Thea and Drew held their ground, although Drew had risen from his chair. Martin Teasdale seemed to notice them rather belatedly, doing a dramatic double take. ‘The undertaker and … friend,’ he said. ‘Again.’
‘I asked them to come,’ said Mrs Wilshire. ‘We’ve been having a very long chat.’
Long it had certainly been, thought Thea. The entire morning had got away from them as a result. The nephew raised his scanty eyebrows and pushed out his lips. ‘That’s nice,’ he said unconvincingly.
‘Brendan has stolen my stamps,’ said the old lady, as if this was the single most urgent detail in the whole mass of material they had talked about. ‘I want you to get them back from him. If I can’t trust any of my relatives, I shall have to ask Mr Slocombe to take custody of them for me.’
‘Er …’ said Drew worriedly. Nobody paid any attention to him.
‘Nonsense,’ scoffed Teasdale. ‘He hasn’t stolen them at all. He’s keeping them safe, because the house is standing empty and anything could happen. Fire. Flood. Theft – anything.’
‘The house,’ repeated his aunt, with a frown. She put a hand to her head. ‘The house. You know …’ she looked at Drew, her voice faint, ‘this is all a bit too much. I seem to have drained all my reserves. I’m sorry.’
Drew was at her side in an instant, reminding Thea that he had once been a nurse. ‘You should lie down,’ he said. ‘You’re giddy, aren’t you?’
Don’t die on us, pleaded Thea silently. Martin Teasdale tried to interpose his bulky self between Drew and the old lady, claiming a familial authority. ‘Get away,’ Thea told him sharply. ‘Drew knows what to do.’
‘I think I need food, that’s all,’ said the patient. ‘I didn’t eat anything at breakfast. Please don’t worry yourself over me. Perhaps, some air – the room does seem rather full.’ Her voice had strengthened, and the look she gave Teasdale made Thea snort in amusement.
This did not sit well with the man, whose eyes bulged in indignation. He spluttered, but said nothing coherent. He was himself no chicken, of course. Over seventy, well fed and fond of a drink, by the look of him. Did that fit with living in the Middle East, Thea wondered idly. Presumably the ban on alcohol could be circumvented by Western businessmen who chose to ignore rules that didn’t suit them. Even to her non-medical eye, the man looked to have high blood pressure. There were little veins visible on his nose and cheeks. His eyes were already protuberant, even before emotion enlarged them further. She watched him with interest, trying to recall all the information she had gleaned about him from his son. Father of three; successful in his career, whatever it was; recently returned to England in retirement – and cousin to the dead Richard. Cousin, yes, but more like a brother in fact, raised by the same woman.
Drew had taken charge, manifesting a natural authority that he normally kept concealed. First he opened the door and looked out. A faint clatter of crockery could be heard, suggesting that preparations for lunch might be under way. ‘Mr Teasdale,’ he said, with polite formality, ‘perhaps you could go and find a sandwich or something? You know your way around better than we do.’
‘A sandwich?’ The man stared as if he had been asked to locate a live lobster. ‘This isn’t a hospital with a canteen, you know. They don’t sell sandwiches.’
‘All right. Well, anything, then. Just to tide your aunt over until lunch. Surely that isn’t much to ask?’ With a toss of his head, the man went off down the corridor, muttering to himself.
‘I’m afraid it is a lot to ask,’ said Mrs Wilshire. ‘It’s a strange thing, when you can’t get hold of food when you feel like it.’
It made Thea question again the word ‘home’ for the establishment. So many daily necessities you just took for granted in your own house were unavailable here. For anyone with their own habits and interests – probably including the collecting of stamps – there would be constant tidying up by staff, inadequate space to set everything out, interruptions and well-meant remarks of incomprehension. And all so very well intentioned. ‘Just ask,’ they would say. ‘This is Freedom Hall – just carry on the same as before.’ And they would mean it, not understanding how hollow and frustrating their words sounded to anyone with a strong character and active mind.
‘Don’t you keep a small stash of food in your room?’ she asked. ‘For when you want something between meals?’
‘I did at first,’ nodded Mrs Wilshire. ‘But when it was all gone, I couldn’t get any more. Shopping is a distant memory for me now.’ She smiled bravely. ‘Not that I ever enjoyed it very much.’
Fresh implications were flooding in. How did you get new clothes? Books? Birthday cards for friends and relations? Unless you had a willing son or daughter, with time to drive you into town and patience to go round shops with you, you were presumably stuffed. Or was there a faithful band of volunteers somewhere who performed this role for inmates of residential homes? Sporadically, was the most likely answer. Women with time on their hands, who might easily be distracted by events within their own family, or deterred by aching knees and backs as they crossed the line into old age themselves.
She came within a whisker of offering the service herself, before remembering that she lived in Witney most of the time, and had no idea how busy or otherwise she was going to be in the coming months.
Perhaps Nephew Teasdale would do it from here on, anyway. Or one of his daughters. Perhaps he was genuinely devoted and conscientious and motivated by a wish to repay his aunt for her ministrations when he was a child.
Mrs Wilshire went on, ‘The thing I really miss is the travelling. I’ve been to every continent in the world, you know.’
‘Yes,’ said Thea. ‘I saw your brochures and leaflets. I was very impressed.’
‘It seems a long time ago now. I spent the whole of my sixties seeing the world.’ She giggled girlishly. ‘My husband died, you see, so I was free to do as I liked.’
‘Must have been expensive,’ said Thea.
‘Oh, that was all taken care of.’ She clamped her lips shut, in a parody of a child with a secret.
All three of them remained quiet until Teasdale came back, carrying a plate. It held a slice of ham and egg pie and a small pile of mashed potato. ‘Success!’ he crowed. ‘I barged into the kitchen and made our wishes known. They were actually thoroughly accommodating. Asked if you’d like a drink as well, and if so what.’
From his breast pocket he produced a fork, for good measure. ‘Enjoy, Auntie,’ he said.
Mrs Wilshire took the plate hesitantly, unsure how to balance it on her lap. Drew busied himself with moving the bedside table to a point in front of her chair. To Thea, watching it all, there was an element of farce. The food was completely wrong for the situation; a Mars bar would have served the purpose far better. ‘Is this what we’re having for lunch, then?’ Mrs Wilshire asked.
‘Along with salad, pickles – all that sort of thing. And some rather attractive-looking bread. I saw two big soft brown loaves that made me feel quite peckish myself.’
By some unspoken consensus, Drew and Thea understood that the time for their departure had arrived. They were both standing already and it seemed as if a force was moving them towards the door. ‘We should go,’ said Drew.
Mrs Wilshire looked up. ‘Thank you so much for coming. I’m not quite sure what we’ve established, but I know I can trust you to take it further – on my behalf.’ She flicked an almost imperceptible glance towards Teasdale, with a tiny frown. ‘We will be in touch about Richard’s funeral, of course, as soon as we know something.’
Drew quickly took her lead. ‘Yes, of course. The Coroner’s officer will contact you when we’re free to proceed.’
The old lady sighed. ‘I imagine Mrs Goodison will pass any messages on to me, in her own good time.’
Her nephew tutted softly. ‘Now, Auntie, don’t be like that.’
‘I don’t expect you to understand, but I really do find it very offensive that I was kept in ignorance for almost a whole day. As if I am too unimportant to be told the news immediately.’
‘I would feel just the same,’ said Thea.
‘We had your best interests at heart,’ defended Martin. ‘Mrs G. thought there should be a supportive relative present when you heard the tragic news.’
His aunt thrust a forkful of pie into her mouth and was still chewing when Drew and Thea finally took their leave.
Hepzie was beyond reproachful when they finally let her out of the car. She squatted for a large wee inches from Thea’s feet, and then trotted off towards the well-kept lawn without looking back. ‘Come here!’ called her mistress. ‘We’ve got to go.’
‘Poor thing,’ Drew sympathised. ‘All day in the car isn’t much fun for her.’
‘I can’t remember when she last had anything resembling fun,’ Thea said guiltily. ‘There’s usually another dog for company, even if she doesn’t really play with them.’
‘Bring her back to mine tonight and the kids’ll cheer her up.’
‘We’re leaving now, are we?’
He gave her a startled look. ‘Not yet, no. We’ve got to go all the way back to Cirencester and tell Officer Higgins what we’ve discovered.’
‘That piece of wood, mainly. And … um … the fact that his mother is in no doubt that he was deliberately killed. And to ask what they think happened to his car. We might persuade him to divulge some of the findings from the post mortem, as well.’
‘Funny the way Mrs Wilshire called it an autopsy. Isn’t that American?’
‘She probably watches The Wire or Sopranos. I told you, didn’t I, that she was a great character. I love old ladies like her.’ His face beamed approval and relish. ‘So honest and brave. It’s the best thing about my job, meeting people like that.’
‘I thought she was great,’ said Thea sincerely. ‘Although I did think she might have shown just a bit more grief over Richard. I mean – she’s had him for nearly sixty years. She’s bound to miss him.’
‘Oh, she will. It’s early days. But she’s chosen to focus on how he died, and until she’s satisfied about that, she’ll hold up very well. I must say she’s unusual in staying so single-minded. Everything else is pushed aside for the time being.’
‘Hepzie, we can’t hang about here,’ Thea shouted to her disobedient dog. ‘Come on.’
It was necessary to haul the animal back onto the back seat, where she slumped with a dramatic flourish and closed her eyes. ‘I really hate to say it,’ Thea told Drew, ‘but I’m hungry. It’s yesterday all over again.’
‘You never learn,’ he sighed. ‘Why didn’t you pack some sandwiches or something, before we set out?’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘I don’t have these sudden drastic urges to eat. I suppose we could pay a quick visit to the farm shop in Chedworth and buy another snack, the same as yesterday. It’s on the way.’
‘Perfect,’ she said meekly.
They proceeded to follow this plan, with Drew showing increasing signs of stress at any delay. ‘I can’t leave the kids for another night,’ he said more than once.
‘You’ll have to bring me back here,’ she reminded him. ‘I’ll have to clean up the kitchen and turn things off. Should I get my car and follow you down to Cirencester? Then you can go straight off from there. It’ll save you at least an hour.’
‘Seems a bit convoluted,’ he worried. ‘But quicker in the long run, I suppose.’
‘Much.’
They were waiting to pay for their sausage rolls and organic elderflower juice as they spoke. The shop was thinly occupied, with a handful of people sitting at tables in a separate section. As Drew fingered the sparse contents of his wallet, someone came through from the cafe and recognised him and Thea.
‘Hello!’ It was Millie. ‘Why are you here?’ she asked.
In some moods, Drew would have made some jokey reply about cosmic dust or reallocation of atoms, but on this occasion he simply sighed. Thea experienced a painful inner conflict, whereby part of her simply wanted to shake off the whole matter of Richard Wilshire’s death and leave Chedworth, while another part noted immediately that his daughter was highly agitated and therefore interesting. It was not the shocked appearance of a newly bereaved person, but something more fearful or alarmed.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked.
‘They’ve taken Andrew Emerson in for questioning.’
Drew calmly paid for their purchases before saying anything. Thea led the girl outside, where she hoped the conversation might not be overheard. ‘Judith’s still in the cafe,’ said Millie. ‘I’ll have to go back to her in a minute.’
‘So the police do think it was murder, after all?’ said Thea, quickly. ‘Is that right?’
‘I suppose it must be.’
‘How do you know about Andrew?’ As always, Thea needed to establish the extent of the spread of information. Who knew what could very often provide a helpful chain of communication that solved many a tricky mystery. The fact of a person assumed to be unconnected knowing more than they should was often an important clue. She struggled to articulate this to herself, as she waited for Millie’s answer.
‘Brendan told me,’ came the gratifying revelation.
‘And how did he know?’
‘He was at the police station when they brought Andrew in.’
‘Did he know who he was? I mean – surely they’ve never met each other?’
Drew had joined them, but manifested much less curiosity than Thea did. In fact, his level of detachment was beginning to cause her some concern. At this rate, he might well change his mind about going to the Cirencester police station at all. When his phone began to demand attention in his pocket, this risk was only increased. Thea held her breath, ignoring Millie, while he answered it.
‘I can’t be back before three,’ he said. ‘Probably closer to four.’
The sense of abandonment caught Thea by surprise. The whole weekend had been a jumble of unresolved issues and uncertain priorities, none of which had become much clearer with the arrival of Monday. Every time she thought they had agreed on a plan, the whole thing changed. She had a picture in her head of a train falling off its track, and then running blindly across a landscape with no sense of direction. The tracks that led to a future with Drew and his children, pausing along the way to set up a new home and business in Broad Campden, had somehow come unbuckled, because there might or might not have been a murder of a man they barely knew in a village they need never visit again.
And now Drew was returning to his own territory, where people needed him. He had a circle of family and associates that was willing to accommodate Thea, largely on its own terms. She had no such circle of her own. There was nobody needing her; nobody wanted to know what time she could be with them. Without Drew she was adrift, a train without a track. And yet, she was compelled by what Millie had just told her and the questions that gave rise to.
‘Brendan knows everybody,’ said Millie carelessly.
‘But hasn’t he only just come here?’ Thea tried to remember everything the man had told her. ‘I thought he lived abroad until recently.’
‘Who told you that? His father was abroad, not him. He stayed here with his mother. He’s hardly ever been out of the country, as far as I know.’
‘He told me he’d lived in the Middle East for years.’
‘He probably thought it would impress you. He’s not very truthful.’ Millie sounded as if this was no great defect in a person.
Thea swallowed it with some difficulty, before asking, ‘What does he do for a living?’
‘Buys and sells stuff. Auctions, boot sales – all that. He knows what things are worth.’
Thea nodded. ‘So why was he at the police station?’
‘I don’t know.’ Millie’s voice was shrill. ‘Why am I even talking to you, anyway? None of this is your business.’ She looked at Drew. ‘Your boyfriend’s got the right idea. Sounds as if he’s going back where he belongs. Why don’t you just go with him?’
In a quiet way it was something of a crisis. Ignoring Millie, Thea focused on Drew. Was he thinking they could leave everything to the police, now they seemed to have reconsidered Richard’s cause of death? Did he think it was all over? It would be perfectly logical to take that view, she supposed – and in failing to do so, she was very likely showing herself to be deeply irrational. But from his estimated time of arrival back home, it would appear that he still intended to go to Cirencester and talk to the police, which was reassuring.
‘We’ve spent all morning with your grandmother,’ she told Millie, making no attempt to conceal the accusation in her tone. ‘She’s a very remarkable person. So strong and sharp-witted.’
‘Yeah,’ muttered the girl. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘You should try living with her. She never stops criticising, nagging, belittling. My dad mostly, of course, but anybody who comes near her is fair game. Nobody’s ever good enough. Nobody but her has any sense. You know why we didn’t tell her about Dad on Saturday? Because she’d have said it was all somebody’s fault – mine or Martin’s or even yours. Yes, she probably blames you as much as anyone.’
‘She doesn’t. She was very grateful for our interest. She needed somebody to talk it through with. And how come you’ve changed your tune so much? You were all on her side when I saw you on Friday.’ Millie’s abrupt alterations of view were unsettling. She seemed to utter random statements as to her opinions and feelings with no concern for consistency.
‘My father has died,’ said Millie with considerable emphasis. ‘I have no idea what happened to him, or what happens next. I’ve been trying to make sense of it, thinking it all through – the same as Gran’s been doing, by the sound of it. If he killed himself, then he must have been feeling guilty about something, don’t you think? And if another person pushed him and killed him, that’s totally different. How am I supposed to feel, not knowing which is true? Should I be sorry for him or angry with him? The police are useless. Brendan only wants to get his hands on Gran’s stuff. If I didn’t have Judith, I think I’d go mad. And now here you are, muddling everything up.’
‘Go back to your friend,’ said Thea crossly. ‘We’ll be out of your way after today.’
‘All right.’ But she didn’t go back into the shop immediately. Drew was watching them, his phone call ended. Millie turned to him. ‘Sorry if I was rude,’ she said. ‘It’s just all so horrendous. I don’t know what I’m saying half the time.’
‘You weren’t rude to me,’ he said mildly. ‘And of course you’re in a state. Anybody would be.’
Millie’s eyes filled with tears and she stumbled back to where Judith was presumably sitting patiently waiting for her.
‘You were too nice to her,’ said Thea. ‘She was fine when she was cross.’
He merely rolled his eyes, and took her by the arm. ‘Come on. We’re in a hurry, remember.’