Authors: Kaye C. Hill
Rowana appeared dumbstruck.
“Hi,” blabbered Lexy, brain in overdrive. “You... you... must be Gabrielle. This is a bit of a coincidence, but when your sister came in just now, I recognised her from a
photograph in my friend’s cottage. Isn’t that funny? I recognise you all, actually. I’m a friend of Elizabeth Cassall. Or rather I was, before she died, that is.”
She tried not to look at Milo, who was pressing a hand against his forehead.
A man joined Gabrielle, slim and careworn, with a lock of hair that fell anxiously over his face. He’d caught Lexy’s last few words.
“Were you really?” he said. She clocked where the uppity daughter had inherited her sapphire eyes.
“Yes. We met down here. Me and Elizabeth. I’ve been staying in her cottage. To look after the plants and so on. Keep things ticking over ’til you got here. She had no one else,
you see.” The fixed smile on Lexy’s face was beginning to hurt. “I hope you don’t mind?”
Rowana edged out of the alcove, freeing Lexy and Milo from their close encounter.
“Staying there?” frowned Gabrielle.
“Not at all, in fact that’s terribly kind of you. I’m so pleased that Elizabeth had a friend who was prepared to do that.” The man smiled at Lexy. “Sorry, I should
introduce myself – Steve Paterson. And these are Gabrielle and Rowana, my daughters.”
“I’m Lexy. Lexy Lomax, and this is my er... friend, Milo.”
Milo stood up and shook Steve Paterson’s hand.
“And this is Kinky.”
The chihuahua waved his tail politely.
Gabrielle was still frowning. “How come Elizabeth had a photograph of us?”
Lexy could see she was going to be trouble.
“A photo?” Her father straightened, an odd, guarded expression in his eye.
Rowana looked like she might faint.
None of them noticed when the pub door opened again.
It was only when Tyman Gallimore was halfway to the bar that Lexy glanced over. Her eyes bulged. Behind him were Bruce and Ward, engrossed in muttered conversation.
“Interesting development.” Milo had followed her gaze.
Tyman looked around. He spotted Lexy and stopped dead. Bruce and Ward almost shunted into him, and for a split second they all appeared comically frozen.
Tyman defrosted first.
“Hello again, Lexy. Didn’t expect to see you here.” He eyed the three Patersons.
“Hi,” Lexy stretched her smile to manic proportions. “This is Steve, Gabrielle and Rowana.” She introduced them with a flourish, as if they were old mates. “The
Patersons. The new owners of Four Winds! And this is my friend Milo,” she added.
Bruce came forward, took in the Paterson family with shrewd eyes, and introduced himself and his sons in turn. He then produced a large wad of notes from his pocket.
“Right, now we’ve done with the formalities, can I get you all a drink? Seeing as we’re neighbours, of sorts.”
Lexy sent a look of despair to Milo. This was so not what she needed. The Gallimores thought she was a friend of the Patersons, and the Patersons thought she was a friend of Elizabeth. One wrong
word and the whole charade would collapse sobbing on the floor.
Milo gave an imperceptible shrug. Seemed she was on her own. Terrific.
“Certainly need a drink.” Tyman dragged a nearby table towards the alcove, and sat next to Lexy. “Our Anglo-Nubian goats went on the rampage earlier. Ate their way out of a
paddock, destroyed two ornamental cherry trees and when we caught up with them they were intimidating the pochards.”
“Pochards?” enquired Gabrielle.
“A not very intelligent duck.” Ward sat down next to his brother.
“Aye – it were a right bugger’s muddle.” Bruce returned with the first of the drinks. “Beats me why we keep goats. Give us a hand, boys, pass these down. Ruddy
things are always breaking out and causing mayhem. Too clever by ’alf, your goat.” Lexy noticed that Bruce had bought her another full pint of cider, even though she’d asked for
only a half.
“They have their uses though, don’t they?” Tyman turned to his father with an unexpectedly bitter look.
“Shut it, Tyman.” Ward was smiling, but not with his eyes.
Lexy wondered what that was about. What dodgy use could a goat be put to? She didn’t even want to go there.
Rowana, who had been gradually backing away, disappeared in the direction of a sign saying Ladies. Lexy contemplated going after her, but she was too worried about what might pass between the
Gallimores and the remaining Patersons in her absence.
Bruce watched Rowana go, then his eyes flicked to Gabrielle. He leaned back and murmured something to Ward. Clearly something lewd. His son gave him a pitying look.
Meanwhile, Milo had turned to Tyman. “Have you lived at the farm for long?” A conversational gambit. He knew exactly how long they’d been there.
“About six months. Dad’s been here longer, setting it all up.”
“Aye, I moved over from Normandy,” said Bruce. “Had a little farm there, and all. Always had an interest in farming, haven’t we, boys?”
“Not always,” remarked Ward.
“What’s your line, Steve?” Bruce hurriedly turned to Rowana’s father. He clearly didn’t want to reveal his circus-owning past.
“We’re in the confectionery trade.”
“Oh, aye? What does that involve? Manufacture? Supply?”
“We had a shop in London,” said Steve. He brushed the lock of hair from his tired-looking eyes. “Bloomsbury.”
“Very nice, too. Property prices still holding up there, I hear. Speaking of which, I, er, I take it you’re going to sell Four Winds Cottage?”
He certainly didn’t waste much time on foreplay. Lexy shot Milo a knowing glance.
“We’re thinking about it.” Steve looked vague.
“We’ll have to do more than think about it, Dad,” Gabrielle muttered.
“It’s just that I might be interested, myself,” said Bruce. “You know, quick cash sale, before it goes on the market. Save you hanging around.”
“Brilliant,” Gabrielle beamed at her father. “The perfect solution.”
“What did you have in mind for it?” enquired Steve, a frown creasing his forehead.
“Er...” Bruce exchanged a quick glance with his sons. “Nowt particular. Just thought it would, you know, make a nice little holiday ’ome, or summat.”
He hadn’t been prepared for that question. So why, one had to ask, did they really want to buy it?
“Well, if we decide to sell it,” Steve said, “I’ll let you know.”
For some reason, Lexy felt like clapping. She threw back the remains of her first pint of cider and started on the second.
“If?” Gabrielle ejaculated.
“Can’t say fairer than that.” But Lexy caught the desperation in Bruce’s eye.
He turned to her next.
“You’ll not be staying at the cottage any more though, pet?”
“Won’t I?”
“Well, we’ve had a spate of break-ins recently. Wouldn’t want to think of you up there alone.”
“I’ll make sure I leave some lights on overnight,” she said.
“Not tonight, you won’t.” He looked triumphant.
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you know? Electricity went off an hour ago. That’s why we came out, eh, lads? No sense in sitting in the dark. Usually takes them all night to get it back
on.”
A likely story. They must have messed with the junction box. Cut a wire, or something. Well, sod that. They weren’t messing with her.
“There’s loads of candles at the cottage.” There were three small penguin-shaped candles at the cottage. “And I’ve got the dog. May be small but he’s dead
hard. I’ll be perfectly all right.” Lexy downed some more cider and wiped her mouth, smiling around.
Bruce Gallimore closed his eyes as if in pain, and Ward gave Tyman a grim look.
“Oh!” said Gabrielle, who had lost interest in the conversation some while back. “I think I recognise that bloke at the bar.” Her voice dropped to an excited whisper.
“He’s an author, or something. He got drunk in the West End last week and decked a footballer – it was in the papers.”
“I think you’ll find he’s an artist, not an author,” said Ward. “Archer Trevino.”
So that’s who he was. Lexy looked at Elizabeth’s oil-painting man with renewed interest. If she remembered right, there was something of his in the Tate Modern. Another place she
used to go to escape from Gerard.
“Yes, that’s him,” said Gabrielle. “He got arrested. They must have released him.”
“Obviously.” Ward eyed her with amused disdain.
“He’s our local celebrity,” said Tyman. “He and Elizabeth were friends.”
Friends? Elizabeth didn’t just know the hell-raising artist, she hung out with him.
“Oh, does that mean you know him, too?” Gabrielle turned eagerly to Lexy. “Like, through Elizabeth? You could introduce us.”
It was a bloody shame she couldn’t do magic herself, Lexy thought. Because if she could, she’d turn Rowana’s airhead sister into the pub cat.
“I wouldn’t think he’d be in the mood to be introduced to strangers at the moment. Not after what happened at the cottage.”
Mercifully, Ward Gallimore had stepped in. He didn’t seem to have noticed Gabrielle’s assumption that Lexy knew Elizabeth.
Gabrielle gazed at him. “Oh. Right.”
“Perhaps some other time.”
“Yes, of course.” She still gazed at him. Obviously not used to being chided, but finding she liked it. “What was your name again?”
“Ward.”
“That’s a funny name. Is it short for something?”
Ward gave his father a weary look. “Hereward.”
Hereward the Wake. The Anglo-Saxon rebel involved in leading resistance to the Norman Conquest. Good name for someone brought up in France.
Gabrielle broke into a peal of laughter, although Lexy doubted whether it was in appreciation of the irony, unless she’d got her very wrong.
She saw Archer Trevino look up from his pint. His look became a stare, and the stare became fixed. Who, among them, had he recognised? Whoever it was, he didn’t want to stick around and
say hello. Seconds later he’d abandoned the stool, pint, chaser and barmaid and slammed through a door at the back of the bar.
“Not like ’im to leave a drink unfinished.” Bruce, who had witnessed this disappearance too, leaned back to peer out of the mullioned pub window. “He’s off down
t’road like a whippet wi’ the runs.”
“That’s one of his paintings over there.” Tyman had been scanning the far wall of the pub.
Milo and Lexy used the excuse to get up, go to the other end of the bar, and have a look.
It was a series of silvery grey lines, with pink, red and brown splatters, entitled Dawn Explodes over Dingle Marsh.
“More like Herring Gull Explodes over Dingle Marsh,” muttered Milo, “but then I’ve never seen the point of modern art.”
“I was right, wasn’t I?” Lexy whispered. “About the Gallimores falling over themselves to buy Four Winds Cottage. And they don’t want it for a nice little holiday
’ome, or summat.” She imitated Bruce’s broad accent.
“They seem keen, but I wouldn’t read too much into it,” he said. He leant towards her. “Listen,
partner
, did you say Steve and Gabrielle were away from home on the
morning Elizabeth died?”
Lexy thought back. “Rowana said her sister was out with a boyfriend and her dad was away for the night when she did her magic ceremony thing.”
“That right? Wonder where he was?”
They looked over at Steve, who was nursing a pint, a faraway look in his eyes.
Lexy frowned. She didn’t want Milo wasting time on the Patersons when it was the Gallimores he should be concerned about.
“I’ll try to find out,” she told Milo, “but it won’t be easy. It’s not the kind of thing you can come out and ask someone, not unless you’ve got a
sheriff’s badge on your lapel.”
“You saying I should ask him?”
“No. No – I’m just asking you to bear with me. Although, you don’t seriously think... not Rowana’s father?”
Milo glanced over at Steve, then back at Lexy. “Why not? You said yourself he must have been desperate. Livelihood gone, two daughters to provide for...”
“He just doesn’t seem the type.”
“Believe me, there is no type.”
“Right. OK. I’ll see what I can do. Better get back in case someone else puts their foot in it.”
“Lead the way.”
Lexy struggled back round to her seat. Tyman winked at her. He was feeding Kinky crisps. There was another round of drinks waiting, and Steve was speaking animatedly to Bruce.
Fortunately, the subject of conversation was merely the old car in Elizabeth’s shed. Steve must have seen it last time he was up there. “She’s in pretty good condition,
considering,” he was saying. “And the upholstery isn’t bad, either. Elizabeth had the good sense to keep it under cover. Do you know...” He turned to Gabrielle and Rowana.
“... I really think I might be able to get her going. She’ll be worth much more if I can.”
“We haven’t got time for you to be renovating old cars,” Gabrielle snapped.
“Actually,” Steve went on, not seeming to hear her, “I could do with a hand from Russell. For a merchant banker, he knows his motors. He fixed that clutch pedal on the van
without batting an eyelid. Any chance of getting him down here tomorrow, or the next day?”
Gabrielle looked as if she had swallowed something inedible.
“Dad,” Rowana hissed. “Gabby isn’t seeing Russell any more. He’s going out with somebody else. Don’t you remember the ring? And the engine grease?”
“Of course. Sorry, sweetheart – slipped my mind. Seems a shame though. Could do with him right now.”
“Well, I’ll give you his phone number if you like. Just tell me when he’s coming and I’ll find somewhere else to stay, so he doesn’t have to see me.” Tears
glistened in Gabrielle’s eyes.
Obviously a sore point.
“If you ask me, that old rust-bucket’ll need more than a mechanic,” said Bruce. “Needs a skip, more like.”
“Yes, well, the cowl does not make the monk,” Steve replied.
Everyone contemplated this in silence. Lexy saw Bruce nudge Tyman. The latter turned to Rowana.
“So, Elizabeth was a distant relative of yours, was she?”
Rowana gazed at him, reddening. “N... not exactly.”
“She was a good friend of my second wife, Jackie,” Steve stated quietly.