Trouble in the Cotswolds (The Cotswold Mysteries)

by Tope, Rebecca

  Drew laughed. ‘No, no. He’s as bad as me. We’re both stuck in the Stone Age.’

  Thea snatched the phone back and tapped some buttons. ‘Oh look!’ she chirped. ‘There are four messages. Silly me.’ She read them silently for a minute. ‘Jessica, my mother and the AA – twice.’

  ‘What do they say?’

  ‘“Your car, collected on December 22nd in your absence, is at Walker’s Garage, awaiting your instructions.” And a phone number. That’s the first one. The second one says “Please contact them urgently.” How refreshingly straightforward.’

  ‘You’d better call them right away. We can drive over after lunch and collect it, then.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll have fixed it?’

  ‘Ah. Maybe not. Not until they’re sure somebody’s going to pay them.’

  ‘Precisely. What a fool I am not to have seen this sooner. They sent it on Saturday.’

  ‘You were poorly,’ said Drew forgivingly.

  ‘I’ll have to phone anyway, to ask them where they are. Do you think they’ll be there?’

  He shook his head to express complete ignorance on the matter.

  It seemed dauntingly complicated to her, even with Drew’s theoretical assistance. ‘Have you got a pen?’ she asked him. ‘I’ll have to write this number down.’

  He found a small ballpoint of the type sent free by charities and handed it over. Before she could locate a piece of paper, there was a tap on her shoulder. ‘Another lady,’ remarked Timmy, with waning interest. The last few minutes had been dull for him and he had been kicking the bar of his chair and mumbling to himself.

  ‘I thought I should come and see how you are,’ said Cheryl Bagshawe. ‘You must be wondering what I’m doing here.’

  ‘Not really. It’s none of my business.’ She caught Drew’s eye, hoping for a flash of approval. Instead he just seemed amused. ‘And I’m a bit better, thanks.’

  ‘At least you seem to have found someone to look after you,’ Cheryl went on. ‘That’s a relief.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She knew she should introduce Drew, but some perverse spirit prevented her. His identity was none of Cheryl’s business come to that.

  ‘Is he here for Christmas?’

  ‘No.’

  Cheryl gave up and changed the subject. ‘I saw Rosa shouting at you just now. What’s the matter with her?’

  ‘You know her?’ Thea frowned thoughtfully. ‘And you know Ralph Callendar. So why weren’t you at his father’s funeral?’ And what was that business the previous evening with the footpath sign, she wondered? Ought she to mention it, or would that be another intrusion into private matters?

  ‘I didn’t know the old man well enough. I don’t move in their circles. It’s a small village, though. Everyone knows everyone.’

  ‘You did seem to know a bit about Natasha as well as Dennis Ireland,’ Thea remarked.

  ‘So what? What’s your point?’

  ‘I’m just trying to get things straight in my mind. It’s a habit I have. At the very least, it saves me from making a gaffe. If people are sworn enemies, for example, things can get awkward for someone who doesn’t realise.’

  ‘No sworn enemies in Stanton,’ laughed Cheryl. ‘As far as I know,’ she added quickly.

  There was no need to observe that enmity in some form had surely led to the murder of Natasha Ainsworth. Cheryl had the grace to blush slightly as she caught the thought. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go. I left Caspar at home, and he chews things if I leave him for long.’

  ‘Have a nice Christmas,’ said Thea. ‘I hope you don’t get the flu.’

  ‘I won’t. I’m never ill. I seem to be immune to virtually everything.’

  ‘I thought I was,’ said Thea sourly. ‘You can never be completely sure.’

  They watched as she threaded her way to the door, and gave a general wave to the occupants of the bar – none of whom responded, as far as Thea could see.

  ‘Who was that?’ Drew wanted to know.

  ‘Cheryl Bagshawe, owner of the Great Dane.’

  ‘The one who’s not supposed to be here,’ he nodded. ‘I overheard her talking to that man, when I went to order the food. Something about a delivery being delayed. What does she do for a living?’

  ‘No idea. The subject never arose. She wasn’t at work on Friday afternoon. I vaguely assumed she ran some sort of local business – on the basis of nothing, really.’

  ‘Seems a bit horsey to me.’

  ‘Really? That would link her to the Callendars, then. And Natasha Ainsworth. Except I’m still totally hazy as to just what they all do. The only person to tell me anything concrete was the vet.’

  ‘You need to sit down and talk the whole thing through with me. We’ll do it after lunch.’

  ‘How boring for poor Timmy,’ she objected. ‘And honestly, I don’t really want to. I just want to stay quietly in the house for the rest of the week, and keep Blondie warm and safe. She can’t go out much anyway, now she’s in season.’

  ‘I insist,’ said Drew firmly. ‘It’s what we do, in case you hadn’t noticed. Timmy can play with the rats again. And don’t forget your car.’

  ‘Oh damn. I did forget my car – again. It’s all seems such a hassle.’

  ‘This isn’t like you. A little thing like calling a garage and sorting them out wouldn’t normally bother you.’

  ‘I’ve got flu,’ she reminded him. ‘It makes my head hurt, and everything’s fuzzy and strange. I have hallucinations in the night.’

  Timmy looked up from his drink, which he had just about finished. ‘Stephanie has those,’ he said.

  ‘Hallucinations? Is that what she calls them?’

  He nodded. ‘She says there’s a big church window with people in it, who come alive, and they’re all red and purple and they get hugely big and fly at her.’ He grinned.

  ‘That sounds like hallucinations to me,’ Thea agreed. ‘Mine are pretty much like that as well.’

  ‘They grabbed onto the word when I used it a few days ago,’ Drew explained. ‘They sing it to each other. You know how kids are with a new word.’

  She didn’t. Her own child, with no sibling with whom to play word games, had been more interested in drawing and construction kits than books or comics. Carl had taken her on nature rambles and bought her a microscope with which to examine leaves and bugs. Her unexpected choice of the police as a career had startled and upset him. He died still believing that she would change her mind at the last minute. ‘It’s a good word,’ she said.

  ‘And a most pleasing coincidence that you just used it,’ he said.

  She understood, in a vague way, that the little boy would find a kind of confirmation in hearing the word used by someone outside the family. She even remembered something from her own childhood where a man in a shop had used a phrase that she had only ever heard from her father. Suddenly the world had seemed a friendlier place as a result.

  Drew looked at his watch. ‘Only five more minutes till the food comes,’ he said. ‘That went quickly. More drink, anybody?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Timmy, lifting his glass in a comically adult fashion. ‘That was nice.’ He had asked for a Coke, rather to Thea’s disapproval.

  Drew caught her look. ‘Bad for his teeth, I know. But you can take these things too far, don’t you think?’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s entirely up to you.’ But she could hear Carl’s distant expressions of horror. Their child had never been allowed such an unwholesome drink at such a young age. Another hallucination, she told herself. Drew wasn’t Carl, and it was a very bad idea to make comparisons. Was it working the other way as well, she suddenly wondered? Did Drew compare her with Karen? The much more recent death surely suggested that he must do.

  ‘Karen would never have allowed it,’ he said, reading her thoughts. ‘She had very strict ideas about food. I’m afraid standards have slipped terribly in the past few months.’

  He didn’t look as if it bothered him too much, she tho
ught. ‘We do what we can,’ she said carefully. ‘Looks to me as if you’re making a pretty good job of it.’

  ‘Thanks. They’re a lot tougher than I realised, which is a relief. Aren’t you?’ He cocked his head at Timmy, giving the child a close scrutiny.

  ‘Aren’t I what?’

  ‘Tough.’

  ‘Mm.’

  ‘He talks to himself a lot, which can seem a bit unnerving sometimes. Apparently it’s fairly common with boys of his age. He says he’s just acting Pokemon games to himself.’

  ‘Sounds pretty harmless to me.’

  ‘The teachers don’t like it. They gave it some stupid label, that I can never remember. The word inappropriate features somewhere.’

  ‘Yuk!’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘I’ll stop when I’m eight,’ said Timmy confidently.

  ‘That’s fine, then. Less than two years to go.’

  Thea felt a wash of sadness at the conditioning that every child had to go through at the hands of adults. What would an entirely natural little boy be like, she wondered. Was there such a thing, anyway? And if so, was it likely to be an appealing creature?

  The food came almost exactly as scheduled, and they lapsed into silence for the first few mouthfuls. Tim had scampi and chips, while Drew had opted for lasagne. Thea herself spooned small quantities of soup into her mouth, finding the lumps hard to swallow. ‘I still don’t feel much like eating,’ she admitted.

  ‘So I see. Stephanie’s the same. I’ve been making tempting soups for her, but she isn’t at all keen. I hope Den’s having better luck with her today.’

  Around them, the pub noise seemed to be getting louder. New people arrived, filling all the available space. Thea sat back and looked at all the faces. Universally white, well dressed, manifesting good fellowship and self-satisfaction, they represented the cream of the Cotswolds in all its comfortable affluence. Rosa Wilson stood out as a misfit, with her unkempt hair and defiant air. She had struck Thea as a woman battered by life, accustomed to struggling to get by, burdened by her unpredictable daughter. Anger was evidently a central part of her character – much more visible now than on their previous encounter. Her voice could be heard now, its rich tones no different from those of the other people around her, but her intonation sharp, almost explosive. She gave barking laughs now and then, deep in her throat. She was talking to a couple, who seemed content to stay quiet and listen.

  Ralph Callendar was still there, holding a chunky pint glass with a handle and deep in conversation with another man. He had given no sign of recognising Thea since she and Drew had arrived. Surely he must have seen her, she thought. Was he being delicate, remembering how she had cried on him on Saturday? Or did he have too many other matters to attend to, to bother with an emotional house-sitter?

  ‘I still haven’t called about my car,’ she said suddenly.

  ‘It’s too noisy to do it in here. We’ll do it as soon as we’ve finished, and I’ll drive you to the place, wherever it is.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She sighed. ‘It’s probably too late now. But what the hell? If I have to wait till Thursday, it won’t be too disastrous, I suppose, if you can take me to a shop for some milk. I’ve got plenty of food.’

  ‘Especially as you’re not eating,’ he commented, eyeing her unfinished soup.

  ‘Right.’ She thought of the random items of food she had bought in the supermarket, the previous week, and how unlikely it was that she would eat them all. Like every other household in the country, she would be discarding perfectly edible material into a bin at some point over the next few days. ‘It’s all a terrible waste, isn’t it,’ she said.

  ‘What? What’s a waste?’

  ‘Food. All the Christmas stuff people buy and never eat.’

  ‘That’s one thing we do get right in our house. We never throw anything away, do we, Tim?’

  The boy shook his head. ‘The pigs get it,’ he said.

  ‘Pigs?’

  ‘We keep a highly illegal pigswill bin for a friend,’ confessed Drew. ‘Peelings and stale bread and that sort of thing. Karen used it for compost, but I’m afraid the garden is very neglected these days.’

  ‘Do you get pork in return?’

  ‘Of course. It’s a very neat system.’

  ‘I’ve finished,’ Timmy announced. ‘Can we go now?’

  ‘Might as well,’ Drew agreed.

  ‘We’ve been here an hour and a half, nearly,’ Thea realised in wonder. ‘That’s amazing.’

  ‘Time flies when you’re having fun,’ said Drew. It ought to have sounded fatuous, but he said it so genuinely that it was endearing. ‘And nobody else seems in any hurry to go home.’ It was true – Ralph Callendar, Rosa Wilson and all their friends were still cheerfully drinking and chatting, as if on holiday. They probably were on holiday, Thea realised, apart from Rosa, who looked considerably less relaxed than everybody around her.

  They filed out without meeting any obstruction or interruption, and followed the pathway back to the car park. ‘It’s gone,’ said Thea, staring at the space where the silver-grey car had been.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The Callendar car isn’t there. But Ralph is still in the pub. So who took it?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘It might. I thought you wanted to be a detective. Isn’t this significant?’

  ‘I don’t know. Anybody in that pub could have been on the staff of Callendar Logistics. Probably a travelling salesman with a company car.’

  ‘Could be,’ she said doubtfully. ‘I’m not even sure that Ralph works for his father, now I think about it.’

  ‘So – no more distractions. Call that garage and let’s go and rescue your car.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The garage was open until two, which left forty minutes to find it, discuss payment for the work they had trustingly done, and collect Thea’s car. ‘Plenty of time,’ said Drew. ‘We don’t need to go home until five or so.’

  ‘Christmas Eve,’ Thea remembered all over again. ‘Stockings, mince pies for Santa, lights on the tree. Have you got it all covered?’

  Drew winced and gave Timmy a sideways look. ‘Sort of,’ he whispered.

  The vision of the two of them spending solitary evenings seventy miles apart on such a night brought a wave of depression that left her weak. Surely there was a way in which they could surmount all obstacles and be together? Should she just pack up and leave the Stanton House for twenty-four hours and hang the consequences?

  But Drew might not want that. The ghost of his wife must still be very much in evidence, on this first Christmas without her. The bereaved little family would have their own ways of getting through it, with Stephanie’s flu perhaps a useful distraction, compelling them to modify the usual traditions for other reasons than the loss of their wife and mother.

  Was it primarily this shared fact of widowhood that had brought her and Drew together in the first place, she wondered? And was it too neat a connection for them to ever establish a healthy relationship?

  ‘Navigate,’ he ordered her. ‘I have no idea where anywhere is.’

  ‘That’s not true. You could find Broad Campden, for a start.’

  ‘Not from here I couldn’t.’

  ‘Well, we have to go in that direction. Do you want to look at your property while we’re there? It’s only another three or four miles.’

  ‘Tempting,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘It might help me decide what to do with it. But only if there’s time.’

  The country lanes were cheerless in the wan afternoon light. The huge naked trees on the road to Stanway seemed to loom ominously over them, staking a prior claim to the land and its business. ‘Trees are such a major factor around here,’ Thea said. ‘You can’t ignore them. I remember Phil saying that in Temple Guiting. They’ve seen all the petty goings-on of the people through umpteen generations. Some of the estates have enormous old specimens that go back centurie
s.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Drew asked a minute or two later, as the gatehouse of Stanway came into view on his left. He paused for a better look.

  ‘Stanway House. And church, look. All very historic. Jacobean.’

  ‘Some other time,’ Drew said regretfully. He drove on, and a few seconds later stopped again to gaze up at the imposing war memorial at the junction with the main road. ‘Blimey! Whatever next?’

  ‘It’s George and the dragon, which is a bit strange for a war memorial, don’t you think?’

  ‘Look, Tim. How about that, eh?’

  ‘Nmm,’ said the child without interest. He had been mumbling to himself on the back seat, apparently content to be ignored. Thea guessed that he would normally be bickering with his older sister, and the solitude came as something of a respite.

  ‘Left here,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to bustle. It’s half past one already.’

  ‘“Have to bustle,”’ Drew repeated happily. ‘My mother always used to say that.’

  ‘You never talk about your mother,’ she noted. ‘Don’t you ever see her? What about your father?’

  ‘I haven’t seen them for years. They’re in New Zealand. They emigrated when I was twenty-five. I tried not to take it personally.’

  ‘Gosh! Don’t they ever come back for a visit?’

  ‘Hardly ever. It’s a long way. They’re busy running a business. They make boats.’

  ‘I’m amazed we haven’t covered this before. How old are they?’

  ‘Dad’s sixty-one and Mum’s sixty-three. They’re good for another thirty years by the sound of it.’

  ‘Left again up there,’ she said suddenly. ‘I think. This is where I got a bit lost on Saturday morning.’ Where all the trouble started, she thought with a hint of melodrama. The man at the garage had given unusually careful instructions, which she had written down. Now, with a map on her lap, she was confident of getting it right, even though her head was aching again and she felt the same heaviness in her limbs as the day before. She was directing Drew along a country road some distance before the one she had taken two days earlier, finding it to be a shorter way. It ran through woodland, towards Snowshill, and came out onto the A44 slightly north of Blockley. As far as she could tell, it would be their quickest way.