A Cotswold Ordeal (14 page)

‘I chose a bad example,’ Jocelyn said glumly. ‘I didn’t mean to remind you of Carl.’

‘I don’t need reminding,’ Thea said gently, long since accustomed to the paradox of so often having to be the one offering consolation for a loss that was so acutely her own.

They were back soon after five, approaching the final few yards with exaggerated trepidation. ‘What d’you think we’ll find this time?’ Jocelyn asked in a melodramatic whisper.

‘Stop it,’ Thea ordered. ‘Nothing else is going to happen.’

The afternoon had continued hot and sunny. The geese, ducks and bantams appeared to resent the sudden heatwave with varying degrees of passion. The peacocks, by contrast, evidently loved it. Two of them sat comfortably in their tree, heads cocked sideways in complete mirror-image of each other. The third, on a higher branch, seemed lost in atavistic dreams of India. Jocelyn tried to capture them on film.

‘Why did you bring a camera?’ Thea asked.

‘I didn’t deliberately. Alex makes me keep it in the car in case there’s an accident and I need proof for the insurance people.’

‘Why does everything keep coming back to car accidents?’ Thea wondered. ‘I can’t believe you’re doing it deliberately.’

‘No, I’m not, I promise.’

‘Anyway, if you want a good subject, you should use Hepzie. She’s wonderfully photogenic.’

‘So she might be, but all cocker spaniels look the same, don’t they? It gets a bit repetitive.’

‘As far as I can see, all peacocks look the same as well.’

The gentle sniping was typical of their exchanges, throughout their lives. Neither could fully relax and let the other be natural. Thea hadn’t understood this until the acute crisis of Carl’s death, when all the bickering dropped away completely, and Jocelyn enfolded her sister in her fleshy arms, pulling her tight against her chest and absorbing the flood of tears with a maternal calm that was entirely new to Thea.

It hadn’t lasted, of course. Six weeks later, they were arguing about some small piece of trivia, and Joss was asking one of her unreasonable favours. But they both knew that the bond between them had been confirmed and acknowledged, that it was always going to be there, even if they went through long separations or serious fights.

They missed the news, because at ten to six there was a distraction. Jocelyn had noticed a row of blackcurrant bushes, laden with fruit, at the back of the fenced-off garden. ‘We can’t let them go to waste,’ she’d insisted, taking a colander and quickly filling it with shining dark currants. ‘I’ll put some in the freezer and cook the others.’

Remembering the freezer in the barn, Thea suggested Jocelyn use that one. ‘It looked as if it was where they keep their own produce,’ she said. ‘Bags of apple slices and loads of beans and stuff.’

When Jocelyn came back seconds later, Thea was
flipping through TV channels, idly waiting for the news. ‘Psst!’ hissed Jocelyn from the doorway of the living room. ‘Come here.’ The urgent whisper was so reminiscent of childhood games that Thea was momentarily transported to another time and place.

‘What do you want?’ she asked in a normal voice.

‘There’s somebody out there. Hiding in that car, in the barn.’

‘What?’ Thea stared. ‘There can’t be.’

‘There is. Wrapped up in a blanket on the back seat.’

‘Not dead?’

‘No,’ Jocelyn snapped impatiently. ‘I saw a movement when I went in there, and some sort of noise. At first I thought it might be a rat. But I was fantastically brave and went for a look. It’s a youngster, I think. One of these stupid Rural Warriors, I imagine. What d’you think we ought to do?’

‘Go and have a proper look,’ said Thea robustly. ‘If they haven’t already escaped, that is.’

They had not escaped. Or rather
she
had not. Armed with a stick she found propped against the barn wall, Thea strode to the Lamborghini and peered through the rear window. All she could see was a rolled-up sleeping bag stretched along the somewhat cramped back seat. Jocelyn hovered a few steps behind her.

She opened the driver’s door, savouring the leathery smell that greeted her, and the well-balanced mechanism of the hinges, which screamed quality and money and magnificent workmanship. The bundle on the back seat wriggled slightly.

‘Come out,’ Thea ordered. ‘I can see you. Stop playing games and show us who you are.’

Nothing happened, and feeling more irritated than apprehensive, Thea located the catch to tip the driving seat forward, before climbing in with the stowaway. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Whoever you are.’

She scrabbled at the sleeping bag, unsure which was the head end, until an edge came free. She pulled, and a tousled dark head emerged. A sullen female face was almost lost amidst the disordered hair.

‘Oh!’ said Thea. ‘Aren’t you…’ she groped for the name. ‘Yes – you’re Flora. What on earth are you doing here?’

‘Who?’ demanded Jocelyn at her elbow. ‘Who is it?’

‘Flora. She lives here. I’ve got her room.’ Thea stared at the girl in utter bewilderment. ‘But – you’re in Ireland,’ she said stupidly.

‘No, I’m here,’ said the girl with some dignity. ‘I’ve been here for days.’

‘Well, come into the house and explain what you think you’re doing,’ Thea ordered. ‘And don’t try to run away.’

‘Not much danger of that,’ Jocelyn remarked. ‘She’s like a chrysalis in that sleeping bag. You’ll have to help her out of it.’

Awkwardly, the girl was extracted from the car and the bag until finally she stood rumpled and scowling before them. She was pretty, Thea noted, with the same shape head and style of hair as her own. She was also barefooted, which Thea hoped reduced the chances of a bid for freedom. Already she was wondering how she could possibly hope to restrain her if Flora decided to go.

‘How’ve you managed for food?’ she asked. ‘And
why
? What’s going on?’

‘I got stuff out of the freezer,’ the girl shrugged. ‘Apples and things.’

‘Have you been into the house?’ Jocelyn wanted to know. A thought struck her. ‘Did
you
write that stuff on the wall?’

The girl stared insolently at the beams overhead, ignoring the question.

‘Of course you did,’ said Jocelyn. ‘It’s obvious.’

‘You know what happened here on Monday, don’t you?’ Thea demanded, too cross to be kind or sensitive. ‘You being here like this looks really suspicious. I’ll have to call the police and tell them.’

‘Thea!’ Jocelyn expostulated. ‘For heaven’s sake.’

Flora narrowed her eyes, looking from one sister to the other. ‘Do what you like,’ she muttered.

‘Come into the house,’ Thea ordered, ‘and have
some food. We can decide what to do with you after that.’

‘We’ll have to call your mum,’ said Jocelyn. ‘She must be worried sick about you.’

The effect of this attempt at a sympathetic approach was completely unexpected. Flora’s eyes grew three times bigger, her head came forward like one of the defensive geese in the yard, and she almost choked on the passion behind her words. ‘Don’t you
dare
phone my mum. And besides, if you mean Julia, then she isn’t my mum anyway. My mum’s in Liverpool and can hardly get out of bed. So get your facts straight. And don’t phone anybody, right? What’re you trying to do? Aren’t things bad enough as it is?’ She kicked wildly at the sleeping bag, on the floor beside her. ‘You don’t understand anything, do you. You dozy cows are in the way – why don’t you just go and leave us to sort it all out?’ She waved at the words on the wall, in a gesture that left no doubt that they were her handiwork.

‘I told you,’ said Jocelyn.

‘But
why
do you want us to go?’ Thea persisted. ‘Why did you come back?’

Flora closed her eyes tight, and shook her head. ‘I couldn’t tell you, if I wanted to. People would get into trouble if I did. And I wanted you to go so I could sleep in my own bed. See? Simple!’

Thea tried to think things through. ‘If you’ve
been here since Monday morning, then you’re probably a witness to what happened, and the police will want to speak to you. If that happens, then one of your parents – or step-parents – will have to be with you while you’re being questioned. This is very serious, Flora. Surely you understand that.’

Flora evidently found silence impossible to sustain for long. Words burst out of her. ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. What
did
happen on Monday? I didn’t get here until late, and everything seemed normal enough then – except Pallo not being in his stable.’

‘She doesn’t know, Thea,’ Jocelyn said urgently. ‘You can see she’s telling us the truth.’

‘So tell me,’ Flora demanded.

‘Darling,’ said Jocelyn, ‘this might come as a shock. Somebody was killed.’

‘All right then – tell me,’ invited Flora sturdily. ‘Who’s dead?’

‘One of your Rural Warriors – the leader, if I’ve got it right. A boy called Nick Franklyn.’

They both watched her closely for a reaction. Flora didn’t flinch, but her face went a greenish-white. ‘Something happened to Nick?’ she repeated.

‘He was murdered and I found him here on Monday morning,’ said Thea.

Flora’s jaw bulged where she ground her teeth. Her mouth puckered as she fought to remain silent.
She would not meet either woman’s eyes, but stared out at the sunny yard. Her thoughts were impossible to read.

‘So you see,’ Jocelyn continued patiently, ‘we have to make sure you’re safe. You’ll have to stay with somebody responsible. And your parents will have to know you’re here. It’s not open to discussion. That’s how it’ll have to be.’

‘It’s
your
fault,’ Flora snarled at Thea, before checking herself. ‘Except—When did you say it was?’

‘Monday morning.’

‘Ah,’ sighed Flora, in a disturbingly adult way. ‘I was too late then.’

‘You came back to try and stop it happening?’ Thea felt she was getting close to hearing something vital to understanding the whole mystery.

‘None of your business,’ Flora retorted. ‘You can do what you like, I’m not telling you anything.’

‘So what do you want to do?’ Jocelyn asked, with impressive patience.

‘Stay here. The car’s fine. I like the car.’

It occurred to Thea that the girl might have been in the habit of using the car as a hideaway, even before the holiday. She gave Jocelyn a look, full of helpless questions about what happened next.

‘You did hear what Thea just said, didn’t you?’ Jocelyn asked. ‘You can’t just ignore it and hope it’ll all go away. Obviously we can’t let you stay here in
the car, either.’ A thought struck her. ‘How did you get back from Ireland, anyway?’

‘On the ferry, of course.’

‘By yourself?’

Flora chose not to answer that one, merely shrugging wordlessly.

‘They’ll be terribly worried about you,’ Thea persisted. ‘They’ve probably reported you missing by now. You’ll be wasting police time.’ This echo of Valerie Innes’s accusation only made Thea all the more bad-tempered. ‘You
stupid
girl,’ she added for good measure.

‘Nobody’s reported anything,’ the girl said. ‘They don’t know I’m here.’

‘No – but they know you’re not with them.’

Flora sighed melodramatically at the idiocy of adults. ‘It’s not like that. They’re not together. Julia thinks I’m with Dad, and
he
thinks I’m with Julia. Simple.’

‘What day did you come back? And how did you get here from Swansea or wherever the ferry docked?’ Thea’s questions seemed to be breeding in her mind, one leading to three or four others.

‘There are such things as trains.’

Jocelyn was still in full maternal mode. ‘Flora, you’re obviously very shocked and upset about Nick. You must see that we have to phone your mother – stepmother – right away.’ She looked to Thea for support. ‘Isn’t that right?’

‘Definitely,’ confirmed Thea, privately acknowledging that she was not in fact able to do any such thing. The only phone number she had was Desmond’s mobile, and if he was still fishing in the mountains, she was unlikely to get hold of him.

‘If you phone anybody, I want it to be my dad,’ Flora said, struggling to maintain the hard persona. ‘But you won’t reach him. I tried all yesterday and he’s not answering.’

‘Let’s see if we’ve got this right, then,’ Thea pressed on. ‘You left Julia and the others, saying you were going to join your father in the mountains. But instead you went back to Cork and got the ferry. Nobody missed you. You expect us to believe they haven’t communicated by now and discovered you’re not with either of them? It isn’t going to work, Flora. The story’s rubbish, and you know it.’

‘It’s not rubbish,’ snapped Flora. ‘You don’t understand. Dad never knew I told Julia I was going with him. He won’t be thinking about me at all.’ She wrapped her arms around herself in her agitation. ‘But if you force me, I can phone somebody. Except I’ll need to borrow a mobile. Mine’s run out of credit.’

‘Who do you want to call?’ asked Thea.

‘My boyfriend, if it’s any business of yours.’

‘I’ll have to know his name and address before I let you go to him.’ Thea’s anger had evaporated in
the face of the girl’s courage and self-control. There was a tragedy here that she had scarcely glimpsed until now. She craved the strong professional shoulder of DS Hollis, wondering how it was that she’d failed to call him minutes ago. She realised she’d been misleading the girl as to what might happen next. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but you really will have to speak to the police, first.’

‘What for? Do they think I killed Nick? How could I, if it happened on Monday? I didn’t get off the ferry till evening, and it took hours to get back here.’

Flora had something clear in her mind, that much was obvious. And she was not inclined to disclose much of it to these two officious women who had taken over her house.

‘Well, come and have something to eat,’ offered Jocelyn. ‘And a proper wash. We can decide what happens next when you’ve got over the shock.’

‘What shock?’ demanded Flora with a heartrending effort at bravado. ‘What makes you think it’s a shock?’

Hollis, when told of the new development, was almost as much at a loss as Thea and Jocelyn had been. ‘What are we going to do with her?’ he muttered. ‘How old did you say she is?’