by K. J. Frost
I struggle to hide my surprise. Dotty told me she knew Templeton as a boy, but said nothing about looking after him. “She’s never mentioned it,” I say.
“Oh?” He seems disappointed and I’m even more intrigued now. “Well, my father remarried a few years after my mother’s death,” he continues, “and my step-mother insisted I was sent to boarding school at the earliest opportunity. I saw very little of Dotty from then on. Once Sam was posted out East, he wrote to me, and our correspondence continued until he died…” He focuses on a point in the far distance. “I don’t really remember my own mother,” he says wistfully, “and my stepmother was a very cold woman. But I do remember Dotty. She was so much fun and very warm, very loving… I always think of her with such affection.”
“You do know she’s only living around the corner, don’t you?” I ask.
He looks back at me again. “No. I had no idea.”
I nod my head. “You know the white double-fronted villa on the other side of Spencer Road?”
“Yes… She’s there?”
“Has been for about eight or nine months now.”
“And she hasn’t been to see me…?” he says, his voice even more melancholy than it was before.
“She didn’t cope well with Sam’s death,” I explain. “She keeps herself to herself.”
He sits forward, leaning closer to me. “Do you think she’d mind if I called on her?”
“Not at all.” I can hardly say that she’d object, but I don’t think she would.
“It would be lovely to see her again… and talk about the old days.”
“I think she’d like that,” I tell him truthfully.
“And am I to gather from that conversation that Dotty is already acquainted with Amelie?” he asks.
“Yes. They met during the summer, I believe.”
He nods his head and sits back in the sofa, just as Amelie comes back into the room carrying a small suitcase.
“Is this alright?” she asks, raising the case slightly for me to see properly.
“Yes.” There’s a note of query in my voice, because I’m not sure why she’s asking.
She puts it down and comes over to me, looking up into my eyes. “I wasn’t sure how it would fit into your car, so I decided to choose something small.” She lets her eyes drop and I put my finger under chin, raising her face again.
“Well, that was eminently practical of you.” I smile down at her. “There is a space behind the seats, as it happens.”
“And will this fit?”
“Yes, it will.”
I glance over at Templeton and notice he’s looking at us, an unusually contented expression on his face.
“We should probably go,” I say, turning back to Amelie.
“Right away?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I need to eat something, and then get out to The Fox. Aunt Dotty will feed you and you can sit and drink gin with her while I’m out.”
“You’re actually suggesting Amelie partakes of Dotty’s gin and tonics?” Templeton queries, looking shocked. “Their reputation precedes them.”
I laugh. “I know, but Amelie’s a veteran. She and Dotty became friends over gin…” I leave the sentence there and turn to Amelie, who blushes, looking from me to her guardian.
“It wasn’t exactly over gin,” she replies, falteringly. “It was over art.”
“But gin was definitely involved.” She narrows her eyes at me, although her lips are twitching upwards at the same time.
“Yes… alright,” she mutters and lowers her head. “I suppose if we’re going, we’d better go.”
I move over to the door, opening it, and pick up her case, leaving her to say her goodbyes to her uncle.
He gets up from the sofa and pulls her into a hug, then leans back and looks down at her, his hands on her shoulders. “Take care of yourself, my dear,” he says, then glances over at me. “Or perhaps I should say, let this young man take care of you.” He smiles. “I’ll make up an excuse to your aunt. I don’t think we should tell her where you’ve gone, just in case.”
“No, sir,” I reply. “I can’t emphasise too strongly how important it is that you don’t tell anyone…”
He nods. “Message received.”
Turning back to Amelie, he bends and kisses her forehead, then lets her go.
She walks across to me, her face impassive, hiding her fear, I think. As she gets closer, she holds out her hand and I take it in mine. “Come on, then,” I say softly and we go out into the hallway.
One of Aunt Dotty’s most endearing qualities is her ability to take anything in her stride. I’ve no sooner walked in the door with Amelie on my arm, her suitcase in my hand, than she’s taken over, listening to my explanations at the same time as issuing instructions to Ethel, who’s dispatched to make up a bed for Amelie, light the fire in her room and put a hot water bottle beneath the covers to ensure she’ll be warm enough later on.
“You must have been terrified,” Dotty says, handing Amelie a large gin and tonic, once she’s settled her on the sofa by the fire, a blanket covering her legs.
“I was,” Amelie replies, looking at me. “Until Rufus arrived.”
Aunt Dotty twinkles at me. “How heroic,” she chirps, patting me on the chest. “Are you sure you won’t have a drink, dear?”
“I can’t. I’ve still got to work.” Frankly, I could kill for a drink, but duty calls.
“But you’ll have something to eat?” she suggests.
“As long as it’s quick. I really shouldn’t be here…”
“Well you are,” she replies. “And I’m sure your colleagues can spare you for half an hour.”
“Probably.”
She nods her head and takes a large gulp of her iced drink. “Marvellous,” she says, catching her breath. “I’ll go and see how Ethel’s getting on, chivy up the supper, and be right back.”
She’s gone in the blink of an eye and I let out a long breath.
“She’s exhausting.” I go and sit down opposite Amelie, who’s clutching her glass in both of her hands. “Are you alright?” I ask.
“Yes,” she replies. “I can’t stop shaking, that’s all.”
I get up again and move across to crouch down beside her. “You’re perfectly safe here.”
She swallows down her emotions and looks at me. “I know. And I’m sorry for the all the trouble I’m putting you to.” She pauses. “I wish you weren’t going out again though,” she adds.
“So do I.” I lean a little closer to her. “I’d stay if I could. I promise.”
She gives me a weak smile. “I know. I just feel safer when you’re here.”
Not for the first time, I feel myself swell with male pride, but decide it’s best to play it down. “Well, most people know better than to take on Aunt Dotty.” I sit down on the floor and rest my arm along the edge of the sofa beside her. “She taught me everything I know.”
Amelie chuckles. “Oh… really?”
“Absolutely. You’d be amazed at the things she’s picked up on her travels. And I’m not just talking about mixing cocktails.” I lower my voice. “While I’m out this evening, get her to tell you about the men who tried to rob her and Uncle Sam while they were staying in Kuala Lumpur. You’ll never think of her in quite the same way again.” I grin at her and she smiles back.
“You’re actually serious, aren’t you?” she says.
“Deadly,” I whisper.
Right at that moment, Aunt Dotty comes back into the room, sees me sitting on the floor by Amelie and chuckles quietly to herself.
“Perfect,” she mutters, just loud enough for us both to hear, then rubs her hands together. “Ethel says supper will be ready in five minutes.” She looks down at Amelie’s untouched drink. “You need to polish that off, my dear,” she says encouragingly. “And then have another. Best way to deal with shock…”
“I thought alcohol was one of the worst things to have for shock,” Amelie replies.
“T
hat’s not really what I meant,” Dotty says, picking up her drink and taking a long sip. “Let’s face it, if you get pickled enough, it’s highly unlikely you’re even going to remember what it was you were shocked about in the first place. And that sounds like a jolly good cure to me…”
I glance at Amelie and we both burst out laughing.
After a lovely supper of fish pie with runner beans, I make a quick telephone call to my mother and very briefly explain our plan for tomorrow. Unsurprisingly, she’s more interested in my involvement with Amelie than anything else and it takes me a few minutes to get across the importance of the situation, and how vital it is that she and Aunt Issa tell no-one of our impending arrival and that they have to keep her presence as quiet as possible while she’s there.
“Well, as you know, Issa rarely speaks to anyone,” she replies. “Especially when she’s mid-plot.”
“And is she mid-plot at the moment?” I ask, wondering if she’ll manage to be polite to Amelie.
“No. She’s doing some reading up about the Knights Templar and the Crusades at present.”
“The Knights Templar? That’s a bit of a departure, isn’t it?”
“I think she got bored with the Tudors,” my mother replies.
“And you don’t think she’ll mind having Amelie to stay?” I ask.
“No, of course not. I’m sure she’ll be as relieved as I am that you’re finally settling down.”
“Mother,” I reply quickly, “I’m not doing anything of the kind. I’ve only known Amelie for a matter of days. Please don’t start meddling.”
“When have I ever meddled?” she says, sounding offended, although I know it’s not genuine. “What time do you think you’ll be here?” she asks, proving the point.
“I’m aiming to get to Taunton at about one o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
“I’ll get Issa to drive down and collect you,” she replies. “And I’ll get the lunch ready.”
“Sounds marvellous. I’m afraid I’ll have to leave again by about four.”
“Oh dear. Can’t you stay overnight?” She pauses. “We do have four bedrooms. It would all be very proper, if that’s what you’re wondering about…” Her voice fades.
“I wasn’t wondering about that at all. But I’m in the middle of this case, and the sooner I solve it, the sooner Amelie can come back home and get on with her life.”
“With you…?” she teases.
“No comment.”
“You’re really no fun at all, you know?”
“Aunt Dotty has been telling me the same thing,” I reply. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mother.”
I take the walk to The Fox fairly quickly, having left Aunt Dotty regaling Amelie with tales of two Malay robbers who’d accosted her and Sam after they left a restaurant near the government offices in Kuala Lumpur some twenty years ago. As much as I’d rather stay with them, I’ve got a job to do, and I know she’s safe with Aunt Dotty… not to mention being well entertained.
The pub is fairly lively by the time I arrive, which I suppose isn’t that surprising for a Friday evening. I notice Ellis immediately, sitting at the corner of the bar again, and go over and stand beside him.
“How’s it going?” I ask and he turns and looks up at me.
“Fine,” he replies. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.” He pauses. “How’s the young lady?” he asks as an afterthought.
“She’s fine.”
“What happened?” He’s still looking up at me, not paying any attention to what’s happening around us.
“Oh, it was nothing… just a nasty telephone call.” I’m not going to make too much of it… not until I’ve worked out what’s going on, anyway.
He nods his head. “Do you think it’s related to the case?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” I’m looking around the room, taking in the people seated at tables and standing near the bar.
“Seems a bit of a coincidence if it isn’t,” he says, continuing with the conversation, despite my obvious disinterest. “I suppose you’ll have to follow that up as well now… which means more work.”
I look down at him. “Do you ever stop moaning?” I ask abruptly.
He pulls himself up, his cheeks reddening. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m just tired.”
“We’re all tired, Ellis.”
“Yes, sir.”
His head drops and I feel sorry for him. I didn’t mean to be so curt with him and I know it’s only my worries about Amelie that are making me like that. “It’s hard on all of us,” I say, keeping my tone more passive. “That’s why we’ve got to work together.”
He nods and takes a sip of his coffee, grimacing as he puts the cup back down. “That’s gone cold,” he says.
“Shall we get another?” I ask and signal to the landlord, who comes over and takes our order.
The evening passes slowly, but I know that’s partly because there’s nothing happening, and mainly because I’d rather be at Dotty’s with Amelie.
At closing time, people drift slowly away from the pub and, as the last of the revellers make their way home, I turn to Ellis.
“I’ve got some personal business to take care of tomorrow,” I tell him.
“Oh yes?”
“Yes.” I decide against telling him what that business is, and continue, “I should be back sometime during the evening, but you may have to manage by yourself again for a short while until I can get here.”
He nods his head, clearly dying to ask where I’m going, but not daring to. “I’ll be fine, sir,” he says instead.
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I bid him farewell and pick up my pace, heading back to Aunt Dotty’s.
“Amelie went to bed about half an hour ago,” Dotty tells me when I let myself into the living room. She’s sitting by the dying embers of the fire, her legs curled up on the sofa. “She was very tired.”
I nod, despite my disappointment. “And we’ve got a busy day tomorrow,” I reply, sitting opposite her, in the seat Amelie recently vacated.
“She’s a lovely girl.” Dotty gives me a long, hard look.
“Yes… and you can stop meddling too. Honestly, between you and my mother…”
“We just want you to be happy,” she says, holding up her hands.
“I am.”
“Because of Amelie.” It’s not a question, but I’m not going to deny it. “Do you want a drink?” she offers.
“No… Well, yes I do, but I’d better keep a fairly clear head. Tomorrow’s going to be exhausting.”
“You’re coming straight back, aren’t you?” she asks.
“I’ll stay for lunch, but yes, I’ll have to get back here by the evening.”
“Don’t push yourself too hard,” she murmurs.
“I’ll slow down when I’ve caught whoever it is who’s doing this,” I reply.
“Is that the murderer, or the man who’s terrorising Amelie?”
“I think they’re one and the same person.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yes.”
Being Aunt Dotty, she doesn’t push me for information, which is a good thing because I’m not sure I’ve got any. At the moment, I’m just working on instinct and, as I said to Amelie, I feel as though someone’s trying to distract me from hunting down the murderer, and who would want to do that, but the murderer himself?
“I had a long conversation with Gordon Templeton earlier,” I say, changing the subject.
Aunt Dotty’s face pales a little and she focuses on the space between us. “Oh yes?”
“Yes. He was telling me that you used to look after him when he was a child.” Even from this distance, I can see her eyes glistening. “What’s wrong?” I ask, getting up and going over to her, kneeling on the floor beside her. “What did I say?”
She rests her hand against my cheek and smiles weakly. “Nothing, dear boy,” she murmurs. “It’s not your fault.”
“Then what’s wrong?” I ask
again.
She pulls her hand away and sighs deeply. “Oh… I’m just remembering, that’s all.”
“Remembering what? Is this something to do with Sam?” I ask.
“No… well, yes, I suppose… a little. At least in part, anyway.”
As with every other aspect of my life at present, I suppose it was too much to expect a straightforward answer, and I wait, hoping she’ll elucidate. After a few moments, she takes a deep breath and focuses her eyes on mine. “Having that little boy in our house gave Sam and I some of the happiest times of our lives,” she says with heartbreaking simplicity. “Oh… I know we travelled and we had a truly marvellous time together, but we both desperately wanted a child.” She whispers those last few words and lowers her head, then shrugs. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”
“I didn’t realise… I thought your art…” I mumble out my words a little incoherently.
“We told everyone that because it was easier,” she says. “People would have asked questions, tried to be sympathetic, offered advice… and really, it was personal. Between Sam and I.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper and she raises her head again, attempting a smile.
“Don’t be. We were happy. We really were.”
“I know.”
“And having Gordon with us… well, it was just perfect.” She leans forward. “Do you know… I used to pretend he was mine sometimes,” she whispers, then leans back. “But he wasn’t. And then his father married that bloody awful woman.” Her voice suddenly becomes harder. “She had no idea how to care for a child and, within a few weeks had packed the little mite off to boarding school…” The tears return. “I was heartbroken,” she whispers. “Truly heartbroken, even though Sam tried to console me. But I knew I’d probably never see him again. Sam was posted to Singapore a couple of years later and so off we went.” She sighs. “Gordon wrote to Sam from time to time, but the connection between the two of us had been lost. He’d grown up, you see. He didn’t need me anymore.”
