by Rebecca Tope
Drew cleared his throat. ‘You know – most people prefer to be alone at the very end. It’s strange to think of, but I’m sure it’s true.’
‘Well, it’s my belief that something happened after I left him. A phone call or visit, or something. He was in such a lively mood, pleased that I was back, enjoying his chats up here with you …’ she nodded at Thea. ‘He was going to have another go at Jemima about the burial business. And they haven’t found a single note. I would have expected him to leave each one of us our own long letter before he went.’
She was met by a long silence as the others absorbed the implications of what she was saying. Thea struggled to separate the facts from the feelings. ‘What could possibly have happened that would drive him to commit suicide before he was ready?’
‘You tell me,’ said Edwina.
Outside the door, which led into the hall, a loud siren noise suddenly accosted them. ‘Oh, God, it’s the smoke alarm!’ cried Thea. ‘Something’s burning.’
‘Our supper, I imagine,’ said Drew, hurrying after her into the kitchen. Smoke was billowing out of the cooker.
‘That pie! Look – you can see it in there, all black.’
Sure enough, the contents of the oven could be seen through the glass panel at the front – two big baked potatoes and a charred fruit pie.
Chapter Seven
‘It was only meant to be heated gently for twenty minutes,’ said Drew, reading from the box that had contained the pie, after the visitors had left. ‘And potatoes take the best part of an hour, on a much higher setting. What on earth were you thinking of?’
‘Other things,’ said Thea tightly. ‘Maybe the dog in the woods will fancy it.’
‘Poor thing – is she that desperate?’
‘Shut up.’ She relaxed into a rueful chuckle. ‘Do you want me to take you to see her?’
‘Not really. I’m not especially interested in dogs. I was bitten as a child and I never quite got over it.’
‘It was probably your own fault. It’s not fair to judge a whole species by one incident.’
‘I’m sure you’re right. When I have time, I’ll go and get therapy for it.’
Another chuckle, and then she changed the subject. ‘What did you think of Edwina Satterthwaite, then?’
‘I think she’s being very British and controlling her grief admirably.’
‘You think grief ought to be controlled?’
‘Not entirely. But it still is in our culture, and I have great respect for those who stick by that as a way of responding. I mean, it takes immense reserves of strength to hold yourself together like that. I like the dignity of it.’
‘Hm. But is it honest? It can look as if you don’t care.’
‘Why should that matter? Besides, it’s a sort of generosity, as well, to protect other people from all the mess and sentiment of your emotions. You just get on with it, inside yourself, in your own time. That’s why we have the sort of funerals we do. It’s all right to cry, but only quietly. Then there’s the get-together afterwards, which is louder and often quite merry. It all tides you over the first week or so, and stops you falling apart.’
Thea watched his face, with its youthful openness and sincerity. She smiled at the fervour of his words. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘What for?’
‘Reminding me of how it goes. For setting me right. I needed to hear that.’
‘I hadn’t forgotten you’ve been through it yourself,’ he said.
‘But I had, sort of. It’s so easy to slide into thinking the same conformist, superficial stuff that everyone else thinks.’
‘Except they don’t.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Real, actual people are amazing when there’s a crisis. They don’t follow stereotypes at all. That’s one of the best things about my work – I can never lose my respect and admiration for ordinary people.’
‘Because they’re not really ordinary at all,’ she supplied, feeling humbled by his wisdom. ‘As I said, I needed to be reminded of that. You’re absolutely right, of course, about grief and the rituals we’ve established. It helps to let the misery out a bit at a time.’
He nodded agreement, and then sighed. ‘It doesn’t look as if I’ll be doing this one, though, does it? Was I right in assuming she thought I was too far away?’
‘We got off the subject, rather, didn’t we? I found that whole conversation fairly confusing. What was Toby doing, coming here, for a start? I couldn’t get much sense of his relationship with Edwina – could you?’
‘Moral support,’ Drew shrugged. ‘It’s very common for somebody else to be roped in when it comes to arranging a funeral. If for nothing else, they can be useful for remembering everything that was decided.’
‘He didn’t say much.’
‘Presumably he took time off work to be with her, which was probably enough. What does he do?’
‘I have no idea. I don’t think he lives around here, either.’ She tried to recall everything Jemima had said about Cecilia and her husband. ‘But I might have got that wrong,’ she concluded. ‘His wife had a heart transplant and died, not too long ago. It was a major trauma for the whole family, obviously.’
‘She was Donny’s daughter, right?’
‘And Jemima’s younger sister. It makes sense that they’d want to keep Toby close, I suppose. But Edwina isn’t related – she’s Donny’s girlfriend, if you can use that word for a woman over seventy who looks like Queen Victoria.’
This time it was Drew who giggled. ‘Did you think that as well? Do you think she does it on purpose, with the corsets and the hair and everything?’
‘It’s more as if she got stuck in a time warp fifty years ago.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think people looked like that in 1960, did they? She’d have been out of fashion even a hundred years ago.’
‘Perhaps it’s her idea of mourning clothes. When she heard Donny was dead, she fished out an old outfit that had belonged to her grandmother.’
‘People do funny things,’ he agreed. ‘But I didn’t detect any whiff of mothballs. I think she always looks like that.’
The baked potatoes made for a dull meal, despite the added sauce. Thea made no attempt to apologise and Drew made no complaint, having expressed his opinion of the burnt pie earlier. She questioned him about the proposed new burial ground in Broad Campden, eliciting a despondent account of all the hitches and complications.
‘I’m not sure it’s ever going to be worth it,’ he repeated, clearly hoping to convince himself that the project was doomed. ‘I can’t see it really happening, if I’m honest.’
‘Especially if your wife and partner are both lukewarm about it.’
‘Maggs is positively cold. Karen won’t discuss it. She can’t really cope with something that big.’
Thea looked at him. ‘So you can’t do it, can you? Why are you even pursuing it, if things are as bad as that?’
‘I’ve got to, don’t you see? I own that property now. I can’t just ignore it.’
‘Is everything settled with the council, then? Last I heard, they were doing all in their power to stop you going ahead.’
‘That’s just it. I hate to walk away and let them think they’ve won. But it would help if I had some local people on my side. So far, they’ve all politely looked the other way when I’ve asked for some support.’
‘I bet they have,’ she nodded. ‘They won’t want to think about it.’
He sighed. ‘I ought to be used to that by now. Five years ago, I was sure we were close to a breakthrough – that people would be more and more prepared to talk about the sort of funeral they wanted, and go for the most ecological burials.’
‘And they’re not?’
‘Nope. Well, some are. But it’s still a very small minority. With all the other pressures and worries, ecology or environmental concerns seem to have slipped right down the list of priorities. Cremations are in more demand than ever.’
&nb
sp; ‘Well it’s a shame about Donny, especially when Edwina made the effort to come and talk to you.’
Drew chewed his lower lip pensively. ‘There’s something rather odd about your Donny, don’t you think? Something definitely doesn’t add up.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘For a start, he and his lady friend had agreed on a suicide plan, so why did he go back on it?’
‘Because she annoyed him so much last night. He was really yelling at her. I was surprised he could manage to shout that loud. Perhaps he was so upset, he decided to end it all, right there and then.’
‘To punish her, you mean?’
‘I hadn’t exactly thought of it like that, but maybe so, yes.’
‘But there’s more. He was supposed to be meeting me this afternoon. Why jump the gun, instead of waiting to arrange things as he wanted them?’
Thea’s shoulders sagged, and she exhaled a long breath. ‘That’s what I’ve been wondering,’ she said. ‘Perhaps he forgot he was due to see you. I’m not sure how good his memory was – although it seemed perfectly fine when I was talking to him. He was really looking forward to it – going behind Jemima’s back made him act like a naughty little boy. He was twinkling with mischief, the last time I saw him. We were conspirators, and it was fun.’
‘It’s much too early anyway to get anything resolved concerning the funeral. The timing is terrible.’
‘I’m sorry. I ought to have called you this morning and put you off.’
‘But you forgot about me. Yes, you said.’
‘I did. And it was two o’clock before I got back here, what with all the goings-on at the Lodge. The time just disappeared.’
‘Besides, I was in the area anyway. There’s no harm done. I’ve met the family, and helped you cope with the shock. At least, I hope I have.’
‘Yes, you have. Without you to talk to, I don’t know what I would have done.’
‘One thing puzzles me. Edwina and Toby phoned and asked to come and speak to you, before they knew I was here. And yet they did seem to want to discuss the funeral. Isn’t that strange? I mean – they wouldn’t talk it over with you, would they?’
She shrugged helplessly. ‘I doubt it. Except – didn’t she say that Donny had told her he was meeting you here? So she did expect you to be with me.’
He grimaced. ‘It gives you the feeling of being talked about behind your back, as if they know exactly where we are and what we’re doing. Don’t you feel that?’
‘A bit, maybe. It definitely makes me wonder just what happened between Donny and Edwina last night. I can’t help feeling I was supposed to prevent this very thing from happening. Harriet did ask me to watch out for him.’
‘Don’t be daft. You couldn’t be with him night and day.’
‘I know. It isn’t very rational. And it’s too late now, anyway.’ She sat up straighter, and went back to the question of Edwina. ‘What if he did confirm that he’d like to be buried by you? In fact, thinking about it, that is how it sounded. She came here to see you because she’d had instructions from Donny before he died. Doesn’t that suggest that she did help him with the plastic bag?’
‘On the face of it, I guess it does.’ He frowned. ‘But she must be a damned good actor, if that’s how it was.’
‘If she thought she was carrying out his wishes, that would feel like justification, perhaps? By focusing on the funeral, she could avoid any thoughts of how he died.’
‘Even if I did handle the burial, we would still need his daughter’s permission,’ he said thoughtfully, clearly prioritising his own role in the matter.
‘Even if he wrote down what he wanted?’
‘Then it would get complicated. Very few people go directly against the wishes of a dead person, if it’s written down. Even in these secular days, there’s still quite a fear of annoying the dead. You can never be entirely sure what they’re capable of.’
‘True.’ She thought back to the days following her husband’s sudden death, when she felt his presence in the house, heard his voice repeating her name, and even once thought she glimpsed him at the top of the stairs, one cold grey dawn when she couldn’t sleep. ‘I felt as if Carl was still watching over me for weeks after he died.’
‘I’ll have to go,’ he said suddenly, having glanced at his watch. ‘It’s half past seven.’
‘I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out better,’ she said, feeling slightly wistful. ‘You’d have liked Donny.’
‘I’m sure I would. But these things happen. How much longer will you be here?’
‘Nearly two weeks, assuming Harriet doesn’t come back early for Donny’s funeral.’
‘Have you told her what’s happened?’
She shook her head. ‘No, she said she wasn’t contactable. Although I imagine that if the police wanted her, they’d soon figure out a way to get in touch. It isn’t up to me … at least …’
Drew gave her a look as he realised she was floundering. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked gently.
‘I don’t know. I suppose it’s just hit me, that I won’t see him again, and that something isn’t right. And I’m going to be here on my own trying to keep it all straight. Plus there’s that dog in the woods. Why does everything happen to me?’ she concluded with a wail.
‘I rather fear it’s because you go looking for things to happen to you,’ he said dryly. ‘If you got yourself a nice dull office job, and didn’t spend your life intruding into other people’s business, you’d be pretty sure that nothing would ever happen to you.’
‘I don’t intrude,’ she protested. ‘They want me. They pay me. And I had no idea that I’d be required to entertain Donny when I took this commission.’
He shrugged, smiled and said nothing.
‘You’re right. It’s too late to moan about it now. With any luck I can keep my head down and everything’ll carry on without me, for the rest of my stay.’
‘Except the dog,’ he said.
‘Right. Except the dog.’
Twenty minutes after Drew drove away, as Thea was sitting in the kitchen with a large mug of coffee, somebody knocked on the front door. She opened it to discover a red-haired man in a blue shirt. ‘Oh!’ she said. ‘I know you, don’t I? Last year …’
‘Yes, Mrs Osborne. It was in Lower Slaughter. I’m Detective Inspector Jeremy Higgins.’
‘So you are,’ she said.
He followed her into the kitchen and accepted coffee from the still-warm pot. ‘It seems a long time, doesn’t it?’ she said. ‘I’ve been to a few other places since then.’
‘So I understand – Hampnett and Broad Campden, if I remember rightly.’
She flushed, embarrassed to think the police were keeping track of her. Adventure had followed her from village to village, even after she had broken up with Detective Superintendent Phil Hollis. She had instead become friendly with DS Sonia Gladwin, from Cumbria; a thin, intelligent woman with her own quirky way of doing things.
‘What can I do for you, then?’ she demanded, impatient to get to the main point.
‘Donald Davis, who died during the night. I understand you met him.’
‘Twice,’ she agreed. ‘He came here for tea yesterday and the day before that.’
‘Must have been a shock for you.’
‘All the more so because I was with his daughter when she found his body. He was a sweet old man. I was looking forward to our daily chats.’ For the first time, she felt a sense of failure. ‘I was supposed to be looking after him, in a way. He was part of my duties as a house-sitter. I made a rubbish job of it, didn’t I?’
Jeremy Higgins had a big head, and a slow manner. His colouring, which might have suggested somebody irascible or volatile, gave the lie to such stereotypes. Thea had found him to be kindly and sensitive in her brief dealings with him. He smiled consolingly, and said, ‘I don’t think you can blame yourself. We’ve had an anonymous call, to say that Mr Davis was assisted in his suicide. Technically, that’s murder
. DS Hollis suggested that I talk it over with you. “Knowing her, she’s already met all the significant people in the story,” he said.’
‘Did he?’ She felt a sharp pang of nostalgia for the intimate times she had spent with Phil, at his side in investigating earlier murders, questioning and suggesting – and sometimes interfering. Brushing it away, she continued, ‘I thought the police were encouraged to turn a blind eye to that sort of thing nowadays.’
‘Not if a direct accusation has been made. And not if it conflicts with the evidence we’ve been given.’
She had to think it through. ‘There wasn’t any sign of another person having been there. Wouldn’t they have called to report the death, rather than leaving poor Jemima to find him like that?’
He shrugged and raised his eyebrows, as if to say, your guess is as good as mine. ‘I’m just telling you how things stand.’
Thea was all too aware of a painful dilemma. Less than an hour before, Edwina Satterthwaite had been admitting to a plan in which she was to help Donny to kill himself. But she had been perfectly clear that this had not in fact happened. She had left him alive, after their argument, and been stunned to hear of his death the following day. Could there be any harm in revealing this to the police?
She decided to backtrack first. ‘An anonymous phone call? Man or woman?’
‘I probably shouldn’t tell you, but it was a man.’
‘Do you have the call on tape?’
‘Unfortunately no. It was put through to the part-time local station, where they don’t record all calls.’
‘What time was it?’
‘The middle of this afternoon. The girl who took it hadn’t got any record of Mr Davis’s death, and got herself so bogged down in spelling his name and other details, she can’t remember anything helpful. He only said it once – something like: “Donald Davis was assisted to commit suicide by his friend Edwina.” And then he put the phone down.’
‘I see.’
He cocked his head at her. ‘What do you see, Mrs Osborne?’
