The Grasmere Grudge

by Rebecca Tope

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Simmy feebly.

  ‘Gosh, I’m sorry to go on like this. You hardly know me, and here I am moaning about my life. Ignore me. I actually called to see if you’d like to come over sometime, and we can do something together? But you probably work full-time in your shop, don’t you?’

  Simmy’s natural goodwill towards all and sundry was finding itself sorely tested. The twisted ankle meant the woman needed a chauffeur, presumably. Did ‘do something’ mean being driven out to some Lakeland beauty spot, or a local pub – or what? How would the baby be factored into such an excursion? ‘Well, yes, I do. Five and a half days a week, in fact. And I mostly spend the other day and a half with my fiancé. That only leaves evenings, doesn’t it?’

  ‘You could come here one evening, then. How are you fixed next week?’

  ‘I can’t say for sure. It’s all a bit difficult at the moment. I have to help my parents—’

  ‘It’s the same with everybody,’ Flo spat, suddenly angry. ‘Nobody’s got a minute to spare in their insanely busy lives. Not even my husband, father of this wretched child. It’s absolute madness.’

  ‘I would like to see you,’ said Simmy, in all sincerity. ‘I think your baby’s lovely. But I daren’t promise a specific evening without talking to one or two people first. I can call you on Monday and fix something.’

  ‘All right, then.’ The tone was grudging. ‘I’m sorry to be so needy. I’m not usually like this, you know.’

  ‘That’s okay. You’re having a hard time, there all on your own. Anybody would feel the same. It must be boring much of the time.’

  ‘Right. The funny thing is – the baby’s bored, as well. She perks right up when we see other people or go somewhere new. We’re driving each other crazy.’

  ‘It won’t last for ever,’ said Simmy, sounding hopelessly clichéd in her own ears.

  She drove home, trying to clear her head of every thought but the central issue of the following day. No sooner was she inside her house and boiling the kettle than the phone jingled again. ‘Hey, it’s me,’ said Ben. ‘I’ve been trying to get you. First it was engaged and then it went to voicemail.’

  ‘Sorry, it was that woman with the baby in Grasmere. What do you want? You’re not cancelling tomorrow, are you?’

  ‘Course not. Have you got your laptop there?’

  ‘Not the main one. I had to leave it at the shop for Bonnie tomorrow. I’ve got my old one, though. It still works, but it hasn’t got the shop stuff on it.’

  ‘Good. Get onto the Internet, then, and have a look at the sale catalogue for tomorrow. They’ve got seven hundred and fifty lots. All those things! It’ll be amazing. We’ve got to buy something, you know. And there won’t be time for a proper look round, before they get started. There’s pictures and guide prices, so you could pick out anything you fancy.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to, Ben. Bonnie showed me some of it already. I’d much rather see the actual objects. Why do we have to buy anything, anyway? There’s no rule that says we have to, is there?’

  ‘No. Obviously not. But we’ll want to have something to show for the day, won’t we? You should look at the catalogue,’ he urged. ‘There’s such a huge range. Statues, stamps, old tablecloths, oriental carvings, pictures, china, toys, medals … I’m just flipping down the pages and those are what jump out. There’s loads of things.’

  ‘I know. I have been before, remember. I’ve seen what it’s like.’

  ‘Oh.’

  She felt bad for deflating his excitement, but his efforts to force her to share it were irritating. Coming on the heels of Flo’s disappointment, it made Simmy feel conscience-stricken at being so uncooperative. ‘Yes, well, as I say, there’ll be time enough tomorrow.’

  ‘All right, then. Bonnie tells me you saw Moxo this afternoon,’ he went on. ‘Must be taking the thing seriously, if they’re drafting in people from outside their patch.’

  ‘It’s not very far outside. They must work together all the time.’ She hoped to deflect him from enquiring too deeply into the detective’s reason for calling on her – despite knowing that Bonnie would already have explained. She recalled how Ben himself had felt that Christopher was not disclosing the whole truth.

  It seemed that her strategy had worked. ‘Mm,’ said Ben, ‘perhaps you’re right.’ The details of how various police forces operated were unclear to Simmy, and evidently to Ben as well. The only consistent person they’d had dealings with was DI Moxon, throughout all their adventures. Most likely, he was the only one with any patience for the annoying amateur sleuths, however helpful they might occasionally prove to be.

  ‘Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going now.’ She was hungry, as well as irritable. If she didn’t hurry, Christopher would make his nightly call, and she’d be wishing she could eat and talk at the same time.

  As it was, the phone gave her no more than time to put the kettle on and cut a slice of bread. It was seven-fifteen – early for Chris. ‘Hello?’ she said.

  ‘Oh … hello. Is that the lady from the flower shop? Persimmon Petals? The phone message gave this number for out-of-hours calls.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Bonnie had persuaded her that she should make herself available at all times, for urgent flower matters. Now she decided that it had been a bad idea.

  ‘I am sorry to trouble you.’ The voice was a quavering old lady’s, and Simmy steeled herself to be patient. ‘But I thought perhaps you could help me. I sent flowers to my granddaughter in Grasmere earlier this week. It seems I should have used a florist closer to hand, but I liked the sound of your name. Persimmon Petals. It has a nice ring.’

  ‘Great-Granny Sarah,’ said Simmy. ‘I remember.’

  ‘Oh – that’s good. She phoned me to say thank you, the next day, and told me how friendly you were, and how she is left on her own a lot by that fool of a husband. Well, I shouldn’t say that. Most people think Florence is the foolish one for marrying him. But she did sound in a bad way. The baby cries a lot and the district nurse doesn’t sound to be up to the job. I’ve spent three days worrying about it and wishing I could be with her. But with my hips … and I’m due to have a cataract removed next week, and really it just isn’t possible.’

  ‘I’m sure she doesn’t expect—’

  ‘I’d be more trouble than I’m worth,’ the old lady interrupted. ‘I know that. So – this is going to sound so dreadfully impertinent – I was hoping you might have a few hours free to drop in and chat with her. I don’t know why it is, but the women she thought were her friends in the area don’t seem to be available when she needs them.’

  ‘The thing is, Flo phoned me herself a little while ago, asking me the same thing. And I hate to say it, but I’m another of those busy women. I bumped into her and the baby in Grasmere on Wednesday evening and we exchanged phone numbers. And I think the baby’s adorable. I will do my best to go and see them – but my free time really is very limited. Plus, of course, it’s likely to be at the times when her husband’s at home. Sundays and evenings.’

  ‘Don’t be too sure of that. Florence tells me he’s just decided to keep the shop in Ambleside open right through the weekend, to catch the summer visitors. That means extra work, and you can’t always rely on the volunteers – some of them are almost as old as me!’ She chuckled. ‘He seems to be intent on staying away from home as much as he can. Makes me furious.’

  ‘I saw the shop yesterday evening. CaniCare – that’s right, isn’t it?’

  ‘Did you go in?’

  ‘No, it was closed for the day. It looked as if it had some interesting things, though.’

  ‘I gather it’s a favourite with rich old women. They get all kinds of wonders dumped on them. Scott’s even persuaded me to let them have a lot of my things when the time comes. It does seem like a good cause and he’s absolutely passionate about it.’

  Simmy eyed her slice of bread and felt her stomach churn in anticipation. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to go no
w,’ she said, feeling mean. ‘I was just about to have my supper.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Of course. I’ll let you go. I hope you’re not offended by my calling you?’

  ‘Of course not. It’s very sweet of you to be so concerned. And I will try and get to Grasmere one evening next week, if I can. I haven’t got very many friends myself, to be honest. I’d be glad to see more of Flo. It’s just …’

  ‘Yes, I know, dear. Everybody’s always so busy. It’s the way of the world these days.’

  Simmy laughed and finished the call.

  The final call was, as expected, from Christopher. And I love you had been his closing words, twenty-four hours earlier. She had had a great many conversations in the course of that time, but his words had remained warm and comforting at the back of her mind. Whatever happened, they would face the troubles of the world together. Hearing his voice now, she felt strong and purposeful in her new identity as half of a couple.

  ‘Had a good day?’ she asked as a matter of routine.

  ‘Not too bad, I guess. The main event was Nick showing up to the viewing. That was a surprise. He says he’s not going to let officialdom stop him, and if he’s had up for tax dodging, then so should a hundred other people be. He’s really fired up about it.’

  ‘Did he know about Jonathan?’

  ‘Obviously he did. The cops had him in for questioning, same as me. Lucky for him, he could prove he was up north Sunday and Monday.’

  ‘But he doesn’t know it was you who gave them his name?’

  ‘Hey! Come on! What’s that supposed to mean? It was hardly a secret, after all.’

  ‘What wasn’t? That Jonathan reported him to the taxman? Or that you suggested he had a motive for murder? I’m starting to feel sorry for the poor chap. Everybody seems to be dropping him in it, one way or another.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ His voice had changed from cheerful to defeated in seconds, and Simmy blamed herself. ‘Nick doesn’t hold grudges. He’s like a stereotypical Irishman, except he’s originally Welsh, I think. Nothing bothers him for long. Yes, he flares up quite a lot, but it all dies down again in a few days. Anyway, you can see for yourself, if you’re still going to be here tomorrow. I’ll introduce you.’

  She chose to take this at face value, and then tried to raise his spirits with a change of subject. ‘Thanks. I’ll look forward to that. So – are you coming here on Sunday, as usual? Any ideas about what we should do? What about tomorrow evening, if I’m in Keswick all day, anyway?’

  ‘Actually … don’t take this the wrong way, but I am going to have to cry off, at least for Sunday morning. I’ve got a stack of valuations to catch up on, for a start. Things that can’t wait another day. And I had a call from Valerie Woolley, Jon’s wife. She wants me to talk her through exactly what happened when I found him on Monday. That’s not going to be a barrel of laughs, is it? I don’t know what she thinks she has to gain from it, but I imagine I’m in for a grilling rather like the one I got from your friend Ben.’

  ‘She’s probably imagining all kinds of ghastly things and hopes the reality will be less awful. It usually is, don’t you think?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think I’m rather deficient where imagination is concerned. When my dad died, I didn’t have the slightest wish to hear the details.’

  ‘Oh, well. When are you seeing her, then? Sometime on Sunday?’

  ‘She’s coming to Keswick at eleven. She probably thinks I’ll take her out to lunch, but I won’t if I can help it. Why the hell should I, when all’s said and done? She’s not even his wife in any real sense. She’s lucky if she gets whatever he’s left.’

  ‘She will, though, won’t she? There isn’t anybody else, is there?’

  ‘Not that I know of. Well, she can darn well pay for the funeral out of whatever she inherits. And she can make all the arrangements.’

  It occurred to Simmy with a pang that if her ex-husband died suddenly, she might want to know how it happened, even if it was years since she last saw him. But she would definitely leave it up to his siblings to take charge of the funeral; she was unlikely to even want to attend.

  ‘What if I came up there and we all had lunch together?’ It was an impulsive and irrational idea, which she instantly regretted.

  ‘You don’t want to come all this way twice, do you? Or do you mean you could stay over on Saturday night?’

  ‘That would be lovely – but I’ll have to take Ben home after the auction. Unless we can find him a bus.’

  ‘Or a ride. I can think of a few people who might well be going that way. Pack a toothbrush, just in case. The way things are going, you never know where you’re going to be from one day to the next.’

  He did want to see her, then. Only when that became clear did she realise she’d been doubting him. He had shifted from the relaxed attentive lover he’d been on holiday to a short-tempered and impatient stranger. Except that the earlier version still popped up at regular intervals, to provide reassurance that it was other matters causing his changed manner. Which was not at all surprising, she kept reminding herself. She was probably not her usual self, either. Where were the comforting words, the willingness to listen that she ought to be offering? Instead, she foisted Ben and Bonnie on to the wretched man, and asked far too many questions.

  ‘That would be great,’ she enthused. ‘Let’s hope we can make it work.’

  ‘I think we can dump Valerie Woolley before it gets to lunchtime. I don’t owe her a thing.’

  You do, though, Simmy thought. He had been there at the scene of Jonathan’s death. However accidental his presence might have been, that conferred on him a degree of responsibility. He had a unique knowledge that he had a duty to share with anyone who’d cared for the dead man. Not only that, but he was central to the investigations conducted by the police. ‘Poor woman,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to go gently with her.’

  ‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d heard her today. It sounded to me as if she thinks I was the one who killed him.’

  Simmy made a sound to indicate scornful disbelief and moved on to the usual end-of-call formula. The see-you-tomorrow and have-a-good-night, and the final declarations of love. Somehow, she ended up feeling rather less contented than she had the night before.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Saturday was warmer than previous days, but the sky still fell short of a clear summer blue. There was high cloud yet again, but the early morning was just as insistently inviting as the late evening had been. It felt wasteful and ungrateful to remain inside when the outdoor world was so bathed in light. The prospect of spending the whole day in an auction room increased the sense of having got something wrong. She left the house soon after seven and reached Bowness in record time. Even so, Ben was at the door before she was out of the car. They greeted each other brightly. ‘Nice day,’ said Simmy. ‘Seems a shame to spend it indoors.’

  But Ben was of a wholly different opinion. The notion of seizing every balmy day was quite alien to him. At his age, there were thousands of such days still to come, so what was the point of regretting just one? ‘It might mean there are fewer people there today, though,’ he acknowledged. ‘They’ll be wanting to do outdoorsy things, the same as you.’

  Simmy accepted the implication that she was essentially just one of the crowd, with no natural tendencies to swim against the tide. ‘Oh, well,’ she sighed. ‘We’ll be there nice and early at this rate. They open at eight. We might be the first in.’

  ‘Great! That gives us time to have a really good look at all the lots.’ He had printed out the catalogue he’d found on the auction house’s website and made meaningful jottings in the margins. ‘I might try and get a present for Bonnie’s birthday. I was going to order something online, but this’d be much more interesting.’

  ‘Good idea. You’ll get a buyer’s number, then?’

  ‘Right.’

  She glanced over at him and saw a faint frown of confusion on his face. ‘You know what that m
eans, don’t you? I thought you’d been watching it all on telly.’

  ‘I know the theory. But they might want proof of identity, and a credit card. I should have brought some cash.’

  ‘I can’t believe you didn’t think all this through already.’

  ‘I’ve been busy,’ he replied shortly.

  ‘Well, you can use my card and pay me back,’ she said easily. ‘And listen – I’m hoping to stay in Keswick overnight, so if we can find you a lift home, that would be good. Chris thinks there’s sure to be people driving back down this way after the sale.’

  ‘What? You’d consign me to the care of a total stranger, would you?’ The sarcasm could not entirely conceal the flicker of alarm in his voice. ‘What about the bus?’

  ‘You’re welcome to get a bus if you want to, but it’ll take ages. A car would be much quicker. If we can’t find anybody with a car, I’ll take you. Don’t panic.’ She wanted to add – You’re eighteen, not thirteen. Why are you being such a baby? But she remembered what had happened to him the previous year and realised she was being the insensitive one, and Ben wasn’t behaving unreasonably.

  ‘Okay. There’s a lot to do before then, anyway. My head’s bursting with it all. And it’s odd without Bonnie.’ He sighed. ‘I hope Tanya behaves herself. She can be a bit of a ditz sometimes.’

  ‘She was really good last time. All they have to do is sell flowers,’ Simmy said optimistically.

  ‘Yeah. And answer the phone, stay patient with total idiots, not get the names of the flowers confused and write everything down. Oh – and let’s hope there isn’t an armed robbery while they’re in charge.’

  ‘Shut up. You’re just trying to get me worried.’

  ‘Sorry. Anyway, if I have to get the bus I will. It’s my own fault for failing the driving test. Serves me right for thinking I knew better than the examiner. Well – I did know better, but I should have just pretended. Story of my life.’