‘Six feet,’ his host said. ‘Six feet of Cumbrian sandstone, would you believe? They don’t build them like this any more.’
‘Dumelow Properties don’t,’ his wife said sweetly, ‘that’s for sure.’
Simon Dumelow smirked at his guests and patted his wife on the rump. ‘She likes to bite the hand that feeds, does Tash. Keeps forgetting that without Dumelow Properties she wouldn’t be the lady of Brack Hall.’
‘It’s a wonderful home,’ Miranda said. ‘Like a castle.’
‘That’s exactly what it was,’ Simon said. ‘Pele towers were scattered on either side of the border in the days when the English and the Scots were always fighting. Come to think of it, have they ever stopped? Inside a place as well-fortified as this, you could withstand a siege if ever the Reivers came to call.’
Tash clicked her tongue, as if embarrassed. ‘Darling, aren’t you forgetting? Daniel is the historian, he’ll know far more about what went on in the old days than we do.’
Daniel felt, as he often did when history was mentioned, rather like a divorce lawyer expected to have an intimate knowledge of the subtleties of probate. ‘It’s not really my period,’ he said. ‘I’m a nineteenth century man.’
‘You look perfectly modern to me,’ she said.
Simon slipped an arm around her. ‘Hey, no flirting. Daniel’s a respectable academic. You behave yourself in company, do you hear?’
‘Okay, darling,’ she said, pecking him on the cheek. ‘Anything you say.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Anything?’
‘Behave.’
Simon opened a door that gave on to a flight of steps. Half way up, he tripped and barked his knees on the stone. He gave a brief cry of pain but rapidly assured his wife that no harm had been done. The first floor had been turned into a cavernous living space stuffed with antique furnishings. One wall was covered from floor to ceiling with expensively framed watercolours of lakes and mountains, bathed in endless hues of purple and orange. Next to the door, a longcase clock was chiming the hour.
‘Jonas Barber senior of Winster,’ he announced with pride. ‘One of his finest. Not often you find his clocks with a yew case. Of course, Tash chose the antiques, planned all the décor. She’s the one with artistic flair. Not only that, she painted all the pictures. Every single one.’
‘That’s Tarn Fold and the cottage!’ Miranda exclaimed.
Tash was no Turner. In fact, Daniel thought, her daubs were no better than average village art group standard, but she’d at least captured the tranquility of the setting, with the cottage slumbering under the midday sun and a gleam of water beyond. As they contemplated the picture, Tash lifted it from the hook and handed it to Miranda.
‘Take it, please. A housewarming present.’
‘Oh no, we couldn’t possibly…’
‘Don’t say another word, it’s yours,’ she insisted. ‘I’ll ask Jean to make sure it’s safely packed with lots of bubble wrap.’
‘Very determined woman, my wife,’ her husband said. ‘Knows what she wants to do and goes and does it. You may as well give in right now.’
The clock ticked relentlessly until the argument ended with the present being accepted with profuse thanks. As they headed up the stairs again, Miranda asked, ‘How long have you lived here?’
‘Ten years.’ Simon spoke deliberately; he was taking special care not to miss his footing a second time. ‘I was coming out of my first marriage when I looked round this place. I’d always hankered after living in the Lakes, ever since I read Swallowdale as a kid.’
‘I suppose I liked Winter Holiday,’ Miranda said as they reached the next landing. ‘Wasn’t there a girl who liked making up stories and wanted to be a writer?’
Tash nodded. ‘Dorothea?’
‘You’re right. Pure escapism.’
‘Yes – well, anyway.’ Tash was blushing, as though the Ransome books were an illicit passion. ‘You two weren’t like Simon, were you? You never harboured a dream of moving to the Lakes.’
‘No,’ Miranda admitted. ‘We moved here pretty much on impulse. Another kind of escapism, if you like.’
‘That’s the Lakes, they put a spell on you,’ he said. ‘The same weekend I set eyes on the Hall, the estate agent invited me to a party and I met Tash. So I fell in love twice within the space of twenty-four hours.’
The upper floors of the tower had been converted into offices and a library. As they climbed to the roof, Daniel thought that the Dumelows were not like a couple who had been together a decade. They kept touching each other, brushing against each other, like lovers in the early days of infatuation, still acclimatising to each other’s bodies. He took it as a good omen for his new life with Miranda. Maybe Brackdale really was a Shangri-La for lovers, removed from the everyday world where romance died all too soon.
The evening air was cool as they stepped out on to the flat roof of the tower and Miranda shivered as she peered over the edge of the battlements. The ground seemed such a long way down. ‘So this was where the locals stood to fire arrows or hurl missiles at their enemies?’
‘That’s right,’ Tash said. ‘Simon has this fantasy that he might do the same if ever any of his business rivals turn up outside our front door.’
‘They’d never be fast enough to catch up with me,’ her husband said. ‘Now, how about that? Beautiful or what?’
Daniel surveyed the panorama beyond the cobbled courtyard and grounds of the Hall. From the gravelled drive, a track led to the farmhouse and a string of outbuildings. A separate lane linked the farmstead to the main road into the village. From the point where the lane petered out, the coffin trail led past fields where the sheep grazed quietly, towards Underfell. His gaze travelled along Priest Edge. The Sacrifice Stone, there was no getting away from the Sacrifice Stone. It stood on top of the ridge, an anvil awaiting a giant blacksmith.
‘I met Tom Allardyce in The Moon under Water,’ Daniel said.
Simon chuckled. ‘Let me guess. He didn’t buy you a pint and make you feel welcome.’
‘Someone said he likes animals more than people.’
‘That’s about right. Although maybe it’s not such a bad fault in a farmer. If foot and mouth had touched Brackdale, I’m sure Tom would have shot the men from the ministry rather than see his beasts destroyed. Allardyces have farmed in Brackdale for centuries, but he’d do better if he was less bloody-minded. We have had a few run-ins over the years. At least his wife’s a treasure. We appreciate her even if he doesn’t.’
‘I gather he has a temper.’
‘Poor Jean,’ Tash said. ‘She’s such a decent woman. You’ll meet her soon, she’s cooking a wonderful meal for us. They’re chalk and cheese, the Allardyces. Jean wouldn’t say boo to a goose. As for Tom, one of these days I’m sure he’ll square up to Simon, and then he’ll have gone too far.’
‘I’ve coped with worse in the building trade,’ Simon said.
‘Let’s not talk about him,’ his wife said. ‘Welcome to Brackdale. I only hope you two will be as happy here as Simon and I have been.’
‘So how are you settling in to Tarn Cottage?’ Tash asked as Jean Allardyce served blueberry swirl cheesecake.
The farm manager’s wife kept scuttling in and out of the dining room like a nervy mouse. She was an excellent cook with a predilection for dishes that made Daniel put on weight simply by looking at them. That Tash retained her lithe figure was a tribute to her gym regime. The workouts must be ferocious to compensate for such a calorie-laden diet.
‘Fine,’ Miranda said. ‘Of course, there’s so much to do and we keep debating the choice of décor. Our tastes aren’t exactly the same, but it would be boring to live with someone who had identical tastes. Like putting yourself through a Xerox machine.’
Daniel said, ‘At least the place is habitable, after weeks of builders coming and going. God knows how the old woman who used to live there coped. It was so primitive.’
‘Mrs Gilpin spent all her life in
the valley,’ Tash said. ‘A trip to Lancaster would have been like a visit to a foreign country. She didn’t like change, did she, Jean?’
The housekeeper shook her head. ‘She – she liked to keep herself to herself.’
‘You grew up in the valley?’ Daniel asked her.
‘Yes, but we never had much to do with the Gilpins. The father died when Barrie was a baby. Barrie was a few years younger than me. His mother doted on him but tried not to let it show. She didn’t want him to grow up spoiled and anyway, he had…problems. Everyone thought he was a weirdo, kept a distance. Though I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.’
Daniel nodded. ‘He was likeable, once you got used to him. And no fool, just a bit naïve.’
Tash’s eyes widened. ‘You talk as though you met him.’
‘I stayed here when I was a boy,’ he said. ‘For a couple of weeks, Barrie and I became friends. I enjoyed his company. He was gentle, wouldn’t hurt a fly. I find it hard to imagine how he could ever have committed any act of violence. Let alone such a barbaric killing.’
‘Coffee?’ Jean Allardyce asked. Her voice was croaky, as if the mere mention of the murder was enough to bring back distressing memories.
‘Black for me, please,’ Miranda said. ‘So you knew the Gilpins too, Tash? Before the girl was murdered, I mean?’
‘Well.’ Tash nibbled at her lower lip, as if regretting having said too much. ‘We’ve tried to become part of the local scene.’
‘It’s taken ten years to make our neighbours realise that we don’t want the place bulldozed to make room for a leisure centre or hypermarket,’ her husband said. ‘Even if only for selfish reasons, there’s no way we’d ever want to spoil the valley.’
‘And Barrie Gilpin,’ Daniel said, dragging the conversation back. ‘You came across him?’
‘An oddball,’ Simon said.
Tash frowned. ‘That’s unfair, darling. He was different, that’s all.’
‘Oh yeah? I remember you saying…’
‘Look, I admit I found it difficult when you were away and there was no one else around here but Barrie. He could be scary.’
‘He was a voyeur. He made you feel uncomfortable.’
Tash coloured. ‘Even so, I didn’t dislike him, not at all. He was – well, naïve. Child-like. I felt sorry for him. That’s why I was happy for him to work here.’
‘He worked for you?’ Daniel asked. ‘Doing what?’
‘This and that,’ Simon said. ‘Painting and decorating. Helping Tom to clear out the pond every now and then. You could call it cheap labour, but it suited us and it suited him.’
Tash shook her head. ‘You could say the murder was my fault.’
Daniel stared at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Listen, the truth is that Barrie Gilpin was pretty much unemployable, but I persuaded Simon to find him work to do. Big mistake. If he hadn’t been hanging around here when Gabrielle Anders came calling, she’d be alive to this day.’
‘Gabrielle was a friend of mine.’ Tash gave a little shiver. They had moved from the dining area into the sitting room that adjoined the tower and were washing down a splendid meal with strong coffee. ‘Even now, I hate to think about what happened to her – up on the fellside.’
‘Sorry if I’m raking up bad memories,’ Daniel said. ‘It’s just that I don’t know the full story and from the fragments I’ve heard, I’m bound to be curious.’
Simon produced bottles of Drambuie and Irish Mist. When Miranda said that she was driving, he laughed and said, ‘Don’t worry. You won’t find any speed traps or lurking panda cars in Brackdale. The police are putting up cameras on all the main roads, the bastards. One more way to take money from us. But you’re safe in the valley.’
‘No thanks,’ she said. ‘I need my wits about me if I’m to negotiate all the bends and narrow lanes on the way home. I’ve already developed a habit of catching my wing mirror against the dry stone walls.’
‘You’ll keep us company, Daniel?’
Daniel hadn’t tried to keep pace with his host’s consumption of booze during the meal. Even so, he could feel his eyelids drooping. But alcohol might loosen tongues.
‘Sure.’
As he filled each glass to the brim, Simon said, ‘Tash hadn’t seen Gaby for years until she showed up here.’
‘Gabrielle.’ His wife corrected him firmly. ‘She always wanted to be called by her full name.’
‘Sorry, darling. Well, Gabrielle had been living abroad and then she came back to England on holiday. She didn’t give us any advance warning at all, even though…’
‘Darling, that was just her way,’ his wife interrupted. ‘She loved to do things on the spur of the moment. I suppose that was one of the things I liked about her. Poor Gabrielle, she was so much fun, always.’
‘It was a pleasant surprise when she turned up,’ Simon said with a grin. ‘I was working at home one afternoon. Tash had driven up to Ennerdale for a day’s painting. The doorbell rang and I found this gorgeous lady standing outside. She told me she used to know Tash back in Leeds.’
‘We both shared the same dreams,’ Tash said. ‘We fancied ourselves as actresses. Failing that, as models. Magazine front covers, television, you name it. Of course it never happened. We both did plenty of photo-shoots, but the big break never came.’
Miranda said, ‘So you moved to Cumbria?’
‘Gabrielle and I both drifted out of the business and we drifted apart as well. We were both sick of city life. I fancied moving to the countryside, Gabrielle decided to emigrate. Last time I heard from her, she was leaving for America. She wasn’t good at keeping in touch, I didn’t have an address or phone number for her. To be honest, I’d almost forgotten about her. So I hardly expected to come home one day and find her telling Simon all the embarrassing stories about the way I used to fluff my lines whenever I had an audition, even for the simplest voiceover.’
‘Just think,’ Simon said lazily, ‘if your acting career had taken off, you could have a part in a soap instead of living out here in the middle of nowhere.’
‘I know which I prefer,’ Tash said. ‘It was a wonderful surprise to see Gabrielle again. And so heartbreaking that she died such a cruel death.’
‘Did she stay with you?’
Tash took another sip from her glass. ‘We offered, but she’d booked into The Moon under Water for a few days and she didn’t want to put us to any trouble. Or so she said. I did wonder if she liked having Joe Dowling follow her round with his tongue hanging out. When you’ve lived in Brackdale a while, Miranda, you’ll find out what he’s like. Anyway, Gabrielle was just bumming around, stopping off in the Lakes on her way further north. She said she’d seen more of America than her native country and she wanted to put that right. Later on, I couldn’t help thinking, if only she hadn’t looked me up on the off-chance…’
‘You can’t blame yourself,’ Simon said.
‘But Barrie met her through me. You can’t deny that.’
Her husband shrugged. ‘He didn’t have a history of violence. Nobody could have foreseen the murder.’
‘How did you come to introduce Barrie to Gabrielle?’ Daniel asked.
‘We’d asked him to varnish the pergola. He’d finished for the afternoon just as I came home from Ennerdale. When I drove into the courtyard, he was filling the bins. He always liked to chat and we were having a word when Simon came out with Gabrielle. When I saw her, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was so much to catch up on, but of course I introduced Barrie before the three of us went back inside. His jaw dropped at the sight of her. I could see at once that he was smitten, but it never occurred to me that there might be any harm in it.’
‘He used to watch you,’ Simon said. ‘I guess he fancied Gabrielle just as much. I suppose there was a resemblance. Two tall, glamorous blondes, both totally out of reach so far as he was concerned.’
‘Perhaps he didn’t realise that Gabrielle was out of reach,’ Miranda suggested.<
br />
‘In his own funny way, he was rather sweet.’ Tash nibbled at her lower lip, casting her mind back. ‘Always trying to do little kindnesses for me. Trouble was, he was so clumsy that he usually made a mess of things. He made sure he bumped into her the very next morning. When he offered to show Gabrielle round Brackdale, it sounded like a ham-fisted chat-up line. She turned him down nicely, but I could tell he was upset. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.’
‘It’s a fault of our sex,’ Simon said lightly, giving Jean Allardyce an affable nod as she returned to clear the coffee cups. ‘Let’s not spend the whole evening discussing the murder. Too depressing. Take it from me, Daniel, Tarn Cottage is a bargain, even with all the work it must need. I saw the price the agents were quoting and I’d have put a bid in myself, if it hadn’t been for the memory of Barrie Gilpin.’
‘So you believe he was guilty?’ Daniel asked.
Simon drained his glass. ‘He was the obvious suspect.’
‘The obvious suspect isn’t always the right one.’
A dismissive wave of the hand. ‘Don’t let it worry you. By the time you want to consider selling the cottage, his name will be long forgotten and there won’t be any need to factor a discount into the price.’
Tash said quietly, ‘You’d like to think that Barrie didn’t kill Gabrielle?’
‘I’m not convinced he was capable of it,’ Daniel said.
There was a clatter as one of the cups slipped off Jean Allardyce’s tray. Simon picked it up off the carpet and said, ‘No harm done, Jean, it was empty already.’
Turning to Daniel he said, ‘This is nothing to do with the fact that you’re making a big investment in Tarn Cottage, by any chance?’
The Coffin Trail Page 11
