Echoes in the Cotswolds Read online

  ‘Well, you probably don’t. We’re not a couple, you know. Everybody assumes we are, and it’s very annoying.’

  ‘Does it matter? What difference does it make?’

  ‘Of course it matters. There would be all kinds of silly ideas about us, and sniggering and pointed remarks. There are, anyway, but we make every effort to suppress them.’

  ‘Really?’ As far as Thea could see, the fact of two women living as a couple – or two men, come to that – had become singularly unremarkable in recent times. She couldn’t recall hearing a single snigger from anyone for ages. Not where same-sex couples were concerned, anyway.

  Her scepticism did not go unmarked. ‘Yes, really,’ snapped Faith. ‘But I didn’t come to talk about myself.’

  ‘No, you came to find out what was going on with Lucy. And the answer is – nothing, as far as anyone’s told me. Now I need to get on, if that’s all right. I’m not authorised to offer hospitality, so perhaps you could go?’ This, she realised, was the second time in two days that Faith had been asked to leave. Perhaps it happened to her all the time. She certainly showed no sign of offence or surprise.

  ‘I can’t stay, anyway,’ she said carelessly. ‘We’ve got a committee lunch today.’

  ‘I heard about your committee,’ said Thea, before she could stop herself. ‘It seems to be quite a big thing.’

  Faith blinked. ‘What does that mean? What have people been saying?’

  ‘Lucy mentioned it, I think. Possibly Bobby did as well. I can’t remember now. Is it the town council or something?’

  Faith laughed scornfully, but also flushed before answering. ‘Nothing like that at all. It’s just a social club, basically. It was Hunter’s idea to call it The Committee – capital T capital C – as a sort of joke. It was originally just The C-O-M and that sounded odd. We have lunches and go on outings, and hold discussion evenings. It’s a bit like the U3A in some ways, but we don’t pretend to be educational, and don’t have any age limits.’ The words emerged in an unconvincingly careless fashion, as if Thea couldn’t possibly be seriously interested.

  ‘Sounds like fun,’ said Thea dubiously. ‘So does it have an actual committee?’ She recalled Jeremy Higgins’s reaction – that you couldn’t just have a committee in isolation. It had to represent a larger organisation. Somehow there was a logical difficulty with the one under discussion.

  ‘Only a very informal one. Hunter’s the big chief, and Livia handles the money, when there is any. That’s more or less it. It’s enormous fun, I assure you. Very liberating. And enlightening at times. Hunter’s incredibly brave, you know.’

  ‘Is he?’ Thea was bemused. ‘In what way?’

  ‘I can’t explain now. You’re sure to meet him if you’re going to stay here. He’ll tell you about it, if you ask him.’

  ‘Lucy’s not part of it, is she?’

  Faith pursed her narrow lips. ‘We invited her, and she declined. She doesn’t appear to be a very sociable person. To be honest, I don’t think she liked the sound of us and what we do. She has some very fixed ideas.’

  Thea said nothing to this, and Faith let herself out without any further comment. She gave a little wave through the window as she passed.

  ‘Now what shall we do?’ Thea muttered, forgetting that she had come without her dog. The answer came three minutes later when her mobile trilled at her.

  It was the hospital in Oxford. ‘Mrs Slocombe? I’m calling to tell you that your friend Lucy is asking for you. She’s very much better today, trying to make arrangements for being discharged. . Are you able to come this morning?’

  ‘So she’s not having the operation?’ said Thea, trying to process all this. ‘Why didn’t she call me herself?’

  The woman gave a little sniff. ‘Oh, well, we like to give a very comprehensive service here, you see. Mrs Sinclair gave us all a bad shock yesterday, and we’re trying to save her any trouble.’

  Of course, Thea remembered, it was a private hospital ward, where no effort was spared to keep the patients happy. ‘The operation?’ she prompted.

  ‘That’s still being discussed. I’m sure she’ll explain it all to you herself. All I’m authorised to do is ask if you’re available to come and talk to her. She seems worried about how things stand between the two of you.’

  ‘Well – yes, I suppose so. I could probably be there in about an hour’s time, if that’s all right. Maybe less if Oxford isn’t too busy.’ The roads around that city were familiar to Thea, but not friendly. She strongly disliked driving anywhere near the place.

  ‘Excellent.’ The woman gave some directions as to how to find Lucy’s ward – which sounded far from straightforward, and then rang off.

  It turned out that finding the relevant room in the private section of the hospital was considerably less complicated than parking the car had been. Lucy was sitting up looking ten years older and decidedly battered. There was a bewildered look in her eyes. ‘Thea,’ she said. ‘What a relief!’

  Thea sat down at the bedside and waited for enlightenment. It had occurred to her on the drive to Oxford that Lucy had been in control from the outset, and apparently was still. ‘You remembered my phone number,’ she said. ‘I’m impressed.’

  Lucy gave an impatient little laugh. ‘I didn’t, you idiot. It was in my phone.’ She gave Thea a considering look. ‘Did you think I’d lost my memory, then?’

  ‘I didn’t know what to think. Nobody seems to know what happened to you.’

  ‘It was a really bad instance of anaphylactic shock, so they believe. Just one of those things nobody can predict. It came right out of the blue. I must be allergic to something without realising it.’

  ‘Would that have put you in a coma? I thought they could fix allergic shocks quite easily with one of those EpiPen things. I know someone with a peanut allergy and every time he collapses they revive him within minutes.’

  ‘It was less than one day, actually. And it wasn’t a proper coma. I could hear people talking. I didn’t respond to the usual treatments, which is why they want to run tests. I feel very odd, even now. And it definitely wasn’t a peanut allergy,’ she finished with a frown.

  ‘Even so … it seems a long time to me. And it must have really scared the hospital.’ Thea was marvelling at the realisation that it had been barely twenty-four hours since Lucy’s collapse. A lot more time than that seemed to have passed. ‘You’re right – it was only yesterday,’ she said. ‘They phoned Bobby Latimer, you know. Why not me if my number was in your phone? Bobby was put in an awkward position, thinking she should come right away, but hampered by her kids. If she’s such a good friend, why did you need me?’ The final words burst out on a wave of confused resentment that took her by surprise.

  ‘For that very reason. She’s not available half the time. Not reliable, either. They should never have called her. I stupidly put her number on a form, months ago now.’ She shuffled in the bed, as if unable to get comfortable, and put a hand to her back. Thea felt a pang of conscience-struck sympathy. Poor woman – her presenting problem was still there, possibly exacerbated by recent events. ‘What’s going to happen about your back?’ she asked.

  ‘Lord knows,’ said Lucy. ‘I’ve lost my place on the list for the next week or two, that’s for sure. And they won’t dare give me any anaesthetic until they’ve worked out exactly what happened yesterday.’

  ‘You sound very stoical about it.’

  ‘These things happen,’ Lucy shrugged. ‘You can’t take anything for granted.’

  Thea could find nothing to say to that, and Lucy went on, ‘Now listen. Have you met anybody in Northleach? Has anything been happening while I’m away? Is the house all right?’

  ‘Um …’ said Thea, very unsure as to what she should say. It ought not to be her job to inform Lucy of the death of her stepson. Why hadn’t the police asked the hospital to let them know as soon as Lucy was well enough to be told? Perhaps they had, and an officer would show up at any moment. Or perhaps the d
ivorced wife of the dead man’s father was not very high on the list of people to inform. Thinking about it, Thea realised that this was probably the case. Having told Kevin, they would leave it to him to pass on the essential facts. Come to that, there was sure to be something on the news, whether television or Internet or both. A murder was always top of the agenda. And if Lucy was a website designer, did that not mean she would be constantly keeping up with online information? ‘Haven’t you checked your inbox or anything?’

  ‘What?’ said Lucy. ‘I’ve only just come out of whatever-it-was. Semi-coma. I’ve been bombarded with needles and monitors and God knows what. When have I had time to check my emails? Why should I, anyway? I was looking forward to getting away from all that.’

  ‘Well, there’s been some trouble. I only got to know by chance, yesterday. I’ve got absolutely no details and I don’t want to upset you.’ She looked around for a supportive nurse who might have some advice to offer. What if she told Lucy about Ollie and the woman had some sort of hysterical fit – or another collapse? ‘It’s not really for me to say,’ she finished weakly.

  ‘Tell me,’ said Lucy in a startlingly powerful voice. ‘What’s happened? Is it to do with my house?’

  ‘No, no. The house is fine. The thing is, I met your ex – Kevin. And Tessa. We had a bit of a chat.’ This was the best she could do as a gentle introduction to the awful truth. For a moment she felt quite pleased with herself, but Lucy was not impressed.

  ‘So what? They only live in Stroud and know half the population of Northleach. Except – I never told them I was having an operation. How did they find out?’

  ‘A person called Hunter told them, apparently.’

  ‘He would,’ said Lucy in disgust. ‘That man couldn’t stop talking if he was facing a firing squad.’

  ‘Didn’t he drive you here yesterday, when I couldn’t? Wasn’t that rather kind of him?’

  ‘He was coming anyway,’ snapped Lucy. ‘I don’t owe him any special gratitude. The man’s no less of a monster for letting me ride in his car for an hour. I paid for it, having to listen to him talking gibberish the whole way, I can tell you.’

  A small silence ensued, while Thea looked round again for some kind of backup, at the same time as wondering just how Lucy came to discover that Hunter was going to Oxford at dawn on a Wednesday, and got herself included in the trip.

  Lucy was in a single room, well-appointed with a large television, two good-quality easy chairs, a pleasing view and overgenerous heating. There was no sign of any medical staff, although voices could be heard along the short corridor leading to other rooms. Everything was hard surfaces and pastel colours. Sounds of metal objects rattling together competed with the voices. There was a smell that said hygiene – like no other smell in the world.

  ‘What are you not telling me?’ Lucy persisted. ‘I can see there’s something.’

  Afterwards Thea wondered what clues she had revealed to make Lucy so sure there was something to be reported. Was it usual for a person to awake from a semi-coma in the belief that terrible things had happened in her absence? Perhaps it was. Perhaps you would be struck by a conviction that the world had carried on without you, getting itself into all kinds of trouble. And Lucy Sinclair already knew that Thea Slocombe was more than capable of attracting just such trouble. Last time Lucy employed Thea as a house-sitter, a man had died, after all. Was it reasonable to imagine that this could happen again? Surely it was far more likely that lightning would not strike twice, and that Thea was the very last person to run into another murder.

  ‘Come on,’ Lucy almost shouted.

  Thea’s resistance snapped. Nobody could say she hadn’t tried to be circumspect and gentle. ‘It’s Ollie,’ she said. ‘Ollie Sinclair, your stepson. He’s dead.’

  Lucy sank back with something like satisfaction. She closed her eyes, and Thea felt a momentary panic. ‘Lucy?’ she said. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘The drugs, I suppose,’ came the whispered reply. ‘We knew it would happen eventually. Kevin’s going to be in pieces.’ There was no suggestion of distress either in words or tone. Thea felt slightly foolish.

  ‘I guess so,’ she said, with a renewed sense of resistance. There was no way she was going to recount her conversation with DI Higgins. All Lucy needed to know was that the man was dead. Somebody else could take it from there. ‘Well, I should go. What do you want me to do about the house?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well – I expect you’ll be going home again soon. It’s all changed now, hasn’t it?’

  ‘They haven’t said I can go home. There are tests …’ Lucy frowned and sank into her pillow. ‘I still feel quite wobbly.’

  ‘I know you do. But they don’t keep people in for longer than they can help, do they? Although seeing that you’re private, maybe they will want to milk you for a few more days.’ Private medicine was something Thea vaguely disapproved of, on principle. ‘Can you walk?’ she asked.

  ‘More or less.’

  Again Thea wished there was a nurse at hand. Shouldn’t there be someone keeping an eye on Lucy in case she relapsed? Then she realised that she was that person – the staff were relying on her to raise the alarm if there was any cause for concern. They were probably more than happy for her to keep watch while the tests were being processed.

  ‘I liked Bobby,’ she said, for the sake of keeping conversation going. ‘She seems nice. I’m sure she’s all you really need to make sure the house is all right. The thing is, my husband’s got a lot of work on this week, and he’d appreciate me being there with him, if you can spare me. Everything’s changed now,’ she said again. ‘Don’t you see that?’

  ‘I told you – Bobby’s hopeless. I think the word is “flaky”. I know she means well, but I would never trust her in a crisis. Besides, she’s much too taken up with those children of hers.’

  ‘Even so … I can’t see what good I’m doing there. Nobody’s going to burgle the house or set fire to it, are they? The women next door don’t seem to be much of a threat—’

  ‘You’ve met them?’ Lucy interrupted. ‘Faith and Livia? When? How?’

  ‘They saw me go into Bobby’s house yesterday and came to see what was going on. I mean – it wasn’t as nosy as that sounds. They were just being neighbourly.’

  ‘Oh, believe me – it was every bit as nosy as it sounds. Worse, if anything.’ Lucy spoke bitterly. ‘They’re like heat-seeking missiles – homing in on the slightest thing, in the hope of finding something to use against me. You can’t imagine what it’s like. They’ve completely ruined any chance I ever had of making friends. And all because I said they were bigots.’

  Thea was preparing to leave, and now stood up. ‘If you said that, then perhaps they’re justified in feeling a bit hostile,’ she said mildly. ‘It’s not a very nice thing to call someone, is it?’

  ‘It’s true, though. That idiotic club they’re all in – it’s just a talk shop for fascists and racists and homophobes. I couldn’t believe my ears when I went to one of their meetings. Can you believe they tried to make me join them? Me! And now they’re doing all they can to intimidate me, so I don’t report them for hate speech.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Thea, alarmed at the passion behind the words. ‘Don’t get agitated. If you don’t want me to take you home, or sort anything else out for you, I’ll go back to Northleach and lock the house up properly, and maybe you could phone me later on and we’ll decide what to do next. The people here are sure to tell you something soon, and then we’ll have a better idea. It’s great that you’ve made such a quick recovery. Do you want me to tell Bobby she doesn’t need to worry any more?’

  ‘She won’t be worrying. Thanks, Thea. You’re right, of course. It was very good of you to come so quickly. And don’t give up on me. I really do think I’m going to need you for a while yet.’

  ‘Bye, then.’

  As she drove away, Thea remembered Lucy’s pathetic old dog from her days in Hampne
tt. The woman had been quite a different person then – compassionate, creative, witty. Newly divorced, she had been giddy with the prospect of freedom. Something had evidently happened to change her in the meantime.

  Chapter Nine

  She sped back along the A40 to Northleach, making better time than before. She paid a moment’s accord to Witney, where she and Carl and Jessica had lived in a previous life, and did the same to Burford, which had always been a big favourite. There was something about the A40 and the places it ran through, all the way from Fishguard to London. Nobody would use it now for the whole of that route, thanks to the M4 and other bigger faster roads, but it survived, earning its own body of fans with its quirky twists and turns.

  There was no real sense of urgency, even though it was past midday. She was not required to collect Stephanie from school, because another local mother was doing it. But there was still a nagging feeling that the children would appreciate her being there when they got home. And the dog would certainly be feeling abandoned. Furthermore, she could not think of anything useful she could do in Northleach. She drove into it, with a feeling of redundancy.

  Lucy’s house was just as she left it, windows and doors all secure. The police were unlikely to need any input from her regarding Ollie’s murder. There was sure to be police tape around the building where the poor man had been found, but she had seen no obvious sign of a temporary incident room in the town. It might be in a back room of one of the pubs, she supposed, but if so, nobody had bothered to put a sign up to say so. She was hungry for some lunch, and opted to buy a sausage roll in the baker’s in the town square. Not having Hepzie with her made things simpler, she had to admit. She could run in and out of shops without worrying about leaving the dog in a hot car or tying her up outside. But she missed her, even so.