Death in the Cotswolds (23 page)

She snorted at me, like a dragon. ‘Liar,’ she snarled. ‘You and the others, forming your ridiculous women’s Lodge. Don’t think I haven’t heard all about it.’

I felt sick. ‘What makes you think I’m involved in that?’ I managed.

‘Don’t try to deny it,’ she threw at me, already walking away. I couldn’t call after her – other people in the pub were already much too interested in our row as it was. It wouldn’t have done any good, anyway. She’d just have ignored me.

Thea hardly moved. When I looked at her, she seemed frozen – I assumed with embarrassment or something like it. It so seldom happens that people get into real fights in public, at least in picturesque
Gloucestershire they don’t. Extreme anger, violence, rage are all kept firmly out of sight in our circles.

Finally, Thea spoke. ‘I see what you mean,’ she said. ‘That is a very angry lady.’

‘It isn’t true,’ I assured her. ‘Honestly, it’s a downright lie. I had no idea there even
was
a women’s Lodge until yesterday.’

‘So who do you think told her about it?’

My mind was blank. ‘I have no idea,’ I said.

Apparently we were still on course for the remainder of Thea’s plans for the afternoon. We finished our lunch, with me still feeling shaky at the unprovoked assault from Daphne. The weather was better when we emerged onto the town square, with the impressive library dominating the top end and a few more people strolling about.

‘Home, James,’ she ordered. ‘Next we walk those dogs.’

Trekking across the fields again with Thea reminded me how imminent Samhain was, with the mists and imaginings that went with it. I wanted to clutch hold of its significance, and not let it flit by without due observance. At least I was in the right setting – much more so than being shouted at in a pub, anyhow.

The dogs were ecstatic, remembering the path and confidently bounding ahead of us. The absurd long-tailed corgi waddled cheerfully behind the
others, occasionally moving up a gear and bounding in a comical motion like a speeded-up toy. The spaniel flittered back and forth, the long hair giving it a fuzzy outline, the crazy ears flapping. I had gathered up some beans and apples for the pig, filling a carrier bag with autumn bounty for her.

‘I’ll have to get some proper food for her this week,’ I noted.

‘Proper food?’

I laughed at myself. ‘What a thing to say! I meant commercial pig nuts. She needs building up before she farrows. And there won’t be much left in the woods by this time.’

We had become good enough companions to be able to walk along without saying much. I watched her now and then, assessing her. She was in her early forties, still lovely, but soon destined to fade. In her case, I could see that it wouldn’t matter. She had so many virtues that had nothing to do with looks, that losing them might almost be a relief. I could imagine how burdensome it could be, attracting people simply by letting them see your face. Not that I’d ever had that problem. They looked at me, yes, because I was big and vivid and confrontational. But they weren’t magnetised like they were with Thea. Just spending a few minutes on the pavements in Stow had demonstrated how it was with her. They softened at the sight of her. They
slowed their steps, and somehow
bathed
her in approval. And not just the men.

But there was a large unspoken matter lying between us. Daphne’s accusations still rang in my ears and I assumed Thea must be hearing the same echo. She must at the very least have questions for me, to straighten out the ragged contradictions over the tortured business of Freemasonry. I had tried, I assured myself, to avoid telling any direct lies. I had convinced myself that the details I had failed to mention were in any case irrelevant. I had foolishly overlooked Daphne and her obsession.

Three or four times, the spaniel came back to Thea, and stood on its back legs, reaching up to adore her. She always stopped, bent down and fondled the mottled black and white face. Usually she crooned a few words of nonsense at the same time. It was all perfectly easy and unselfconscious. Fancy letting yourself go like that, I marvelled. Fancy allowing such naked love for an animal its full expression. I felt tears prickling, the third time it happened. Alarmed at myself, and the obvious onset of some sort of insanity, I picked up a stick that was lying by the path and started whacking nettles and dry dock stalks.

‘Watch out,’ came a voice that was not Thea’s. ‘I’ve got a nettle down my neck.’

I turned, and not far behind me was Ursula
Ferguson, approaching from the left, which was roughly the direction of Turkdean.

‘Well, you shouldn’t creep up on people,’ I said.

Thea had been slow to realise we’d got company, having gone trotting ahead with the dogs. When she did finally stop and turn to see what was happening, she jumped. ‘Where did you spring from?’ she gasped.

Ursula pointed back the way she’d come. There was a dip, which might have once been an old road or waterway, which had hidden her from view. ‘I’ve been trying to catch up with you,’ she said. ‘But I didn’t like to call out.’ She glanced around as if wary of invisible marauders.

‘Which one are you?’ Thea asked, with a visible effort to attach a name to the face.

‘I’m Ursula. The one who taught the Hollis children when they were at school.’

‘Got it!’ Thea clicked her fingers. ‘Nice to meet you.’

Ursula smiled briefly. ‘Actually, I thought you would have gone by now. Weren’t you only staying the week?’

‘Phil’s gone,’ said Thea. ‘I’m staying on for a bit. We didn’t finish the job properly, you see.’

‘Job?’

‘Clearing Auntie Helen’s house,’ Thea elaborated. ‘But I’m taking a break. We’ve just had lunch in Stow.’

Ursula looked as if she had no need of such information. She looked hot and worried. But she was unfailingly polite. ‘I like Stow,’ she said. ‘When you think of the state the rest of this country is in, you can hardly fail to appreciate the wonderful little towns we have all around us.’

‘It’s certainly very law-abiding,’ said Thea, trying to be diplomatic.

‘Oh yes,’ I said, feeling increasingly angry. ‘The only law that gets broken around here is the one about killing people.’

We were within earshot of Arabella’s domain. She could hear us, and I could just detect her questioning grunts, as she asked herself who might be coming to visit. ‘Better hold onto the dogs,’ I said to Thea. ‘After last time.’

‘Don’t worry,’ she assured me. ‘They’ll keep their distance.’

Arabella was unmistakably hungry. She surged towards my bag, frustrated by the intervening fence, which seemed suddenly rather insubstantial. ‘Sorry, babes,’ I said. ‘I’ve been keeping you on short rations, haven’t I? We’ll move you back to the village this week, where I can feed you up.’

She gobbled the apples and beans with no ceremony whatsoever. Watching a pig eating is a salutary experience. They appear not to use their tongues at all, but operate the lower jaw like a shovel, sometimes tossing food up and grabbing it
just before it lands, getting a better hold. The clichés and references people use about pigs’ feeding habits are perfectly apt. You can argue that pigs are not dirty, but you can’t claim delicate table manners for them.

‘Heavens,’ said Ursula, rather faintly. ‘She made quick work of that.’

I was still wondering why Ursula had come to join us the way she did. Had she seen us across the fields and decided on a whim? Had we coincided with a more purposeful trek onto the upper levels of the wold? ‘Do you often walk up here?’ I asked her.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t usually have time. I wanted some space to think. Annie’s got her ghastly music turned up to deafening pitch and I had to get out.’ This was quite a change from the paranoia of the morning, but I was tired of seeing conspiracy everywhere. In fact, I was feeling generally weary, after a full week of the worry and confusion that followed Gaynor’s death. All I wanted to do was slump in front of my spinning wheel and let the world get on without me.

‘You haven’t met Arabella before, then?’ Thea said.

‘Oh, yes. When she was in Ariadne’s back garden, I saw her quite often.’

‘What did you need to think about?’ I interrupted, surprised that Thea hadn’t switched into detective mode herself and picked up on
Ursula’s remark about needing to think.

‘You can have three guesses,’ said Ursula.

‘I gather you were with Eddie Yeo early this morning,’ I said, still in my no-beating-about-the-bush mode. ‘Before I dropped in on you at nine o’clock.’

‘What if I was?’ she flashed. ‘What’s it to do with you? And it was half past nine, not nine o’clock.’

‘I just can’t imagine what you and Eddie could have to talk about,’ I said.

‘Can’t you?’ she asked me. ‘What do I have to talk about with half the people around here?’

‘School, I suppose,’ said Thea. ‘You must know most of their kids.’

‘Precisely,’ said Ursula. ‘Tom Yeo is a boy with problems, causing a lot of disruption in class. His father has been asked to attend several meetings and totally failed in his duty. I took it upon myself to flag him down this morning when he came through Turkdean. I didn’t want him in the house, waking Annie, so I sat in the car with him and gave him a serious drubbing about the boy.’ She took a long self-satisfied breath. ‘And I think I can say I finally got through to him.’

‘Well done you,’ said Thea.

‘He even ended up promising to start fundraising for the Biology lab, at his Lodge. We need a lot of new equipment, and the Head says the budget can’t stretch to it.’

Thea threw me a look, as if to register that she knew this was a delicate area between us, which would soon have to be confronted. ‘We had lunch with Daphne today,’ Thea said to Ursula. She made me think of poker players, throwing down an unwanted card, leaving everyone to guess whether it was significant or not. ‘We wanted to talk to her about Eddie.’

‘Oh?’ said Ursula. ‘And what did she say about him?’

Thea laughed gently. ‘That he doesn’t much like women, apparently. Which is a bit of a surprise, considering he seems to spend a lot of time with them.’

‘You mean you wanted to find out what’s going on between him and Caroline,’ said Ursula, with a dash of impatience. ‘Well, they’ve always been friends, haven’t they? Their fathers knew each other, or something. What’s all the drama about?’

The word
drama
was still in my ears when there was a sudden shout. Thea’s dog set up a frenzy of barking, which badly upset Arabella. And that made her repeat, with considerably more serious consequences, her clumsiness of a few days earlier.

There was some crashing about in the undergrowth, which confused the pig even further. With a long series of loud warning grunts she rushed off to investigate.

When a large sow makes that particular noise,
even her beloved owner knows the only thing to do is to back off. Pigs are very heavy. And they can run faster than most people assume.

Arabella had never really taken to men. Mostly this was due to unfamiliarity, but I think she must have been ill-treated as a youngster. But she had no malice in her. All she meant to do was see what was going on in the woodlands she regarded as her territory. But she never could see very well, and somehow the man and the pig – just as the pig and dog had done – found themselves on a collision course. We heard the impact. The pig emitted loud sounds of concern, and the human being gave one scream of agony and then fell silent.

‘My God,’ said Thea. ‘She’s killed somebody.’

Somehow all three of us managed to clamber over the fence and run to see what was happening under the trees. Thea’s dogs waited cautiously on the safe side of the barrier, which earned them my respect, even in the midst of the crisis.

We found Kenneth sitting on the ground cradling his right leg.

‘It wasn’t her fault,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘It’s my stupid bones. But I’m very much afraid I’ve broken something.’

For a few seconds the three of us stood gaping, each waiting for the others to take action. For some reason I expected Thea to be hugely efficient in a crisis, well versed in first aid and a thoroughly
calming presence. In fact, she showed no initiative at all, and it was Ursula who stood forward and asked Kenneth if he thought he could walk at all.

‘Of course not,’ he grated.

‘Haven’t you got a mobile with you, any of you?’ Thea demanded.

Ursula and I both shook our heads. Kenneth seemed to find the question too ridiculous to bother with an answer. ‘Haven’t you?’ I said.

‘I left it at the house,’ she admitted. ‘One of us had better run for help, then. I suppose I’ll do it.’ The logic was opaque, but we all seemed to feel it made a sort of sense.

‘If you cut across that field there —’ I pointed, ‘you’ll come to a farm just behind those trees. It’s only ten minutes if you run.’

‘What if there’s nobody in?’ she said. ‘I won’t know where to go next.’

‘It’s a normal working farm,’ I said. ‘There’s always somebody in.’

‘The dogs’ll follow me,’ she worried.

‘Let them,’ I said, glad to have them out of the way.

She went off at a trot, cutting the awkward figure that running women generally do. The three dogs scampered merrily round her, until she shouted them out of her way. I watched her for a full minute before attending to the casualty. He was beyond pale and into green. ‘What on earth were you doing
here anyway?’ I asked him, trying to remember what we’d been saying and whether he might have overheard anything important. Had he somehow followed us, and if so, why?

Arabella had found something edible in Kenneth’s bag, and I leaned down to examine it. It looked like a jumble of nuts, mushrooms, sloes and haws. The pig was finding much of it less than delicious, or so it seemed from the way she nosed through it without taking much into her mouth.

‘There’s your answer,’ Kenneth choked. From his greenish colour I understood that he must be in considerable pain.

‘I see. Gathering nature’s bounty,’ I said, trying to sound as if this was perfectly normal. ‘I think haws is going a bit far. They’re utterly tasteless.’