A Cotswold Ordeal (16 page)

‘I think it’s up the hill, behind the pub.’ Thea was impatient. ‘Come and see the tunnel. You said you were interested.’

‘Did I? That was careless of me.’

Thea walked ahead, without replying, keeping an eye on the dog as she left the path for forays into the long grass on their right. They climbed a stile and proceeded along a path which appeared to lead nowhere. ‘Jolly overgrown,’ grumbled Jocelyn, pulling free of a grasping bramble.

‘It’s been quite well used, though, like the one I walked with Phil the other day.’

‘Oh, it’s “Phil” now, is it?’

‘That’s his name,’ said Thea coldly.

‘Somebody needs to come along with a scythe.’

‘Don’t fuss. It’s really perfectly easy to walk along.’

Jocelyn snorted and followed a few paces behind her sister. ‘Where’s this tunnel then?’ she demanded after half a minute of walking.

‘Not far. About a quarter of a mile, I would guess.’

They found it with little warning. An arched opening, with fanciful crenellations along the stonework above it. A flimsy-looking wooden gate made a token attempt to prevent access into the tunnel itself, strangely situated eight or ten yards inside the mouth. There were only two or three inches of water on the bed of the canal.

Jocelyn was unimpressed. ‘Anybody could get in there,’ she said. ‘And I still don’t understand why you think it’s got anything to do with anything.’

‘Did I say it had? I just wanted to see it for its own sake. Except—’ she remembered something. ‘That man – the father of the Franklyn boy – he wanted to know the way to Daneway. And he was soaking wet.’

‘He was wet
before
he came here,’ Jocelyn pointed out. ‘If he ever did come here at all.’

‘No, no. What if he just used that as a pretext for talking to me? For finding out if there was anybody at Juniper Court. He just said the first thing that came into his head, and it was Daneway because he’d just come from here. He’d been into the canal for some reason and got himself all wet.’

‘Thea, this is pure fantasy,’ Jocelyn laughed. ‘You’ve added two and two and made seventeen.’

‘But there’s nothing here except the tunnel,’ Thea insisted, bending forward as far as she dared, trying to peer into the gloom. ‘Why else would anybody
want to come to Daneway?’ There were atmospheric echoing dripping sounds as water seeped through the brickwork at the top of the tunnel. She wondered whether her trainers would be totally ruined if she jumped down and started walking into the darkness.

‘The pub. The William Morris house. Somebody else’s house,’ Jocelyn suggested. ‘After all, if he was up to something sinister, he’d already know the way, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t expose himself by asking how to find it. He’d have said some other place – Mishyhampton or Hyde or some other stupid backwater. And not everybody’s as obsessed with canals as you are.’

Thea sighed. ‘That all sounds perfectly logical. I just have a feeling he was in pursuit of his son, and the whole business concerns the canal. It’s gorgeous, though, isn’t it,’ she diverted herself with a rapturous contemplation of the miniature castle effect over the entrance to the tunnel.

‘It shows how proud they must have been of their achievement,’ Jocelyn conceded. ‘Is it the same at the other end?’

‘Not at all. Flamboyant in a completely different way. You could get into it, from that end as well, if you didn’t mind getting wet.’

‘Not much water in it. Has it leaked away?’

‘Here and there, possibly. But the puddling they did in those days was fantastically effective. Leaks
are rare – though trees have grown in the middle of the waterway in some places. That breaks up the clay skin.’

‘How on earth can anybody think it’s possible to reconstruct it all? It’ll take decades.’

‘They’ve done quite a few already. The entire stretch of the Kennet and Avon is open now. Where there’s a will, and all that. Some people are fanatical about it.’

‘They must be.’ Jocelyn cast another critical eye over the reedy canal bed, and the barricaded tunnel. ‘Can’t see the attraction myself.’

‘You’re a philistine,’ said Thea. ‘I think it’s marvellous.’

‘So you said. Pity the tunnel’s blocked.’ In spite of herself, Jocelyn was intrigued. ‘It certainly does have atmosphere, I’ll give you that.’

‘Well, it is blocked, further along. But this first bit seems all right. It echoes a long way. You can tell by the drips.’

‘And have you seen enough now? Even Hepzie’s getting bored, look.’

‘Okay,’ Thea agreed. ‘But we’ll be early.’

They walked back to the car without speaking. Hepzibah ran cheerily ahead of them, zigzagging in her usual way. Sunlight threaded between tall trees on both sides of the waterway, promising another fine day.

It was twenty to twelve when they settled at one of the tables in the pub garden, with Hepzie comfortably curled at their feet. Pub gardens were familiar ground to her, and she knew how to behave. ‘If we start drinking now, we’ll be blotto by the time we get any food,’ said Jocelyn.

‘We’ll just have to take it slowly, then,’ said Thea. ‘I’ll go and get us some local ale, shall I?’

Jocelyn pulled a face. ‘Mine’s a white wine,’ she instructed. ‘Nice and sweet.’

‘Philistine,’ said Thea, again.

‘Here she is,’ Thea said, at two minutes to twelve. ‘Nice and prompt.’ A silver-coloured car had drawn up in the parking area, and the sisters watched as Cecilia got out. She was wearing a smart lightweight jacket in pale blue and darker blue slacks. Her head was up and her step confident. When Thea waved, she gave a nod of acknowledgement and quickly joined them.

‘You’ve started without me,’ she noted. ‘Are you ready for more drinks?’

The sisters shook their heads emphatically and Cecilia climbed the slope to the bar at a trot.

There did not seem to be anything to say as they waited for her to return. Then, after Thea had made the introductions, Jocelyn confessed that she had been one of Cecilia’s students. ‘You haven’t changed a bit,’ she said.

Cecilia scrutinised her. ‘Well, I’m afraid I can’t say the same for you. I don’t remember you at all.’

‘I wasn’t very conspicuous,’ Jocelyn smiled. ‘And it was nearly twenty years ago.’

‘So many students, so much wasted breath,’ sighed Cecilia, as if she’d said the same thing many times before. ‘But it was a living, I suppose.’

‘Come off it,’ said Thea. ‘After last Tuesday, I don’t believe a word of that. You’re still devoted to your subject.’

‘I’m devoted to this little part of the world, and its history,’ Cecilia admitted. ‘It’s not at all the same thing as being an avid lecturer on the stuff.’

‘You seemed quite avid on Sunday,’ Thea argued mildly. ‘Full of local history and gossip, you were.’

‘It’s completely different,’ the older woman insisted. ‘I really can’t pretend that I ever had much of a liking for the students. Most of them had no idea why they were there and cared nothing for the subject.’ She threw a mildly accusing glance at Jocelyn. ‘What did you do afterwards, for example?’

‘I got a job on a glossy magazine for a bit. It was wonderful while it lasted. Then I got married and had five kids.’ Her tone was defiant, but there was self-mockery in her expression. ‘Since then I’ve had a series of part-time jobs, and sold one or two articles about antique ceramics and that sort of thing. But you’re right – most of us had very little feeling for the subject.’

Cecilia sipped her pint of cider and said nothing. Thea began to worry that the next hour would be rather hard going. Under the table, Hepzie was licking a paw, a sign of restlessness. ‘I’ve seen the locks, in the woods down there,’ she offered, waving a hand towards the road and the bridge across the river. ‘I can’t imagine how they’ll ever restore them. It’ll be an enormous job.’

‘So everybody says,’ Cecilia nodded. ‘I don’t expect to see it done in my lifetime.’

‘Oh, but aren’t they saying five years?’ Too late, Thea wondered whether the remark had been an oblique revelation of a terminal illness, rendering five years well beyond Cecilia’s expected survival. But this did not appear to be what she’d meant.

‘Don’t you find it’s one of the plagues of our times – setting targets of this sort?’ Cecilia’s tone was conversational and calm, but Jocelyn caught Thea’s eye with an alarmed look. ‘It’s as if these people believe that all they have to do is state an intention to achieve something by a certain time, and it’ll happen, by magic. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so irritatingly childish. And most of the time the target is something stupid that nobody wanted in the first place.’

Thea held up her hands. ‘Let’s not get into that argument,’ she pleaded. In desperation she sought for a change of subject. ‘Do you know Valerie
Innes?’ she asked Cecilia, who responded with a few seconds’ blankness.

‘What does she have to do with anything?’ she asked.

‘Nothing really. She seems to be rather a prominent personality around here, that’s all.’

‘She’s that, yes. I can’t say I have a great deal to do with her.’

‘Her Jeremy was fond of the cat,’ Jocelyn contributed. ‘I gather you were the first one to discover the body.’

‘What?’ Cecilia seemed startled. ‘Oh, Julia’s cat. Yes – poor thing.’

Thea began to sense minefields on all sides. Not knowing how much Cecilia knew about the death of Nick Franklyn presented her with a number of brick walls when it came to conversation. Safer, then, to stick to local history. And that meant canals. ‘But you would like the canal to be restored, wouldn’t you?’ she asked. ‘So far I can’t seem to find anybody who’s actually in favour of it, which I find extraordinary.’

But even this was apparently an unsafe topic. Cecilia sighed heavily, suggesting exasperation and even something like anger. She shifted her feet and accidentally kicked the dog, who squeaked. ‘It’s all rather hard to explain,’ she said. ‘Life has moved on. New people have come here, who don’t know or care about how things were in the past. And the
canal never was all good, you know.’ She leaned forward, her eyes glittering. ‘People died because of that canal.’

Thea took this easily. ‘Well, of course. Making that tunnel must have been an awful job. But surely—’

‘And afterwards. Much more recently than the construction of the tunnel. Locks can be extremely dangerous, you see.’

Thea was unmoved. ‘Just about anything’s dangerous, if you get into that way of thinking,’ she said. ‘I’m sure the benefits would outweigh any minor hazards.’

‘Well, many people would think you were wrong about that,’ Cecilia said tightly.

‘Let’s order some food,’ Jocelyn suggested. ‘I’m hungry.’ They duly consulted a menu and made their selections, the atmosphere heavy and slow between them.

Thea observed Cecilia as she ate – not something she would normally do. The food was absorbed impatiently, roughly chopped and certainly not savoured. The woman seemed angry and preoccupied, perhaps with the proposed canal restoration, or perhaps with the fecklessness of students. Or, more probably, as it turned out, with Valerie Innes.

‘The woman’s a disaster,’ she said, her mouth still occupied with a large chip.

‘Which woman?’ Jocelyn asked with a frown and another glance at Thea.

‘Valerie. She’s a type, of course. Never listens, thinks the world will collapse if she doesn’t take control. Gets an idea into her head and tries to force everybody to conform to it. It amazes me the way those boys have stuck around as long as they have.’

‘I can’t say I liked her much,’ Thea agreed carefully. ‘And I thought the same about the boys. Dominic must be well over twenty.’ Again the sisters’ eyes met, Thea trying to convey that she knew she was taking a gamble.

‘Coming up to twenty-three, I think. There’s a case in point, if we need one. Dropped out of Bristol after less than a year and hasn’t got himself together since.’

‘Too busy with his Rural Warriors, I suppose,’ purred Thea. ‘And girls. Isn’t he involved with Flora Phillips? Which must be rather a scandal in itself, with such a big age gap.’

Cecilia had taken a second chip, which now obstructed her windpipe as she thoughtlessly inhaled. Coughing desperately, she turned red and leaned over the grass in an undignified attempt to expel the object that was preventing her from breathing. Jocelyn reached over and thumped her heartily between the shoulderblades – which clearly did not help. Hepzibah sensed an interesting diversion and began jumping at Cecilia. Jocelyn pushed her away with an irritated comment.

All Thea could do was watch, and wonder which of her remarks had been so startling. She was not afraid that Cecilia would choke to death – if she could cough, then air must be getting through. But Jocelyn was in full panic mode. ‘God, Thea, do something!’ she shouted.

‘She’ll be all right. Just leave her to sort herself out. You’re making it worse.’ At the same moment, the sisters both recognised that Thea was doing it again – refusing to react to the sort of alarming event that had most people in a frenzy.

‘Ohh – you,’ said Jocelyn, retreating from the suffering woman. ‘One of these days, somebody’s going to die right in front of you, and you’ll be sorry you didn’t try to help.’

‘Let’s hope not,’ gasped Cecilia, eyes streaming and voice constricted. ‘But I’m all right.’ She drew a long shaky breath. ‘That was all my own fault.’ She rubbed her bronchial area. ‘What an exhibition!’

‘Have a drink,’ Thea suggested. ‘Isn’t that what people do?’

Cecilia picked up her tankard, containing barely an inch of cider. ‘I’m not sure why, are you? The last thing you’d want is fluid going into your lungs as well. But let’s see if it works.’ She drained the glass, and set it back on the table. ‘Right as rain,’ she reported. ‘I’m so sorry to cause such a scene.’

Jocelyn surprised them both. ‘It was something to do with Flora, wasn’t it?’ she said. ‘You weren’t
expecting Thea to know about her and Dominic.’

‘But it isn’t true,’ Cecilia croaked. ‘Absolute rubbish. Flora Phillips was going out with Nick Franklyn.’

‘How do you know?’ Jocelyn flashed.

Cecilia pursed her lips at this, and gave the question little attention. ‘I just know,’ was all she would say.