What a hellish night it had been.
Twice before leaving the Black Dog Alex had called the Lymer’s cottage in Underhill. The first time Frank had told Alex he didn’t need her help. In response to the second call he said she should mind her own business because they were private people who took care of their own business. When she asked if Gladys was all right, he suggested she was only pretending to care and hung up.
After that, in the very early-morning hours, she had made a call to the Gloucester Constabulary and tried to explain that she wasn’t really putting in a missing person report because she wasn’t sure anyone was missing, but she hoped they would keep an eye out for someone looking like Gladys Lymer, just in case. The officer on the booking desk had been polite but Alex could tell he thought she was another whack job. Finally she asked that Dan O’Reilly be informed when he made contact and left it at that. With Tony spreading his fingers over his eyes and shaking his head, she’d been too embarrassed to push further.
Tony persuaded her to go home with him for what was left of the night, not a hard sell when the kindest place she could imagine was in his arms, in his bed.
They both moaned when the alarm and the clamoring dogs woke them in the morning.
It was almost nine in the morning by the time Tony drove them down the ice-slick hill toward Folly with the relaxed confidence of long practice. He held Alex’s hand on top of his thigh and the flex of muscle brought her comfort – and a desire to go back up the hill with him. She’d left her anorak in her own vehicle and they had the heat blasting in Tony’s, but still his bed appealed more.
‘You OK?’ he asked.
‘OK,’ she told him quietly.
As they drove past her mother’s cottage, Alex peered at the front windows. All curtains remained closed. ‘Mum opens the curtains as soon as she gets up. And takes in the milk.’ The milk still sat in its mini metal crate on the front step.
Tony whistled, softly and tunelessly, then said, ‘Well, we don’t like to think about our parents as sexual beings, but—’
‘No, we don’t,’ Alex said quickly, and felt silly for the reaction at her age. ‘But they would have gone to your dad’s house anyway. Because of looking after the boys. I expect my mum closed her curtains last night and …’
‘And?’ Tony prodded.
She almost took her hand away but thought better of it. ‘The boys aren’t at your dad’s this weekend. Their aunt’s at the cottage and they’re with her. Let’s forget it. They’re grown-ups. Where they sleep is their business.’
He turned in at the Black Dog and gave her a wide smile. Alex pinched his leg.
Tony pressed the brakes. ‘What’s going on? I just realized how many cars and vans there are here.’
‘We don’t open for morning coffee for almost an hour,’ Alex said. ‘Oh, damn, do you think they’re gathering here to send out search parties for Gladys?’
‘We’ll find out soon enough.’ Tony backed out onto the road again and parked at the curb a few yards away.
They jumped out of the Range Rover and ran back toward the pub, the dogs in hot pursuit.
‘I’ve got to keep an ear open for my pager,’ Tony said, taking Alex by the hand. ‘They’ll be calling about that mare. If she’s not ready soon she’ll need some help.’
‘Go now.’ Alex was panting. ‘I’ll manage whatever’s going on here.’
‘I’m not leaving you until I see what’s going on.’
The door slapped open and Hugh jogged to meet them. ‘I’ve been watching for you,’ he said and grimaced. ‘There’s nothing bad so don’t get exercised. This is really weird but Gladys showed up on time this morning. Frank brought her and came in to make sure one of us was here. That had to be it. He looked around as if a mad axman was likely to jump out from somewhere and attack them. He didn’t say two words while Gladys went back to the kitchen, only put more wood on the fire like he was making sure Gladys would be warm enough in here. Then off he went muttering about how he’d be back to get his wife later.’
Alex and Tony looked at each other. Alex blinked and threw up her hands. ‘I didn’t remember to put out a sign that there’d be no breakfasts served this morning. What an idiot. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘I didn’t think to do it either,’ Hugh said. ‘Just as well as it turns out. Come in and have coffee. Have you eaten?’
‘No,’ Tony said. ‘Suddenly I’m starving. If you’ve got a spare pig you could slap on the spit, go ahead.’
‘I might if there was time,’ Hugh said, leading the way inside. ‘We’ve been a bit busy. Liz Hadley was able to come in again, thank goodness.’ He held the door open for Tony and Alex. Bogie ran between her feet to get into the warmth and she caught herself on the doorjamb. Katie was only slightly slower. ‘I think Liz is hoping this turns into a regular thing. She’s juggling a lot but seems to manage well enough.’
Alex slammed her boots down on the mat inside the door, knocking off chunks of icy snow. ‘We’ll have to see if the business stays steady after the thaw sets in.’ Once inside the bar she stopped and looked around. ‘Amazing. This is more than yesterday, isn’t it?’ The place was packed, including the up-room, and there were people waiting for tables.
‘I wonder how many places serve tea while you’re waiting?’ Tony said. Those in chairs along one wall and standing in groups, held cups of tea and coffee and looked pleased with the entire situation.
Hugh hadn’t put on a coat to greet them and went straight back to work, serving those who liked a little nip – or not so little – with breakfast.
‘In the kitchen,’ Alex said. ‘I need to see if Gladys’s attitude gives anything away. I don’t care about the excuses – and being private people hardly explains a thing – something happened yesterday and I’m going to find out what it was.’
‘Sweetheart,’ Tony said, addressing his remarks via an unwavering examination of her mouth, which never failed to reduce her to jelly and with feelings she couldn’t explore at this moment. ‘If there’s anything concerning, it should go to the police. Right away. But what could there be? This is an ordinary couple with an ordinary life. They’re happy with it but they could have had a little spat. Happens to the best of us.’ He gave her a too-sweet smile.
‘I happen to know there are fresh crumpets from George’s – gift from the sisters to celebrate the start of a new venture. If you want some – toasted and dripping with fresh butter from Wheedley’s Farm and creaking under a mound of homemade raspberry jam – you’d better get into the kitchen now. Or that poor mare will be paging you herself. Just come and give me moral support – not that I’m going to say much. Keep your eyes and ears open. Really listen to what’s said.’
Firelight leaped over glittering horse brasses on the fireplace. The room was warm and intimate. Even the garlands of dried hops along blackened beams, showing signs of needing replacement, took on a sunny yellow that was almost Christmassy. Liz smiled brilliantly as she hurried between tables with loaded trays and the customers chattered so loudly the conversations had risen to shouting point.
Tony caught her by the hand and towed her through the room and behind the bar. They passed the two walls of spirits bottles, some exotic ones kept on the highest shelves. These were relics Alex hardly remembered and certainly couldn’t be sure what they contained. They would have to be explored one day – when she was older and had much more time.
The heat in the kitchen might have been overpowering if Gladys weren’t working with windows thrown wide open. In the absence of wind, at least the still cold of the frozen morning mitigated bone-melting steam from kettles and pans to say nothing of hot and popping fat.
‘Good morning, Gladys,’ Alex said with enough alacrity to grate on her own nerves. ‘My goodness, people love your breakfasts. This is wonderful.’
‘Glad you’re happy, Alex.’ Gladys smiled tightly and worked on without looking up. ‘I’d like to add porridge to the menu for tomorrow. If you agree, I’ll have sign-ups for it so I can soak enough oats overnight – best that way – and we’ll have to make sure Phil won’t mind if I store a pot or two in his kitchens.’
Tony stepped in. ‘I am a slave to good porridge, Gladys. Let’s insist Alex agrees.’
Gladys gave him a shy smile but Alex quickly agreed. ‘No problem setting the pots aside. Tell me what you want on the sign-up sheets and I’ll put one on each table for you.’
For the first time that morning, Gladys looked genuinely pleased. ‘Just have them put their names and a check mark if they want it. Then they can let me know if they like sultanas or currants, or stewed apple. Brown sugar and cream or milk will be automatic. They can suggest variations if they like but I’m not guaranteeing that or they’ll want chocolate covered ants or something disgusting.’
Alex laughed. ‘Or fried grasshoppers,’ she added. Two large boxes from George’s stood on the counter nearest the bar. Alex removed three crumpets while trying not to look too hard at all the other goodies lined up there.
‘Have you eaten, Gladys,’ she said. ‘You could manage a crumpet while you’re working.’
‘I’ll have something later.’ Gladys said, sliding heaped plates onto the center work island in time for Liz to come and sweep them away.
Drinking coffee, munching on crumpets – with a Bakewell tart apiece mixed in for variety – Tony and Alex stood in a corner of the kitchen, watching and waiting for activity to eventually slow down.
Alex took sign-up sheets around the tables asking for any interest in porridge. The result was overwhelmingly positive and she visualized stock pots lined up in the kitchen come morning. Gladys was quietly thrilled.
Dishes were piled high waiting to be loaded into the dishwashers but Alex knew better than to offend Gladys by starting on that task. Gladys would take the efforts as a suggestion she couldn’t manage. But Alex made a note to find someone else to help work the shift by tomorrow and there were plenty of mums in the village looking for a few hours of part-time work.
‘Still no sign of Mum,’ Alex murmured as the pace relaxed. ‘Not that she has to be here until lunch time.’
Tony leaned on the counter, coffee mug in hand, and said, ‘But you’re about at the end of your rope with wanting to talk to her. I don’t blame you. When you can, call her and tell her so.’
She looked at the floor. ‘I suppose I’d better.’
The dishwashers hummed. Liz went to take a break and have her own breakfast before going about the final cleanup and Gladys started mopping the kitchen floor.
‘Take a cup of coffee and talk to Liz,’ Alex said, ‘if you’ve got time. See what ideas she’s got. I’ll help Gladys.’ A meaningful glance passed between the two of them.
When they were alone, Alex poured coffee for Gladys and set it on the island. ‘Take a few minutes off,’ she said. ‘You’re working too hard and I don’t want you worn out. We could have rioting hoards at the door if you don’t show up.’ She held her breath for an instant after that unfortunate comment.
Gladys drank the coffee. Her bleached curls looked damp and bedraggled but her satisfaction in the morning’s results showed.
Alex took in a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry Frank was so worried yesterday. If I’d known he misunderstood what you were doing, I’d have talked to him. He was sitting in the corner of the bar and I didn’t really take any notice of him being there.’
‘We’re pretty easy to miss,’ Gladys said. There was no hint of pleasure in her now.
‘That’s not what I meant.’ A fine start, Alex thought. ‘The weather was so horrible. If I’d known you intended to go back and forth in that, I’d have made sure we took you both ways.’
Gladys’s demeanor had sunk to anxious but glum. ‘Not necessary. But thank you. Frank likes to do it.’
That was the first Alex had heard of it. Frank Lymer was famous for his lifelong history of sporadic employment and everyone knew Gladys was the glue that held hearth and home together.
‘So you rode your bike home yesterday, then,’ Alex said. She didn’t feel good about pressing the woman but if there was a problem it needed to be dealt with.
‘Yes.’
One of the things Frank had mentioned the previous night was that he hadn’t seen the bike. Gladys must have put it in the hut behind their cottage.
‘I’d be afraid of sliding,’ Alex said. ‘But you’re more experienced than I am.’
‘Some of us learn to make do,’ Gladys said.
Alex tamped down irritation at the unnecessary unpleasantness.
‘I know all about making do,’ she said. ‘I lived just about next door to you and Frank when I was growing up, remember. My mother cycled to work over here – at this same pub where you’re working now. I understand.’
‘Sorry for saying that,’ Gladys said. ‘You don’t deserve it and neither does Lily.’
‘Forget it. I thought maybe you got a lift back. It would have been much better.’
‘But it’s none of your business,’ Gladys said sharply. ‘I told you I rode my bike.’
Alex tingled with embarrassment. ‘Now I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Frank was so worried about you. He said he’d been at home waiting for you to let him know how you were doing but you didn’t call. He didn’t want to interrupt you, so he came and waited in the pub. A considerate man you’ve got there. He must have been waiting for you in the pub when you got home. I expect you had errands to run on your way home.’
Gladys stood up straight, pushed her hair back from her suddenly red face. ‘Frank told you we’re people who keep to ourselves. It’s been just the two of us for a long time. We’ve no one else to count on. It happens I was tired and went up to rest. He didn’t know I’d come in. I fell asleep and he eventually came here because he thought I must still be working. There. Now you know the whole story. Not much to it, is there?’
Alex rubbed a hand over her eyes. In fact she thought there could be a great deal more to this than Gladys was saying, but until and unless some other fact came to light and it had some importance, she had to let it go.
‘I’m glad you’re safe, Gladys. Please understand how worried and angry Frank was last night. He seemed to blame me. He said I lured you away from the Strouds and we both know that isn’t true. So forgive me, OK? I’m so pleased with the breakfast trade and I don’t think anyone else could do it nearly as well. Can we be friends again?’
Gladys smiled, back to her shy persona. ‘I’d like that. Thank you. I’ll call Frank to come and get me unless you still need me.’
‘Go home,’ Alex said. ‘Give my best to Frank.’
Tony’s pager had summoned him to a farm in the rolling flat land to the north of Folly and Alex left the Black Dog in Hugh’s capable hands. He and Juste Vidal would prepare for the lunch-time influx. Alex had finally found the courage to call Lily and they had agreed to meet at Lily’s Corner Cottage in the hour.
Alex made a call to the Gloucester Constabulary to report that her potentially missing person wasn’t missing. The disinterested reception dealt with any embarrassment she might have felt.
Leaving the dogs by the fire, she went out of the kitchen door into the parking lot and screwed up her eyes against a new fall of snow, this one soft, the flakes fat and in a hurry to pile up on the crusted remains of the last major snowstorm and the two or three inches added in the night. She trudged over to the Range Rover to get her anorak.
Carefully, grateful for her Hunter wellies, Alex walked around the rear of the vehicle and jutted her face forward to squint at a heap beside one of a row of storage sheds. Her tummy rolled. She’d like to just walk away but she couldn’t do that. Best get Hugh.
Grow up, Alex.
She went purposefully to look down on whatever was hidden by at least two layers of snow rapidly being added to by today’s plump flakes.
Now was not the time to get sick. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d come upon a frozen body. Alex closed her eyes at the memory.
She scraped back some of the soft snow at one end of the pile, then gradually delved deeper, brushing carefully as she grew closer to the shape underneath. Alex pulled on her leather gloves and used the flats of her fingers and palms, moving faster, but cautious in case there was something … There was something beneath the snow but it didn’t have to be a body.
Abruptly, she stopped. She felt tears on her face. Memories rushed back of the sadness, the futile reality of what people could do to other people. Good people in the wrong place at the wrong time. But here, outside her pub?
She yelled, ‘Hugh!’ but didn’t expect him to hear. Turning back to her task she first revealed rusted black metal, then what was obviously a tire.
‘What is it?’ Hugh reached her and caught her around the shoulders, almost lifting her away. ‘I saw you from upstairs. Alex, what’s the matter?’ He looked down then.
Together they revealed Gladys Lymer’s old bike.
Alex’s heart beat so hard it hurt her throat. She crossed her arms over her chest.
The rumble of Hugh’s deep laugh confused her. ‘It’s Gladys Lymer’s,’ she said.
‘Is it? I didn’t know. And we thought it was a body. Or I did.’
‘So did I. Hugh, please don’t tell anyone about it – finding the bike, I mean.’
‘OK. But why does it matter? She and Frank must have decided to leave it here until the weather clears up. Shouldn’t we stand it up. Here, I’ll do that.’
‘Please don’t. If it becomes an issue, they’ll want to know why it was left like this. If Gladys had known it was here, she’d have dealt with it.’
‘You haven’t said why it’s a big deal,’ Hugh said, rubbing his hands together against the cold.
‘Because Gladys lied to me about it. Obviously, she didn’t ride her bike home yesterday. Or if she did, something did happen to her along the way. I think it was bad and it’s important. No one else may see this the way I do, but I’m going to find out what it means.’
But first she and her mother were to meet at Corner Cottage for a talk. Alex hoped their discussion could finally be open, but she still had a sick feeling Lily might cut it off at any instant.