by Rebecca Tope
The whole story did not take long to tell, especially as Digby left most of it to his son. The older man remained in his ramshackle chair, putting in a few words now and then, sighing and even groaning once or twice. ‘Don’t forget about the missing jewels,’ he interrupted, early on, leaving Ant to explain.
‘I told you some of it on the phone yesterday. There was a row with Blackwood last week. Mum took it that he was accusing her of nicking a package that was signed for, apparently, and then just vanished into thin air. But that hasn’t got anything to do with her being missing.’
‘Do we know exactly what was in the packet?’ asked Thea.
‘Carla’s Christmas present, I think. Some piece of bling. Worth a bit, probably.’
‘Okay. Carry on with the story,’ ordered Jessica.
Ant obliged, taking two or three minutes to describe events since Thursday, and his feelings of anxiety about his missing mother. He summed up with the words, ‘The thing that keeps coming back to me is – it’s Christmas. Mum would never willingly stay away from home, knowing how much we depend on her. It’s completely incomprehensible.’
‘Tell us again what she said on the phone,’ said Jessica, sounding rather official all of a sudden.
Ant repeated the familiar words. ‘She said she wouldn’t be able to come home, because somebody was dead.’ Digby moaned gently in the background.
‘Right. So what do you think she could possibly have meant? That was yesterday, you said? Presumably Blackwood was still alive then?’
Everybody looked at her. ‘You think?’ said Thea.
‘Carla hasn’t seen him for quite a bit longer than that,’ Ant remembered. ‘And nobody goes into those woods. He could have been there for days.’
‘Ah.’ Jessica grimaced. ‘That’s not good. You’re telling me that your mother and your landlord might have both disappeared at more or less the same time.’
‘Have the police worked that out as well?’ wondered Thea.
‘They still don’t know that Beverley’s gone AWOL,’ said Digby. ‘We’ve been careful not to tell them.’
‘Ah,’ said Jessica again, looking even more uncomfortable. ‘You’d better put that straight, then. Otherwise you’ll be had for concealing evidence.’
‘Come on,’ said Thea. ‘Beverley can’t possibly have killed him. I mean – Beverley.’ She forced a laugh, which nobody echoed.
Jessica sighed. ‘All right – you know her and I don’t. But from what I can understand, Ant, your mother could have been held up by the unexpected death of somebody she knows, and is upset about it. She phoned to tell you she can’t come home. She was about to tell you her whereabouts, when the phone expired. That’s the best spin we can put on it, and it still doesn’t look very good, does it?’
Ant had already realised that the story had a host of horrible implications. Jessica was forcing him to see that here was a family where the wife went off on her own without telling husband or son where she was going. It was a family that lived in a state of disorder on an estate that was otherwise pristine and evidently extremely affluent, earning their living by buying and selling whatever came to hand, doubtless much of it under the counter and free from tax. They lowered the tone by their very existence. And now the affluent landlord was mysteriously dead, and every reasonable person hearing this story would draw one very obvious conclusion. He clumsily articulated these thoughts, addressing his father in particular.
‘We’re not tinkers, you know,’ Digby protested. ‘Whatever it might look like, we’re perfectly decent people.’
‘Of course you are,’ soothed Thea.
Stephanie went from Ant’s side to Digby’s. ‘You’re very nice people,’ she said. ‘And sad because of what happened to Aldebaran.’
Digby clutched her hand, pulling it to his chest. Ant watched, wondering whether this was another piece of play-acting. It showed every sign of being genuine for once. ‘You’re right, lovey,’ Digby said. ‘Nobody knows how that feels. You’re a good girl for reminding everyone.’
‘It must have been awful,’ said Jessica, just slightly too briskly. ‘But not relevant to the case in hand.’
There was clearly nothing to be said about that. A long time ago, in another country – but not to be lightly dismissed. ‘Did you go out there?’ the young woman asked.
‘We did,’ nodded Digby. ‘She had made her home there, and we wanted to see it. We had her cremated and brought the ashes back with us.’
‘But you’re not thinking Beverley might have gone back there now? For Christmas, perhaps? Nothing like that?’
Ant’s head went up at this new idea. ‘God, no. That wouldn’t have occurred to her. Would it, Dad?’
Digby shook his head emphatically. ‘She would never have afforded the fare, for a start. And she would tell us. Our daughter is long gone now.’ He looked around at them all, gathering himself for an overdue speech. ‘The point, you see, is that it never leaves you. Once you know that the worst thing in the world can actually happen, you never really relax again. And when your wife disappears for two days without a word, you get worried.’
Ant was both impressed and confused. ‘But you haven’t been really worried about her, have you? You’ve been weirdly calm ever since she went. You don’t even seem to be taking it seriously now. What if she’s charged with killing Blackwood? Then what?’
‘I’m worried enough, lad, and don’t you doubt it,’ said the old man angrily. ‘But I know enough to understand that sometimes all a man can do is sit back and wait.’
‘For what?’ asked Jessica softly. ‘Just what are you waiting for, Mr Frowse?’
After that, there seemed to be little to be gained by staying any longer. ‘We’ve got to walk back, and get on with all the Christmas stuff,’ said Thea. ‘We shouldn’t really have come, according to Jessica. But I’m glad we did. Thanks for explaining it all to us.’
‘I’m glad too,’ said Jessica. ‘I’m sorry if I sounded a bit officious. It’s really nothing to do with me – you don’t have to do anything I say. But I really think the police ought to know about your mother. It’s in her own interest, in the long run, to come back and give an account of herself.’
‘She’ll come back when she’s ready,’ said Digby, who was making no secret of the offence he had taken. Jessica’s challenging attitude had forced him into a renewed silence, which had the effect of making the guests feel they should go.
‘Well, I don’t suppose much is going to happen before Wednesday now,’ said Thea. ‘Won’t there have to be a post-mortem before there’s any real progress? And they won’t do that on Christmas Day or Boxing Day, will they?’
‘Shouldn’t think so,’ Jessica agreed. ‘All the same—’
Thea cut her off. ‘That’s enough, Jess. We’ve heard the story and had our say. We should leave these poor men in peace now.’ She addressed Ant. ‘Phone any time if you want to talk. If Beverley comes back, I’d love to know what she says. Or just that she’s safe. Any time,’ she repeated.
‘Thanks,’ said Ant. ‘You’re a good friend.’
Digby looked up at that. ‘As good as we deserve, anyway. Tinkers like everybody thinks of us – nobody’s going to stick up for our rights, are they?’ He sighed bitterly. Even Stephanie had no answer to that. The three females all turned to go. The spaniel got up from the hairy blanket she’d been sharing with Percy, and trotted after them.
Unlike the earlier walk, the return home was entirely occupied with talk about the Frowses and the Blackwoods. Stephanie understood that the others were trying to avoid saying anything too grim about the likely outcome, but she had no illusions as to their real opinions. ‘You think Mrs Frowse must have murdered him, don’t you?’ she accused.
‘I don’t think that at all,’ Thea disagreed. ‘But I can see that’s what the police are going to think.’
‘What’s she actually like?’ Jessica asked. ‘Give me an objective picture of her.’
‘Gosh! There’s a q
uestion. Let’s see. She’s very independent, and doesn’t talk very much. I think she had some sort of job when her kids were at school, and probably after that as well. I haven’t known them very long, remember. I get the impression they didn’t used to be so messy. Things have been going downhill since their daughter was killed. It’s a kind of depression, I suppose.’
Jessica waited for more background. When it didn’t come, she prompted, ‘This business with the landlord. It must be a worry. What’s going to happen ten years from now?’
‘You mean when they’re in their dotage and can’t keep up the fight any longer?’
‘Something like that,’ said Jessica. ‘It doesn’t look as if it could have carried on like this indefinitely. So now the landlord’s dead, what’s going to happen?’
‘Who knows? Carla might carry on in much the same way. She’ll inherit the whole estate and be able to do as she likes. Not that Rufus stopped her doing anything, anyway.’
‘So she’s not likely to have killed him?’ Jessica spoke lightly, as if making a mild joke. But Thea took it seriously.
‘We still don’t know for sure that anybody killed him,’ she said. ‘And we won’t know that till next week.’
Jessica turned to Stephanie and grinned. ‘Looks as if your Christmas is safe, kid. Let’s forget about dead people and think about all that lovely turkey.’
‘And the presents. And the games – and everything.’ For a moment, Stephanie faltered. What was so great about Christmas anyway, when it came down to the details? Was it just a lot of effort for the adults, with all the cooking and buying things and being nice to everybody? Was it just a way of making the darkest days of winter go by more quickly?
‘Gosh, don’t you love it!’ Jessica cried, throwing her arms wide. ‘I might be all grown up, but it still seems like magic to me – and look at this view! What a place to live!’
‘Honestly,’ tutted Thea, pretending to be annoyed. ‘What’s come over you, all of a sudden?’
‘Just glad to be alive, I guess. Come on Steph, let’s run!’
The girls and the spaniel hared along the track, and down the final slope to the road through Broad Campden. The Bakers Arms pub was almost opposite them, festooned with Christmas lights.
‘Now listen,’ said Thea, as they walked past the church and down to the house. ‘Best not say anything about this Blackwood business to Drew. Not yet, anyway.’
‘I wasn’t going to. He’ll have more than enough to deal with without that.’
‘Is that okay with you, Steph?’ Thea asked. ‘I’m not asking you to keep secrets. If he wants to know what we’ve been doing all day, you can say we went to the Frowses’.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Stephanie. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll be doing the funeral, either.’
Jessica gave a yell of laughter. ‘You really are your father’s daughter, aren’t you? Business first and all that.’
Stephanie didn’t know whether to be offended or pleased. ‘Well, he is an undertaker, after all,’ she said meekly. ‘And our field is a lovely place to be buried. Digby says he wants to have a grave there when his time comes.’
‘When did he say that?’ Thea asked.
‘Ages ago,’ shrugged Stephanie. ‘But he did say as well that he’d have to check with his wife first.’
‘No more talk about the Frowse family,’ Jessica ordered. ‘Let’s just be Christmassy for a bit.’
It was nearly four o’clock. Hepzie flopped down in a dramatic display of exhaustion, and Thea glanced at the mobile phone she had left on the kitchen worktop. She found another text from Drew sent shortly before three. All gone well. Should be leaving soon. Have the mulled wine ready.
‘I hope the car doesn’t conk out,’ said Thea. ‘It’s not used to long journeys. All it has to do now is get them back in good time this evening.’
‘All that way for a few hours. It seems pretty daft to me,’ said Jessica.
‘And me. But it’ll be interesting to hear how it went, all the same. I’m still trying to get used to the idea of having a mother-in-law who might actually want to meet me one day.’
‘What do you mean – one day? You’ll have to go to his father’s funeral, won’t you? It’ll be early in the New Year, presumably.’
Thea took a deep breath. ‘That never occurred to me. What about the kids? And the dog? I don’t see how I can possibly go all up there, in the depths of winter.’
‘What you mean is, you’re sure you’ll be able to find a cast-iron excuse not to.’
‘That’s just your nasty, suspicious mind.’
Stephanie found herself recoiling from the laughter that seemed unpleasantly heartless to her. These were her grandparents they were making fun of. Her actual blood relatives. ‘I might like her,’ she said mildly.
‘And she’ll adore you,’ said Jessica, with a quick hug. ‘There’s nothing so wonderful as a granddaughter. She’s been an idiot to ignore you for so long.’
‘Well, we can make it a New Year Resolution to be nicer to family,’ said Thea. ‘Starting with Damien, heaven help us.’
‘If you can cope with Damien, you can cope with anybody,’ said Jessica. ‘Even I think he’s hard going.’
‘He thinks religion gives him an excuse for being terribly rude. He judges and disapproves and makes critical remarks like a Victorian Methodist.’
Stephanie had never met this step-uncle, but was altogether open-minded about him. ‘I expect he’s perfectly nice, really,’ she said reproachfully. ‘And Kim’s sure to be lovely, like Meredith.’
‘Last I heard, she was having mega-tantrums and refusing to eat anything but cheese,’ said Jessica. ‘But if anybody can charm her into better behaviour, I’m sure it’s you, Steph.’
‘She can work her charm on Drew’s mother, then, when we finally get to meet her,’ said Thea. ‘Pity we’ll never know the grandad as well. Mind you, I’ve never liked the sound of them, from things Drew has said. They’re pretty unreconstructed about nearly everything. I gather they more or less disowned him when he became a nurse. They still think nurses should be female. And the undertaking was probably even worse. They found him embarrassing.’
‘But he’s so sweet. How could anybody deliberately shun him like that?’
‘Precisely. They’re obviously horrible people.’
Stephanie listened to this with total absorption. The existence of a nasty bigoted grandmother was intriguing and not entirely unwelcome. Her experience of grandparents was patchy anyway. Her mother’s parents had paid an extended visit when Karen had first been hurt, and then again when she died, with infrequent appearances in the intervening years. They called themselves Nanna and Gampy, and were alternately sickly sweet and sharply critical. They hadn’t approved of the undertaking either, and thought Karen’s ways were uncivilised. When the Slocombes moved to the Cotswolds, the grandparents appeared to take this as a sign that they were no longer needed, and promptly took themselves off to live in Portugal. Stephanie remembered them with mixed emotions. ‘You never wash those children’s faces,’ Nanna had complained. Or ‘This carrot’s still got mud on it,’ objected Gampy. Now, from what she was hearing about Drew’s mother and father, Stephanie was concluding that he and Karen had a very similar pair of parents.
‘But now he’s dead, and Dad’s mum must be sad,’ she said. ‘Maybe that’ll make her nicer.’
‘It’s possible,’ said Thea doubtfully, ‘and she and your dad probably think it’s time for a reconciliation, and from here on it’s all going to be lovely.’ She sighed. ‘She’ll meet my mother and they’ll get along famously, and we’ll turn into a classic nuclear family with two grannies.’
‘Don’t knock it,’ said Jessica. ‘It’s evolved like that for good reasons.’
‘Just so long as neither of them wants to move in with us,’ said Thea darkly.
A minute passed as all three contemplated the situation in varying ways. Then Thea shook herself.
‘I’d better a
nswer Drew’s message,’ said Thea. ‘He’ll be wondering where I am.’
‘He’ll be on the road by now. Don’t make him break the law by answering his phone,’ said Jessica.
‘Right. Except he’s far too law-abiding to do that. He’ll give it to Timmy to deal with. I could just send a text, to keep him happy.’
Again, Stephanie was uneasy at the tone, which came over as unduly critical of her dad. The adult currents were harder to ignore when Timmy wasn’t there. The hints and references were just as confusing, but the implications were clear. Even at Christmas, there was something not right between Thea and Dad, as well as Thea and her brother. In fact, Thea seemed to be the problem, making everyone cross and just laughing at them instead of trying to understand their feelings.
Thea composed a quick message and continued to hold her mobile. ‘I might call Gladwin, as well,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘There’s quite a lot to tell her, after all. Except …’ She stopped, clearly uncertain as to what to do.
‘We’ve been over all that. The only thing you can usefully tell her is that Beverley’s gone off somewhere without telling her menfolk. Speaking as a police officer, I should order you to inform the police about that immediately. But as an uninvolved visitor, anxious for a peaceful family Christmas, I would advise you to leave it all for another day or two. Won’t Gladwin herself just want to put the whole thing on hold until Wednesday? Or Tuesday, at the earliest.’
‘I’m hungry, after all that walking,’ Stephanie interrupted. ‘What’s for supper?’
‘Good God, we’ve only just had lunch,’ said Thea. ‘Don’t tell me I’ve got to produce another meal already.’
‘Have a biscuit for now,’ said Jessica to Stephanie. ‘And I’ll do some supper later on. How do you fancy potato cakes?’
‘You’re a star,’ sighed Thea gratefully.
‘Just keep the mince pies coming and we’ll be fine,’ breezed Jessica.
‘Mulled wine!’ Thea said suddenly. ‘I promised that Mrs Yacop in the village that I’d take her some. She asked me to get two extra bottles, days ago now, and drop them round to her. I completely forgot.’
