Back at Pluton Farm Stables the radio was playing some familiar pop music and Lucy was taking a baking dish out of the oven. ‘Ah, Susie,’ she turned and without a free hand to move the straight blonde hair falling in front of her face she spoke from behind it, ‘it’s nice to see you and good timing. I’ve been driving myself mad trying to remember Mr Wellingham’s first name.’

‘Archibald.’

‘Archie, yes, that’s it.’ Lucy flicked her hair back. ‘I knew it was something to do with a building.’

Statements like this are why I love Lucy’s company.

‘Dinner’s done for when we want to eat it,’ she said, and in surprise I exclaimed, ‘But it’s only three thirty.’

‘I like to cook well in advance, so if it goes wrong there’s plenty of time to knock something else up.’ Lucy prodded her finger into the baking dish and tasted the red mush that came out. ‘Looks like we’re safe for tonight!’ She grinned as I flopped down onto a chair and Red-Rum jumped onto the table.

‘Did you have fun?’

I gave her a brief overview (without mentioning burglars or death) but Lucy wasn’t actually interested in hearing about it. She was one of those rare people these days, what with Facebook, glossy mags and the trendy blend word ‘Biopics’, who genuinely couldn’t care less about the aristocracy. Even the aristocracy like to know what their fellow aristocrats are up to. There had been a lot of it last night: Primrose obsessing over how so and so decorated their house, Daniel wanting to know the cost and landscaper of hoojamaflip’s garden, Charlotte asking for the ins and outs of the latest scandal and George voicing his opinions on women sitting in the House of Lords.

The thing about posh people and those with buckets of money is most of us can’t live with them and can’t live without them. The very fact there is a high readership for a magazine titled The Haves and Have Yachts suggests within most of us there’s a greedy sensation derived from dreams of owning luxury goods. And hand-in-hand with materialistic fantasies comes the enjoyment of reading about scandalous infidelity and glamorous rumours of entitled folk. I must admit, even I glance occasionally at the Daily News’s sidebar of shame.

‘Want some tea?’ asked Lucy.

‘Yes please.’

The cat purred as I stroked the hyper-sensitive spot between his ears and slowly but surely his back legs bent as he sat down on the table.

‘What about a crumpet?’ asked Lucy, as she filled the kettle through its spout. ‘I’ve been horsing around all day and am starving.’

‘No thanks, I’m fine.’

‘I like your dress by the way, and the one you had on yesterday, never seen you before in fancy clothes.’

‘Thanks.’ I smiled at Lucy, who was wearing hip-hugging jodhpurs and a slightly too small blue T-shirt with the Eiffel Tower on it. Her pale white stomach winked at me without an ounce of self-consciousness.

‘That was another topper of a storm last night; the horses were wailing in their stables – but you know what, Susie?’

‘What?’

‘They’ll be as good as gold this week. No more storms on the way.’

‘That’s great news. I’m not sure I’d have coped if they continued like last week.’

Lucy didn’t pay my comment any attention. She clearly didn’t know what it meant not to cope.

‘Lucy,’ I said, steering my thoughts away from guessing what it was in her upbringing that made her so tough. ‘You know I mentioned a friend might come and stay?’

‘Yes,’ she said generously.

‘Well he’s arriving this afternoon and I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner.’

‘Don’t matter not telling me, my house is your house while you’re here.’

‘You’re so generous. He’s called Toby and he’s very nice and easy to have around.’

‘Ah yes. The man. How great!’

Not one bit of me wanted to go further into my personal life with Lucy, and as much as I really hoped Toby would be mine one day, I knew there was nothing I could do to ward Lucy off. ‘He should arrive any minute…’

Knock, knock, knock came from the other side of the kitchen door. Red-Rum leapt up and my heart jumped.

‘Speak of the monster,’ said Lucy.

I got up and undid the latch.

‘Toby!’

‘Susie!’

He gave me a kiss on both cheeks. My heart was racing.

‘Lucy meet Toby, Toby meet Lucy.’

Lucy stepped forward, I couldn’t believe it, she pushed herself up on her tiptoes and yes, I was right, she reached and planted a kiss on Toby’s cheek. He was thrilled. I could tell by that thing he does when he’s flattered, he sort of smiles and dips his eyes at the same time.

‘Welcome,’ said Lucy. It was, after all, her house.

Toby had one small canvas satchel flung over his shoulder.

‘Is that all you brought?’ I asked.

‘No! I’ve a bigger case in the car. This one smells better.’

Lucy giggled.

‘Well if you want anything washed it’s easy.’ I immediately regretted sounding like a mother who’s exchanged her light-hearted sparkle for a routine of forward planning and domestic tasks. And very quickly, before Toby had time to answer, I changed the subject. ‘How was your walk? I wish I could have come too.’

‘You would’ve loved it, Susie. It was completely beautiful. Great scenery for a painter. You must go.’ He pulled a chair out from the table and by the way he sat down I could tell his legs were tired.

‘Who’s this stripy ginger friend?’ asked Toby and as he stretched to pat him Red-Rum shot out the door.

Lucy let out a laugh, ‘That’s my pussy Red-Rum, he’s just letting you know he’s the alpha male. He’ll be back.’

‘Lucy’s making crumpets, would you like one?’

‘No thanks, just tea for me please.’ Toby smiled. His face was tanned and he looked even more handsome than I remembered. ‘Lovely place you have here, and what a driveway, I’ve never been through such swanky gates in my life.’

‘They’re ridiculous aren’t they, my boss likes to spend money and those were the latest addition.’

‘I’d love a full tour tomorrow.’

‘How long are you staying?’ asked Lucy.

Toby looked at me to answer. I had no idea. We hadn’t discussed it.

‘How long can you stay?’ I asked.

‘Well I have a bit of time off and hoped maybe I could hang around for at least a day or two.’

‘Stay as long as you like,’ said Lucy. ‘There’s never anyone lodging here in the off season so the room’s all yours for as many days as you want.’

‘Thank you very much,’ I exclaimed in unison with Toby’s, ‘Thank you.’ I could hardly contain my happiness at the thought of, here’s hoping, several days together.

When we’d all finished two pots of tea, gone through the entirety of Toby’s walk and laughed until we felt at ease in each other’s company, Lucy left to give the horses their final feed and I knew I had at least half an hour’s grace to show Toby to his room and share my secret.

Toby plonked his satchel on the bed, swiftly followed by himself.

I sat down in the miniature armchair in the corner, trying to show a little but not too much leg as my dress rode up my thigh.

‘It’s good to see you Susie. I’ve missed you.’

‘It’s great to see you too. I’m so pleased you came.’

‘You look tired,’ he said. ‘Are you okay?’

Either I looked exhausted or Toby (a man!) just had an emotionally perceptive moment.

‘I’m very worn out and still a bit hungover.’

‘Late night? You and Lucy hit the bottle?’

‘Not exactly. I went to a dinner party and stayed the night at a beautiful house called Fontaburn Hall.’

‘Check you out, sounds smart. I bet you were with your public-school friends?’

‘Urggh! Toby! When you meet those friends I know you’ll like them. Anyway, this weekend was different, the person who owns the house, Archibald Wellingham…’

‘Archibald! Seriously? You have a friend called Archibald!’

‘No! Let me finish. My mother in her well-meaning way found a tenuous link between our families and got me an invitation to dinner and the night.’

‘Cooee, good on your mum.’

‘They were all nice enough.’

‘All? How many of you were there?’

‘Ten including me. But, Toby,’ I paused.

‘Yes, Susie,’ he mocked.

‘You must swear what I’m about to tell you won’t leave this room.’

‘I swear. It sounds exciting!’ Toby’s blue eyes lit up.

‘I need your help. I can’t take it on without you.’

‘If you’re dragging me into another aristocratic death I’m with you all the way.’ Toby laughed, he was joking.

‘I’m so pleased!’

‘Oh no. No, Susie,’ he cupped his face in his hands, ‘you can’t be serious?’

‘It’s not that straightforward, but I really have to tell you.’

‘Someone died and you think they were murdered?’

‘Am I that predictable?’

‘Only you could make such an unlikely turn of events predictable.’

I took this as a compliment and told him I didn’t necessarily think it was murder but that Hailey, an American girl who was also staying, ‘died early this morning’.

‘She died? That’s awful.’ Toby looked genuinely sad. ‘How come?’

‘No one knows. Well, actually, everyone else thinks it’s alcohol poisoning.’

‘No surprise you look tired. A heck of a lot must have been drunk?’

‘It wasn’t though. Quite a lot was drunk but I just don’t believe that’s what killed her.’

‘People have different thresholds you know.’

Yeah, yeah, I’d heard all this I thought but didn’t say.

‘You think it’s murder don’t you,’ said Toby, ‘I can tell.’

‘I never said murder. But a policewoman on the scene called her detective chief inspector, the room was cordoned off, a SOCO arrived.’ I drew breath, smiled at Toby and calmly said, ‘they obviously thought something out of the ordinary was up and so do I.’

‘I know you do! You’re keeping your emotions out of it, which suggests to me you’ve been churning the details over slowly in your mind, looking for motivations.’ He smiled at me. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? That sincere expression gives it away.’

My face relaxed, he’d hit the nail on the head. To think Toby could read me just like that – now there was a happy thought.

When I asked if I could tell him about it, it was more a matter of course than a question – I’d been dying to tell him.

‘Fire away,’ he said. ‘But, just like last time, I’ll be your sounding board, that’s all. Okay?’

‘Okay, sure.’

Careful not to influence his judgement I talked him through my stay from beginning to end. Just like it happened without adding any of my theories or prejudices. He was shocked they’d been drinking absinthe. ‘It’s lethal!’ he said, ‘with an alcohol content almost double that of whisky or vodka.’ I told him I thought they’d been drinking it neat.

‘Wow! That’s hardcore.’

‘Could it kill someone?’

‘Well, she could have passed out, gone comatose and died.’

In this case it had to be George’s fault. He was the one who wanted to play an English drinking game. A sure way of getting Hailey to join in. I reminded Toby I’d overheard George saying, ‘I thought if she got drunk enough she’d forget what she saw.’ This only confirmed my assumption.

‘Well if they’re both married and Hailey caught them smooching, it’s no surprise George wanted to cover it up somehow.’

‘But Toby,’ I said, wanting to clear my conscience, ‘if his intention wasn’t to kill her I don’t have to say anything yet, do I?’

‘You can keep it to yourself until news on the autopsy. I doubt you want to make enemies this early on.’

I certainly didn’t. I need the house party and the detective on side and if my accusations were false it would only make this harder. I must play the long game, win these people’s trust first and then I’d be free to get under their skin.

I was so pleased Toby was up for working together. But when he suggested, as Charlie had, that Hailey might’ve been ill, I wished he’d begun with a more daring theory.

‘But she was so bubbly, and quite frankly she was the life and soul of the party.’

‘If it was a rare illness, it doesn’t always show. All that alcohol could’ve covered up what really killed her.’

‘So, you’re saying it could be a perfectly natural death?’

‘I can’t say for certain as I don’t know nearly enough about it, Susie.’ Toby sounded tired and I didn’t want to push it.

But, fortunately for me, he wanted to continue. ‘Was Hailey’s body warm when you felt for her pulse?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, there’s a slim chance she could have passed out from alcohol and died due to positional asphyxia.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Restricted breathing that then causes cardiac arrest. Was she lying in a position that could have stopped her from breathing?’

‘No, not at all. She was flat on her back staring at the ceiling.’

We both paused at the distinctive sound of riding boots on the kitchen floor tiles. Lucy was back and Toby and I had to change the subject.

‘Just quickly,’ I whispered. ‘Maybe someone changed her position when they tried to resuscitate her?’

‘Actually,’ said Toby, ‘either way the paramedics surely would have diagnosed it.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ I said, pleased I could at least cross one cause off my list. ‘We mustn’t ever let Lucy overhear us. Her room is through that wall,’ I pointed behind me.

‘Okay, noted.’ Toby shuffled up the bed towards me. ‘Do you think I could have a shower?’

‘Of course. I’ll show you where it is.’

I took him to the bathroom and, much like I’d been, he was thrilled to see there was a bath as well.

‘If you do have a shower,’ I thought I’d warn him, ‘it has a bit of a dodgy temperature control but if you don’t try and change it, it works okay.’

‘Thanks, Susie. Also, you mentioned a washing machine. I could do with the use of that at some point.’

‘I’ll show you later. Unless you want to put it on now?’

‘Later’s fine.’

‘We’ll probably eat about seven thirty so we can do it then.’

I went to my room, which was at the end of the narrow corridor not so far away from Toby’s. I was overcome with tiredness and lay on my bed, my limbs twitching as I unavoidably drifted into sleep.