‘Clumsy,’ tutted the old woman in front of her. ‘You want to watch where you’re going, you do.’
The woman’s husband huffed with irritation. ‘She almost landed on my foot.’
Ow ow oww. Rosa’s knee now felt as if it were on fire. Mortified and unable to get up, she clutched her leg.
‘You OK?’ called the bus driver.
Reassured that at least someone cared, she found herself summoning a bright, oh-so-British smile. ‘Thanks, absolutely fine!’
‘That’s all right then.’ The bus driver released the brake and drove off, only narrowly missing her handbag, which was lying upturned in the gutter.
‘Hello? Could you just get my bag for me?’ Rosa called after the old couple, but they were trundling off along the pavement, grumbling to each other about people who didn’t bother to look where they were going. Then she heard rapid footsteps approaching.
‘I can’t believe they just walked off and left you! Can you move? Or should I call an ambulance?’
‘No need for an ambulance.’ Rosa shook her head at Benny Colette. ‘I’ll be OK in a few minutes. But my bag might not be so lucky.’
Crouching at the roadside, Benny lifted the upturned bag like a man, then cursed when half the contents flew out. Hastily he collected together her purse, lipstick, phone, house keys and the deep-blue gift-wrapped box from the jeweller’s, stuffing them back inside. ‘There you go, I think that’s everything. Let’s get you up now, shall we?’
The irony of the situation didn’t escape Rosa. Eighteen months of climbing over the high wall into Benny’s garden without mishap, and now here she was having managed to wreck her knee slipping off one small step. Worse still, it had only happened because she’d been craning her neck in order to gawp at him and Ingrid, with their designer clothes, top-of-the-range car and perfect lives.
‘Benny, what are you doing?’ Ingrid’s crisp Swedish-accented voice betrayed her impatience. ‘I need to get into the house and you have the keys.’
A middle-aged woman who’d seen Rosa’s fall came bustling over waving a packet of tissues. ‘You poor thing, I can’t stand the sight of blood, makes me come over all queasy! But you can have these if you need them . . . Oh no, there’s some on your hand, I can’t look . . .’
Rosa, who hated being the centre of attention, took the proffered tissues and the woman hurried off. Other people were now stopping to watch from a distance; this was like one of those dreams where everyone stared at you in the street and you suddenly realised you were naked.
‘Benny, hurry up,’ Ingrid ordered as Benny, crouching awkwardly, attempted to haul Rosa upright.
Then another voice said, ‘Rosa, is that you? Anything I can do to help?’
Turning, Rosa summoned an embarrassed smile of recognition. ‘Hello, Shay, I heard you were back. Red, hi.’ Goodness, he’d lost weight.
‘Benny,’ snapped Ingrid.
Between them, Shay and Benny helped Rosa to her feet. Putting weight on her knee elicited a small yelp of pain.
‘It’s OK, I’ve got her now.’ Shay’s arm was firmly around her waist.
‘Are you sure?’ Visibly relieved, Benny said, ‘Hope you feel better soon,’ before hurrying back to Compton House.
‘Who are they?’ Clearly baffled, Red stared after him. ‘Do they work for you? Because if they do, you need to sack them. Bloody hell.’
‘I don’t live there any more. They do.’ Rosa flushed. A gaggle of tourists were taking photos of her now, evidently delighted by the blood trickling down her shin. ‘Look, if you could help me over to that bench, I’ll just sit down and wait until the pain wears off . . .’
But Shay was already shaking his head. ‘Where are you living now? I’ll give you a lift, my car’s right here.’
Anything was better than being pointed at in the street. ‘Well, if you’re sure. That’d be really kind.’
Chapter 6
‘Frog Cottage. I can’t believe you’re here now.’ Red’s eyes lit up as they drew up outside. ‘Fond memories of this place. Had a bit of a thing going with Julie at one time.’
‘To be fair,’ Shay pointed out, ‘you had a bit of a thing going with most of the women around here at some stage or other.’
‘Julie moved to Cape Town with her sister,’ Rosa explained. ‘I was lucky; there wasn’t much I could afford, but this came onto the market just at the right time. Another couple were desperate to buy it but made the mistake of saying they’d have to repaint the living room. Well, Julie was furious and told them to take a hike. She knew how much I liked what she’d done, so she sold the cottage to me instead.’
‘So the mural’s still there? I loved that mural. I’m in it,’ said Red.
‘You are?’ Rosa frowned; this was news to her.
‘Don’t believe me? Let me show you.’ Opening the car door, he carefully levered himself out.
‘Oh, it’s OK! Thanks for the lift, but . . .’ Rosa winced as Shay helped her from the passenger seat.
‘Don’t you trust me in the house, is that it? Worried I might make off with the family silver? It’s all right, you’re safe, I’m a law-abiding citizen these days. Can’t run fast enough to make it worthwhile.’ Red paused. ‘That was a joke, by the way. I never did break into people’s houses or nick stuff from anyone I knew.’
‘I know that.’ He’d been more of a smuggling-suitcases-filled-with-tobacco-through-Customs chancer. Rosa leaned against Shay for support and found the keys in her bag. ‘And of course I trust you. Come on, let’s get inside.’ As an afterthought, she added, ‘I don’t have anything worth taking anyway.’
The hand-painted mural, covering one entire wall of the living room, had been Julie’s pride and joy. Over a period of three weeks she had recreated a quirky, colourful version of Elliscombe, complete with houses, gardens, shops and inhabitants. Everyone she’d known had been featured and most were recognisable.
Red surveyed the mural with satisfaction. ‘There it is. As beautiful as ever. She was one talented lady.’
‘I’ve worked out now where you are.’ Rosa leaned against the table to give her knee a rest. ‘I didn’t know you and Julie had a fling. That’s you, isn’t it?’ She pointed to the painted version of Frog Cottage, with its pretty garden, tiny pond complete with leaping frogs, and the shadowy figure of a visitor emerging from what had once been Julie’s bedroom window and was now hers.
‘You didn’t know, because we were discreet. And yes, there I am, making a hasty exit because her dad was on his way over. See, there he is.’ Red pointed to the police car rounding the bend in the lane, with Julie’s father behind the wheel. ‘What with him being Old Bill, he wasn’t too keen on me.’
Shay said, ‘And who could blame him?’
Now that she knew who Julie’s escaping visitor had been, Rosa could see the deliberately vague hint of a likeness. She indicated a detached house in another section of the mural, over on the road leading to Bourton on the Water. ‘And look, you weren’t the only one up to no good; there’s someone else here, creeping out through the back garden gate . . . Oh!’ She started to laugh when she saw the expression on Red’s face.