‘Why do you ask?’
‘She’s very up herself, trying to be glamorous.’
‘She is very stylish tonight,’ he said to annoy her.
‘Really? She needn’t put on airs, because her bookshop hardly makes any profit, and she has to give Welsh lessons to make ends meet. People get their books online these days, don’t they? She’s tried organising literary events to drum up interest, but they haven’t taken off. She might have to give up the shop and move out.’
‘That would be a shame. The bookshop is well stocked, and she clearly cares about it. Why do you say that she might have to give it up?’
‘Bryn told me. One of his uncle’s friends owns the place and rents it out to her. I wouldn’t have thought she’d be the type to interest you.’
‘People interest me, full stop.’
She smiled coyly. ‘Do I?’ She’d done something strange with her eyebrows. They seemed dense and a bit startling.
‘Where were you living before you came here?’ he asked.
‘I was in Cardiff.’
‘Did you know Afan before you moved here?’
She reached for a pigtail and said sulkily, ‘Strange question. Why are you asking me that?’
‘You asked me if I was interested in you. Now you don’t seem to like a friendly enquiry.’
‘Jasmine’s about to start,’ she said with obvious relief, sticking the pigtail end between her lips.
Jasmine was wearing a long green velvet dress edged with blue and laced across the bodice. It was fitted at the waist and flowed down in panels. The sleeves billowed as she walked up the side of the packed room. Very Lady Guinevere, Swift thought, joining in the applause. Jasmine stood at the front, next to her harp, her hands joined in front of her waist.
‘Thank you all so much for coming tonight. Wales has an unbroken tradition of harp playing and I’m proud to continue that here at Tir Melys. I play the triple harp, which is considered to be Wales’s national instrument. It has a unique, shimmering voice. I’ll be playing traditional ballads and dances for you.’ Her smile turned to a solemn gaze. ‘This concert is dedicated to Afan Griffith, who was a member of our warm, close community here at Tir Melys. He was found brutally murdered last Tuesday. We all mourn Afan in our own ways, but I hope that the music tonight will help us to celebrate his life and honour his memory. You can drink to him afterwards also, with a glass of his wonderful mead. The final piece tonight will be “The Ash Grove”, which Afan was fond of. Thank you.’
She sat at the harp, shifted her stool, rested her hands on the instrument, lowered her head for a few moments and started playing. She was a good musician with a sure touch. Swift scanned the room. All the members of the community were present, most of them in the front row. Peter Merchant sat directly in front of his wife. Guy Brinkworth was staring up at the ceiling, his arms folded, his body language expressing boredom. Swift closed his eyes, relaxing into the rippling strings. Memories of the woman he’d seen in the mist at Ogmore returned and he pictured her again, appearing and disappearing like an entrancing wraith. He was aware of Kat beside him, watchful and tense, chewing on her hair, and resented her presence. After several pieces, all of which received hearty applause, Jasmine announced that she would now accompany Bryn Price singing the beautiful lullaby, Suo Gân. Bryn got up from the front row. Unlike Jasmine, he’d made no special effort with his appearance and was wearing jeans and a creased red T-shirt. He sang confidently, legs apart, his right hand over his heart.
‘Sleep my darling, on my bosom,
Harm will never come to you;
Mother’s arms enfold you safely,
Mother’s heart is ever true.
As you sleep there’s naught to scare you,
Naught to wake you from your rest;
Close those eyelids, little angel,
Sleep upon your mother’s breast.’
The big, brawny man singing the tender lyrics held the audience. Swift noted the door edging open and hoped that Caris was about to appear but saw that it was a flushed and awkward DS Spencer. There were no spare chairs, so he sat on the floor with his back to the wall, wriggling uncomfortably in his constricting suit and loosening his tie.
Jasmine played four more airs. After final warm applause, she stood, beaming, and invited everyone to have refreshments. Before anyone could move, Bryn got up again and stood beside her. His eyes sparked with excitement and malice.
‘Just before the nibbles, I’d like to inform everyone here of some news. Quite a few of you have been attending these concerts for a while now, and you’ve become our friends. Jasmine told you that we’re a warm, close community. We all work hard here, tending the land, and although we’re tenants, we put our hearts and souls into this place. Sad to say, Jasmine doesn’t mean her sweet-sounding words. There won’t be many more concerts. You see, Jasmine and Peter Merchant have had Tir Melys valued, and they’re planning to put it on the market next week. They’re selling out from under us and we’ll be given notice. This is reliable information, confirmed yesterday by my contact at the estate agents in Haverfordwest. I suppose you took your business there, Jasmine, rather than Holybridge, in the hope that we wouldn’t find out before you decided to inform us, when it would be too late for us to do anything.’
A gasp ran through the room. There were a few muttered Nos! Chairs shifted. Kat burst into tears and grasped the opportunity to clutch at Swift’s arm. Jasmine was white with shock. Peter Merchant slumped down in his seat.
‘Is this true?’ Elinor had shot up. She stood, gripping the back of her chair, staring at Jasmine.
Jasmine croaked, ‘This isn’t the time or the place . . .’
Bruno challenged her. ‘Oh, come on, Jasmine, just spit it out, there’s nowhere left to hide.’
‘Yeah, no more porky pies.’ Bryn smiled widely, enjoying himself.
Jasmine gazed at her husband but there was no help from that quarter. She stared over the heads of the audience and swallowed, as if she was about to fold to the floor, but she made a brave effort to hold her ground. ‘This isn’t the way we wanted to break this news, and I’m saddened that Bryn has chosen to mar our wonderful commemoration of Afan. Sadly, because of personal circumstances, we’ve had to take the very difficult decision to sell Tir Melys.’ There were more gasps. ‘We will consult our tenants fully.’
‘Yeah, after the event!’ Bryn shook his head.
Kat wailed, ‘But this is my home! You can’t do this to us! I can’t leave my lovely home!’
Heads turned, mouths open. Jasmine sank down onto her stool. Her husband finally roused himself to get up and go to her. He put a hand on her shoulder. She shook him off.
Bryn took charge. ‘Right, everyone. It’s been a shock but better that it’s out in the open. Let’s have those refreshments. We could all do with a bracer at this point, and the redcurrant wine is particularly fortifying.’
Swift extricated himself from Kat. ‘Go and get a drink, Kat. I need to speak to someone.’
Kat dabbed at her eyes, the picture of misery. Swift drew DS Spencer aside as the audience filtered through to the refreshments.
‘Are you here on duty?’
His heavy-lidded eyes were sleepier than ever. ‘Yeah. The boss asked me to come and make sure Caris Murray hadn’t turned up.’
‘I spoke to Gwyn Bowen. She hasn’t heard from Caris. Any news of her?’
Spencer shook his head and ran a finger around his tight collar. ‘She’s not in Cardiff. Morgan Callender said she left just before nine this morning, to catch the train. He said she always texts him to confirm she’s home and when he didn’t hear from her, he rang her but she’s not answering.’ He scratched his neck. ‘Morgan Callender in Cardiff! He’s a sly one all right, pulled a blinder there, leaving that note about going to London.’
Swift thought about Spencer’s local connections and his boss’s opinion of his abilities. ‘You do understand that you mustn’t mention Morgan’s whereabouts to anyone?
He’s terrified that his brother might track him down.’
Spencer sounded wounded. ‘Yeah, the boss said to keep my lip zipped. I do know when I’m not supposed to say stuff! How come you managed to find that house in Cardiff?’
‘I asked around. It’s called detective work. Have you spoken to Ms Murray?’
‘I called in to her just before I came here. She’s in a terrible state, bawling her eyes out. My mam’s in with her.’
‘Is Caris a missing person?’
‘Not as such. We’re checking the hospitals for now. Boss said we’ll give her till ten o’clock, see if she appears. Bloody hell, it’s warm in here! I’m parched, I could do with a glass of water, and I need to go around everyone and ask if anyone’s heard from Caris today. Boss wants me to report back by nine thirty.’
‘Is DI Weber still in hospital?’
‘No, she’s back home with medication. I hope it improves her mood. She nearly chewed my ear off earlier.’
In the refec, Swift grabbed a slice of quiche and a bottle of beer. The Merchants were nowhere to be seen. There was a babble of excited conversation as people discussed Bryn’s revelation. Elinor had been home to fetch Frankie and came through the door cradling him. She was ashen and tearful. Bryn was in the middle of a group, talking animatedly. Bruno stood alone by a window, sipping a glass of wine. Swift joined him.
‘Hello, Bruno. Quite an evening.’
Bruno glanced at him and went back to window gazing.
‘Bryn told me last night that there was going to be a big reveal soon. It was dramatic in there. I’d guess that was Bryn’s idea, making the news into headlines.’
Bruno’s mood seemed flat, his face immobile. ‘We decided to tell people tonight so that the Merchants had nowhere to hide. Force their hands. They’ve been planning this behind our backs. Bryn said he’d told you about Uncle Davey.’
‘Did Afan know that this farm used to be in your family?’
‘I told him not long ago,’ Bruno said, ‘and about our suspicions regarding the Merchants. I asked him if he’d loan Bryn and me some money if the place went up for sale. We plan to buy Tir Melys — and at a knock-down price, the way the Merchants got it from Davey. What goes around comes around, ain’t that the truth?’
‘What makes you think they’ll sell it to you at less than market value?’
Bruno looked out at the hazy shadows of the gathering dusk. He pressed his palm to the window. ‘We’ve been doing our homework behind the scenes. The Merchants aren’t the only ones who can conceal their plans. They’re desperate to sell. Their son’s in deep financial doodoo. We want to keep the community going. If people want to chip in financially, they can, but we wanted to be in a position to buy it anyway. We outed the Merchants tonight so that they’d face as much embarrassment and hassle as possible, from both the tenants and the local community. Bryn’s got the local news onto it tomorrow. We’re going to put a deal to them tonight. No putting it on the market, a fast sale to us and we’ll call off the dogs. Good news story, people get to keep their homes and the community stays intact.’
It might well work. ‘And you get your old homestead back.’
‘Not mine, but near enough.’
‘Did Afan agree to lend you money?’
Bruno traced a pattern on the moisture his hand had left on the glass. ‘He hadn’t decided, he said he’d let me know. We plan to get people to buy their houses where they can afford it, so that we have a community of owners, not tenants. So I told him we’d be able to repay him pretty quickly. It wasn’t the money that bothered him. He wasn’t sure about our tactics regarding the Merchants. Him and his high principles. He didn’t like us being underhand and said we should all have an open discussion about it.’
‘Can you afford to do it without Afan’s loan?’
Bruno grew tetchy. ‘Enough, now. I’m fed up of your constant questions.’
Bryn waltzed up, brimming with energy, threw an arm around Bruno and placed a smacking kiss on his head. ‘Nearly there, my friend.’ He winked at Swift. ‘I saw you were chatting up the lovely Gwyn and Kat didn’t like it.’
‘You don’t miss much.’
‘You’re right there. I was hoping to talk to Gwyn myself, but she’s already gone. She might be interested in moving here if everything works out. She could cut her losses and leave that hopeless bookshop. Time she had a lucky break.’
‘Has she been unlucky?’
‘Well, her dad’s buggered and in a nursing home. She was seen as a high-flier when she was at school. Top-class brain. But she lost the plot at some point and flunked out. Terrible waste of talent if you ask me, and now she struggles to find the rent on those premises. So, did you like my reveal? I did promise you one!’
‘Pure theatre. Jasmine suffered publicly, as you intended.’
Bryn laughed. ‘Just deserts. We’ve got big plans for this place. The house will be a crafts centre, for starters. And it will be a proper community of owners, not a feudal domain. I’ve told the others we’ll have a meeting here at ten in the morning without Jasmine and Peter, where we can go through everything. Come on, Bruno the bear, we’ve work to do at the big house with Jasmine and Peter while they’re still licking their wounds. Let’s see them squirm while they accept our proposal.’
Swift decided to call it a night and finished his beer. Elinor intercepted him as he headed for the door, staring anxiously into his face. Her breath was sour.
‘What on earth are we all going to do? This is unbelievable.’
‘Bruno and Bryn seem to have a plan. Talk to them about it. Where’s Guy?’
‘He said he’s had enough for one night. He’s hiding in the studio. What will happen about the adoption now, with this hiatus? Everything just thrown up in the air. Fwankie’s all upset too, he senses something’s wrong.’
She swayed as she spoke, and Swift held her elbow for a moment, worried that she might keel over. ‘You should go home, Elinor. You’re not well.’
‘Home. Where is that going to be, I wonder?’ She shivered.
Swift was relieved when Suki came over and gave Elinor a glass of mead. He said goodnight and stopped at the phone on the veranda. He rang Sofia Weber.
‘No news of Caris,’ he said. ‘I caught up with DS Spencer. He’s asking around the people here. There’s been major drama tonight.’ He filled her in on Bryn’s reveal and Bruno’s connection to the farm. ‘Also, I’ve got some news for you about Afan’s past. He was involved in a serious accident. I’ve spoken to someone who was there.’
‘Oh, okay. I need to get the ball rolling on Caris tonight. Can we catch up properly tomorrow?’
He could hear that she was running on empty. ‘Of course.’
‘Make it the afternoon. I’ve got to go back to the hospital in the morning for a few more tests.’
‘I hope everything’s okay.’
‘Oh, hospitals . . . They like to give you more to worry about. Once they decide to process you through the system, they take pleasure in practising on you. I’m sure it was a ten-year-old who stuck a needle in me earlier. Talk tomorrow.’
Swift glanced through the open door behind him. He saw DS Spencer making notes while Elinor talked at him and Frankie pawed at his jacket. He stepped out into the cool, slightly smoky air, glad to leave the feverish atmosphere of the Bivium behind. It was time to put pressure on Kat and explore her earlier discomfort. At the cottage, he wrote her a note.
I’ll take you up on your offer to go foraging. I’ll call for you at 6.30 a.m. tomorrow. Then you’ll be back in good time for your meeting about the future of Tir Melys.
He went to her house and slipped the note under the door. He had the feeling she was going to regret issuing the invitation when she read it. Sometimes it was good to turn the tables. Back outside the cottage, he stood and regarded the crops, silvery and shadowy in the moonlight. A quick breeze chilled his scalp. To the newcomer, this place would seem appealing, tranquil, but something about it made him me
lancholy and fearful. Perhaps he was projecting his own loss and anxieties onto the landscape. He longed suddenly for the noise and bustle of London.
* * *
It was a clear, dry morning with a fresh wind blowing straight off the sea. Kat was huddled into a bulky grey parka jacket with the hood up. She said she hadn’t slept much, which was probably true of the community as a whole. Bryn’s big reveal would have caused broken, panicky dreams. She acted friendly but he sensed the strain within. Her limp seemed more pronounced. They walked towards the meadow and he asked her how long she’d been foraging.
‘I started when I came here. I’d watched a TV programme about it, that’s what set me thinking, and once I was settled here, I taught myself. I forage throughout the year. The winter months have thinner pickings but there’s still plenty to collect — acorns, beechnuts, chestnuts and sloes. I made sloe gin for Christmas gifts last year.’
She stopped, flexed her injured foot and made a little gasping sound, like an airbed deflating. It sounded phoney and he made no comment. She glanced at him to check his reaction and then carried on. She was such a player. At least her hair was tucked into her hood, so she couldn’t have a nibble.
He asked, ‘What are we looking for today?’
‘Whatever we see, really. There’s no particular plan with foraging. The major finds at this time of year are blackberries, elderberries and crab apples. You might be interested in seeing the less common plants.’
In the meadow, she led him along the hedgerow and pointed to an area of low-growing plants with broad, oval leaves and purple spiked flowers.
‘There you are. Greater plantain.’
‘Isn’t that a weed?’
‘It is, but it’s also okay to eat. The young leaves are best. I use them in salads. They were in the salad you missed the other night, when you blew me off for supper. Here.’ She nipped a small leaf from the plant and gave it to him.
It was slightly tart, rather like Kat. ‘Not sure I’m that keen.’
‘It grows on you. Afan didn’t like it at first either.’ She took a cloth bag from her pocket, knelt down and opened it out. ‘I’ll pick from this plant if you do another.’ She added despondently, ‘Better make the most of this while I can. I might be homeless soon.’
MURDER IN PEMBROKESHIRE an absolutely gripping crime mystery full of twists (Tyrone Swift Detective Book 8) Page 21
