She would probably get hell from Tony. Alex whistled and leaned forward to peer through the windscreen, trying to keep a steady speed on the hill leading to her house. If she slowed down she could slip to a halt.
When they had walked Harriet and Mary safely into their cottage, Tony got a call to come to his clinic and set a sheepdog’s leg. He left Alex at Lily’s and she told him she’d wait for him to come and take her up the hill to get fresh clothes and supplies.
He had been gone a long time, called and said he’d be even longer, and she became afraid they wouldn’t get up the hill and back again if they didn’t go now. She stopped over at the Black Dog to tell her mother where she was going, collected Bogie and took off.
No one would be fooling around the lodge in this weather. It would be safe. With luck, she could do what she had to in record time, not that she owed Tony any explanations for her actions. Even if she had come to like being with him more than without him …
The Land Rover scrunched to a stop. Alex could already make out the turn to the right that came before the driveway at Lime Tree Lodge. Not that she felt like trying to go the rest of the way on foot. Letting the pedal up slowly, she slid back a little and made another attempt.
It didn’t work, but the next try did.
Bogie sat close, leaned against her and swayed with every jolt. And managed to get in a lick to her jaw from time to time.
In this manner, creeping forward and sliding back inches, she reached the lodge, where inches of virgin snow covered everything. Winters were getting more extreme. Last year there had been sub-freezing temperatures in late April.
Rather than risk getting on an unplanned downward roll in the driveway, Alex stopped a little distance away from the front door. The outdoor lights came on and she got out of the Land Rover with Bogie trying to push past. It was funny how quickly a place looked deserted. This time she would leave more lights on inside the lodge.
She let herself into the house and shivered, even in her parka. The rush of air that met her felt more chilling than it was outside. It shouldn’t be so cold in here. She hadn’t turned off the heat, but a hand on one of the space heaters installed deliberately because they looked like antique radiators confirmed it was cold, and felt as if it had been for a long time.
The pipes will freeze. Several descriptive words came to mind but she swallowed them all. These were the joys of owning a home and having no one to share thinking about the upkeep – not that she needed anyone, she reminded herself.
Bogie bustled around familiarly. She was glad to have him. That thought warmed her up and brought a grin to her face. It was amazing how quickly she’d become accustomed to her little sidekick.
Suitcases were kept in a cupboard under the main stairs. The space was finished and very dry so made a good storage area. Her mother said that in the Second World War that’s where the occupants would have hidden during bombing attacks, not that Lily had actually been around for that. This area was just far enough from London not to have experienced much wartime activity, but Alex always got a funny feeling when she opened the door and thought about those who might have run under there to take cover. There were still several well-made cupboards that must have been used for supplies, and the area was reinforced.
Deciding on two small bags rather than a big one, she took the wheeled duffels into the hall but stopped before going upstairs. She needed to find out why the heat had gone off. In the morning she must call Simpson Brothers, who were actually father and son these days, and get them up here if possible. The Simpsons were the kind of family do-all firm that also did everything well without overcharging.
The heat ran on electricity and since the lights were working, there could not be a general failure. She looked at the circuit box and threw the breakers. She really didn’t know enough to work out what might be wrong.
The lights were on. Nothing else looked unusual. The problem had to be peculiar to the heating.
Another check of the heaters showed they were still cold.
The only thing she could do was turn the heaters all the way up and hope at least some warmth came through.
Alex rubbed her hands together. A breeze, strong and icy, was coming from somewhere. She turned the nearest control and kept turning and turning. Frowning, she looked closer, then moved to the next heater. It was turned all the way off, as the first one must have been.
A rapid survey of the living room as she walked round revealed the same situation. Someone had turned off every bit of heat and it hadn’t been her.
What she had been too preoccupied to notice were open drawers. The room wasn’t turned upside down but there was no doubt someone had been in there searching for something. Cushions remained on couches and chairs but they were pulled out and untidy.
Alex stood still in the middle of the room and listened. What she heard was the beating of her heart.
The house sounded and felt silent, still.
Alex had a problem squishing a fly but these were serious circumstances. She picked up one of a group of antique walking sticks she’d collected in a polished brass umbrella stand.
The beat of her heart in her throat hurt, but she followed the perishing current of air back into the hall and through to the kitchen. Running out the way she’d come in wouldn’t help. If someone was around, they’d get to her no matter where she went.
The door from the kitchen stood wide open. She could see the stone wall at the side of the grounds and how snow heaped on every surface.
Again, someone had made a perfunctory search. Unlike the room at the Black Dog, nothing was broken here or scattered about. A single dart with a yellow flight stabbed a small square of printed paper, pinned it to the table.
She didn’t want to cry but tears squeezed from the corners of her eyelids and burned. A few steps took her to the table and she read a copy of a simple announcement outlined with a single black line. Alex had never seen it before.
In Loving Memory
Of
Michelle
Infant daughter of Michael and Alexandra Bailey-Jones.
Taken before she drew breath.
We will never forget.
Bogie leaped up and barked wildly. An instant later the front doorbell rang.
Shaking, Alex stopped breathing. She called her baby Lily – but only to herself. She pulled out her mobile phone.
The bell rang again before loud hammering sounded. And the outdoor lights blacked out.
Alex screamed. The sound erupted before she could contain it. She punched in 999 and held the phone to her ear with both hands.
A disembodied voice at the other end asked the questions she had hoped she would never have to answer again. ‘Lime Tree Lodge,’ she started. She heard meaningless questions but she talked over them, trying to keep breathing deeply. ‘I need the police. I think someone’s been in my house. And now they’re outside trying to get in.’
While she spoke a tall shape materialized from the darkness and faint white glow outside, approached the door and rushed toward her, arms outstretched. His head and lower face were wrapped in a black scarf.
Alex dropped the phone, raised the ivory head of the walking stick and braced her feet apart.