by Hazel Holt
At home I made the cup of tea I’d been longing for and sat for a while, feeling absolutely shattered. Tris and Foss, sensing my mood as they so often did, came and sat beside me on the sofa. I put the television on and watched, mindlessly, a cookery programme and some sort of quiz show. After a while I got up and went outside. Walking round the garden, dutifully attended by Tris (Foss had taken one look at the cold, windy weather and remained indoors), I tried to think about things more calmly. I tried to remember the dreadful pressures Luke and Janet had been under, the appalling way Bernard had treated them both, the terrible things he’d done to Alma and her family and all the unpleasant things about him that had been revealed and I faced the fact that I, too, thought the world was a better place without him. I was glad he was dead and couldn’t hurt people any more; but murder? No. As Janet had said, if only they’d waited one more day.
I’d promised to have dinner with Michael and Thea that evening and as I looked out a bottle of wine to take for them and a picture book for Alice, I thought with a sudden rush of pleasure and gratitude of my own family and how lucky I was. Alice greeted me with enthusiasm and took me off to play shops, which involved a great deal of rather messy weighing out of lentils and split peas, a proceeding which Alice never seemed to tire of (‘Now I’ll be the shop-lady and you be the mummy doing the shopping’), and I found this repetition was the perfect antidote to the miseries of the day, as was sitting on Alice’s bed reading to her for the umpteenth time the adventures of The Moose on the Moon.
When we were finally sitting down to Thea’s splendid steak and kidney pudding I exclaimed with pleasure, ‘Perfect comfort food!’
‘Oh dear,’ Thea said, ‘has Alice tired you out? She really can be exhausting!’
‘No, it was lovely having time with her – just what I needed, like this delicious steak and kidney. No, it’s just that I’ve had a very difficult day.’ I told them all about my visit to Janet in Bristol and said, ‘I really don’t know what to do about it.’
‘Well, you must tell Roger of course,’ Michael said. ‘He needs to know.’
‘Yes, I suppose he does,’ I said doubtfully, ‘and I want to in a way. But I can’t help thinking – well, of everything, all the awful things Bernard did to them and to other people. And if Janet and Luke can really start afresh and make a good life for themselves…’
‘I can see what Sheila means,’ Thea said. ‘At least something good will have come out of it.’
‘Of course,’ I said, ‘I suppose they shouldn’t profit from their crime, or whatever it was.’
‘Whatever it was,’ Michael said firmly, ‘it was wrong and you’ve got to tell Roger.’
So the next evening I rang him at home. In some way I felt it was less official than ringing him at work.
‘Oh, sorry, Sheila,’ Jilly said, ‘he’s away at a conference. Was it important?’
‘Not really. It can wait.’
‘It’s in Brussels – something to do with the EU, liaising or some such thing – so he won’t be back until next week. Honestly these conferences are the limit – we hardly ever see him.’
‘It does sound a bit much.’
‘Anyway, I’ll tell him you want a word. Forgive me if I dash but I’ve got to take Delia to a pony sleepover.’
‘Good heavens, what is that?’
‘Riding each other’s ponies and staying up all night talking about horses!’
‘I didn’t know Delia had her own pony.’
‘She hasn’t yet, but it’s only a question of time. She’s planning to ambush Roger about it when he gets back from Brussels!’
The following day Denzil came and laid the new carpet. I’d shut Tris in the kitchen, where the noise of hammering wouldn’t disturb him too much, and Foss I’d firmly put outside, so that a furious chocolate-coloured face appeared at each window in turn trying to find a way in. When it was all done and I was giving Denzil his tea in the kitchen I said, ‘What is it to be, a new bike or a car?’
He sighed heavily. ‘My cousin’s got an old Ford he’ll let me have cheap – that’ll keep Denise quiet and Mr Davis says I can have some more overtime and I can put that towards the bike.’
‘So what about the holiday?’
‘Oh, well, that’ll have to go. You can’t have everything in this life, that’s what I always say.’
After he left I poured myself another cup of tea and was sitting considering this pragmatic philosophy when the phone rang. It was Janet.
‘Hello, Sheila, I’d thought I’d give you a quick ring.’ Her voice was hesitant, almost wary. ‘We’re off to France tomorrow.’ Fleetingly I wondered why she felt it necessary to inform me about her holiday plans when she went on, ‘For good.’
‘What!’
‘We’re going to Normandy. Monsieur Picard – I don’t know if you remember about him, he owned the restaurant that Luke worked in first of all. Well, Luke’s always kept in touch, he was so grateful for the chance he got there. Anyway, Monsieur Picard’s getting on now and he wants to retire. He asked Luke if he’d consider taking over and Luke jumped at it. It’s got a very good reputation and they think there’s a chance of a Michelin star.’
‘I see.’
‘So we’re going straight away.’ Her voice was brisk now, almost business-like. ‘I haven’t got probate yet but I’ve left the house in the agent’s hands. Monsieur Picard is willing to wait until the money comes through. Luke will be a sort of manager until that happens.’
‘What does Christine think about it?’
There was a slight pause. ‘I haven’t told Christine yet. I’ll ring her from France. Luke says there’s nothing she can do to stop it.’
‘I see.’
‘It’s the new start we’ve all been wanting, Sheila. Luke and Yves and I,’ she was coaxing now, ‘and I couldn’t go without letting you know and hoping you’d understand – well about everything.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I understand. But that doesn’t mean that I can condone what you’ve done.’
‘No. I suppose not,’ she said slowly. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘I thought I’d give you our telephone number over there – just in case you ever come to France…’
I wrote down the number she gave me, said goodbye and put the phone down.
As I washed up the tea cups I decided that Janet would always be a puzzle to me – such a contradictory mixture, I really didn’t know what to make of her and probably never would. The telephone call did, however, confirm my decision to tell Roger everything I knew. And I would give him the telephone number.
My thoughts were interrupted by a ring at the door. Feeling that quite enough had happened for one morning I went to answer it reluctantly, but to my delight it was Rosemary in a state of great excitement.
‘I had to come and tell you right away,’ she said, hardly waiting until she’d got inside the door. ‘I’m so thrilled!’
‘Come and sit down,’ I said, ‘and tell me.’
‘It’s about the Ruby Wedding,’ she said.
‘Have you finally decided where to have it?’
‘No, no,’ she said impatiently, ‘it’s better than that.’
She fished in her handbag and brought out a folder and handed it to me. Inside were two airline tickets to Toronto.
‘No!’ I said. ‘What a wonderful surprise! Not Jack?’
‘Yes, bless him. He thought of it all by himself (though Jilly did the actual booking for him) because he saw how sad I was not to be able to see baby John and meet Claire. So he rang Colin and said we’d be there for the christening.’
‘How absolutely brilliant!’
‘And,’ Rosemary went on, ‘he said that since we were going all that way we might as well stay over for Christmas.’
‘Jack!’
‘I know, isn’t it unbelievable?’
A thought struck me. ‘What about your mother? Is she furious?’
‘That’s the extraordinary thing. She’s pleased.’
&nb
sp; ‘I don’t believe it!’
‘No, she said it was for the family and it was our duty to be there for the christening.’
‘Good heavens.’
‘Mind you, she still expects a splendid meal at The Castle when we get back, with Jilly, Roger and the children.’ She smiled. ‘And you, of course; after all, you were my bridesmaid all those years ago.’
‘That would be lovely. Oh I’m so pleased. It’s the perfect solution.’
‘Anyway, can you come with me to Taunton next week and help me buy some baby clothes to take with us?’
‘Of course.’
As I came back from seeing her out a familiar sound caught my attention. There, his head turned to make sure I was watching, was Foss energetically sharpening his claws on the new stair carpet.
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Also by Hazel Holt
Death in Practice
Taviscombe’s veterinary practice was facing closure until Malcolm Hardy arrived with enough money to save the surgery. But as far as Sheila Malory is concerned, there is nothing to like about the new vet, and before long he has offended most of the town. But when Hardy collapses and dies at the surgery, Sheila wonders if somebody at the practice could be a killer. Or might Hardy have other enemies with murder in mind?
The Silent Killer
When widower Sidney Middleton is found dead in his cottage from carbon monoxide poisoning, Sheila Malory is deeply disturbed; the ageing wood-burning stove, cited as causing the fatality, had just been serviced, and at the funeral she encounters outright hostility. Her suspicions that this was no accidental death just won’t be quieted and Sheila won’t rest until she’s proved it.
No Cure for Death
Something peculiar is going on at the Group Medical Practice in Taviscombe and Sheila Malory can’t help but feel it may be linked with the unexpected arrival of Dr Morrison. When the new doctor is murdered, it is assumed to be a random act of violence, but Sheila is not convinced. Had he been involved in some sort of dangerous business in London? Or did someone local have a motive for wanting him out of the way?
About the Author
HAZEL HOLT was born in Birmingham and was educated at King Edward VI High School and Newnham College, Cambridge. She worked as an editor, reviewer and feature writer before turning to fiction in an attempt to keep up with her son, the novelist Tom Holt. Her life is divided between writing, cooking and trying to cope with the demands of her Siamese cat, Flip.
By Hazel Holt
Death in Practice
The Silent Killer
No Cure for Death
A Death in the Family
A Time to Die
Any Man’s Death
A Necessary End
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
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London W1T 6DW
www.allisonandbusby.com
First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2006.
This ebook edition first published in 2013.
Copyright © 2006 by HAZEL HOLT
The right of HAZEL HOLT to be identified as the author
of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with
the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from
the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–1435–3
