Although the rain had stopped, visibility was still poor. Grey mist swirled between the dripping hedgerows, and thick cloud obscured what little daylight might have been available. It was a gloomy day by any reckoning. From what Thea had gleaned, the next day was predicted to be very much the same. ‘What about Karen’s parents? Don’t they visit sometimes?’
Drew did not reply. Instead he gave a surprised yelp and stamped on the brake pedal, only seconds after making the turning off the larger road.
‘What?’ demanded Thea, who could see nothing to alarm anybody.
‘I saw a woman in those woods.’ He stared hard at a shadowy patch of trees to the right. ‘I’m sure I did.’
There were dense woods on both sides of the road, creating a tunnel fit for a fairy tale. No gateways or tracks led from roadway to woodland; and nowhere near enough width to park a car without causing an obstruction. Thea sighed. ‘And you want to go and investigate.’
‘I should. She looked distraught. She might do herself a mischief.’
‘Charnal Plantation,’ Thea read from the big map on her knees. ‘I think that must be it. It’s not very big,’ she added inconsequentially.
‘There are no houses in sight,’ he said, with equal lack of logic.
‘But there are footpaths all over the place. She must have been a walker. Maybe she was having a pee, and was horrified that you’d seen her.’
‘Did you say “charnal”?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You know what that means, don’t you? It’s the old word for slaughter – where they killed the animals. Isn’t that spooky?’
‘You’re wrong, Drew. You’re thinking of shambles. A charnel house was where they kept bodies, either because it was too frosty to dig a grave, or for other odd religious reasons. This place spells it with an a, instead of an e, which is interesting.’
‘I forgot your were so hot on history. Embarrassing for an undertaker to confuse shambles with charnel,’ he sighed. ‘Can you see where the actual charnel house was?’
She peered at the map in the poor light. ‘Not really. There’s a farm not far away and a keeper’s house. The whole area is actually quite well inhabited. Drew – she’ll be fine. We’ll miss the garage if we go and investigate. Honestly, I don’t think it can have been anything. You stopped within about twenty yards – we’d be able to see her if she was really there.’
‘Did you see a ghost, Daddy?’ Tim asked, as if such an idea was only mildly interesting.
Drew was reversing the car to a point dangerously close to the junction. ‘She was wearing dark clothes. I could just see a face, and an outline. But she was very near. As I turned the corner, there she was, in the woods. Over there.’ He was obviously worried, torn by the dilemma.
‘So she can climb out into the road quite easily. That pub on the bend is only half a mile away. Did she look hurt? As if she couldn’t walk?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, we can’t stay here. We’ll get hit if somebody comes behind us.’
‘Where is she?’ he wondered.
‘Listen,’ she said with an effort. ‘If she wanted help, she’d be waving at us, making sure we could see her. Instead, it looks as if she deliberately disappeared into the trees, to hide from us. She doesn’t want to be rescued, Drew. Not everybody does.’
He turned a look on her, full of pain and chagrin. A look that said she had pressed a button that hurt. A rueful thread of self-knowledge that kinked a corner of his mouth merged with some memory of past trauma or mistake. ‘Ouch,’ he said.
‘Gosh – what did I say?’
‘I think you know.’ He put the car into gear and drove on, slowly. He had not switched off the engine during the minute or two since he’d seen the apparition.
‘Only in the vaguest way. I’m not criticising you. After all, you’re rescuing me at this very moment, and I’m extremely grateful.’ She paused, as a flicker of self-knowledge gripped her in turn. ‘And I’m being entirely selfish, aren’t I? I want you to put my needs before everything else.’
‘Hush,’ he said tightly. ‘Tim’s probably right – it was just a ghost.’
‘It’s the right weather for it. And the right season, I suppose. There’s a link between Christmas and ghosts, isn’t there?’
‘If Dickens can be believed.’
‘Funny how often Dickens gets a mention these days. I’m beginning to think Stanton’s populated by characters from his books.’
‘Well, my ghost wasn’t a woman in white – she was definitely dark grey.’
‘That’s not Dickens, anyway. The woman in white was that other chap – Wilkie Collins. I’ve never read it.’
‘Nor me.’
Harmony was almost restored, she realised with relief. Drew’s painful reaction had apparently faded. Their pace increased, and she navigated successfully all the way to a car repair shop on a small estate on the outskirts of Blockley. They arrived eight minutes before two.
‘I’ll have to follow you back,’ Drew said, when Thea was finally in the driving seat of her restored vehicle, with her spaniel on the passenger seat. ‘I can’t possibly remember the way.’
‘I’m not entirely sure that I can,’ she admitted.
‘Course you can. The navigator always remembers every turn.’
It was true, she supposed, and the route was not actually so complicated, once visualised as a map. ‘Okay, then. You’ll have time for some tea and biscuits before you go home.’
She set off carefully, conscious of an increase in traffic as people got home early from the last day of work, or rushed off to the shops at the last minute, or journeyed back and forth between relatives. She disliked driving in convoy, as a rule, but once across the main road and back into the smaller lanes, she could see few potential hazards. Except for Drew’s ghostly woman in the woods, of course.
Charnal Plantation ran alongside the road for almost a mile, giving an impression of a considerable expanse of forest, especially the final quarter-mile when it stretched across to the other side of the road as well. The day was rapidly closing in, and a thin drizzle was starting up again. Nobody in their senses would be wandering amongst the trees in these conditions. Nonetheless, Thea kept a sharp eye out for a sighting.
When it came, it was with utter disbelief that she identified the figure standing on the wet grass verge, wearing a long grey coat. It was Juliet Wilson.
Automatically, Thea stopped the car, and heard Drew do the same, a few yards behind her. She got out, and went around her car to the woman. ‘Juliet? Are you all right?’ she said. ‘What are you doing out here?’
Drew had joined her, looking bemused. He had set the hazard lights flashing on his car, and the yellow beams created an incongruous element in the monochrome setting.
Juliet gave a short laugh. ‘A rescue party!’ she crowed. ‘Sent by my devoted mother, I suppose.’
‘Who is she?’ Drew asked in an undertone. ‘Do you know her?’
Thea performed a proper introduction. ‘Juliet, this is my friend Drew. He’s visiting me this afternoon, with his little boy. Drew, this is Juliet Wilson. We saw her mother in the pub, earlier on. She lives in Laverton.’ She summoned her mental image of the map, showing the local settlements. ‘Which is in quite the opposite direction from here,’ she added.
‘I wanted a tree,’ said Juliet. ‘I came for a tree.’
Thea smiled at the utter reasonableness. ‘There are plenty of them here,’ she said. ‘But you’ll need a saw or axe or something. I suppose you mean a Christmas tree? Haven’t you got one yet?’
‘They’re all the wrong sort. I should have known. I’m not stupid, you know. I just like to follow my ideas. That’s not stupid, is it?’
‘Ideas don’t always work, though, do they?’ said Drew, with complete sympathy. It was as if he was saying The world’s at fault here, not you.
‘It would have been too heavy to carry,’ sighed Juliet. ‘I didn’t think of that.’<
br />
‘Have you walked all the way here?’ Thea was still distracted by the geographical implications. ‘It must be miles, even using the footpaths.’
‘I got rather wet.’ Juliet’s hair was plastered to her head, and the shoulders of the coat were sodden. ‘And it’s getting dark.’
‘We’ll drive you home,’ said Drew. ‘Maybe your mother’s got a tree already.’
‘She has,’ Juliet nodded. ‘But it’s too small. I like a big one. Trees make me happy, you see. I love the smell of them.’
‘So do I,’ said Drew.
‘Have you got one?’
‘Yes. We put it up over a week ago. Most of the smell’s gone by now.’
‘Traditionally, this is the day to bring it in and decorate it, you know.’ There was reproach in her voice, but she smiled forgivingly at him.
‘I know. But I’ve got two children and they couldn’t wait. Listen, why don’t you get in with Thea, and she can take you home. Your mother might be worrying. Did you tell her where you were going?’
‘I don’t have to. I’m a grown woman. I shouldn’t even be living with my mother, at my age. It’s ridiculous.’
A big Range Rover chose that moment to come past, making a quite unnecessary fuss about squeezing through the space left by the two parked cars. A man in a sporty tweed cap briefly leant out of the driver’s window, and asked ‘Problems?’ He met Thea’s eyes in a long lustful appraisal that she had experienced a thousand times before – although less so in the past few years.
‘Not at all,’ she replied. ‘We’re just chatting for a minute.’
‘Not an ideal place for it,’ said the man, with a scornful laugh, and closed his window again.
‘And a happy Christmas to you, too,’ said Juliet loudly. Thea laughed.
‘Bloody Sebastian Callendar,’ Juliet added, as the Range Rover drove off. ‘Never acknowledges me, even though he knows damn well who I am.’
‘Ah – I heard about him. Looks as if it was true what they say.’
‘Chases after women like a lion after an antelope,’ said Juliet. ‘That’s what they say about him.’
‘You wonder how men like that get away with it, these days.’
‘He doesn’t,’ muttered Juliet. ‘Nobody round here’s fool enough to take up with him.’
‘He’s been in prison,’ Thea remembered. ‘But not for chasing women.’
‘He has. But he’s out now.’ Juliet sounded oddly gratified by this.
‘Oh, well.’ Thea shook herself briskly. ‘That means I’ve met all the Callendar sons now.’
‘Have you? Edwin as well?’
‘Oh, yes. Quite a family, by the look of it. All living locally. Do they all work for the family business?’
‘Everybody does,’ said Juliet absently. ‘Its tentacles stretch into all our lives.’ It sounded like a quote to Thea. The sort of thing people said to each other so often that its meaning faded from overuse.
Drew called from inside his car, ‘Thea, we’ve got to move. Timmy’s desperate for a pee. Can we go?’
‘He can do it here,’ said Juliet. ‘We won’t look.’
‘He doesn’t want to. It’s a thing with him. It has to be a proper loo.’
‘For heaven’s sake,’ scorned Juliet.
Drew looked at Thea, saying nothing. She ushered her passenger into her seat, and turned back to Drew. ‘Here – this is the house key. You go in and use the loo. Don’t let Blondie out of the kitchen. I’ll take Juliet home and be back ten minutes after you.’ She impressed herself with this display of logistical authority. ‘Okay?’
‘Um – I turn right here, do I? Then right again at that statue?’
‘Yes. You can’t go wrong. There’s a sign that says Stanton. Hang on, Tim,’ she called cheerily at the boy on the back seat. ‘Just a few more minutes.’
In the car, it dawned on Thea that here was a chance to ask a whole series of questions about the people of Stanton and how they connected. Juliet might have mental or emotional problems, but she was more than capable of filling in some background. ‘What exactly does the Callendar business do, then?’ she began. ‘Something medical – is that right?’
‘They transport supplies to vets. Urgent things. Serum, blood, specimens. It’s big business.’
‘Stuff for horses, I suppose?’
‘Mostly. Dogs, as well. Where the money is. Specially around here. People will pay anything to keep their animals alive.’
‘What about Natasha Ainsworth? Did she work for them?’
‘Mmm.’ Juliet’s attention was drifting. ‘Who’s that man? With the little boy?’
‘My friend. He lives in Somerset and very kindly came to visit me when he heard I’d got flu.’
‘Have you?’
‘It’s much better today. I’ve had two very unpleasant nights. And my head still aches.’
‘Eva might have died of it. That’s what they thought would happen. But she didn’t. She died of something else.’
Thea’s scalp prickled gently at this. There had been three deaths in or near Stanton in the past couple of weeks. Two of them had been assumed to be natural or accidental and the third was undoubtedly a murder. ‘What was it, then? That she died of?’
Juliet leant towards her, as if afraid of eavesdroppers. ‘She choked to death,’ she whispered. ‘Can you imagine that? She couldn’t get her breath, and just choked. Her face was all blue when Auntie Barbara found her.’
‘How horrible. But what was it that choked her?’
‘Just phlegm, they said. That happens, you see, with cystic fibrosis. You have to keep the lungs clear all the time. But Auntie Barbara said she’d done it, only an hour earlier, and there wasn’t any phlegm.’
‘Did they do a post-mortem?’
‘No they didn’t. They said there wasn’t any need. There was a life-threatening pre-existing condition, and the cause was not in any doubt.’
Thea’s mind was grinding into faster action than it had for some days. ‘Did Eva work at all? Was she well enough for that?’
‘She did some computer stuff at home. Databases. Spreadsheets. She showed me once. Spreadsheets are beautiful, you know. You can do all kinds of wonderful things with them. Lots of people gave her work. Even the council, sometimes. They did a big survey about footpaths, and needed someone to do extra database stuff.’
‘Really? And I guess she might have done some work for Callendar Logistics – right?’
Juliet made a growling sound. ‘No, she didn’t – not any more, anyway. She couldn’t stand them, you see. Not since that Sebastian …’
‘He fiddled the books or something? Is that what I heard?’ Too late, Thea remembered Rosa saying that Juliet had been attacked. Had she somehow blunderingly failed to grasp that he, or another Callendar, had been the attacker? Anything seemed possible in this small community, with its long complicated history.
‘He tried to blame it on Eva. Thinks I’ve forgotten, or he’d never have stopped just now.’
‘He might not have recognised you.’
‘Huh!’ scorned Juliet.
‘So …’ Thea had somehow lost any thread she might have thought she was following. ‘The point is, I suppose, that you’ve all known each other for ages and there are plenty of nasty happenings in the past.’
‘“Nasty happenings”,’ Juliet repeated, her voice hollow. ‘You could say that. Not just in the past, either.’
‘You miss Eva, I expect,’ Thea said gently. ‘It sounds as if you and she were good friends.’
‘Cousins,’ Juliet corrected. ‘She wasn’t very nice, actually. Angry most of the time. We’re an angry family. We think we’ve got a lot to be angry about.’
Thea recalled Juliet’s mother, just a couple of hours earlier, shouting in the pub. Life evidently hadn’t been very kind to the Wilsons. The cousins had been victimised in different ways, both Juliet and Eva permanently damaged. There was no way she could ask about the attack that Juliet had suffered, but
she knew enough for a sense of waste and hopelessness to grip her, simultaneously with a feeling that however difficult Juliet might find it to function, she was at heart a bright, decent person, full of humour and energy. She had, after all, walked five or six miles along winter paths in a chilly rain. And Thea still heard the delicious rejoinder to the impatient Sebastian Callendar. And a merry Christmas to you, too. She smiled again to think of it.
Chapter Fifteen
Juliet navigated the way to Laverton, where Thea dropped her at a handsome old stone cottage that she said was home. The obligation to stop and see the woman safely inside was only briefly acknowledged and then resisted. She wanted to get back to Drew and the dog without any further delay. She had her car back; her flu was receding; the rain had stopped again – there was still an hour or more in which to enjoy the only bit of Christmas she was going to know this year.
At the last minute, Juliet paused. ‘That boy – he’s not right, you know. I can tell.’
‘But you hardly even glanced at him.’
‘I did. Let’s say it takes one to know one.’
A cold hand squeezed Thea’s heart. Was Timmy going to develop some lifelong emotional sickness, as Juliet had done? ‘He seems fine to me,’ she protested.
‘Well he’s not. Something’s happening to him. I can see it.’
‘His mother died.’ Thea had not wanted to disclose this fact – it felt like a betrayal. But there didn’t seem to be a choice.
‘Ah. And his father’s too self-absorbed to give him what he needs.’ She nodded sagely. ‘That makes sense.’
‘That’s rubbish. Drew’s not self-absorbed. He’s a wonderful father to both his children.’
‘There’s another one?’
‘A girl. Less than two years older.’
‘She’ll be bullying him, then,’ said Juliet with utter certainty. ‘Mental torture. It’s what big sisters do.’ And without another word, Juliet had moved away, slamming the car door behind her.
The drive back to Stanton took just over five minutes. More than enough time for Thea to remember her own big sister, Emily, and how she had pulled rank, made hurtful remarks, done better at school and made free with Thea’s toys. But she hadn’t tortured or bullied. Perhaps it was different when you both had an older brother, more powerful than either of you.
Trouble in the Cotswolds (The Cotswold Mysteries) Page 19
