Click.
The familiar sound of the lock being unfastened was followed by the metallic swish of the French doors as they were pulled open. At the bottom of the garden, twenty-odd metres away, Rosa held her breath and fought the primal urge to make a run for it. That would be the worst thing she could do. Far better to stay put and pray they weren’t coming outside because they’d already spotted her.
She heard the staccato click of high heels on the flagstoned terrace and winced; high heels meant it was Ingrid, and Ingrid was scary. There was also the sound of her murmuring into her mobile, probably busy conducting some vital business deal with a client in Tokyo or New York whilst simultaneously—
‘Bleurgh,’ Rosa squeaked, kicking out wildly as something small scurried over her foot.
‘Hang on, I just heard a noise. Not burglars, I hope.’ Ingrid wasn’t sounding terrified, and the sound of her stilettos was growing closer. Frozen to the spot, Rosa closed her eyes and pretended to be invisible. From fifteen metres away she heard the footsteps stop and Ingrid say, ‘No, probably just a fox or something. Maybe a badger. I keep telling Benny we should install security lights, but it hasn’t happened, of course, because he doesn’t want to scare the wildlife.’
Rosa knew the snuffly, grunty kind of sound a badger made. If she imitated one, would it encourage Ingrid to hurry back into the house? Or come closer in order to investigate and maybe take a few photos of the creature in her garden? Torn by indecision, she heard another tiny rustling noise and realised that the mouse or vole or whatever it was that had run over her foot was still in the vicinity.
‘OK, I’m going inside now. Call me tomorrow after eight thirty. If I don’t answer, it’s because I’m in the car. I love you. Yes, bye . . . bye . . .’
The clicky footsteps receded, the French doors swished open and shut and the key was turned in the lock. Rosa exhaled with relief; phew, that had been close.
‘Right, I’d better be off. You’re going to get me into such trouble one day.’ She whispered the words to Joe as she patted the dry grass, then rose cautiously to her feet. Creeping across the lawn and through the shrubbery, she made her way back to the familiar stretch of wall shielded from the house by the trees.
Up, up and over, then down onto the pavement on the other side without snapping an ankle. There, done.
‘Bye, sweetheart. Love you.’ She was aware that this sounded ridiculous, but once you got into the habit of blowing a kiss and saying it, it was kind of hard to stop. In the darkness, she headed back towards Frog Cottage on Barley Lane.
It might not have been the best ever birthday, obviously, but overall it hadn’t been the worst either. Each year of widowhood was slightly easier to bear than the last, and she made sure to count her blessings. Yes, she’d lost Joe, their beautiful home and all their money, but she had her health and her friends, and of course her daughter. Amongst the inner loneliness there were still pockets of happiness to be found.
Chapter 4
From her bedroom window at the back of the hotel, Didi had a clear view over the patio. It was two in the morning, but she could just about make out someone sitting at one of the wooden tables and knew instinctively who it was.
Since she couldn’t sleep either, she threw on a cotton jersey dress and made her way down there.
Letting herself out onto the patio, she approached Shay. ‘I saw someone down here, didn’t know who it was.’
The glint in his eye told her that he suspected otherwise, but he raised his glass and said, ‘I helped myself to a brandy. It’s OK, I left a note in the honesty box.’
Another tiny dig.
‘Please don’t keep saying things like that,’ Didi murmured. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Me? I’m fine.’
The thing was, she might not have seen him for the last thirteen years, but before that, she’d known him so well. Plus, there’d been that barely detectable emphasis on I’m.
‘But someone else isn’t.’
He dipped his head in agreement.
‘Is it your dad?’
‘Well done on those mind-reading classes.’
‘He’s in big trouble?’
‘Yes, but not in the way you mean.’ His tone was even. ‘For once.’
‘Is he ill?’ said Didi.
‘He is. And it’s not good.’
‘Oh no, I’m so sorry.’ Shay’s father, known to all as Red, had been a nightmare in many ways, but she’d always had a soft spot for him as a person, such was the power of his charm. He’d been the ultimate lovable rogue.
‘The doctors have given him one to two years.’
She winced in sympathy. How old must he be? Late fifties? It was no age. Didi said, ‘That’s awful. And where is he now?’
‘Not in jail, if that’s what you mean. He’s put all that behind him now, doesn’t have the energy for it any more. He’s been living with a lady friend up in Edinburgh for the last ten months, but it sounds like that’s not going well.’
This was par for the course. As long as Didi had known Shay’s father, he had spent time in and out of prison, and there had always been plenty of women eager for his company. When he’d moved away from Elliscombe seven years ago, he’d rented his house out to friends of friends and it had made sense to assume that since then he’d been spending his free time at the home of the current woman in his life.
‘He’s pretty weak nowadays, not able to do a great deal.’ Shay waved away a large moth that was fluttering in front of him. After a pause, he said, ‘He wants to come home. Spend whatever time he has left here in Elliscombe. In his house.’
The white solar lights strung through the branches of the trees were still glowing like stars. Didi’s eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and she could see his features more clearly now. ‘So that’s why you’re back, to get the place ready for him?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Have you seen the state of it lately?’
Of course she had. Hillcrest, the Masons’ old family home, was situated on the outskirts of the town, on the road to Moreton-in-Marsh, which meant it was hard to miss. ‘The garden’s a bit . . . overgrown.’
‘It’s a jungle.’ Shay’s tone was curt. ‘And if you think it looks bad from the outside, you should see what it’s like on the inside. Absolute carnage.’
‘There was a bunch of people living there, about ten of them.’ Didi wrinkled her nose. ‘They looked a bit . . .’
‘That’s because they were squatters. Any other property owner would use a letting agency. But not Dad, oh no, that wasn’t his way. All he wanted was tenants who would pay rent each month via his mate Baz. But when they left and Baz went to Spain, the squatters moved in. He’s only just told me about this, by the way. I had no idea about any of it.’
‘And no one knew where your dad was. If they had, they’d have told him what was going on. The squatters left a few months ago.’
‘It’s in a hell of a state. I mean, I know it was hardly a palace before, but now . . .’ Shay grimaced. ‘I thought I was coming here to give the place a quick tidy-up, maybe mow the lawn and put the hoover around. I called Dad this afternoon to tell him what’s happened, and that was when the story came out. Then he asked me if I’d stay and sort it out.’