by Rebecca Tope
‘Haven’t we got dreams as well?’ she asked, dropping his hand. ‘You left North Staverton a year ago. It’s in the past. I don’t much like what you’re saying. It’s as if that was your real love, and all this is second best.’
He met her gaze with utter frankness. ‘I know. And I’m trying not to lie to myself or to pretend I feel something when I don’t. I was forced to come here, remember, by Greta Simmonds. She meant it kindly, of course. But there was definitely coercion in there somewhere. I never felt I had much of a choice. I thought it suited Maggs, and you, and even the children once they settled down. But it hasn’t felt as right as Peaceful Repose always did.’
‘I can see that,’ she said bravely, a lump rising in her throat. ‘It’s funny, really, the way women keep leaving houses to you. Most people don’t even have it happen once, let alone twice. It is a sort of power beyond the grave, I suppose.’
‘It was with this place. The woman was so zealous about alternative funerals, she deprived her own family to ensure it happened. It always felt wrong, you know. Right from the first day.’
‘But you’ve made it right. You know you have. You’ve got a steady supply of customers, all wildly enthusiastic about what you’re doing here. We’ve got this lovely big house in a hugely sought-after part of the country. The kids like it. We can tackle the paperwork easily enough. Nothing has to change. Let Maggs go, with your blessing. She’s earned it. Life moves on, and if you can sell North Staverton, there’ll be some cash for improvements here. A new building, better fences, a proper parking area. All the things the council wants you to do.’
‘Mm,’ he said dubiously. ‘And all our eggs in one not-very-sturdy basket. No safety net if things go sour.’
‘They won’t go sour. And we’ll still have this house – without a field of corpses outside the window. Worth double what the other one is, at least. That feels like a pretty good safety net to me.’
‘Don’t call them corpses,’ he said automatically.
It was past five o’clock, and people were milling about, aware of an evening ahead for which there were no plans. The children were conscious of strain between the four adults, glancing from face to face in an attempt to work out the source. Maggs was the first to confront their worries. ‘Hey, kids, let’s go and watch a DVD for a bit. Or is that too old-fashioned for you these days?’
Stephanie hesitated. ‘We’ve only got a few,’ she warned.
‘That’s okay. Den and I brought some with us. Have you seen Totoro?’
Stephanie rolled her eyes. ‘Of course. We’ve seen all the Ghibli ones.’
‘Ah. That’s a shame. Well, I’ve got one or two others. Good old classics. The Railway Children for one. How about that?’
‘Blimey!’ said Thea. ‘I used to watch that when I was six. It’s great, Steph. Give it a try.’
Both children shrugged compliantly and Thea threw Maggs a grateful look. ‘I’ll have supper all done by the time it’s finished, then,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be the best bolognese you’ve ever tasted. And there’ll be pudding.’
For a full two minutes, Meredith resisted these sensible plans as a matter of principle, but finding herself ignored, opted to go with the consensus and settled onto her mother’s lap. Thea and the two men were left in the kitchen, along with the dog whose dinner was already late.
‘Leave me to get on with it,’ she ordered Den and Drew. ‘Have a couple of beers outside or something.’
‘I want to watch the movie,’ said Den.
‘And I need to speak to Andrew,’ said Drew. ‘I have to get that out of the way. He might have heard about the business with Juliet and be wondering what’s going on.’
It was as if a wicked demon had been listening for an opening. No sooner had the word ‘Juliet’ left his lips than the doorbell rang.
‘Who the hell is that?’ Thea demanded angrily. ‘Just as we’ve got everything sorted.’
‘Who do you think?’ said Drew, who could see a silhouette through the small frosted window beside the door. ‘I’ll go and let her in.’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ said Gladwin, all in a rush. ‘Terrible time to come, I know. You’ve got people, haven’t you. I won’t be long. Thea? Where’s Thea?’
‘Here. In the kitchen, where I belong.’ Thea wished she was wearing an apron to reinforce the point. ‘Feeding the five thousand.’
‘Carry on, then. I’ll talk as you chop carrots or whatever you’re doing.’
‘I’m actually chopping carrots. You must be psychic.’
‘I could do some, if you like.’
‘You can do the onions. Serves you right if they make you cry.’
‘Okay.’
They both laughed, Thea thinking it was always so easy where Gladwin was concerned. None of the usual protocols operated. There had been a number of occasions like this, where the detective dropped all the accoutrements of her professional status and became an ordinary normal human being. They both understood that it made no difference to the investigation, whatever it was at the time. In fact, they believed it helped. ‘Let’s cut through the crap,’ Gladwin might say. ‘What’s your take on who’s most likely to have done it?’ Or words to that effect.
‘So – can Drew get back into his field yet?’ Thea asked. ‘Have all those vehicles gone?’
‘One or two left, but they’ll be away before dark. It’s been a big forensic job. We’ve had a dozen bods combing the grass all day. Didn’t find much.’
‘How’ve you got time to be here, then? Isn’t it madly busy?’
‘It is. But they all know what they’ve got to do. And you Slocombes are part of it, don’t forget. Several points of contact, in fact. Drew’s the last person we’ve found to see Juliet alive. That puts him right in there, for a start.’
‘Do you want to talk to him again?’
Drew had gone into his office, the moment Gladwin had followed Thea into the kitchen, closing the door loudly enough to make a point.
‘No, not really. Although, now I think about it, I should probably have a list of all the funerals he’s done in the past … say a month or so. And forthcoming ones. There has to be a reason why she was hanging around your field like that.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s quite important. I nearly forgot. My head’s not working properly these days. Must be hormones.’
‘Where would we be without hormones to blame?’ Thea agreed, giving rise to a questioning look from the other woman. Quickly, Thea went back to the main subject. ‘You think we’ve buried somebody Juliet knows, and she wanted to stay near the grave?’ Thinking about it, Thea concluded this was quite a probable explanation. She remembered how Juliet had been in Stanton, a cousin of hers recently buried in a country churchyard. She had seemed to find the process far from alarming, even comforting, with the flowers and the soothing words spoken over the grave.
‘It seems possible, although her mother insists that nobody they know has died lately.’
‘Rosa would know, surely?’
‘Presumably – although Juliet’s been meeting new people at work. And she’s done some volunteering at a rehab centre near Paxford. Apparently one of her housemates used to go there, and suggested Juliet go along as well. It was working very nicely, from what we can gather. I’ve sent a couple of uniforms over there to ask how she fitted in.’
‘Volunteering as what, exactly?’ Thea had finished the carrots, and was extracting her largest cooking pot from the back of a cupboard. ‘Let me get this going, okay?’ She peered into the pot. ‘Haven’t used this since we moved here. Looks as if it might need a wipe.’
‘Funny the way they’re never as clean as you think,’ agreed Gladwin. ‘I really don’t know what Juliet did at the centre.’
‘I think a spider’s been living in it. Gosh, I am a slut, aren’t I.’
‘Join the club.’
‘I still can’t really believe she’s dead. I mean – Juliet! Such a totally harmless person.’
‘I know. It’s b
rutal, senseless, disgusting. We can only think she must have seen something she shouldn’t. Or knew something about somebody.’
‘Yes, but … what on earth could be worth killing her for?’
‘That’s what we’ve got to find out.’
Thea remembered her afternoon chat with Den. ‘Um … Sonia,’ she began. ‘Do you want me to really help with this? Like, actually going out there and talking to people, in a casual sort of way – but also semi-official?’
‘You mean you’re offering to be a police informer?’ Gladwin’s eyes sparkled. ‘Like on the telly?’
‘Not exactly. Sort of. I could go and chat to people at that centre, for example. Or … I don’t know. Ask some of our funeral families whether they knew her.’
Gladwin shook her head firmly. ‘No, not that. That’s got to be official-official. In fact, I guess I should go and ask Drew for the list now. It’s the last thing I’m doing today. That cooking’s making me feel hungry.’
Thea had cleaned her pot, set it on the hob and put a large quantity of minced beef into it. The carrots were next, followed by garlic, onions, tomatoes and herbs. ‘I’d ask you to stay, but …’
‘Don’t even think it. The idea’s outrageous – much as I’d like to meet your visitors. That tall bloke – what’s his name?’
‘Den Cooper. He used to be in the police, actually. Now he’s a security officer at Bristol airport.’
‘Interesting.’ Then the detective shook herself. ‘Well, better get on. Thanks for the suggestion about the semi-official stuff. I hope you’re not going to ask us to pay you as well?’
Thea opened her mouth to reply, but couldn’t find the right words. Gladwin laughed. ‘It’s not for me to decide about that sort of thing, anyway. It’s been so far from normal procedure up to now, I’d be scared to try to get things on a formal footing. The money men might have something to say if we tried to get you onto the payroll.’
‘Go and talk to Drew,’ said Thea. ‘I’ve got to cook.’ She opened a cupboard and began to root about amongst packets and jars. ‘Oh, God!’ she groaned.
‘What?’
‘There’s no spaghetti. I used it all up last time, I remember now. What on earth am I going to do? Seven people have been promised spag bol.’
‘Use macaroni and blame it on the hormones,’ said Gladwin.
Chapter Eleven
The meal was well received by all except Timmy, who took great exception to the pasta substitution. ‘I can’t wind macaroni round my fork,’ he objected. ‘It’s completely different.’
‘Just as nice, though,’ said his father with a warning look. ‘Thea’s done a great job.’
‘At least there’s parmesan,’ said Stephanie. ‘That’s the best part.’
‘Not for me, it isn’t. I don’t like it,’ persisted her brother.
‘Well, Meredith’s enjoying it, look,’ Maggs pointed out. ‘And macaroni’s much easier for her than spaghetti would be. She’s doing it all by herself.’ The toddler had orange tomato stains all over her face and was beaming delightedly.
The bottle of Rioja that Drew had bought earlier in the week was drained within five minutes. ‘I should have bought two,’ he apologised. ‘But we’ve got some rosé for tomorrow.’
‘And I won’t have any because I’ll be driving,’ said Den.
The promised pudding turned out to be pancakes with lemon juice and sugar. It was rapturously received by all, and by seven o’clock the whole meal was a distant memory. At seven-fifteen the doorbell rang again, and Drew’s face flushed with annoyance. ‘It had better not be Gladwin again,’ he said. He had not taken kindly to her request for recent burials, with contact details of the families.
Thea went to the door and took several seconds to recognise the small woman standing on the step, clutching a fluffy white dog. ‘Rosa!’ she realised at last. The transformation from the bustling competent person she had met in Stanton to the shrunken old husk before her now was horrifying. ‘Gosh! Come in. Oh dear. This is so dreadful, isn’t it? Come in,’ she repeated, gabbling desperately.
‘I expect I’m intruding.’ Even the voice had faded to a whisper.
‘Of course you’re not. We have got some people here – but we could go and sit in the garden, perhaps? It’s a nice evening. Is that Juliet’s dog? Shall we take him outside, so he can potter around?’ There was over an hour of daylight left, and the kitchen felt all wrong for the situation.
Juliet Wilson’s mother followed silently as she was led through to the back door. Thea wondered whether Drew’s office might be more appropriate than the cramped garden, even though it was much too soon to be thinking about Juliet’s funeral, and that room would inevitably carry implications to that effect. The main thing was to find a spot where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Raw emotion was to be expected, to an unpredictable extent. She remembered that Rosa was at least half Italian, which could turn out to be a factor.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ she asked, having placed the woman on a rather mossy garden bench that had come with the house. The dog, released from Rosa’s arms, sat gazing around pathetically. ‘Tea or something?’
‘Oh, no. I shouldn’t have come, really, but the policewoman said Juliet was close to your new place, and it was somebody you knew who found her – and, well, we liked you, back in Stanton. You seemed sort of … special.’ A feeble smile crossed her face. ‘Not the way they mean that nowadays – they called Juliet “special” sometimes – but clever and sensible. Unusual.’
‘Juliet was special, in the old-fashioned sense. I can’t imagine …’ She choked on the rest of the sentence. ‘It’s the most awful thing,’ she managed.
‘It is,’ Rosa nodded. ‘It’s going to be the death of me. I can feel it already, the life just leaking out of me. I knew right away, when they told me. It isn’t just living without my girl. It’s living in a world where this sort of thing can happen. Who would want to? What’s the point?’
Thea made no attempt to answer. She remembered similar feelings when her husband had died so needlessly. People had assured her that life went on, that she would find purpose again, and they’d been right. But it hadn’t helped at the time. She could barely even hear them.
‘I wasn’t even surprised when they came to tell me. She’d been gone since Tuesday, not telling anybody where she was going, and not taking Buster with her. That meant trouble.’
‘Do you think somebody took her? Kept her somewhere without a phone or anything?’
Rosa raised her ravaged face. ‘Who would do that? Why? No, I can’t think that would be it. I think she might have found a badger sett or maybe even a red squirrel drey. Something she thought needed protecting and watching. A mistle thrush nested in the woods near our house, when she was sixteen. One of the local cats was determined to steal the babies, so Juliet camped out all night for ten days, to guard it. That’s the sort of thing she did.’
‘But wouldn’t she have told somebody about it? And why not take the dog as well?’
‘If she could find anyone to listen,’ said Rosa bitterly. ‘Or who she could trust. They’re culling the badgers around here, you know. She wouldn’t dare reveal a sett, even to someone she knew well. And then one of those bastard culling men would have tried to move her, maybe hitting her too hard. She was big, remember. And strong. She’d take some subduing. Maybe she thought Buster would get hurt.’ Tears stood silvery on the grey cheeks, but the expression was fierce and proud.
The image of a masked and garbed badger-killer lashing out in furious frustration at a large female protester gripped Thea. ‘There’d be signs of recent culling, though,’ she realised. ‘I don’t think that could have been it.’ She gave the sad little dog a considering look. ‘It does make you wonder whether she had a definite plan in mind. Something that Buster would have got in the way of.’
Rosa waved this away with a sniff. ‘They say somebody must have swung at her with a heavy object. I forced them to tell me, but you’re never sure
you can believe what they say, are you? They always tell the families the person didn’t suffer, and it was all over in a second. It’s hardly ever true.’
‘It might be.’ Thea remembered Gladwin saying It wasn’t very subtle. ‘I don’t know any details, either, but I did get the impression it was quite quick.’
‘I can’t bear to think about it, but I can’t not think about it. I have to know exactly what happened, even though I don’t want to. You can’t stop yourself. She was my baby. My own flesh.’
‘Yes,’ said Thea, pushing away thoughts of her own daughter. Jessica was twenty-four and very far from a baby. You lost them, whatever happened. That chuckling bundle of dependency disappeared in one way or another, and turned into a person you were never quite sure you properly understood.
‘Well …’ the woman hesitated. ‘I should go. But I can’t just sit at home, can I? It might be weeks before they catch the man who did it. They might never catch him. They might never know where she was, and what she was doing, all those days.’
‘Haven’t they told you that Drew saw her on Wednesday?’
‘What? Who’s Drew?’ Rosa stared blankly at her.
‘My husband. The undertaker. Drew Slocombe. He was in the burial field on Wednesday afternoon, and Juliet went up to him. He thinks she was looking at the graves. They don’t all have names on them,’ she added inconsequentially.
‘Oh.’ Rosa shook her head. ‘What does that mean? I can’t make it mean anything.’ Despair returned tenfold to her face, and she covered it with her hands. ‘I can’t do this.’ The words filtered thickly through her fingers. ‘How do people do it?’
‘They just keep on breathing,’ said Thea, again thinking of her own experience. ‘People bring food and drink, and the sun keeps on rising, and that’s about it. You feed the dog and take it out now and then. It goes on like that for months. I didn’t even wash my hair for three weeks, until my sister did it for me.’
