pictures.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not practical when I’m working, so I don’t bother. I do have a few pieces given to me as gifts and they’re in the little safe in the study. Baz insisted on installing it.’

  ‘I had no idea you had a safe, either,’ I confessed.

  ‘I forgot all about it, to be honest, so I haven’t opened it for years.’

  The tiny safe was set into the wall behind a small medieval-style tapestry of my own making and the code was her birthday, the same numbers she always used for everything, which, as I kept telling her, was blindingly obvious to thieves.

  Inside, it was totally crammed with leather jewellery boxes, including one containing the spectacular gold wedding set.

  ‘You’ve got a treasure trove stashed away!’ I exclaimed, stunned. ‘Is it insured?’

  ‘There seems a lot more of it than I remember,’ Debo said, looking at it in a puzzled way as if it might have been multiplying behind her back. ‘And I don’t think I’ve insured anything individually.’ She held up a finely wrought necklace so that her fingers seemed to be dripping rich, buttery gold. ‘They were all gifts, so each one reminds me of the giver.’

  ‘Various lovers,’ Judy interpreted.

  ‘Actually, I don’t really need any of it, do I?’ she said, opening her grey eyes wide. ‘I expect it’s worth quite a bit, so I could sell it and give you your money back, Izzy.’

  ‘But surely it has sentimental value?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ll still have the happy memories and I don’t wear it any more. Can you find out how we get the best price for it, Izzy?’

  ‘If you’re sure. But I don’t want you to give me the money. Keep it for another crisis.’

  ‘Better still, I’ll use it to make sure you’re all right, Judy, if anything happens to me and you lose the Lodge,’ she said. ‘An annuity, perhaps? I’ll have to get some advice on the best sort.’

  ‘I’m sure Rufus wouldn’t make you leave anyway, Judy,’ I said. ‘Not now I know him better.’

  Judy protested that she didn’t need an annuity and they bickered off to the kennels together, though I removed the gold necklace from Debo’s careless fingers and locked it back in the safe first. I’d have to do an inventory when I had time.

  Daisy arrived early for lunch, since she couldn’t stay the night and so needed to set off on the long drive back to London by early afternoon. It was lovely to see her again, and of course she, Judy and Debo had been friends since the sixties, so there was lots of talk and laughter.

  I hadn’t mentioned my changing dreams to Debo and Judy because I hadn’t wanted to worry them, but I managed a brief chat with Daisy alone, when she asked me to show her my clothes samples in the studio while Judy was making the coffee.

  I told her about the more recent dreams that were releasing a slow trickle of what might, or might not, have happened.

  ‘But they’re as sharp and clear as a memory, so I’m sure they must be.’

  ‘Are they all like that?’

  ‘No, occasionally they start out that way and then take a turn into one of those odd ones – you know, the kind where you’re walking down the street without any clothes on. And I’ve got a new recurring dream, nothing to do with the accident, where I’m floating through opaque turquoise water with Rufus … but that’s quite nice.’

  ‘Rufus?’

  ‘Rufus Carlyle, Baz’s son by Fliss,’ I said, feeling myself go slightly pink. I hadn’t meant to mention the watery dreams! ‘I thought he was going to be horrible, but he’s turned out to be not as bad as we thought, considering who his mother is. In fact,’ I admitted, ‘he’s quickly become a friend.’

  I told her a bit about him and the way he’d been shunted around between school and various temporary carers as a child, and she said that he did indeed sound interesting, and a strong character to have built a business after a start like that.

  ‘Though of course, he will have been damaged by that upbringing and the lack of parental affection, followed by rejection from the man he thought was his father.’

  ‘Well, I’m damaged too – not by my childhood, which was wonderful, but by the accident that ended it. So, we sort of have something in common, don’t we? Mind you, we also have a couple of major things that ought to drive us apart, like the way his mother’s influence on mine led to her death and my having been the driver of the car that killed his brother.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Daisy said, ‘how are you getting on with your investigation into the accident – your mission, as you called it?’

  ‘I’ve talked to everyone who was involved except for the two most central witnesses, Simon and Cara. I don’t know if Simon actually remembers anything, but Cara must know all the answers, if I could only get her to speak to me.’

  ‘She’s proving elusive?’

  ‘Very – but I’m going to go all out to talk to both of them now, whether they want to or not. In fact,’ I said, suddenly making my mind up, ‘I’ll go to Grimside tomorrow and look for them!’

  ‘Be careful, Izzy,’ she warned. ‘When you open a can of worms, you can never get the lid back on.’

  Then Judy called to say the coffee was ready and I told Daisy how Kieran had lost interest in me when he came up, once he caught sight of Cara, his old flame. She said it was a small world and coincidences like that no longer surprised her.

  Just after Daisy left, my first consignment of stock arrived from India, which was very exciting, so I spent the rest of the day unpacking and sorting the airy cotton and silk dresses, tops, quilted jackets and floaty scarves. The main colour palette for my first collection was indigo, turquoise, terracotta and cream, with a sprinkling of garments in bold garnet red, emerald and gold. The tiny silver bells on the tie necks of the blouses tinkled and the boxes smelled of sandalwood, which evoked many happy memories …

  I pressed everything, attached the tags and then put the clothes into clear plastic covers, on which I stuck computer-printed labels with the name of the design, size and colour.

  Then, later, Judy ferried most of the stock over to Cam’s in the car, where I hung everything in the stockroom and stacked the matching scarves in the shelf unit.

  Cam was busily putting the finishing touches to the shop area, but the walls were now covered in pictures and the cube storage displayed pottery and strange wooden birds. The jewellery was in a glass case near the counter and he was just fixing up a light inside it.

  ‘It’s all looking good,’ I told him.

  ‘I’m nearly there – I even know how to use the till,’ he said proudly. ‘Though actually, Granddad’s still better at it than me because he’s looked after the shop quite a bit for Mum.’

  ‘I’ve reminded Debo that she’s opening the gallery on Saturday and we’ll have her here in plenty of time.’

  ‘Great! Lulu’s got me some cut-price bubbly and Mum’s doing cheese nibbles for the customers,’ he said. ‘Or at least, I hope some of the people who come to the opening will be customers, because I’m nearly broke now. The gallery will have to pay its way quickly.’

  ‘I’m sure it will, and when you and Rufus have been to Cornwall next week to collect the easels and stuff, you can advertise the art classes, too, can’t you?’

  ‘True. I think that’s going to be my bread-and-butter work. I had to give my notice in for the other art classes ages ago so they could find someone else to take them over, but all the travelling to get to them really ate into the payment I got anyway.’

  Then he suggested we take the pictures of my clothes for the online catalogue early next week, when Lulu wasn’t so busy and could model some of them too.

  ‘And I want to rope Debo in a bit, because seeing her wearing my designs might go down well with older customers.’

  ‘Great idea! If you have a famous model in the house, why not use her?’

  ‘Lulu could take Debo’s
pictures on Saturday, since she’ll be wearing one of my outfits then. I know there aren’t any Haunted bookings this weekend, so she should be able to come. Unless they’re short-staffed at the Screaming Skull, they don’t really seem to need her, do they? But hopefully that’ll all change after the Haunted Holidays go live on the website.’

  Snowy briefly returned and then went off to his new life with Jonas, but I saw that two more dogs had been installed in his place, and one of them, a demented-looking Doberman, was flinging itself at its cage door in a way that made me feel glad it was to stay in the strongest kennel in the corner until Chris had dog-whispered it into a better frame of mind.

  Poor Pearl was to be spayed next morning, paid for by Rufus, who would be up in Durham by now … and somehow, I didn’t feel like walking down to the Screaming Skull on my own that night, though that was probably just tiredness. I texted Cam and Lulu not to expect me and told them I was going to go to Grimside tomorrow to try to find either Simon or Cara – or even both. Lulu kindly offered to pick me up and drive me there.

  Right after we’d arranged that between us, Rufus rang me to ask how Pearl was.

  ‘Perfectly happy,’ I replied, amused. ‘She doesn’t realise she’s having an operation tomorrow, you know.’

  ‘No, but I do.’

  ‘It’ll be fine. How was the estate sale?’

  ‘Not very good, but I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. I thought you might be at the pub, with Cam and Lulu.’

  ‘No. My first consignment of clothes arrived earlier, so I’ve been really busy all day and I’m tired.’ Then I told him I was going to Grimside in the morning, to try to buttonhole Simon, Cara, or both.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to wait for me to get back so I can go with you? This Cara sounds very unpleasant and you might need some back-up.’

  ‘No, it’s OK, and I think I’ve got more chance of them opening up if I’m alone,’ I told him, and he said then he’d see me tomorrow.

  Debo and Judy had already gone to bed, so he was the last person I spoke to that night (unless you counted Vic and Ginger). Perhaps that was why I instantly plunged deep into a strangely comforting dream of swimming with him, the second my head hit the pillow …

  Chapter 22: Grimside

  I woke the following morning feeling strangely blissed out, which I expect was the same effect people get from swimming with dolphins. I also felt resolute that I would make some progress with my mission that morning, or bust!

  Lulu duly picked me up and drove me over to Grimside. Although the edge of the estate bordered the village, most of it, including Sir Lionel Cripchet’s ugly redbrick Victorian mansion, was situated on the other side of the hill, a few miles by road from Halfhidden. Lulu had to get back after dropping me off, in order to welcome some last-minute Haunted Weekenders.

  ‘Americans – parents and two teenagers. They’d heard about it from that nice couple from Minnesota and thought they could squeeze it into their own trip. I’ll have to see if Jonas will come and do a repeat performance of the storytelling on Saturday, even if it is just a small audience.’

  ‘I’m sure Jonas would do it every Saturday night, so long as you plied him with pints of ale, and Cam and I could come, and probably Rufus, too.’

  ‘And a couple of the ordinary hotel guests might, so that would make a decent audience,’ she agreed.

  She pulled up near the front gates of Grimside, which looked forbiddingly like something you’d find at the entrance to a high-security prison, though a small board had been put out advertising that the herbivarium was open.

  ‘You could give me a ring when you come out and I’ll pick you up if I can,’ Lulu offered, but I said no, it was OK, I’d walk home by the road because the exercise would do me good.

  ‘If you’re coming back past the pub, then you could pop in and tell me how it went.’

  ‘I think you’ll be too busy – didn’t you say you had to go to the wholesaler’s for more soft drinks later, too? But I’ll email you if I manage to speak to Simon or Cara. If I don’t, or they won’t talk to me, I’ve written notes for both, explaining why I just want to ask a few questions.’

  ‘Good luck!’ Lulu said and I thought that that was something I could do with a good dose of.

  I followed the sign to the herbivarium, which was in a walled garden not far from the entrance, and a gnarled and monosyllabic elderly man in a small booth took my two pounds and handed me a ticket and a leaflet.

  I noted that the way out, as so often in homes and gardens open to the public, lay through the shop: no sales opportunity lost. It was the same up at the Lady Spring, where Tom liked to tempt the visitors with souvenirs and pamphlets on their way out through the rear section of his shed, having already sold them plastic bottles to collect up some of the precious water, along with their tickets, at the entrance hatch.

  There were only a couple of other visitors wandering around the neat brick paths between the herb beds, and one solitary gardener who, to my disappointment, wasn’t Simon.

  But having paid my money, I spent some time looking round, and it was very pleasant within the sheltering walls, with the sun shining and bees busily humming around the rosemary.

  When I thought I’d had my two pounds’ worth, I asked the gardener whether he knew where Simon Clew was, but he was probably a close relative of the man who’d sold me my ticket, because he just said, surlily, ‘I dunno,’ before resuming his weeding.

  I emerged from the shop without purchasing anything, to the disappointment of the woman behind the counter, and stood there irresolute, wondering whether to boldly head up the path beyond the ‘PRIVATE. NO ENTRY’ sign towards the distant house. Even if I didn’t spot Simon, I could at least see if Cara was at home to unwelcome visitors. And if not, I’d be able to leave her note at the house and drop Simon’s off with the elderly man at the ticket booth on my way out.

  I’d just decided to pursue this course of action when Simon suddenly appeared from the large greenhouse next to the walled garden, pushing a wheelbarrow full of seedlings.

  It took me a moment to recognise him because he was no longer wearing heavy glasses, but other than that he looked much as he’d always done: stocky, quiet, brown-haired and attractive in an unassuming kind of way.

  ‘Simon!’ I exclaimed. ‘Just the man I wanted to see.’

  He stopped dead, staring at me as if I was a ghost. Then he swallowed hard and said, ‘Izzy?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me. Long time no see, Simon. I almost didn’t recognise you without the glasses.’

  ‘Laser surgery, years ago,’ he explained.

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m … fine.’ He swallowed again and looked around nervously, as if the Wicked Witch of the West – or possibly Cara – might be about to arrive in a puff of smoke and turn him into stone. ‘I mean, Dad told me you were back and asking all kinds of questions about the accident, but I didn’t think you’d turn up here.’

  ‘I had to, because I didn’t know how else to get in touch. And as I told Dan, I only want to ask you a few questions because I’m trying to get a clear picture in my head of what happened.’

  ‘But you surely know what happened? I mean, you might have lost your memory, but they must have told you?’

  ‘I’m aware of the facts, of course, but I’ve always found it hard to understand how I could have agreed to drive the car that night. So I wanted to talk to everyone involved and see the full picture at last – and then I’m sure I’ll be able to put it behind me once and for all,’ I explained.

  ‘I do see what you mean, Izzy, but I was ill that night so I don’t remember anything, either.’

  ‘I know you had a bad reaction to the alcohol, but I thought perhaps you might recall a little bit. Debo and Judy said you wanted to talk to me at the hospital, too, and I wondered what about.’

  He nodded. ‘I did try to see you when it didn’t look like you were going to die after all.’

  ‘So, do you re
member anything about that night?’

  ‘Not much, as I said. The alcohol affected my system like poison and I’ve never touched a drop since. But then, I didn’t know I was drinking vodka at the time. Trust Harry to do something so stupid,’ he added, then sighed. ‘Well, he paid for it, but somehow, I’ve always felt a bit guilty.’

  There was a haunted look in his eyes and I felt some compunction about reminding him of the past, though at least he had some inkling about how I was feeling.

  ‘Me, too,’ I told him. ‘And Harry really must have pulled out all the stops to persuade me to drive, because I would have been scared witless by the idea, whatever Cara said about my insisting on doing it.’

  ‘No, I – well, that’s what I thought afterwards, until Cara told me what really happened. She was angry with you, rather than Harry … and so was Dad.’

  ‘I’d certainly like Cara to tell me what really happened,’ I said drily. ‘What do you actually remember, Simon?’ I asked. ‘Come on – there must be something!’

  ‘Not a lot, apart from being in the beer garden earlier,’ he confessed. ‘After that, it’s all hazy. I thought at first I’d been driving the car, but then, I always drove the car, so they said I was just remembering another occasion when I had …’ he tailed off.

  ‘That’s interesting. I had a flashback and thought I’d been in the back of the car that night, but then I remembered I had been, only the week before the accident,’ I said. ‘I’ve often dreamed about that night, the same dream every time, but lately it’s been changing …’

  ‘You, too?’ he asked, looking startled. ‘Sometimes I—’

  Just as I was feeling that we might have found common ground, he broke off abruptly and, following the line of his eyes, I saw Cara riding up the drive on a thin chestnut thoroughbred, whose clipped, velvet-smooth coat showed every bump and vein of the body beneath, like an equine anatomy lesson.

  She was scowling as she slid off her mount in one elegant movement and strode over, her horse trailing behind her.