A Cotswold Ordeal (6 page)

‘Have you come to any conclusions?’ she asked.

The eyes became veiled. ‘Too early to say,’ he replied curtly. With no warning, Thea found herself to be quite seriously frightened. Her insides were clenching painfully and she made a rapid departure, heading for the loo with a sudden urgency.

The ringing of her mobile phone reminded her of Jocelyn for the first time since her walk. Her sister’s voice, when Thea answered the call, was strained and impatient.

‘Where have you
been
?’ she whined. ‘I’ve been phoning since ten this morning.’

With some surprise Thea noted that it was already past two.

‘I went for a walk. Then I was outside a lot. Sorry.’ She wanted to explain, to splurge the details of this latest death and her own sense of
victimisation, but not to her sister, and definitely not on the phone. Jocelyn had never been a very good confidante, and it sounded as if she was currently even more useless than usual.

‘Can I
really
not have your house? It’s very mean of you.’

‘Not until I know what this is all about. I’m here for a fortnight. I don’t want you making free with my stuff for all that time.’

‘Thea, we’re not children any more. I’m not going to spoil your jigsaw or scribble in your favourite storybook.’

It was enough to bring Thea up short, aware that this was very much the kind of reaction she’d been experiencing. Jocelyn had been a tremendous pest as a child, forcing the older children to hide their possessions from her, in case she broke them. It was chastening to discover that this image still hung around her, thirty-five years on.

‘No, I know you’re not. It’s just that I need to understand what’s going on first. I don’t want to be accused of sheltering a wanted criminal, do I?’

‘What?’ Her sister sounded utterly bewildered.

Thea forced a laugh. ‘That was a bit uncalled-for – sorry. It’s because I’ve just been interviewed by the police, you see. It’s the way my mind’s working today.’

‘Police? Why?’

Thea sighed. ‘I can’t tell you the whole thing over
the phone. Look – can you come and see me, face to face?’ A sudden idea struck her with the force of a punch on the ear. It seemed impossible that she hadn’t thought of it sooner. ‘Actually, if you’re desperate for sanctuary, you’d be better off here, assuming I’ll be staying for the agreed time. You can share the house-sitting with me and we can talk everything through properly. And, to be honest, you’d be doing me a big favour as well.’

‘But—’

‘It’s not so far away. And it’s a lovely place. Loads to explore.’

‘Oh.’ Thea could hear the thinking going on at the other end. ‘I suppose that might be all right. I really do have to get away from here. What’s that place you put in your email? Muddlehampton or something. I’ve never heard of it.’

‘Minchinhampton. It’s south of Stroud.’

‘I have no idea where Stroud is, either.’

‘Hang on. I’ll find a map.’ Carefully, Thea directed her incompetent sister up the M5 from Bristol, and off at Junction 12. ‘I’ll meet you outside the church in the middle of the town, at four,’ she said. ‘You can’t miss it – it’s only a small place.’

The next half hour was occupied with assembling a quick belated lunch and trying to guess what might be wrong with her sister. She felt jangled and stressed, but strangely upbeat after the wobbles of a short while earlier. The prospect of having Jocelyn
in the house with her for a few days was primarily an appealing one, chasing away any worries about prowling strangers who might have suicide or murder on their minds. There would, she hoped, be no more police visits, once they were satisfied that the death had indeed been self-inflicted – unless they made a courtesy call to update her on the identity of the dead boy. She would focus on more local walks, and perhaps a spot of historical research if she could find a decent library, with her sister as deputy in pony care and cooking. And she could find out what in the world was the matter with Jocelyn.

Siblings, as she had recently realised, were the longest relationship anybody had in their lives, and the patterns were determined from the outset. Thea and the others had always competed, at the same time as sensibly colonising different areas of interest and experience to make the whole thing bearable. Thea had not initially elected to be clever. Her studies had come later than normal, and she was drastically outshone by Damien who got four A-levels and a first class degree and worked for British Airways doing something frightfully responsible. Neither had she been pretty in her early years. Her good looks were a feature of her adulthood, when some magic had transformed her into a beauty at twenty. The second child and first daughter, Emily, on the other hand, had been a
curly-headed cherub from infancy, content to rely on this as her passport through life.

Which left Jocelyn and Thea to wrestle for more complicated ground. Thea had been her father’s soulmate. She had asked questions and shown interest. She had walked alongside him, encouraging him to reminisce about his own early life, and had read books under his guidance. Jocelyn, the youngest, had inevitably been kept close to her mother for longer than the others. They boasted a telepathic bond which did at times seem impressive. Jocelyn wanted to do what her mother had done – produce a family of apparently healthy happy children. She was brilliant at nursery rhymes, fairytales, knitting, first aid. She had passed her exams half-heartedly, and taken an unambitious degree in Fine Arts, which, as far as Thea could see, never taught her anything at all.

Where Jocelyn scored the highest points was in her maternity, and she had always made much of it. All of which meant that, in her unexpected abandonment of the role, Thea was left in floundering confusion as to just who her sister now was.

By two thirty all the police had left. Feeling jangled and restless, Thea felt impelled to seek out some ordinary human contact. There must be neighbours she could call on, besides the scatterbrained
Frannie. But she hesitated, mindful of the policeman’s injunction not to discuss the events of the morning. Could she simply stroll up to somebody’s front door and engage in idle chatter, given what had happened? What if the person turned out to be the parent or sibling of the dead boy?

But she couldn’t bear to stay in the house, or the surrounding yard. Without Jocelyn’s providential arrival, she wondered what she would have done. The loneliness was suddenly acute, a feeling of cold emptiness, a chill wind blowing. She could get in the car now, and drive to Minchinhampton, and visit some shops before Jocelyn turned up. The dog could come too, and Juniper Court could take its chances for a couple of hours.

She dithered, wrestling with conflicting urges. Was it responsible of her to abandon the place, when she might be needed again by the police and the pony might require attention? But she wanted to regain a sense of normality. The car and a small country town would give her that. ‘Come on,’ she said to the dog. ‘We’ll go for a drive.’

But they didn’t get far. Having locked the house securely, and got out of the car to close the yard gate behind her, she heard a woman’s voice calling from somewhere up the lane. Turning, she was confronted by a vision of some impact.

The woman wore a bright red skirt that reached
to mid-calf, and a maroon crushed velvet jacket. Her hair was short, but vivid, dyed with expensive-looking golden highlights. At first glance she looked youngish – well under forty. With each successive minute, Thea revised this estimate upwards until it passed fifty.

‘Just caught you, I see. Lucky me.’ The voice was metallic, with London roots.

Thea was still trying to accommodate the arrival of this apparition, the car engine running and driver’s door open. ‘Er…’ she said.

‘I’m Valerie Innes. I live at the Manor. You must have noticed it.’ Leaving no time for Thea to demur, she sailed on. ‘We saw the palaver here and thought you might need some help.’ She peered voraciously into the yard of Juniper Court, observing the police tape and car tyre marks. ‘What on earth’s going on?’

‘Well,’ Thea tried. ‘Actually—’

Valerie Innes stepped up to Thea’s car and reached in to quell the engine. Taking her for a new friend, Hepzie leaped at her, all smiles and wags. With a cry of disgust the woman backed away, slamming the car door almost on the animal’s face.

‘Careful!’ Thea cried, furiously. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘Can’t bear dogs,’ said Valerie, as if this were the default position for any normal person. ‘Now, are
you going to tell me what’s the matter here?’

‘No I’m not,’ said Thea, recognising that rudeness was the only way to deal with this person. ‘I’ve been asked not to talk about it.’

‘Nonsense. You can talk to
me
.’ Thea heard the additional Don’t you know who I am? that never quite got uttered.

‘I’m afraid I’ve got to go.’ She made a small movement towards the car.

‘No,
no
. You silly girl. I’ve come to
help
, don’t you see? I’ve got three valiant sons at home, ready and willing to come and lend a hand. You’ve obviously got troubles, you poor thing. It would be stupid to turn down any offers of help.’

‘I don’t think I need any help.’ Thea spoke loudly, forced onto the defensive by the onslaught of this outrageous woman.

‘Of course you do. You can’t possibly carry on here by yourself. I don’t know exactly what might have happened, but I can see it was serious. Such a little thing, too, aren’t you. No match for any intruders or whatever they are.’

‘I won’t be by myself,’ Thea almost shouted. ‘I’ll be perfectly all right. Now, I do have to go.’ Ordinarily she would have expressed thanks for the concern, but already she was finding it impossible to be polite to somebody so pushy.

‘All right. When will you be back? I’ll bring the boys round to see you – just so you know what
reinforcements are at hand if you need them.’

How had this happened, Thea wondered. Suddenly she was plunged into a game she didn’t want to play. She found herself searching for evasions, diversions, anything that would ensure she never had to see this woman again. But already she understood that escape was impossible, resistance useless. Valerie Innes lived at the Manor, which Thea guessed had to be the large and very beautiful stone house set on rising ground half a mile to the west. And Thea was trapped here at Juniper Court for another twelve days.

‘I’m not sure when I’ll be back,’ she said. ‘But I’ll have my sister with me. And we’ve got a lot to talk about.’ Even now, she couldn’t say directly – Do not visit me. Leave us alone. Go away, you pest. Women like this exploited a person’s natural civility, marching through the gaps left by an inability to speak the naked truth.

‘This evening, then,’ said Valerie. ‘I’ll bring the boys.’

As she drove the few miles to Minchinhampton, Thea wondered about ‘the boys’. How would it be to have a mother like that? Were they cowed little wimps, brokenly obeying her every word? Or did they somehow tune her out, going through the motions while effectively barricaded against her intrusions? Or
did each one have his own strategy for dealing with her? Or, improbably, was she a whole different person at home – loving and accepting, inspiring devotion and concern from sons who must surely be in their late teens at least?

Jocelyn was standing outside the lychgate of the church close to the centre of Minchinhampton as Thea drove her car into a free place only a few yards away at four o’clock. She and Hepzie had spent a soothing hour on the Common, in the meantime. Her sister didn’t see her, which gave Thea a chance to examine her unawares. She looked fatter and older than she had only six weeks earlier. Her hair had been cut very short, and sat like a limp earth-coloured rag on her head. Her shoulders sloped and all her weight was on one leg, reminding Thea unpleasantly of the limping youth she’d seen a few days before.

‘Here I am,’ Thea announced, approaching quickly. ‘Didn’t you see me?’

Jocelyn shook her head. ‘I was thinking,’ she said. ‘And trying to work out whether this place is a real town or just a sort of film set. Have you seen the churchyard?’ She pointed through the lychgate, where manicured grass and paved paths surrounded very soldierly headstones, with a
wooden seat and war memorial for good measure.

Thea looked. ‘Unreal,’ she agreed, remembering the church at Duntisbourne Abbots, which had infinitely more character.

She inspected her sister with a long steady gaze. ‘You look ghastly,’ she concluded.

‘I know.’

‘So, what the hell’s going on?’

Jocelyn heaved a deep sigh, and looked around her. ‘Can we go somewhere?’

‘What – like a tea shop or something? I’m not sure there is one.’

‘Well, just a bit of a walk, then. I need to stretch my legs after all that driving.’

They spent less than ten minutes walking down one side of the High Street and up the other. Two cars passed during that time, and perhaps six or seven pedestrians. There was no noise, no sign of any shoppers in the handful of smart emporiums. Two places snagged Thea’s interest: a French restaurant and a pink-painted building labelled ‘The Cotswold Club’.

Jocelyn followed her gaze. ‘Maybe we should give that a try one evening,’ she suggested, nodding at ‘Sophie’s’.

‘Looks pricey,’ said Thea. ‘I’m not here for a holiday, you know.’

‘Neither am I, I suppose. But we might as well have a bit of fun while we’re at it.’

The Cotswold Club had opaque glass windows, boasting a recurring motif of a sheep in each one. Thea eyed it with growing curiosity. ‘What do you suppose that is?’ she said. ‘All very secretive.’

Jocelyn glanced at the building and shrugged. ‘Looks like a Freemasons’ Hall for women,’ she said. ‘All that pink.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Thea agreed.

‘This place is still a dump,’ Jocelyn grumbled. ‘I’m trying to like it, but it’s beyond me. I thought towns were supposed to have people in them.’

‘I expect they’re all out on the Common playing golf or flying kites,’ said Thea. ‘There’s a pub, though. I bet it’ll be heaving in another couple of hours.’

Jocelyn glanced at The Crown Inn and shook her head. ‘I doubt it,’ she said.

Returning to their cars, they made elaborate arrangements for Thea to lead the way back to Juniper Court, the atmosphere between them spiky with untold stories. Driving slowly, constantly checking that Jocelyn was following in her elderly Volvo, Thea ran once more through the possible explanations for this descent into such uncharacteristic calamity. Illness now took first place, with adultery second. If Jocelyn could consider eating at what was obviously a highly priced restaurant, money was probably off the list.

The road gate to Juniper Court was open, as
she’d left it in her haste to escape from Valerie Innes. And a police car was parked on the yard, somehow giving the impression that it had been there a long time.

Thea recognised the man sitting in the driving seat.

‘Hello,’ she greeted him, watching her dog jumping up at his legs as he got out of his car. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’ His lean face was all she could focus on, in the seconds she took to cross the yard to him. She registered as if for the first time how strong his features were, what a surge of emotions he generated within her. Surely she hadn’t felt like this on their last encounter? Superintendent Philip Hollis had admittedly gone some way towards endearing himself to her three months earlier, when his leg had been in plaster and he’d manifested a genuine concern for Hepzibah when she’d been injured, but she hadn’t given him more than a fleeting few thoughts since then.

‘Hello
again
, I suppose you mean,’ he said without the ghost of a smile. ‘I do hope this won’t get to be a habit. Perhaps I should ask you now where your next engagement as a house-sitter might be.’

‘I haven’t got another one lined up. After this, I might well abandon the whole exercise.’

‘That might not be a bad idea.’

She was still completely fixated on his face,
recalling how he had inexplicably frightened her when she first met him. She remembered being suspicious of him, and finally grateful for his understanding.

‘So – why are you concerned with a suicide?’ she asked.

‘Because we don’t think it
was
suicide,’ he said, confirming suspicions she had so earnestly been trying to suppress.

She might never have remembered Jocelyn if her sister hadn’t slammed out of her car after sitting in it for three minutes waiting for further instructions. Thea understood how odd it had been that Hollis had utterly ignored the fact of a second car coming into the yard. She understood that something was happening that she could not for a moment have predicted. Something was tugging, sucking at her insides, urging them towards the man who stood there, giving her the distinct impression that the same thing was happening to him.

‘This is my sister, Jocelyn,’ she introduced. ‘Joss, this is Superintendent Hollis. He’s a policeman.’ She turned back to the man. ‘I haven’t explained to Joss about what happened here this morning. Let’s go in, and try and get it all sorted out.’

She led the way into the living room, and then let Hollis take control. He glanced around the room at the hurriedly squared-off piles of toys, comics, CDs and videos. ‘Nice and homely,’ he muttered.

‘They’re lovely people. Did you get hold of them?’

‘Mr Phillips has his mobile turned off. We left a message for him. You’ve no idea where they are, I take it?’

‘A day or so’s drive from Cork, is all I know. Nearly two days by now, I suppose. Are you going to bring them home?’

‘We’ll have to see about that. One thing at a time.’

In the ensuing pause, Thea glimpsed how this must look and sound to Jocelyn, who was sitting on an upright antique chair close to the window, abjuring the comfortable sofa and armchairs in the middle of the room. ‘Gosh, Joss, this is dreadful timing. The thing is, I found a chap hanging in one of the sheds this morning.’

The words echoed ludicrously in her own ears. Had she really just made such a bald statement as if it was a comment on the weather?

Jocelyn went even paler than before, and put a hand to her mouth. ‘I don’t believe it! My God! Why aren’t you screaming and running for home? What is it with you?’ The final question was uttered with a profound exasperation which Thea recognised as familiar. As children when a knee was cut or a head bashed during some wild outdoor game Thea would be the calm one, cracking ludicrous jokes and refusing to join in the general
hysteria. ‘Come on, you’re not dead,’ was a refrain she was famous for in the family. Her nephews and nieces had learned of her reputation, and once experienced it at first hand when Jocelyn’s little Roly had fallen spectacularly off a toboggan and Thea, who had charge of them for the afternoon, had merely scooped him up, dusted him down and plonked him right back on the sledge. ‘Wow!’ Noel, the eldest, had breathed. ‘Mum would have really freaked at that.’

‘Well, he’s not dead, is he?’ Thea had grinned, causing delight and hilarity all round.

‘Thea,’ Jocelyn tried again. ‘We’ll have to leave.’ She glanced nervously out of the front window. ‘You mean, just out there somewhere? Right
here
? Somebody hanging – I assume dead?’ She was growing incoherent with the shock.

‘For heaven’s sake.’ Thea rolled her eyes. ‘It’s horrible, I know. But let’s not panic, okay.’

She turned back to the police detective. ‘We don’t need to panic, do we?’

He kept his eyes on her face, appraising her for several seconds. ‘If I remember rightly, you’re not the panicking type.’

Jocelyn guffawed at that. ‘Ten out of ten for insight,’ she applauded him. ‘She’s like a rhinoceros, not scared of anything.’

Thea briefly considered a sharp retort involving the catastrophic death of Carl and the way such a
happening altered your perspective, but she wasn’t sure Jocelyn would let her get away with it. The trouble with sisters, she thought crossly, was they knew too much about you.

‘Well, I hope I’ve got the sense to make a proper assessment of the risks,’ she said. ‘If you tell me there’s a maniac on the loose and there’s reason to think I’m his next target, then I’d be scared. As it is, I’ve promised to look after this place for two weeks. I can’t just bale out at a moment’s notice. What about the pony?’ She made a wry face. ‘Although I don’t have to worry about the cat any more.’

‘Oh?’

‘The poor thing was killed on the road yesterday morning. Not a very auspicious start.’ She grimaced again. ‘Even worse than I realised.’

‘You didn’t mention this to Sergeant Barnfield this morning, did you?’

‘Why should I?’

He raised his eyebrows at her flash of defensiveness. ‘No reason. But you’ve told me now, and I’m making a note of it.’ He took out a small notebook, found the next available blank page and wrote something with a pencil kept attached to the book by a red cord. There was something old-fashioned and almost endearing about the neat efficiency of it all. He kept the book in his hand.

She paused. ‘If he was hanging, why are we talking about murder? Why wasn’t it suicide?’

Hollis smiled at this. ‘It wasn’t suicide because somebody else killed him,’ he said with annoying literalness.

‘Can you be sure? Isn’t it more likely that he had a friend with him and they were mucking about, and this poor boy slipped? Something like that? An accident.’

‘Why do you say “boy”?’

The question caught her up short. ‘Oh! I’m not really sure.’ She reran the image of him hanging in space. ‘Something about the knobbly wrists, maybe. A look of having grown too fast. Narrow shoulders. I don’t really know. Why – how old was he?’

‘We think around twenty.’

‘There you are then.’ She was more and more impatient. ‘You don’t have a name for him then?’

The Inspector shook his head. ‘Early days,’ he said.

‘I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why you think it was murder. Was it something to do with him being so pale? I thought people went purple when they were hanged. Or black.’

‘A common misconception. Do you want details?’

Thea experienced conflicting emotions. One of them was a sharp awareness of her suffering sister, who very likely did not need to hear about the pathology of strangulation.

‘Maybe not just at the moment.’ She smiled at
him, and something twisted or expanded or leaped within her when he smiled back. She swallowed with difficulty. ‘My sister’s just got here, and it seems she’s going through some kind of domestic crisis.’ She lifted her eyebrows at Jocelyn, trying to convey sensitivity and sisterhood. ‘I feel as if I need to be in several places at once.’

‘Are you staying here?’ he asked Jocelyn.

She spread her hands helplessly. ‘I thought so, ten minutes ago,’ she muttered. ‘Though I hadn’t bargained for murderers in the outbuildings. I’ll have to have a think about it.’

‘I came here intending to order you to go home,’ he said to Thea. ‘But now—’

‘Now I’ve got a minder you can stop worrying. And what makes you think you’ve got the right to order me to do anything?’

He cocked his head, his eyes on hers. ‘I’m a policeman,’ he said, with a cautious smile. ‘And I do need to ask you some more questions. To start with, can you tell me exactly who you’ve met since arriving here on Saturday. Have there been any visitors?’

Thea stifled a snort, remembering the dreadful Valerie Innes of that afternoon. ‘It’s been like Piccadilly Circus,’ she joked, before catching his expression and quickly sobering. ‘Sorry. Well, let me see.’ It wasn’t easy to recapture all the events since Saturday. Hollis waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts, but Jocelyn fidgeted. Before
responding to the man’s questions, Thea turned to her sister. ‘Why don’t you take your bag upstairs and get settled? You’ve got the room with the picture of the horse on the wall.’

Jocelyn got heavily to her feet. ‘I’m staying then, am I? Is that decided?’

‘Yes.’ Thea was emphatic.

‘Right, then.’ And Jocelyn left the room.

‘A man came to the door yesterday afternoon,’ Thea began, adding as much detail as she could recall, at Hollis’s prompting. ‘Before that, there was a woman called Cecilia something. A bridge – Clifton, that was it. She came to tell me about the cat in the road, and then she came back later and we chatted about local history. Those are the only visitors, but I’ve also seen a couple from just down the lane. Frannie and Robert. I can’t remember their surname. Cecilia knows them quite well. And this afternoon, when your lot had all gone, a ghastly creature from the Manor House intercepted me in the road and told me her three sons would come and guard me, or something. Valerie Innes.’ Thea made much of the name, with the need for a pause between first and second. She had always made much of such names, since being at school with a Barbara Angus. ‘She’s a monster.’

Hollis jotted busily. ‘Nobody else?’

‘Not a soul. I think that’s rather good going in such a short time.’

‘And you’ve been for a walk, I gather? That’s when you saw somebody who could have been our victim?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Oh, and I went for another one this morning, and saw the wet man again. I told your constable about it.’

‘Tell me again.’

She supplied all the detail she could remember, including the goggles and the strange leather headgear. ‘He can’t be difficult to identify. Probably belongs to some daft motoring club.’