Whisper the Dead

by Stella Cameron

  ‘No, I won’t argue,’ she told him. ‘I’m very troubled. I can’t believe I decided to go to that development on a whim and … well, look at all that’s happened.’

  ‘We don’t control much that happens to us.’

  She looked sideways at his serious, slender face. Often Alex had felt sympathetic toward the young women who had watched him with moonstruck eyes and almost swooned over his irresistible accent, not that she expected him to remain unattached. But for now, he seemed to care only for his calling, although he took time to know the people of Folly-on-Weir and Alex harbored hopes that he might eventually find his way to St. Alwyn’s here in the village. An unlikely dream, but why not dream?

  ‘Juste, do you think our fervent hopes can have any effect on what happens to us?’ She wondered that on many levels.

  He turned his honest, green eyes on her. ‘I think they may. I believe in prayer, so how can I not believe in hope?’ He smiled and the simple charm was melting. ‘I shall clear some tables and glasses and hope all will be well, for all of us.’

  Alex inclined her head to see the Burke sisters. Max curled up on their table – they no longer attempted to hide him – and they each had a half pint of shandy. She smiled, thinking of how much they meant to her. Earlier, she had visited with them by the fire and given reassurances that nothing would change the closeness they shared. Still she had felt their anxiety.

  A tap on the shoulder brought her attention back to the present. ‘Gladys Lymer’s in the kitchen,’ Hugh said. ‘She says you’re expecting her.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ she said. ‘Where’s Mum? I want her with me for this, too. Gladys has asked if we have a job for her. She’s been recommended as a good simple cook. Could be really useful. You have the final say on hiring, of course.’

  ‘I thought she was with the Strouds,’ Hugh said, frowning.

  ‘She has been, but apparently it may be time for her to make a change. What do you think? I should have asked you before I agreed to see her.’

  He put an arm around her shoulders. ‘I don’t think we have to worry about ceremony,’ he said. ‘Phil gets overwhelmed, particularly when we do Sunday brunch. And we could use a cook on hand at breakfast time in here. I think there’s a possibility for working up a good group of morning regulars if we have the labor.’

  ‘I didn’t think of that.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I knew you were a winner the moment I saw you, although I still don’t know why you stay …’ Her voice faltered and she felt hot.

  Hugh gave her a serious look. ‘I’ve never been happier than I am here. Sometimes we make really good decisions. I did when I came to you and I hope you keep on thinking you did, too.’

  Before she could come up with an appropriate answer, he said, ‘Here’re Lily and Doc.’

  Doc, tall, broad shouldered, unaffectedly good-looking and with an almost uncanny resemblance to Tony, entered into the pub and was immediately pulled to a halt by Major Stroud who threaded an arm through his and spoke meaningfully into his ear. If Tony’s hair eventually became silver, like his father’s, they would be doubles separated by a generation.

  Lily wore a black jacket and red scarf, casually knotted, with a long black pleated skirt and slim heeled pumps. Looking at her gave Alex a lot of pleasure. Tonight Lily seemed her old, even-tempered self.

  She beckoned her mum behind the counter and told her about Gladys. ‘I meant to explain to you earlier but it’s been crazy today. Anyway, I didn’t think Gladys would come so soon.’

  ‘I know she’s a good cook,’ Lily said. ‘The idea of cooked breakfasts is good as long as we have enough help for the clean-up, too.’ They went together to meet Gladys who shifted awkwardly, rubbing her hands together and looking overheated. Lily immediately reached to hug her and Alex could see how good her mother was at these things.

  ‘I really like the idea of doing breakfasts,’ Gladys said, smiling widely. ‘I’m comfortable with anything you have in mind.’ Her bleached hair was freshly permed and she wore the fake fur coat they usually saw when she came out for an evening with her husband, Frank.

  ‘I have to ask,’ Alex said. ‘Do the Strouds know you’re leaving?’ Knowing the major was in the bar, she kept her voice down.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Gladys struggled out of her coat. Her cheeks glowed now. ‘I gave notice but the major said I could leave right away. You know how he is. He was very shirty with me.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Lily grimaced. ‘How will it be when you see him here?’

  ‘He’ll have to put up with it. He wouldn’t want me telling anyone how difficult … well, he won’t like it but that doesn’t worry me.’

  ‘Alex.’ Hugh stepped past the wall of bottles that stood between the saloon bar and one of the kitchens. ‘Lady here to see you. Esme Hill? She seems excited or nervous. Not sure which. Do you know her?’ He gave Gladys a friendly smile.

  Alex shook her head, no. She held up a hand and turned to her mother. ‘Perhaps I do know her, in a way. May I leave Gladys with you for a while, Mum?’

  Lily and Gladys both looked curious, as if they would like to check out Alex’s visitor.

  ‘How soon could you start?’ Lily asked Gladys.

  ‘Whenever you like.’ Gladys’s relief was in her voice and her eager face.

  Alex turned back to Hugh and lowered her voice. ‘Any idea who this woman is? What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know her but she looks nice to me,’ he said. He laughed. ‘Actually, she’s a knockout. There’s a man with her. A lot younger but that’s not so surprising anymore.’

  Alex ran her fingers through her hair and followed Hugh into the bar. The name, Hill, hadn’t escaped her.

  ‘Hello.’

  Before she could take stock of who had arrived, this dramatically-featured red-head with large blue eyes pressed against the counter, a huge bouquet of tropical flowers clutched in both hands.

  ‘Hello,’ Alex said, taking a quick look behind her to be sure this woman was talking to her. ‘May I help you?’

  ‘I’m Esme Hill,’ the woman said. ‘This is my son, Grant.’ She waved vaguely at a confident-looking young man whose brown hair waved over the collar of a grey duffel coat. ‘You’re Alex Duggins, aren’t you? My husband described you.’

  Alex nodded. ‘Yes.’ Now she was sure who the woman must be.

  ‘Bob’s at home now but he told me all about how you helped him after the horrible fire.’ Her face paled and her mouth became a tight line. ‘Bob wanted to come himself but he’s not quite ready to get out yet. Horrible thing that’s happened. I can’t believe it. I’ve got to thank you for being with Bob when that terrible thing happened. If it wasn’t for you the burns would have been much worse. That’s what they told me at the hospital. I was in London for a couple of days. Awful timing on my part. These are for you.’ She thrust the brilliant flowers into Alex’s hands.

  ‘Thank you. But I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have done.’ Alex grasped the bouquet, feeling horribly uncomfortable. ‘I just called the emergency services, that’s all.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Esme Hill said earnestly. She reached out a hand and Alex automatically let the woman take hers in a firm grasp. ‘I don’t think you understand what could have happened if you weren’t there. Bob’s impetuous. He could even have tried to go back into the fire.’

  Alex didn’t mention that Bob Hill hadn’t managed to get into the fiery interior of the trailer a first time. ‘I’m glad it’s working out as well as it is.’

  Esme Hill stood straighter and flexed her shoulders. Her eyes became moist. ‘We can’t believe Lance Pullinger is gone. Poor man. Things so often didn’t go his way but he will be terribly missed. Who would have done that to him?’

  ‘Aren’t the police still thinking it could have been an accident?’

  Esme puffed out hard. ‘Lance was a careful man.’ Tears stood in her eyes. ‘I suppose he could have been drunk too … that’s not the point now. He didn’t smoke, you kno
w.’

  At a loss for the right thing to say, Alex smiled and shook her head.

  Esme leaned close to Alex. ‘Would you help me with something? Would you not tell Bob I came to see you? He hates feeling what he calls “looked after”. But he doesn’t look after himself. If I can tell him you got in touch and said everything was fine from your end and he didn’t need to worry about you, it would help him find some peace. He takes on everyone’s problems and tries to solve them.’

  Alex almost said she didn’t have any problems, but she held back and studied the woman for an instant. ‘Of course. Whatever will help.’ But she wondered if Esme Hill wasn’t too overprotective of her husband. Or even too controlling. It didn’t matter to Alex.

  ‘Bless you,’ Esme Hill said. She looked at her son. ‘Isn’t this a lovely pub, Grant?’

  Grant’s dark eyes were cool. ‘I like it,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to get everyone to come here.’

  Alex smiled but the outward warmth didn’t come close to what she really felt. She didn’t think she would like Grant Hill even if she ever came to know him.

  ‘Almost forgot,’ he said. ‘Dad was going to get these to you since you run a pub. We’re planning a pub and restaurant in the new development by Winchcombe. We’re tossing names around. He thought of holding a contest. To be honest I don’t think he thought of it until he was trying to come up with ideas of ways to thank you. He’s having a “name the pub” contest and he wants you to have the entry forms for your customers.’ He pulled a sheaf of papers from his pocket and set them on the counter in front of Alex. ‘A thousand to the winner. Should interest one or two.’

  She was rarely at a loss for words, but these two had arrived like steamrollers.

  ‘Will you hand them out and make an announcement?’ Esme asked. She lowered her voice. ‘I think it’s possible that a Black Dog entrant is slated to win the prize.’ She smiled conspiratorially.

  Alex collected herself. ‘Surely your husband will wonder how the entry forms found their way to me if you were never here.’ She let the idea hang there.

  ‘Shows you how much experience I have with working these things out,’ Esme said. She pulled her lovely red hair away from her neck while she thought about what Alex had said. ‘Grant, could you have taken it into your head to run them by? To do something nice for your dear old dad?’

  Grant rolled his eyes. ‘Go ahead and tell him that. I’ll back you up.’

  This wasn’t behavior that made Alex comfortable but there seemed no way out. ‘Well, good,’ she said. ‘I hope your husband recovers quickly, Mrs Hill.’

  ‘Esme, please. And I already think of you as Alex. Grant’s younger sister – she’s nineteen now – was almost Alexandra but Carmen won out. Bob thought it was more sophisticated. I still think he was wrong.’ She smiled again. When she stepped back from the bar Alex saw a stunning figure in black and gray workout tights and a torso-hugging top that matched. Over one arm she carried a long alpaca cardigan which she now slipped on.

  ‘I should have offered you a drink,’ Alex said. ‘The gorgeous flowers distracted me. Thank you so much for them.’

  Esme waved a dismissive hand. ‘They’re nothing but I’m glad you like them. We’ll say goodnight, then.’

  ‘Good night,’ Alex echoed, watching them leave.

  Before she could return to the kitchen, Grant Hill came back. He pulled a glove from his pocket, put it on the bar and immediately picked it up again. ‘Thank goodness,’ he said, grinning. ‘I thought I might have lost this altogether.’

  Alex only stared at him until he leaned closer across the counter and said quietly in her ear, ‘Just a friendly suggestion. Best you stay away from anything to do with my father. I’m telling you this out of kindness because you helped him.’

  TEN

  ‘No good deed goes unpunished.’ That was one of Oscar Wilde’s, but so was, ‘A good friend will always stab you in the front.’ I wonder what he said about someone you aren’t sure is a friend anymore.

  There’s only one way to be safe: don’t trust anyone and never let yourself feel safe.

  I shall never again feel safe.

  I hate driving at night and I hate this bloody sleet. I hate snow more.

  And another load of that will be next. Look at this, the way the wind hurtles sleet at the headlights. It fills the beams and turns them into mirrors to make sure you see only what stops you from seeing what matters. Some good that is.

  And the wipers are useless. I’m not supposed to have any nerves. I’m in control, always have been, and that’s what I am now and I’ll keep telling myself so. But there is a cost and I shall pass it on.

  If something crosses in front of me, it’s dead. I couldn’t stop in time if I wanted to. I wouldn’t try.

  No one ever thought I’d make any waves. I’m the calm, trustworthy one. That will be my advantage because I’ve only just begun to make waves but they will turn into a man-killer of a tsunami. Man, and woman-killer if necessary.

  Why did this have to happen? I was so careful. Paths have crossed that should forever have stayed separate. Everything is twisting. If people did exactly what you told them to do, and if no one unexpected chose to wander into the picture, it would all be easy and right now I’d be on my way to fixing the mess other fools have made. I’ve worked too long and too hard to watch it all destroyed now.

  Black and white.

  The world is black and white out there with no room for nuance – and it wants to take away everything that is rightfully mine. I’ve got it made, right? Wrong, or it will be wrong if I don’t stop them from opening doors I locked a long time ago. I locked them and I didn’t just throw away the keys, I melted them down. I covered my tracks, but not without considering what was best for everyone concerned.

  I’ve done a lot of good. People are better off because of me. They may not think they are, but they don’t know how I straightened things out for them and ensured they didn’t make bad decisions. They may be about to find out the truth, then we’ll see what must be done about them. What they do afterwards will make up my mind for me. I deserve to win.

  One thing I am sure of; ingrates are no friends of mine. I’ll stab them wherever is most convenient to me.

  ELEVEN

  ‘It’s damned cold out there,’ Tony said, walking into the snug at the Black Dog. ‘It’s snowing again now. Seriously snowing. This is turning into one hell of a winter.’ He had kept on his heavy Barbour coat, zipped and snapped, and he tucked his jaw into the rolled neck of a heavy jumper. But still he couldn’t control the shivers.

  With a dog flanking either side of her on an upholstered banquette, Alex eyed him somberly. ‘At least you’re dressed for the weather now. In those cotton scrubs you had on this afternoon, you could have got frostbite.’

  He knew when argument was pointless. ‘Yeah. Perhaps I was too worried to think straight.’

  ‘And I’m supposed to feel guilty? OK, I feel guilty. How much longer are we expected to wait here? Bill Lamb told you he’d be here hours ago. It’s after midnight.’

  Tony rubbed chilled hands together and stamped his feet. He didn’t know the answer to the question and she wouldn’t like the only thing he might tell her.

  ‘Tony?’

  He sat on a chair facing her and tried a smile. ‘It’s always nice in here. How about an Irish coffee?’

  It amused him when she smiled but was trying not to. ‘We closed some time ago, sir. Hugh’s still back there but he shouldn’t be.’

  ‘I make a very good Irish coffee myself.’

  ‘But you’re not so good at avoiding topics you don’t like.’ She got up from the worn tapestry seat, went to the hatch into the bar and leaned through. ‘Hugh, are you in a generous mood?’

  A minute or so passed before Tony heard Hugh speaking from behind the bar. ‘I’m in a lousy mood but for you, dear lady, anything. What is your pleasure?’ Given his Welsh name, his Scottish accent might surprise a lot of people.
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br />   ‘Two Irish coffees,’ she said although she didn’t sound enthusiastic. ‘Tony’s freezing and I’m in a nasty mood. The coffee might help.’

  ‘Put like that, how can I refuse?’

  Alex returned wearing a slight smile. ‘See. My smooth talk does it every time. Poor Hugh. He’s getting it from all sides.’

  ‘From customers pushing questions and demanding answers, from you and from Lily, do you mean? The police are behaving as if everyone’s satisfied with their story of an accidental fire. They don’t know the sharp minds of our people here. No wonder there are questions.’

  ‘Nothing’s getting any better between my mother and me, either,’ she said, sliding back into her seat and readjusting the dogs with their heads on her legs. ‘Mum’s started putting on a much better front for other people, but she won’t talk about anything personal at all now. You heard what went on last night – or the night before last by now. She let just so much out the way she did, then clammed up. I thought she was ready to be open with me. But I tried talking to her one time and didn’t even get a full sentence out of my mouth.’

  He met her almond-shaped, green eyes and didn’t want to look away. ‘Concentrate on me, Alex. On what I’m trying to get through to you. Perhaps it would be a good thing to leave Lily to come to her own decisions. I think she’ll talk to you when she’s ready.’

  ‘And when is that likely to be? I’ve waited long enough and just when she finally starts …’ She raised both palms.

  Hugh ducked to look through the window into the snug. ‘Two Irish coffees. My patented formula and guaranteed to cure whatever ails ye.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Tony hopped up to get the coffees. He dropped his voice. ‘Bear with us if you can, Hugh. But if you know anything that could help with whatever’s going on, call me. Anytime night or day.’

  ‘Gotcha.’ Unlike usual, Hugh’s dark eyes weren’t smiling. ‘I wish I didn’t feel there was something really big and nasty creeping up on us. I’ve never seen Lily the way she is.’