A Cotswold Casebook Read online

  Two items caught their interest. First Thea, then Drew, exclaimed aloud before reading out the piece in question.

  Thea’s had the headline, ‘Well-known local character found dead.’ The text then explained, ‘A homeless woman known to all as Jammie, has sadly been found dead in an outbuilding near Stroud. On investigation, police learnt that she had left the area around Bourton and Naunton, where she had been in the habit of spending the winter months. A witness reported that she had been told by Jammie that she had been paid to relocate to Bristol, but that she had so disliked the change of scene that she was returning to more familiar parts. Police say there is no suggestion of foul play.’

  Drew read an article that had a photo attached. ‘Wealthy widow’s whereabouts in question,’ said the headline. Then, ‘Mrs Barbara Mallon, widow of the successful entrepreneur, Jack Mallon, has been missing since the New Year. Friends have informed the police, although it is thought that there may not be any real cause for concern. Mrs Mallon was known to travel widely, often with little preparation. She has a son who lives in Central America. However, the police would like anybody with information as to her whereabouts to contact them.’

  The picture showed an elderly woman with white hair and a long chin. It was a face that would remain in anyone’s memory. It was not, however, the face of a vagrant called Jammie. Instead, it was the wealthy owner of the house in Guiting Power, whose death, if made known, would lead to considerable difficulties for its occupants.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Drew.

  With Slaughter in Mind

  Toni was disappointed not to be offered accommodation at the hotel when they agreed to employ her as part of the catering staff for the summer. She had not yet passed her driving test, and home was forty miles away. ‘I can’t do it, then,’ she told the man interviewing her.

  ‘Why did you apply for something so far from home?’ he wondered.

  ‘I thought it would be good experience,’ she said, sounding feeble in her own ears. ‘I’m going to university next year, and wanted to see what it was like, fending for myself.’

  ‘You’re only seventeen,’ he pointed out.

  ‘I know I am. That’s why living in sounded a good idea.’ How to explain the feelings of claustrophobia and frustration that had been building up for months, living with six other people? ‘I’m actually quite capable of looking after myself,’ she asserted. ‘And I’ve got an aunt living not far away.’

  ‘You could stay with her, then,’ he suggested.

  ‘I could ask her, I suppose,’ she said doubtfully. That was not at all the plan. It would be too much like being at home, with young children getting in her way. Toni had had enough of children, at least for a while. She wanted to get out into a world full of adults, and learn some of the quirks of human nature. She was intending to study psychology once she got to university, and life in a hotel seemed to her the ideal source of material to analyse.

  ‘Well, we really would like to have you here until September. It’s booked solid, and it’s never easy to find the right people for the work. You strike me as unusually bright and energetic for an English girl. It’s mostly the Poles and Ukrainians who get the jobs, because they try so much harder. That’s fine, but the guests really like a chat sometimes, and I think they’d go for you.’

  ‘That sounds ominous,’ she said with a little smile.

  He laughed. ‘Sorry. Bad choice of words. We take care of girls as young as you, don’t worry. Everything’s perfectly respectable here.’

  ‘I don’t think I can take the job,’ she said regretfully. ‘Not if I can’t live in.’

  He scratched his thinning hair. ‘Well, maybe I can do a bit of juggling. Phone me this evening, and we’ll have another little talk about it.’

  ‘Okay, then.’

  She went back to where her mother was waiting outside in the car, and explained what had been said. ‘They really want me, but they don’t think I can live in. So I said that wouldn’t work. And he said I should stay with Thea and Drew, but I don’t really want to. Anyway, they’re ten or twelve miles away, so that’s not going to work, is it? I’ll be working evenings a lot. How would I get back there?’

  Jocelyn rolled her eyes. ‘I said it was a mad idea, coming up here like this. Especially Lower Slaughter. It’s got so many bad vibes for the family. I don’t know why I let you talk me into it.’

  ‘Because the money’s good and you’ll be glad to get rid of me for a couple of months.’

  There had been an emotional argument the previous day, leaving Toni confused but more determined than ever to have her way. She’d found the job advertised online, standing out like a bonfire from any of the other places wanting staff. The building was gorgeous, the area a honeypot for rich tourists. But Jocelyn kept referring to an event a few years earlier, just after Granddad had died, which involved both Toni’s aunts, and left the whole family horribly shaken. ‘It’s the same hotel,’ Jocelyn wailed.

  ‘So what? They won’t make the connection, with my surname being different. And look what they’re paying! They must be really grand. They’ll teach me a whole lot of useful skills.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to be a psychiatrist, not a chef.’

  ‘Psychologist,’ she corrected for the hundredth time. ‘And cooking’s always going to be important. I can have it as a second string.’

  Toni was a painfully sensible girl, as Jocelyn regularly remarked. Sporty, popular, hard-working and unnervingly well balanced – a paragon of a daughter that her parents regularly asserted had been left by the fairies in place of their actual child. The other four were like feral creatures by comparison.

  They were expected at Broad Campden for tea – an event that carried some significance for the sisters, who did not meet very often. Jocelyn was younger than Thea, but they had been bracketed together as ‘the little ones’ by an older sister and brother. They had shared one of Thea’s house-sits in Frampton Mansell at a time of crisis for Jocelyn, with a resulting embarrassment and near-estrangement born of intimate revelations concerning Jocelyn’s marriage.

  ‘That must be it,’ said Toni, as they drove slowly through the village. ‘That looks like a hearse outside.’

  ‘So it does,’ said her mother. ‘I wonder what the neighbours think about that.’

  ‘They probably think it makes them special. I would, anyway. See how shiny it is.’

  ‘Old, though. I think they got it pretty cheap.’

  Thea came to the door, and led them into the kitchen. Drew’s children were at the table with electronic gadgets. The dog was doing her best to attract attention, which Toni gave very readily. Drew himself was elsewhere.

  Jocelyn and Toni gave an account of their day, laying out the dilemma for Thea’s consideration.

  ‘Haven’t you got a bike?’ she asked. ‘It would take less than an hour to cycle to Lower Slaughter from here. Much less, probably. We’d love to have you to stay over the summer. We’ve got a spare room.’

  ‘Spare cupboard, more like,’ said Stephanie. ‘Big enough for a hobbit, just about.’

  ‘It’s perfectly big enough,’ Thea said. ‘There’s a full-sized bed in there to prove it.’

  ‘Except it’s folded up,’ argued Stephanie.

  ‘I have got a bike,’ said Toni thoughtfully. ‘But ten miles seems an awfully long way. I’ve never been more than about two. I’d be scared.’

  They all looked at her with varying degrees of sympathy and scepticism. Jocelyn spoke first. ‘I’d be scared to let you,’ she admitted.

  ‘Well, it’s just an idea,’ said Thea. ‘Oh – here’s Drew.’

  The husband and father entered the room with a wary smile. ‘So many females!’ he said.

  ‘There’s me,’ Timmy reminded him. ‘I’m not female.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that. Hello, people. Good to see you.’ He had met his sister-in-law and all her children at his and Thea’s wedding. Even with guests limited to immediate family and closest fri
ends, the numbers had swelled to over twenty. Toni had been selected as the nearest thing to a bridesmaid, carrying flowers and watching over her aunt. She had felt conspicuous and did not enjoy it very much.

  Between them they explained to Drew about the job and the hotel and the cycling idea. He expressed no opinion on any of it, for which Toni felt grateful. She had already concluded that Drew was a very nice man. The funeral business intrigued her, and the children were no worse than her own numerous siblings. Their lack of a mother made them more interesting, too. A summer spent with this family might turn out to be exactly what she was looking for, combined with the novelty of working long hours in the hotel.

  ‘Okay, then – thanks,’ she said, when they’d stopped talking. ‘I’ll do that. If you’re sure?’

  ‘That was quick,’ said Jocelyn, with an anxious frown.

  ‘Does that mean you’re really going to stay here, in the little room?’ said Stephanie.

  ‘Oh, good,’ said Thea, a notch less heartily than was called for. Toni caught the tone and shot her a questioning look. If her aunt was going to see her as a nuisance, that could spoil the whole thing.

  But it was soon smoothed over, and in a jerky, interrupted fashion, the decision was eventually made. Toni should phone the hotel, accept the job, and practise her cycling. Drew would unfold the spare bed and move the boxes and bags that cluttered the little room.

  After a meal together, during which Thea and Jocelyn reminisced across forty years, mother and daughter took their leave. ‘You will watch out for her, won’t you?’ pleaded Jocelyn. ‘It seems terribly sudden. She’s not eighteen yet.’

  ‘Eighteen is more than old enough to manage something like this,’ Thea began, but was quickly silenced.

  ‘Don’t start that again,’ her sister said. ‘We all know your views about mollycoddling.’

  ‘See you next week, then,’ said Thea to Toni. ‘It’ll be an adventure.’

  ‘And we’ll love having you here,’ said Drew.

  It worked out much as expected. The cycling was exhausting on the first day, tiring on the second and almost easy by the third. There were hills and valleys, and the bike lacked many modern refinements to make such terrain easier. The work at the hotel was menial, but there were breaks and diversions enough to render it acceptable. The worst part was cycling back to the Slocombes’ after dark. Headlights dazzled her, and her own lights never seemed bright enough to convince drivers that there was a cyclist to be aware of. ‘I’m going to be killed, I know I am,’ she panted, as she got in at midnight one night. Drew was still up, unusually, because he’d taken a phone call about a death that evening.

  ‘Please don’t be,’ he begged. ‘That would be a tragedy.’

  ‘I saw a very odd thing today,’ she went on, too fired up to contemplate going to bed. ‘Can I tell you about it?’

  ‘Go on, then. Ten minutes is all I can do before bed, though.’

  ‘There’s a patch of wasteland next to the hotel. I mean, it’s not full of rubble and junk. Just not used for anything. Lots of weeds and long grass. Anyway, I saw a woman, quite old, wandering through it, this afternoon, with a basket. She picked a few things, one at a time, very carefully – I couldn’t see what they were. I decided she must be a witch, making up a brew for a spell.’

  ‘Or a flower arranger?’

  ‘Or a poisoner. Some of those plants must be poisonous.’

  ‘Or gathering seeds for her own garden. Lots of things go to seed in July.’

  ‘She looked like a witch. Long skirt and ankle boots.’

  ‘Pointy black hat?’

  Toni laughed. ‘No hat. Grey hair, tied back.’

  ‘Winemaking, and that’s my last idea,’ he said.

  ‘You should have been there. She was furtive. She didn’t want anybody to see her.’

  ‘Bedtime,’ he said. ‘What time do you start tomorrow?’

  ‘Eleven. Nice long break in the afternoon, as well. Not many bookings for dinner, so we can chill for a bit longer.’

  ‘Maybe your witch lady will come back and you can ask her what she’s doing.’

  ‘No way. I’d be too scared.’

  The woman with the basket did come back, and Toni saw her again. It was three o’clock and the lunch was all done, everything washed and put away, tables cleared, ready for a fresh set of cutlery, glassware, flowers and menus for the evening. The staff each had an hour of freedom, though not everyone took the same hour. Hotel guests could demand snacks and drinks at any time, and someone had to be on hand to provide it.

  Hotel guests, she had discovered, were a special breed of human being. They appeared to acquire a powerful sense of entitlement the moment they walked into the foyer. Complaints poured from them on every imaginable topic. Pillows were too soft, showers too hot, beds too close together, door locks inoperable, windows likewise, plumbing too noisy, soap too small. The list was endless, as well as being the source of hilarity in the staff quarters.

  ‘Sounds just like Fawlty Towers,’ said Drew, when she recounted some instances to him. ‘People expecting to see herds of wildebeest crossing the savannah in Torquay.’

  The reference was lost on Toni, who could not remember ever seeing the programme, but she was pleased to have given Drew something to laugh about. Pleasing Drew had become quite important to her. The way he listened so attentively to everything she said, keeping his eyes on hers the whole time, made her feel warm and special. She found herself conjuring his face at odd times of the day, and thinking what a lovely man he was.

  ‘I might show up one day to have a look for myself,’ said Thea. ‘I could have afternoon tea and scones.’

  ‘You could,’ Toni agreed. ‘I could show you around, if it’s not too busy.’

  ‘I want to come,’ said Drew, boyishly. ‘I want to catch that witchy woman.’

  ‘What?’ said Thea, so they explained.

  ‘She’ll be making exotic salads or soups,’ was her first guess. ‘With wild garlic, or rosehips or something.’

  ‘I said she was a winemaker,’ said Drew. ‘Same sort of thing.’

  ‘No.’ Toni was emphatic. ‘It was much more suspicious than that.’

  ‘Have you seen her again?’ asked Drew.

  Toni shook her head. ‘It was only two days ago. I haven’t given up hope that she’ll come back and I can get a better look at what she’s picking.’

  ‘We can’t both go. Someone has to be here when the kids get back from school.’ Thea had finally accepted that the routines of school formed the framework of her day, and nothing could take precedence over them. There was still another week to go before the end of term. Toni had been released early from her sixth-form college, much to Timmy’s envy. The summer holidays were regarded as a burden and a relief alternately by Thea, who claimed to have forgotten everything about the life of a parent of primary-age kids. ‘I think Jessica had a lot of friends she stayed with,’ she said vaguely. ‘Not to mention the cousins and grandparents. I don’t recall her being around very much.’

  Drew’s children had yet to make any serious friends at the new school, despite having been there for two terms. They had no plans or projects in mind for the holidays, and there was no suggestion of a family week at the seaside. The presence of Toni was celebrated as a welcome break from the usual pattern, even though she was out almost all the time.

  It was the next to last day of term when Thea fulfilled her promise and called in for tea at the Lower Slaughter hotel. She pulled rank over Drew, leaving him to receive the children when they got home from school by bus. ‘It’s my niece,’ she reminded him.

  The hotel was dauntingly luxurious, and she would never normally have thought of entering its portals. She even knew a moment of doubt as to whether they would actually let her in. Was Toni allowed to have non-resident visitors? How much would they charge for a cup of tea? But nobody accosted her, and she was relieved to see a couple in their thirties wearing very ordinary clothes, coming down the sta
ircase. What had she expected, she asked herself. Diamond tiaras and mink coats? People were people, and there were all sorts of reasons why they might spend two hundred pounds on a night in a hotel. Honeymoons, escapes, or just a wish for the experience – for one perfect night of their lives.

  She went through to the lounge without anyone challenging her, and waited for Toni to appear. The instructions had been precise: Meet me in the main lounge, and we’ll find a corner somewhere for a chat.

  It happened exactly that way. Carrying a tray containing a pot of tea and two cups, Toni led her aunt up two flights of stairs to a door onto an open terrace on the first floor. It had a low wall around it, and overlooked hills and woodlands to the north-west, with Upper Slaughter the only visible settlement. Getting her bearings with difficulty, she worked out that Notgrove and Naunton were in that rough direction, but that in general there were miles of sparsely inhabited landscape, giving the lie to claims that England was grossly overpopulated, with no space for any more people or houses.

  Tables and chairs were scattered across the space, all of them unoccupied. ‘Nobody much comes out here,’ said Toni. ‘It’s my special place. Look at the wonderful view.’

  ‘I am looking,’ said Thea. ‘It’s fantastic.’ She had been worried that memories of her previous stay in this village would taint the day, but nothing she could see carried any painful associations. It felt like quite a different hotel from the one at the centre of that horrid experience, now fading into the past.

  ‘Oh – she’s there! I didn’t think she was ever coming back.’ Toni pointed to some land perhaps eighty or a hundred yards away. ‘Look at her.’

  Thea quickly located a woman with a basket on her arm, looking like a Victorian watercolour, except that this was someone of at least seventy and therefore probably insufficiently winsome for an artwork. ‘Hush. She’ll hear you.’