Stolen

by Susan Lewis

  ‘We?’

  ‘Don’t you want to come with me?’

  ‘To Tesco? Hold me back.’

  Lucy couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Go and look in Granny’s Jamie book for something nice and easy to prepare. And if you’d like to invite Juliette …’

  ‘Stop trying to find me friends.’

  Lucy threw out her hands. ‘Hanna, I found you at the pub, where Juliette lives, so I presume you went looking for her yourself.’

  ‘Actually, I was there for a quick binge, but then you turned up and spoiled it all.’

  ‘I know very well that Juliette’s mother would not serve you an alcoholic drink, so now maybe you’d like to tell me about your new admirer.’

  Hanna was turning crimson. ‘What are you on?’ she demanded.

  ‘I saw the way that very dishy …’

  ‘Buff is the word …’

  ‘That very buff young chap was looking at you at lunchtime. Have you found out his name yet?’

  Hanna raised her eyebrows. ‘Might have,’ she answered.

  ‘So?’

  ‘If you must know he’s called Lucas Audley – and what’s with you suddenly acting like it’s OK for me to talk to boys? You used to go ballistic if I went anywhere near one in London.’

  ‘It was the type of boys you were mixing with that concerned me there,’ Lucy reminded her.

  ‘Not to mention what I might be getting up to with them, like I’m supposed to be the only virgin left on the planet.’

  ‘I wish you were, because you’re far too young to be …’

  ‘Oh stop going on all the time, and anyway, I might be for all you know.’

  Lucy’s eyes narrowed as she looked at her.

  ‘See, there you go, doubting me again. And now I suppose you think I’m already shagging Lucas, just because he happened to be in the same pub as me.’

  ‘I’m feeling fairly confident that you haven’t got that far yet. So what do you know about him?’

  Hanna shrugged. ‘Apparently he’s done time for knifing a bloke in the back … Not serious,’ she cried as Lucy’s face darkened. ‘How am I supposed to know anything about him, when I hardly even spoke to him?’

  Lucy waited.

  Hanna’s growl was lost in a laugh. ‘OK, Mrs Snob, this should work for you, because apparently he lives in this great big mansion over near Tetbury and he’s in the sixth form at Burton Abbots, but that’s all I know.’

  Lucy was impressed. ‘So things are looking up,’ she commented teasingly, ‘a new friend and a buff bloke all in one day?’

  ‘You so exaggerate at times. Anyway, I’ve decided I will come to Tesco with you, provided we try to find somewhere nearby that does eyelash extensions.’

  ‘But you don’t need them.’

  ‘Oh Mum, you’re so sad at times,’ and turning round as Maureen manoeuvred herself and a large empty gilt frame in through the door, she said, ‘Oh, look at you, you’re a right picture. Just don’t go hanging yourself, OK?’

  With a throaty chuckle, Maureen said, ‘How’s your granny? Still in bed?’

  ‘Yep, and Grandpa’s on his way back. Now, I have a date with Jamie Oliver to sort out what we’re having for tea. See ya,’ and a moment later she was gone.

  ‘A lovely girl,’ Maureen muttered. ‘A handful, I don’t doubt, but there’s no question her heart’s in the right place.’

  Taking the praise as an olive branch of sorts, Lucy said, ‘She has her moments. So, can I help with that frame?’

  ‘It’s all right, I’m just going to put it here for a moment … Godfrey and Carl are back with the piano. Apparently she’s a beauty. Should fetch a pretty good price. I daresay.’

  ‘Have you valued it yet?’

  ‘Oh no, we get experts in for something like that,’ and picking up the phone she began prodding the keypad with her bejewelled banana-shaped fingers.

  Deciding to go and take a look at the piano, Lucy wandered across the courtyard to the barn, batting away a few flies as she went, and flipping her hair up and down to try and cool the back of her neck. It was with no small relief that she stepped in through the back door of the barn, where it took a moment or two for her eyes to adjust. The interior was vast, with two large mezzanines suspended from the towering vaulted ceiling that overlooked the well of the building. Endless racks of ceramics, glassware, rolled-up carpets, toys, mirrors, pictures and every imaginable item of furniture were stacked up around the walls, while in the middle several crooked rows of upright chairs were set out in front of the podium, as if for an audience.

  After making her way towards the enormous cart doors at the front of the barn, which were allowing copious amounts of sunlight to stream into the Aladdin’s cave, she found Godfrey’s small removal truck parked in the drive that curved down from the outside lane. She was about to call out to see if anyone was nearby, when the sound of footsteps coming out of the shadows made her jump and wheel round.

  ‘Oh, Godfrey,’ she gasped, pressing a hand to her throat. ‘I didn’t see you in there.’

  ‘No, I didn’t reckon you did,’ he responded with a grin that made her want to take a step back. With his frizzled silver beard, roving eyes and fat, moist lips, he was as unattractive to her as the entire female species was apparently attractive to him.

  ‘I’ve come to have a look at the piano,’ she told him, trying not to recall the day he’d had the gall to make a pass at her. Though it was a couple of years ago now, it still filled her with revulsion to remember how he’d had the audacity to put his pudgy white hand on her hip, while leering into her face as though truly believing his advances would be welcome.

  Her put-down had been swift and severe, with a bone-crushing stamp on his foot and a threat to go straight to her parents, and Joe, if he ever tried anything like it again. Fortunately he hadn’t, but she’d never felt easy around him since.

  ‘I’m afraid she’s still under wraps in the back of the truck at the minute,’ he told her, ‘but Carl and me, we’ll be undressing her later on today. Then we can have a gander at her in all her glory.’

  Finding the innuendo almost as disgusting as the man himself, Lucy wondered how the heck she was going to work with him if he kept this up. ‘Where is Carl?’ she asked, starting around the truck in the hope of finding the young lad who helped with pickups and deliveries.

  ‘He’s just popped off home to change his shirt. It’s a sweaty old business moving stuff around in this heat, you know.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ she muttered, and flipping out her phone she said, ‘Excuse me, I have to call Joe,’ and hoping the reminder that she had a husband had hit its mark she strode on up the drive into the leafy lane beyond, rather than risk returning to the office via the barn.

  Finding herself diverted to Joe’s voicemail again she said, ‘I hope you’re genuinely out of range, or busy, and not sulking because I couldn’t speak earlier. Call me back when you can, and if I don’t hear from you my fingers will be firmly crossed for you tomorrow.’

  By the time she rang off she was at the farmhouse gates, where Hanna was perched on one of the pillars busily texting.

  ‘Grandpa’s back,’ Hanna told her. ‘He’s just gone up to see Granny. Oh, and I found a recipe I think we’ll all like. I’ve even written out a shopping list, so now I’m ready to leave when you are.’

  Going to rest her elbows on Hanna’s knees, Lucy said, ‘Did I ever tell you how much I love you?’

  Hanna’s lip curled. ‘You’re not getting round me as easy as that. I still hate it here.’

  ‘And I expect you love me too?’

  ‘Don’t take anything for granted. Oh my God,’ she cried, her eyes opening wide as she looked at her mobile. ‘He’s only been asking about me.’

  Guessing she was talking about the new buff boy on the block, Lucy said, ‘So it’s not actually so bad being here?’

  Hanna’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Tell you what,’ Lucy said. ‘As soon as I’ve seen Grandpa, we�
��ll go to Tesco, then sort out some eyelashes to flutter the pants off Mr Buff.’

  With a gurgle of laughter Hanna said, ‘I don’t think you really meant that, did you?’

  ‘No, definitely not,’ Lucy agreed. ‘Better forget I said it.’

  ‘I might,’ and starting to send a text back to Juliette she said, ‘I’ll be here when you’re ready to go.’

  * * *

  Lucy had just walked into the kitchen when her father came trudging down the stairs looking tired and worried, and then faintly surprised to see her.

  ‘Lucy,’ he beamed, opening his arms to hug her. ‘And Hanna’s here too. Lovely, lovely.’

  ‘Dad, how are you?’ Lucy said, embracing him. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I found out you’d gone off to Exmoor without telling Mum.’

  ‘I’m sure I did tell her, but she probably wasn’t listening,’ he chuckled. ‘So how are you, my love?’

  Clutching his precious old face between her hands, Lucy said, ‘I’m great, thanks, but what I want to know is, how are you? And don’t you try palming me off with right as rain or fit as a fiddle or one of your other little platitudes if it isn’t true.’

  ‘Oh, there are plenty of tunes left in these old bones yet,’ he assured her. ‘But I have to confess I’m a bit worried about your mother. It’s not like her to be struck down by a bug, and this is the third time in as many months …’

  ‘You’re kidding me,’ Lucy cut in. ‘How come this is the first I’m hearing of it?’

  ‘Oh, we didn’t want to worry you, and we still don’t, but I think it might be a good idea for her to see a doctor.’

  ‘Darned right it would. I’ll drive her there myself …’

  ‘No, you don’t need to do that. I can take her. She’ll feel happier to know that you’re here getting yourself adjusted and making sure everything’s ticking over with the auctions. Now, how about a nice cup of tea?’

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on for you,’ she told him, going to fill it, ‘but Hanna and I are about to pop over to the supermarket to pick up some things for tea. Is there anything you can think of that you need?’

  He gave a roguish twinkle. ‘Wouldn’t mind a bottle of Guinness?’ he whispered. ‘But mind you don’t tell your mother. She reckons it’s not good for me, but I know it is.’

  ‘It’ll be our secret,’ she smiled, and after setting the kettle on the Aga she reached for her bag. ‘I won’t be long,’ she told him, ‘and I’ve got my mobile in case you remember something else you want.’

  She was already half out of the door when he said, ‘Lucy?’

  Turning back, she was about to throw out a casual yes, when she noticed the troubled look on his face. ‘What is it?’ she asked, feeling a stirring of unease.

  ‘I hope you’re going to like it here,’ he said gruffly. ‘It’ll mean a lot to your mother if you do.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ she insisted. ‘I’ve always loved coming here, you know that.’

  He was nodding and smiling. ‘I’m sorry we moved around a lot when you were young, but you know it couldn’t be helped.’

  Frowning, she said, ‘Of course I do, but why are you bringing it up now?’

  He shrugged. ‘No reason. Well, I suppose I just want you to know that you mean the world to us, and everything we’ve done has always been because we love you.’

  Puzzled by what might really be going on in his mind, she was about to try getting to the bottom of it when Hanna said from the door, ‘Are we going, or what?’

  Brian beamed. ‘Ah, look at you, a sight for sore eyes, Hanna-Banana.’

  ‘Grandpa,’ Hanna complained. ‘I’m fifteen now.’

  Brian’s rheumy eyes went to Lucy. ‘Too old for nicknames?’

  Lucy nodded. ‘’Fraid so, but she’ll come round to it again when she’s about thirty.’ Then, realising there was a chance he might no longer be with them by then, she went back to give him another hug. ‘Dad, you’re the best human being on the entire planet,’ she told him warmly. ‘And the best father in the universe of universes.’

  ‘Hang on, I’ve got one of those too,’ Hanna piped up.

  ‘Then you’re an especially lucky girl,’ Lucy told her, ‘because you’re descended from the two most wonderful men in the world.’

  ‘So it’s not surprising they produced perfection, is it?’ Hanna finished, with a flip of her hands and a curtsy. Then, ducking Lucy’s playful slap, she headed back outside, leaving her grandfather still chuckling with delight as her mother rolled her eyes and followed.

  Chapter Nine

  LUCY AND SARAH were strolling through the old market town of Chipping Sodbury, a quaintly characterful place that was several miles from Cromstone, but also tucked into the foothills of the Cotswolds. It was a while since either of them had last visited, but little had changed. The main high street – or Chepynge as it had been known in medieval times – was still a wide, welcoming thoroughfare lined with speciality shops such as bakeries, royally appointed butchers, trendy delicatessens and restaurants, with plenty of parking on the wide sweep of cobblestones either side of the road and a fascinating display of architecture from several centuries.

  As they paused to browse the window of a cake-decoration shop, Lucy was laughing at Sarah’s story of how she and Becky had once signed her father and Simon up for the Sodbury Slog. They’d had to run for miles through ditches, streams, quagmires and endless open fields, only to fall by the wayside long before the finish.

  ‘I was here, in the town,’ Sarah was saying as they walked on, ‘with Mum and Becky, ready to cheer their victory, and it seemed like hours before they finally came limping over the brow of the hill like a pair of wastrels. We hardly recognised them, they were so mired in mud.’

  Loving the image as much as the sense of fun they’d clearly shared as a family, Lucy said, ‘Let’s not tell Hanna this story, OK? I don’t want to be giving her any ideas, because she might think it a fit punishment for me for bringing her here.’

  ‘My lips are sealed,’ Sarah promised with sparkling eyes. ‘So what happened to her? I thought she was joining us today.’

  With no little irony Lucy said, ‘She was, but then she was torn because Juliette, her new best friend, texted to say that she could possibly get her together with this Lucas chap later, and she decided she didn’t trust us to get her back to Cromstone in time.’

  Sarah’s eyes widened in mock astonishment. ‘Do we look untrustworthy?’ she demanded.

  Laughing, Lucy said, ‘Apparently we were so engrossed in whatever we were chatting about the other day that we forgot she was there, and she’s afraid it’ll happen again. She’s fifteen, remember, so has to be the centre of the universe, particularly mine, but only when she requires it. The rest of the time, much like during lunch on Thursday, she’s happy to pretend I don’t exist while she gets on with eyeing up the local talent. Now, where’s this gallery we’re supposed to be looking for?’ she said, checking the envelope she was carrying. ‘It doesn’t seem to be on the high street, from the address.’

  Taking a look, Sarah said, ‘I know exactly where that is, because Michael used to have an office there.’

  Lucy’s eyebrows rose. ‘And Michael would be?’

  ‘Michael Givens – my brother’s best friend from school, and uni, come to that.’

  ‘You’re kidding me,’ Lucy laughed. ‘If we’re talking about the same person, and I guess we probably are, he’s our lawyer.’

  ‘That’s the Michael,’ Sarah confirmed. ‘I think his offices are in Stroud these days, unless he’s still got the premises here too. It seems ages since I last saw him, probably because it is. Don’t ever let on, but I had a bit of a crush on him when we were growing up. I was way too young for him of course, but he went out with Becky for a while when they were in their late teens. In fact, I think they were each other’s first, but they broke up in the end; she said it was like going out with her brother, she knew him so well. Isn’t it great that you know him t
oo?’

  ‘I’ve never actually met him,’ Lucy confessed. ‘I’ve been dealing with someone called Teresa who I guess is one of his partners. Do you know her?’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘Ah, here we are,’ she declared, turning into a narrow cobbled street. ‘And by the look of it he does still have offices here, because there’s his name on the sign over that door. I’d be tempted to go in and say hello if the place was open, but it doesn’t seem to be. Nor, unfortunately, does our gallery,’ she added, as they came to a stop outside a squat, double-fronted shop with an odd assortment of paintings and lithographs in the windows, and a postman making a delivery through the shiny brass letter box.

  ‘If you’re looking for Margie she’ll be back in half an hour,’ he told them. ‘That’s what the note on her door says, anyway.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘She left it at eleven forty, so five minutes ago.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Lucy said with a smile. She turned to Sarah. ‘So looks like we have some time to kill.’

  Clearly delighted by the prospect, Sarah took Lucy’s arm, saying, ‘I know it’s not noon yet, but what do you say we head for the champagne bar?’

  Lucy threw out her hands in amazement. ‘How come I didn’t think of that?’ she demanded. ‘Lead me to it.’

  Minutes later they were perched on high stools in the champagne bar at the front of Lésanne’s high-end boutique, with Lesley, the owner, popping a cork and filling two colourful glasses with Moët et Chandon.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it if you don’t mind,’ Lesley whispered, as she delivered their drinks. ‘There’s half a dozen people back there and you never know, someone might buy the Basler fur cape.’

  ‘In this heat?’ Sarah cried incredulously.

  ‘How much is it?’ Lucy wanted to know.

  ‘Only three thousand.’

  Lucy’s eyes boggled.

  Lesley smiled apologetically and disappeared off into the designer emporium, where Lucy remembered once buying a pair of glittery tights for a Christmas party. Things were looking up now that her income was about to more than double; however, she felt fairly certain she still wouldn’t be splashing out on a genuine fur cape any time soon.