Echoes in the Cotswolds Page 5

  ‘Did you say “Bunch”?’

  ‘Yeah. He’s my stepfather, lousy with money. Lives in Atlanta. This was his gift to me when I was meant to be getting married. Long story.’

  But you’ve had five years or more to change it, Thea silently protested. ‘Couldn’t you at least put down some bright rugs, and get a bit of decent furniture?’ she asked, unable to stop herself.

  ‘I tried that, but every time he got me on FaceTime he spotted another change and went ape about it. Upstairs is better.’

  A small girl appeared through an archway, holding a slice of bread. ‘Buster’s still asleep,’ she reported, looking at Thea. ‘Are you the house-sitter?’

  ‘That’s right. My name’s Thea.’ She realised she had not introduced herself to Bobby. ‘Sorry – I should have said that before.’

  ‘And there’s a dog!’

  Thea watched as child and spaniel took the measure of each other. Each appeared to be unnaturally wary, slow to make physical contact. ‘She won’t hurt you,’ she said irritably. She hated having to reassure people about a perfectly harmless little spaniel.

  ‘I’m allergic,’ said Millie ruefully. ‘Dogs make me wheeze.’

  ‘Oh, Millie – that’s just a bit of nonsense, as you well know,’ her mother chastised. ‘The world is full of dogs – you’ve just got to get over it. If you ask me, it’s all a story concocted by your father to make sure we don’t get a dog of our own.’

  Thea was still watching her pet. Hepzie seemed aware of some reason for caution. Where she would normally jump up, lick, pant and generally manifest great enthusiasm, she simply sat a foot away from the little girl and slowly wagged her plumy tail. ‘Maybe there is something,’ she said. ‘She’s not usually as careful as this. She must have sensed it somehow.’

  ‘Oh well,’ shrugged Bobby. ‘I’d better go and wake the baby. He won’t sleep this afternoon at this rate.’ She ran up the stairs that were open to the big room, and footsteps were heard overhead.

  ‘He’s not really a baby now,’ said Millie. ‘He’s one year and two months.’

  ‘Can he walk yet?’

  ‘Nearly. Then he’ll be a toddler.’

  Thea looked around for toys or baby equipment. Shouldn’t there be something to push along, and bricks, and teddy bears and picture books and trains? ‘Where are all your toys?’ she asked.

  ‘In the playroom,’ said Millie, eyebrows raised as if to say Where else would they be?

  ‘Is that upstairs?’

  ‘No.’ She waved towards the archway. ‘Out there.’

  Thea went to look, realising that the house had been extended into the garden, with a flat-roofed addition that contained all the mess and colour and humanity that the big living room lacked. This was more like it. She sighed with relief. ‘That’s more like it,’ she said, coming back into the living area. She looked at Millie. ‘Why aren’t you at school?’ she asked suddenly.

  ‘It’s the Easter holidays. Today is the first day.’

  ‘No, but you’re in the same country as me, and my kids don’t finish until Friday.’

  Millie tilted up her chin. ‘I go to a private school,’ she said with dignity.

  Bobby was halfway down the stairs, carrying a red-faced infant who looked as if he could do with another hour of sleep. She was bent over, in order to see through the uncurtained window at the foot of the stairs. Only then did Thea notice that neither of the two windows had any sort of covering. ‘Uh-oh,’ said Bobby. ‘Here comes the Dynamic Duo.’

  Millie giggled and went to the other window. Thea was torn between curiosity and a desire not to appear nosy. All she could see were two women wearing respectable Cotswolds outfits.

  ‘That’s another reason for keeping this room as it is,’ said Bobby in a low voice. ‘People can stare in and admire it as much as they like. It gives them a thrill. But it’s frustrating for them, because they’ve got to keep walking. Give them a wave, Mills.’

  Was life just one long social game for this family then, wondered Thea. Teasing passers-by and stepfather alike and living their real lives in the kitchen and playroom where nobody could see them?

  ‘They’re coming to the door,’ said Millie.

  ‘Bottoms!’ said Bobby and her daughter giggled again. ‘They can’t possibly have heard about Lucy already.’

  The knock on the door was superfluous, since Millie was already reaching up to turn the handle and let them in. Bobby handed the dopey Buster to Thea without any ceremony and went to add reinforcements to her daughter.

  Thea had time to register that this could well be the first male child of such a young age that she had dandled for ten years or more. Drew’s Timmy had been seven before she met him. Her sisters both had boys, but they were now in their teens. This youngster was something inescapably different from Maggs’s Meredith and Damien’s Kim. The little man did not nestle or burrow into her as the girls did. He pulled back his head and studied her face with acute concentration. ‘Hello, Buster,’ said Thea. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ He smiled then and Thea told herself she was being ridiculous.

  Within moments the big room felt a lot smaller, with four women, a dog and two children filling it. The newcomers were both large and one was loud. ‘Oh, hello!’ she gushed in a rich contralto. ‘I’m Faith and this is Livia. We’re next door to Lucy. We wanted to ask you how she was getting on, and then we saw you coming over here, and thought we might pop over to ask.’

  ‘I’m Thea,’ said Thea, ‘and this is Hepzie.’ The spaniel was standing politely, tail slowly wagging, jaws parted in a doggy smile.

  ‘A cocker!’ Faith approached eagerly and bent to fondle the irresistible ears. ‘Aren’t you a lovely girl, then!’

  The other woman hung back, a tight expression on her face that was barely short of a sneer. She had a long nose and close-together eyes, which arrangement was already halfway towards an expression of superiority and disdain. ‘For heaven’s sake!’ she muttered.

  ‘Lucy’s in a coma,’ blurted Bobby, effectively silencing the whole room. In Thea’s arms, Buster was still not fully awake, but sensing that he was being thoroughly upstaged by both the dog and his very own mother, he made a tentative intervention. ‘Goggy!’ he said. ‘Goggy, goggy, goggy.’

  ‘He means dog,’ his patronising sister explained.

  ‘Sweet,’ said Faith with a smile that revealed a decided preference for dogs over babies. Then she turned to Bobby. ‘What do you mean – in a coma? How in the world … ?’ She had rather prominent blue eyes, and a small chin.

  ‘I don’t know the details. The hospital called me less than an hour ago. They hadn’t started the surgery. We guess it must be an allergy of some kind.’

  ‘Probably to the pre-med,’ Thea contributed.

  Faith and Livia looked at each other, in a silent exchange that made Thea doubt their famous denials of being a couple, as reported by Lucy. Thea was rapidly putting faces to the names she had already noted down. All that remained were the two men – one called Hunter and the other Lucy’s former husband.

  Livia’s eyes widened and her mouth puckered. Several interpretations came to mind: What did I tell you? was one of them. A flickering hint of satisfaction or confirmation could be discerned. Faith’s face was less visible, partly turned away from Thea’s line of sight, but she was convinced she detected a tiny nod.

  Already she had labelled both women as typical Cotswolds types. Moneyed, educated, confident and secure; impervious to the buffeting fortunes and fears of lesser mortals. Aged somewhere around sixty, expensively but casually dressed and under no observable pressure, they conjured echoes of others in other villages and small towns – Cranham, Chedworth, Blockley and Winchcombe had all produced similar examples of the type. So had Temple Guiting and Duntisbourne Abbots. The list was a long one. Only when given closer inspection had these people revealed distinctly individual characters, with a wide array of personal quirks. One or two had proved capable of murder. Others had shameful s
ecrets. And they all had history.

  ‘Somebody ought to go and see what’s going on,’ Bobby continued. ‘It ought to be me, I know, but with these two …’ she shrugged. ‘It ain’t gonna happen.’ The American accent was deliberately caricatured, Thea realised. It had the effect of making Bobby seem more detached and less easy to control. Nobody gave any sign that Lucy Sinclair’s fate mattered enough to cause serious upset.

  ‘But poor Lucy!’ she burst out, before clamping her lips together. None of the things she wanted to say would sound sincere or even relevant. The absence of information, the unexpectedness, the sheer confusion of the situation all meant that really there was nothing worth saying.

  ‘Have you known her long?’ asked the woman named Livia, speaking for the first time. Her voice was breathy and constricted as if she had something wrong with her throat.

  ‘I first met her some years ago,’ Thea replied cautiously. ‘I can’t say I know her very well, if I’m honest.’

  ‘Well, I hope you are honest,’ said Faith with a smile.

  Thea was silenced by this, trying to process the wealth of information the few words had provided. Here, then, was one of those people who took words literally, who listened with unusual attention to what was said, while perhaps ignoring the undercurrents and backgrounds. One of the symptoms of autism, she recalled, was that kind of response to what was said. Even if it was far too soon to make such a diagnosis, she resolved to monitor her utterances closely in Faith’s presence.

  Or perhaps she had leapt to quite the wrong conclusion. Perhaps Faith was intensely clever, probing this new acquaintance for sensitive spots, shifting from one mode to another in a game that nobody else understood was being played. ‘I hope so too,’ she said lightly.

  ‘Well, will one of you go over there and see what’s what?’ Bobby persisted, eager for action. ‘Lucy’s got nobody else but us, you know.’

  ‘She’s got that son,’ said Livia. ‘We need to get hold of him.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Faith argued. ‘She won’t want him, will she? He’s not her real son, is he? Just a stepson. They hardly ever even see each other.’

  ‘Son?’ said Thea, halfway through this exchange. ‘Why didn’t she give the hospital his details, then?’ Before anybody could reply, she put the increasingly burdensome Buster down on the floor. He immediately began a rapid but ungainly progress across the room, sitting upright and using one leg as a kind of propeller. Thea watched in fascination.

  ‘He does that,’ said Millie. ‘It’s quicker than walking or crawling.’

  ‘Lucy wouldn’t want that son of Kevin’s anywhere near her,’ said Bobby, gazing fondly at her own little boy who was determinedly making for her. ‘She said so.’

  ‘You do know, I hope, that if an infant never crawls properly, it’s liable to have difficulties in reading later,’ said Faith. ‘I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before.’

  Nobody paid this any attention, perceiving it to be a wholly irrelevant distraction. ‘Well, what about Kevin, then?’ said Livia. ‘I mean – there’s got to be some blood relative that needs to be informed.’

  ‘Kevin’s not a blood relative, is he?’ Again Faith sounded pedantic and excessively literal.

  ‘Next of kin,’ said Thea automatically. The undertaking business entailed a clear understanding of the legal pecking order of contending relatives.

  ‘They’re divorced,’ said Bobby. ‘That cancels out any rights he might have had.’

  ‘True,’ Thea agreed, wishing she had remained silent. Her role in this strange situation was at best peripheral. She could make no claim of any sort. If Lucy was incapacitated, that very probably also cancelled out any responsibility Thea might have towards the house. She could hardly guard it indefinitely, with no idea of what the outcome for Lucy might be.

  ‘I think you should be the one to go to Oxford,’ Bobby said. ‘You can go as my deputy. I hereby authorise you. Maybe I should put it in writing.’

  Faith and Livia made small sounds of concern, but soon realised they had no choice but to keep quiet. Short of offering to go themselves, they had no helpful contribution to make. And there appeared to be no chance of their doing that. These, Thea recollected, were the hellishly inquisitive neighbours that Lucy disliked so much.

  ‘I’m not sure I want to dash off to Oxford,’ said Thea with a frown, only then remembering that she had refused to do that very journey, earlier on that very morning. There was a whiff of nemesis attached to the thought. ‘What about my dog?’

  ‘Leave her here,’ said Bobby blithely. ‘She seems to like us.’ Millie and Hepzie had gravitated towards each other while the adults stood around agonising. Now they were closely entwined on the only rug in the room – a pale grey piece of elegance in front of the boarded-up fireplace.

  It would be dishonest to claim that the spaniel would pine or even protest if abandoned by her mistress. As a breed, spaniels were promiscuous, moving seamlessly from one household to another if so required. Loyalty was barely even skin-deep in a spaniel.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Thea dithered. As far as she could recall, this was an unprecedented turn of events. People had been found dead a number of times during her years of house-sitting and Thea had marched into homes to conduct her own amateur investigations. She had accosted people in the street and put herself in harm’s way. She had spied and accused and risked and insulted – but not once had she been asked to go to the bedside of someone who was apparently struck down by entirely natural causes. ‘What good can it do?’

  Faith spoke up. ‘Ask them who they think needs to be informed. Ask them what the prognosis is. See if you can establish just how deep the coma is – she might be able to hear a voice and respond.’

  Livia’s hoarse voice interrupted. ‘They might be worried about litigation, if they gave her the wrong drugs. Don’t you think that’s the most likely explanation?’

  ‘Oh!’ said Thea, feeling foolish. ‘I never thought of that.’ They all looked at her, their faces confirming the feeling. ‘I suppose that must be what happened.’

  ‘What else could it be?’ said Faith.

  Chapter Six

  Before anyone could reply, a noise outside sent every head turning to the window. ‘There’s a commotion,’ said Faith superfluously. ‘Someone’s banging on Lucy’s door.’

  The street was sufficiently wide and busy for ordinary knocking on the opposite side to be inaudible – especially through Bobby’s double glazing. ‘That’s not what we’re hearing,’ said Livia. ‘Look!’

  A face was seen at the window, shamelessly staring in, one hand tapping the glass. Quite how Faith had managed to focus on the person several yards away was unclear, when this much more prominent person was only two or three feet from them. It was a woman with a sharp nose and badly dyed purple hair. ‘It’s a witch!’ cried Millie in genuine alarm.

  ‘Better let her in,’ said Bobby calmly. ‘It’s just an ordinary woman, Mill. Nothing to get scared about.’

  Nobody moved for a moment, hypnotised by the insistent tapping at the window. ‘Why didn’t she just knock at the door?’ wondered Faith.

  ‘Because she could see us all in here,’ said Bobby, adding a silent obviously. She went to the door and invited the woman in. ‘The more the merrier – I guess,’ Thea heard her say. Bobby’s calm was starting to feel unnatural, given the circumstances.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ jabbered the newcomer. ‘I’m Tessa – I’m with Kevin. He’s just heard that Lucy’s gone in for her op, and he wanted to come and ask about visiting. He always does that, even when he knows perfectly well he isn’t wanted. I told him it was no sense going to her house if she was in hospital, but he said she might have somebody staying. Then I could see all of you, right over the road, so I came to ask if you know how she is, and if there’s any news, seeing as how you’re neighbours. She’ll have told you not to speak to Kev, of course. But he still cares, you know. She’s been very shabby towards him, if you ask me.’ She paused for bre
ath and looked around at the circle of faces. Thea realised how odd it was that they were all still standing, after at least twenty minutes. Bobby had not invited anyone to sit on her spotless furniture. It gave the proceedings an awkward temporary feeling. Nobody – except Bobby – was relaxed; any of them could make a sudden move. Tessa faltered, belatedly aware of the atmosphere. ‘Is something going on?’

  ‘Quite a lot, actually,’ said Faith. ‘Perhaps you should call Mr Sinclair over here as well.’

  The suggestion was unnecessary as it turned out. The man was already at the window, waving an arm, but not tapping. ‘Let me in,’ he mouthed.

  The intrusion of a man into their midst changed everything. He brought cool air and a loud display of anger. Buster whimpered and tried to climb up his mother. Hepzie tucked her tail in and sat on it. Garments stirred as if in a breeze. Livia in particular, who was wearing a long, loose, dark blue top, appeared to be quivering.

  ‘This is getting silly,’ said Bobby, who appeared to be counting heads. ‘Faith, Livia, perhaps you could go now. I’m not really sure why you’re here anyhow. It’s not as if you and Lucy are exactly on good terms, is it? If you just wanted to check up on the latest news, you’ve done that, haven’t you?’

  ‘She’s right,’ said Livia, with impressive dignity somehow enhanced by her husky voice. ‘We should go.’ And she led the way without a backward glance, Faith one step behind her. They closed the door quietly behind themselves.

  It was still quite a roomful and Thea found herself torn between her inborn curiosity and a wish to walk away from the increasing sense of Northleach as a hotbed of ill feeling and hidden histories. Her anomalous position was causing her increasing anxiety the longer she stood there. Bobby was a poor hostess by any standards. Her children would surely start to make demands at any moment, once the strangeness of the unexpected gathering faded enough to give them the courage to assert themselves. The man who had been married to Lucy had opted for anger over suspicion or bewilderment, his appearance in the street a powerful twist to the growing mystery of what was going on.