“Are you ready for winter?” Coral asked. “Even though it’s warm today, it won’t be long before we need to wear our coats and mittens. Does a dormouse wear mittens? No, my friends, the dormouse goes to sleep all winter long. But before he sleeps, he must eat and eat. Wait now.” She plunged her hand into a pocket of her skirt. “I believe he’s left us a little treat.”
Eyes widened and giggles ran through the crowd as Coral’s hand punched round inside her pocket and she made accompanying silly faces. At last, out came her hand. The children stared at the closed fist until it slowly opened to reveal two leafy husks surrounding brown—
“Cobnuts!” shouted one boy.
Coral told a story of how dormice gather hazelnuts—cobnuts—and prepare a nest for winter, before falling into a deep sleep. The children, enthralled, helped out by snoring on cue.
Pru watched Coral and her court of tiny admirers, and when Oliver walked up, she said in a low voice, “Princess. It suits her.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It does, doesn’t it?”
Pru stole a look at him and saw shining eyes and a look that said he might just like to scoop Princess Coral up at that moment and carry her off to a tower.
“Oliver,” Pru said. “What happened before?”
He tore his eyes off Coral, and the spell was broken.
“Nothing happened—that’s just it.” Oliver’s voice dropped. “I proposed to her, and she left. No word, no letter.”
“And she’s regretted that.”
“When she came back for Batsford, Natalie asked her up to dinner, to lunch, for drinks. But she said no to every invitation. She made it clear she wanted nothing to do with the past.”
“The footpath works both ways, Oliver. Did you call on her at Glebe House? Demand an explanation? Tell her how much you’d missed her?”
He frowned. “What if I had and she’d said it didn’t matter any longer? No, I could see the lay of the land.”
At that moment, Coral spread her arm wide, saying, “…and they scurried across the meadows…” and as she did so, her gaze followed her gesture, and she caught sight of Oliver. She smiled, a smile that curled the corners of her mouth up and wrinkled her nose. Oliver’s frown melted away.
Pru leaned toward him and said, “Could you, now? Well, I’d say that landscape has changed.”
Have seeded the meadow with yellow rattle to suppress the grass. The bee orchids will thank us. BB
Chapter 35
Pru had hoped Oliver would linger until Coral finished her story, but he had a treasure hunt to oversee. Pru went to find Christopher and tell him Noah Elkington remembered the fellow who wanted to buy the meadows. A long shot, but it could be something.
But instead, the stone carver caught her—he desperately needed a loo break and would she mind? Of course she wouldn’t, it was her job—although, she did raise an eyebrow when she saw him disappear into the beer tent. Pru spent the next hour being lectured on Portland stone by knowledgeable customers. She sold a small wall plaque with a Celtic rose design and discovered a Green Man that she thought would make a good Christmas gift for her brother, Simon. At last the carver returned, smelling of strong ale.
“That’s grand,” he said. “Ta.”
The stalls were busy, but no one else called for help. Christopher had three or four people round him at the Badger Care booth, so Pru waved and made her way to the walled garden, where children clustered at the gate near the sign for the treasure hunt. Beyond them, she spotted Cordelia keeping an eye on her son, Ollie. He’d been asleep in his car seat the evening before when the family arrived, and so Pru hadn’t had a good look at the boy since May. Four months can make quite a difference in a toddler.
Little Ollie, dressed in dungarees, stood in front of Oliver, whose shock of dark hair fell forward as he bent at the waist and extended his hand to the boy. The boy, with his shock of dark hair falling into his face, looked up at the man and pulled a hand out of a pocket to shake.
An odd tingling sensation crept over Pru as she looked at these two figures, matched in almost every way apart from size. Oh my. She smiled, and then she laughed as a three-year-old mystery was solved. Cordelia had given birth to Ollie. She and Lucy had never said anything to Pru about their son’s sperm donor—and why would they? They were Ollie’s parents. And now, they didn’t need to.
Pru felt someone beside her and turned to see Coral watching the same exchange. She cocked her head, and slowly her puzzled expression changed. She took a step back and—although she remained upright—her body appeared to crumple. Tears pooled in her eyes, her shoulders sagged, and the life and hope Pru had seen in her that morning drained away.
“Oh,” Coral said softly. “That’s why. That’s why he stayed away from me.”
Pru’s gaze darted between Oliver and Ollie and Coral. Pru thought it a wonderful idea for the sperm donor to be someone the mothers knew and admired, but Coral didn’t know Lucy or Cordelia or their story. All she saw was Oliver and a young fellow who was his mirror image.
“No,” Pru said, “it isn’t what you think.”
Coral didn’t reply, only fled down the outside path of the kitchen garden.
“Coral!” Pru called after her.
Oliver’s head shot up when he heard the name. “Is she here?”
Pru waved hello to Cordelia, smiled at Ollie, and nodded to Oliver while craning her neck to look for Coral, who had vanished round the far corner of the brick wall. Oliver started off in that direction, and Pru grabbed his arm.
“Hang on,” she cautioned. “Coral might’ve had a bit of a shock. You see, she happened up as I was watching you and Ollie together. She saw you, too. Maybe separately it isn’t noticeable, but when the two of you are next to each other—well, it’s sort of obvious.”
Oliver turned to stone, except for his face, which fired up to scarlet.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.
“I’m not prying, Oliver, just stating the obvious. The thing is, I know Ollie’s parents are Cordelia and Lucy, but Coral doesn’t. She only knows what she saw.”
“Crap,” Oliver said. “Where did she go?”
“No, you’re needed here.” The cluster of children by the gate had grown—some waiting to go in for the hunt, others to collect their pumpkin prize. “Why don’t you let me catch her up first. After that, we’ll find you.”
—
Coral had rounded the back corner of the house, and Pru, thinking she might be heading out to her story-time stall again, went round the house the other way, making a beeline across the field. But Story Time with Coral didn’t begin again for another hour, and the space sat empty. Where had she gone?
Pru went stall by stall, searching each with no luck until she reached a gap at the corner, up against the beech copse. There, set apart on a small rise, she saw an exotic-looking tent made of scarlet, purple, and gold with Chinese lanterns hanging from each corner, flags flying at the top, and in front, a sign that read: YOUR FORTUNES TOLD BY MADAME REYNARD—ONE POUND.
As Pru crept up to the flap in the marquee, two women exited. One of them marveled, “It’s as if she knew what I was thinking,” and the other replied, “Of course she knew what you were thinking—she’s known you for forty years.”
Pru put an ear to the tent and, after hearing nothing, pushed the flap aside a couple of inches. She was met by a red glow.
“Hello?” she called in a tremulous voice.
“Welcome. Enter and learn your fate.”
—
Lizzy sat behind a small table wearing a shiny blue robe that engulfed her tiny figure, and a mossy-green felt hat that looked more French cloche than fortune-teller. The red glow came from battery-powered camping lights over which had been thrown scarves. On the table, a large crystal ball nestled in a small wooden salad bowl.
“Wow. This is fantastic.”
“I do what I can,” Lizzy said. “Do you want your fortune told?”
“Well, yes, probabl
y—perhaps in a bit?” Pru’s search for Coral shifted into second place as she recalled what she’d learned from Noah Elkington. “Lizzy, do you remember mentioning the man who wanted to buy the meadows from Mr. Bede and build on them?”
“I do.”
“Did you meet him? Do you remember his name?”
“I ran across him a time or two—he was about the village a few days, as I recall. Stayed at the pub. A bit of a tosser. Why? Is it important after all these years?”
“No,” Pru said, “I don’t suppose it is. Although, it might be.”
Behind her, the tent flap was drawn open, and when she turned, Pru saw a tall figure in a flowing robe of rainbow stripes with a paisley scarf wrapped round its head and wearing large glasses with thick lenses.
“Mrs. Draycott?”
“I’ve been dragooned,” the landlady said.
“You’re my shill, Fabia,” Lizzy replied. “You’re meant to draw the crowds in.”
On closer inspection, Pru noticed Mrs. Draycott’s head scarf was secured by a large brooch.
“Is that a cameo?” she asked.
“My mother’s.” Mrs. Draycott touched the brooch and tugged on her scarf, as a lock of her brown wig escaped from underneath. “It was all I could find.”
“We’ll tell them you’re channeling her.”
“I am out of my comfort zone here, Lizzy.” Lizzy cleared her throat. “Oh, pardon—Madame Reynard.”
“It’s a good step, Fabia—remember what Cyn told you, you must move forward. Listen now, Pru’s asking about that fellow here all those years ago who wanted to buy the meadows from Batty and build on them.”
Mrs. Draycott raised her eyebrows. “Didn’t Batsford break the man’s transit when he found him out there without permission?”
“He did that.” Lizzy laughed, and added, “Batty told him he’d see him in hell before he sold the land.”
“Do you remember his name, Mrs. Draycott?” Pru asked.
Mrs. Draycott put a hand on her cheek and after a moment offered, “Something Irish, wasn’t it?”
“You may be right,” Lizzy said, “but he wasn’t Irish. No accent.”
“No, no accent.”
Both women shrugged.
“All right, thanks. Oh, have either of you seen Coral?”
They had not. Pru departed Madame Reynard’s and resumed her hunt, making it as far as the beer tent.
“Can you pull a pint?” Danny Sheridan asked, using a paper napkin to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Both sides of the marquee were open to let the air in. Many of the tables were occupied, with a few people waiting at the bar. “I’m on my own at the moment, and we’re low on ice for the Pimm’s. I won’t be long.”
“Yes, right, go ahead. I can take over.” She hadn’t poured a pint of ale in her life, but how hard could it be?
Harder than she thought. Pru divided her attention between serving customers and searching for Coral in the crowd strolling by and across the field at the story-time stall. The first man frowned at the head on his pint—no one wants a thick foam on a glass of cask ale—and the second asked for a half and she gave him the full pint. She charged him for the half and made up the difference out of her own pocket. The third glass of beer she knocked over as she reached for a towel to wipe the bar. She went to grab it, overcompensated, and ended up throwing ale in her own face, much to the amusement of the queue. When Danny returned, she gratefully ceded her position, but stayed to help, moving to the Pimm’s table.
Pimm’s Pru could handle. She set out two rows of glasses and filled them with the necessary ingredients—dropping strawberries in, dealing cucumber slices like playing cards, and tearing off sprigs of mint. She followed that with an ice cube or two—Pru, ever the American, wished for several more on such a hot day—after which she poured a measure of Pimm’s. As they were ordered, she topped up each with fizzy lemonade and served glass after glass before the crowd let up, at which point she took the opportunity to pour one for herself. She had downed half of it when she saw a figure she recognized in the passing masses outside the marquee. And unconsciously, she sensed one tiny piece of the puzzle slot into place.
“All right now, Danny?” she called as she hurried out.
“Yeah, thanks.”
Pru scanned the fête grounds and at last saw her target. There he stood—spiky ginger hair and wide-bottomed denims—observing the backside of a young woman who wore a remarkably short dress and was bending over to look at a display of leather boots.
“Seamus?” Pru called.
He turned and smiled.
“ ’Allo, ’allo—now there’s a sight worth seeing.”
Pru forced herself not to roll her eyes. “So, come here often?” she asked and cringed—were his horrible clichés contagious?
Seamus beamed. “Just a few days visiting Danny. I live on the Costa del Sol. Nothing like the beach life. I’ve a bar on the patio and a view of the sea from my bed.” He stepped closer. “I’d love to show it to you.”
Pru laughed. “You can’t tell me that actually works on women.”
He grinned. “You never know until you try.”
“Do you visit Danny often?”
“I came two years ago—had to see the pub my boy bought.”
“But before that,” Pru asked as lightly as possible. “Had you been here before Danny took the Horse & Groom?”
Pru saw the tiniest cloud pass over that sun-drenched face. “I was always on the move with my work, so I couldn’t say I had, but I wouldn’t say I hadn’t.”
“What was your work?” Pru asked. “You must’ve been terribly successful—I mean, Costa del Sol. And that bed.”
His cheap charm returned. “I make dreams come true.”
“You’re a fairy godfather?”
“Better—speculation, you see. Property speculation and development. I take what is and see what it might be. But I’m retired, you see—although, I do occasionally dabble. I like to keep my hand in—if you know what I mean.”
Pru didn’t even mind the double entendre, so thrilled was she that her hunch had paid off. Here he was—Irish name but no Irish accent. He had to be the man who had wanted to buy the land from Mr. Bede all those years ago. And here he was again—only a few days after Mr. Bede had been murdered.
“Say, Seamus, fancy a drink?” Pru asked. Because there was a final test she’d like to run.
“I’d love it,” Seamus said. “I tell you what, why don’t we get out of here and—”
“Oh, sorry, I couldn’t possibly leave—yet. But we could start here, couldn’t we? I just need to, er…” She nodded her head in the vague direction of the portable loos. “I’ll meet you in the beer tent in two ticks.”
When he’d turned his back, she made a run for it diagonally across the field, dodging the crowds who seemed determined to get in her way until at last, a stitch in her side, she pulled up in front of Madame Reynard’s.
“Ms. Parke?” Mrs. Draycott stood outside the marquee. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Does Lizzy have someone with her? It’s only that, I wondered if the two of you would mind taking a short break.”
—
Lizzy didn’t mind—in fact, she thought Madame Reynard and her shill strolling through the fête would bring in more business. She set a sign on the sandwich board that read: COMMUNING WITH THE SPIRITS—BACK IN 5, and off they went, the three of them. Pru trailed behind, the distinct aroma of ale wafting round from her clothes and her hair. When they reached the beer tent, she stayed outside and out of sight and sent Lizzy and Mrs. Draycott on their reconnaissance mission. Within minutes, the women emerged, each with a glass of Pimm’s. Lizzy looked left and right before she leaned close to Pru and spoke.
“The devil himself.”
Plant order arrived today—by lorry. Must keep my records straight or all will be chaos. BB
Chapter 36
“The peculiar thing is,” Mrs. Draycott said, “although it’s
quite obvious he is much older, he dresses as he did all those years ago—dreadful wide-bottomed trousers and all. What could the man be thinking?”
“Looks as smarmy as ever he did,” Lizzy agreed. “Does this have something to do with what happened to Batsford?”
“I don’t know,” Pru said, partly because she didn’t want to start a rumor and partly because she really had no idea. He’d only just arrived in the village, but he had a tie to Mr. Bede—however long ago. She peeked inside the marquee and saw Seamus talking with two young women who were glancing at each other and laughing.
“I don’t suppose one of you could keep an eye on him for a bit?” Pru asked. “Only, Christopher might want to have a word.”
“Ah.” Lizzy tapped the side of her nose with her forefinger. “Right. I can handle the stall. Fabia—you stay here and don’t let him out of your sight. If he gets up, follow him. And try not to look conspicuous.”
—
Pru wasn’t quite sure what she’d set in motion, but at least she would have time to give Christopher the news. She came up to the Badger Care stall from behind and caught his eye.
He broke free, came over, and kissed her cheek, after which he drew back and licked his lips. “Mmm.” He leaned forward again and Pru felt his breath on her hair. “Interesting.”
She laughed. “That’s me being a barmaid.” Over his shoulder, she saw Coral at the storytelling stall, greeting a fresh round of children and parents. Pru sighed with exasperation. “There she is—I’ve been looking everywhere. Look at the crowd she’s got—I’d say she’s more popular than the bouncy castle.” Pru shook her head. “When she saw Ollie, she ran off before I could say anything.”
“Cordelia’s Ollie? Is there anything wrong?”
“No, it’s only that…” Pru put her hand out to collect her thoughts. “Wait. I’ll tell you that story, too—but afterward. And now, Inspector”—she gave him a kiss—“can you break away and meet me in the house?”
Best-Laid Plants Page 24
