Matt would be about an hour, but as soon as he was back, she would suggest they go over to Whisper Fen and perhaps do a bit of surveillance.
Liz pulled a notebook towards her and wrote the words, “Know Your Target,” and underlined them. She then put down four bullet points:
Speak to post office re his academic interest.
Try local pub.
Check out his cottage and get full address.
Try to get a look at him.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. She closed the book and stood up. Working independently was going to be a steep learning curve for them, but she was sure that once they found their feet, they would turn out to be damned good private detectives.
* * *
The late lunch had been a bit of a rollercoaster as far as Will was concerned. He found himself constantly watching Kate and listening out for any sudden outbursts. Angela could be a bit of a handful at the best of times, and although Hubert always had Kate’s best interests at heart, he was somewhat in awe of the larger-than-life author, and tended to defer to her demands rather too quickly.
They managed to survive the cold buffet meal without any disasters, and as Will had predicted, when Angela saw the painting of Runa, she was stunned by the mastery of Kate’s work.
The agent, Hubert Price, told Kate that he was certain the publishers would tell her to go ahead immediately with the full set of illustrations for the book.
Before she left, the author confided in Will that she felt the move had inspired Kate to higher things. And then she stood in the warm midday sun, stared across the desolate marshes and shivered.
‘I can see where she would get her inspiration from. This is a wild place indeed. Look at all that sky.’ She turned away. ‘But not for me, I’m afraid. I find this spot just a little too remote, too lonely.’
She seemed almost overcome with melancholy. Then she shook herself. ‘I’m so sorry, William. I’m a bit susceptible to atmosphere, and you have quite a lot of it here, don’t you?’
She laughed, but it was a hollow sound.
Will was greatly relieved to see them depart, but Kate seemed almost elated. She poured them both a glass of wine, and they wandered out into the garden and sat on the bench in the afternoon sunshine.
Will told Kate about Angela’s reaction to their new location.
‘Oh, I’m not surprised, darling. She is a great writer, but she loves the social whirl, the parties and the hubbub of the city. My wonderful marshes would send her into a depression after a couple of hours.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘And there isn’t an off licence for six miles! That would never do.’
They giggled like children.
‘I was rather glad to see Hubert take the car keys, considering how much wine Angela put away with lunch.’ Will laughed, enjoying this rare moment with an uncharacteristically relaxed Kate. ‘So, my clever darling, another deadline ahead. I told you they’d love your illustrations. I’ve never seen Angela look so in awe. She seemed almost stunned by your interpretation of her character.’
‘Yes, it’s great, isn’t it?’ Kate nodded, looking suddenly pensive. ‘But there is so much I want to do here. I feel a bit trapped by my work.’
‘Then finish this volume and take a break. Take some time out. If you feel like working, then concentrate on your own book. You have plenty of time before that final novel will be ready. Angela admitted that she hadn’t even started it yet and was struggling to come up with fresh ideas.’ He spoke hesitantly. Just recently, the most innocent comments had been misconstrued, causing his moody wife to snap at him.
Kate sipped her wine, watching the sunlight glint in the crystal glass. ‘You’re right. I’ll buckle down and get this one put to bed as soon as possible. I’ve already done a whole load of preparatory sketches, so I’m ahead of the game.’ Absentmindedly, she reached across and laid her hand on his leg. ‘Then I’ll turn my attention to our home. I want it to be perfect, just as it used to be. Which reminds me — would you mind if I do a bit of research on the history of Holland House?’
‘In your spare time, I suppose?’ He tried not to show it, but he was somewhat surprised that with her deadline for the publisher, her own work, and her wish to revamp an entire house, she would even consider another time-consuming hobby.
She smiled and looked out across the salt marsh.
‘So, what do you want to know about the house?’ he asked after a while. ‘Do you think it has a grim past? Murder, mystery and mayhem?’
‘I sincerely doubt it. It’s hardly Medmenham Abbey.’
‘Or Borley Rectory, for that matter.’
‘I’m interested, that’s all.’ She turned and looked at him. ‘It is our home. Surely you want to know all about it, don’t you?’
‘I know that it’s been in the Holland family since it was built. Old Mr Holland’s grandfather built it as a wedding present for his son and his new wife. And that’s enough for me.’
‘Don’t be boring, Will.’
‘You can investigate to your heart’s content, my sweet. Just don’t start reciting the Holland family tree. I don’t want to know who begat who, thank you. In any case, it’d just go in one ear and out the other.’
‘That’s fine,’ she murmured, gazing out over Whisper Fen. ‘This is my project.’
She turned and looked up at Holland House as if she and this construction of bricks and mortar had an understanding between them. Will wondered when she had last looked at him like that and experienced a pang of what could only be described as jealousy.
* * *
Matt and Liz returned from a very profitable sortie to the tiny village of Whisper Fen. Emilia wasn’t alone in being friendly with Gladys Conway, the local postmistress. Matt, too, was on first-name terms with her, and they learned a lot about Gerald Grove.
They went over what they had learned while preparing supper.
‘So now we know why he spends so much time wandering around the marsh. He’s a lepidopterist, an expert on moths and butterflies.’ Matt lowered two pieces of fillet steak into a pan, which soon began to sizzle.
‘And he’s studying this area as a hotspot for rare specimens.’ Liz was rinsing salad leaves under the tap. ‘Maybe Will is wrong about recognising him from before? He might be a bit of a ragbag, but I can’t see him falling foul of the law over a few old moths, can you?’
‘Ah well.’ Matt shrugged. ‘You know as well as I do that he could still have a murky past or be hiding dirty secrets, even if he is a scholar.’
‘True. And it is also true that no one has had a good word to say about him.’
They’d had a drink in the Silent Coachman, a tiny pub situated midway between Tanners Fen and Whisper Fen. The landlord, along with a few locals had been more than happy to share their views on Grove — and hadn’t held back.
Matt laughed. ‘I’ll say. The entire clientele awarded him the prize for “Rudest Man on the fens.”’
Liz put their dinner plates to warm, and sniffed the delicious aroma of peppered steak, while, in another pan, Matt was cooking mushrooms and tomatoes.
‘Can you check the oven chips, sweetheart? These won’t be too long now.’
Liz looked at the timer. ‘Five minutes.’