“Are you sure you want to walk on?” she asked. “We can always do it another day. Or I might explore on my own.”
“And fall and break your leg, in the middle of nowhere?”
“I rarely make a misstep. I was distracted, and this path hardly counts as uncharted territory.”
He seemed undecided.
She grinned at Ben and turned on her heels. “But you’re right. I think I’ll postpone my long-distance training and tackle my work instead.”
She left him with a cheerful wave by the trail leading to his house.
“Eve?” he asked, an insecure tone in his voice.
She glanced back.
“Yes?”
“I’m busy tomorrow, but we could go for a drink on Thursday evening?”
“In the ‘Green Dragon’?”
“There’s a nice village pub, a few miles away. You need to expand your horizon.”
She gave him a thumbs up.
“I’ll meet you at seven, where I set you off the other day,” Ben said.
“It’s a - deal.” Eve winced inwardly. She’d been about to say date, but thanks to Hayley’s stupid ideas that would have felt awkward.
Ben waited until Eve was out of sight before he ducked between two trees onto a trail just wide enough for him. He’d established it himself, to avoid having to pass the blasted cabin.
A date. He’d asked her out on a date, something he hadn’t done in an eternity. Now it would be good if he could make up his mind if he’d proposed it because he wanted to go out with Eve or to show his father, he still had a life of his own.
Chapter 9
Chris put another log on the fire as Ben arrived. John sat basking in the heat, his pale cheeks flushed pink. Ben took off his sweater.
“Hi, mate.” Chris arranged a stole around John’s shoulders. His demeanour was invariably cheerful, and Ben would be eternally grateful the massage therapist had stuck with them through the dark days. He’d been as shocked as Ben by the murder.
Chris could easily have cashed in on their sudden notoriety and sold his version of Ben’s marriage to the tabloids, but he’d kept quiet, another point in his favour. He’d also kept his positive façade while going through his own heartbreak when his soldier girlfriend split up with him from afar, a month after Donna’s death.
Ben saw Chris’ gaze flicker towards the wall clock.
“Do you have to run, or would you like a drink?” Ben asked.
“I was just going to make us tea.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Ben said.
Chris followed him into the kitchen and leant against the table. “John says you had a visitor.”
“Of course he did.” Ben put the kettle on and arranged the tea things on a tray. Chris had found the pottery where they bought John’s cups and soup mugs. He’d devised all kinds of aids to make their life easier, so Ben should have expected John to chat to Chris, if he wanted to chat about anything. The massage therapist was a godsend for both of them, even if his cheerful manner occasionally grated on Ben’s nerves. Without Chris, Ben would have no respite at all.
“I could, you know, put in a good word for the lady with John.” Chris’ open face showed concern.
“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” Chris meant well, Ben reminded himself, despite being no loss for the diplomatic world.
“John seemed to think it’s serious.”
Ben spilt hot water as he filled the tea-pot. “What are you talking about? I bring home an acquaintance because we were caught in torrential rain, and you guys put together two and two and get five?”
“I’m simply saying, I’m on your side.” Chris clapped him on the shoulder.
Ben spilt more hot water and scalded his hand. He swore.
John’s gaze showed Chris all the fondness it lacked when he met Eve. But then Chris had experience with cantankerous patients and dealing with a man must be a lot easier than keeping the boundaries with his female patients. Or their daughters and granddaughters, if half of John’s hints were true. Donna had liked him too, or at least she hadn’t complained about his presence.
To be fair, if it hadn’t been for his father and his work, the isolation would have driven him barmy too. Rural idyll held only so much appeal until people either fled or surrendered. He wondered how long Hayley would last. Or Eve.
Eve asked herself how long it would take for her to get restless again as she watched the regulars file into the “Green Dragon”. A life regulated by routine and tradition, where people constantly measured you up to their expectations or dissected everything you did. The idea made her chest constrict painfully. This must be what being buried alive felt.
The longest she’d stayed in one place since her childhood were her university years. Variety had been her parents’ mantra while her mother lived, and Eve had no intention of ever giving up her nomadic ways. They made life worthwhile. True, it could get lonely to start anew after every move, but she’d spent lonely moments with friends as well. The important bit was keeping an open mind and not getting bogged down.
Personal freedom was the greatest achievement of the women’s liberation. If she made a mistake, the only person she hurt was herself, and if she was short of money, nobody else bore the brunt.
Her work. She needed to get back to her work, or she really would have to stay at it until the early hours. Another thing about personal freedom was that it also came with responsibility.
With the afternoon customers gone and the after-dinner crowd not yet in, Hayley left Dom in charge and took a tray up to her nan. Letty had lived over the pub since she had come home from a short honeymoon in the Lake District. She’d papered the walls herself, first with a creamy paper covered in rose-branches and petals, and later with funky cockatoos on a pale blue background. The rose wallpaper survived in form of matching curtains.
Hayley’s rooms were next to Letty’s. An old-fashioned bell system connected all the private rooms with the pub. Hayley had also decorated her rooms herself, but Letty’s home-making talents had passed her by. After two failed attempts at lining up wallpaper she’d gone for ochre walls with a terracotta border. The irregular lines gave it character, she told herself, and usually she was too busy to care anyway.
Except Letty grew frailer, and Hayley would soon have to decide if she wanted to keep up the family tradition forever or sell up and leave once Letty was gone. If she still could leave by then. She would be thirty-five on her next birthday, not old, but in another five or ten years she might be stuck forever.
She knocked on her nan’s door and opened it as quietly as she could. They each had an en-suite bedroom and a lounge, with a kitchen in between.
Letty’s eyelids fluttered open. She heaved herself into a sitting position on the sofa. She’d been a light sleeper as long as Hayley could remember, but she never complained about noise from the pub. Hayley used to think it invigorated her nan to have the constant connection to her old life, but lately she wondered if instead it sapped Letty’s energy.
“Do you mind the noise, and the cooking?” she asked as she placed the dinner tray with a reheated slice of quiche on the table.
“What are you talking about?” Letty patted the sofa next to her.
Hayley sat down. “You work so hard and it must be difficult to get a moment’s peace up here.”
For a second, Letty’s eyes grew fearful. “I don’t mind,” she said. “As long as I can be useful, I’ll carry on.”
But how long was that?
Letty cut her quiche with her fork into bitesize pieces. “Do you regret coming back?”
“No. Of course not.” It came out more forceful than Hayley intended.
“This town hasn’t got much to offer you,” Letty said. “The men are either married or boring as hell.” She caught Hayley’s surprised glance and grinned, a mischievous grin reminiscent of the young Letty still present in her photos.
“I haven’t always been seventy-eight, you know,” she said. “It�
�s alright for me. I’ve had my life, but you shouldn’t stay here forever. Just like Ben. Look at how it’s turned out for him.”
“I’m not going to become a murder suspect.” Hayley stroked Letty’s thin mottled hand, uneasy how much her nan’s thoughts echoed her own. “What did you mean when you said he knows more than he lets on?”
“He’s a smart man. Always has been.” Letty chewed slowly, much too slow for Hayley’s liking. “He realises he’ll always be the one who did it unless someone else is tried and sentenced, and even then, it might not be enough to convince most folks.”
“He’s trying to spare his father.”
“His father is tougher than he looks. We old folks usually are. Think about it.”
“John had a massive stroke when Donna was murdered,” Hayley said.
“But it didn’t kill him. No, if Ben doesn’t want things to be cleared up it’s because he has his reasons.”
“But what kind?”
“Well, he dragged his wife away from London. She didn’t like it here much, although for a few months before her death, she looked a lot happier.” Letty ate another bite.
“He’s protecting Donna, you mean? That doesn’t make much sense.”
“Doesn’t it? He’s always been a considerate man. I wouldn’t wonder if he’s protecting her good name, because he feels guilty for choosing his father over her.”
“I never thought about that.” Hayley helped herself to a morsel from Letty’s plate. “When you say she looked happier, in what way?”
“Like a cat that got the cream.” Letty’s head shook.
“Let’s get you to bed,” Hayley said. “When you’re rested, you can tell me more. I didn’t meet Donna that often, and she used to strike me as fairly dull. Pretty, but not exactly a sparkling personality.”
“Does this sudden interest have anything to do with your new friend and Ben Dryden?”
Hayley planted a kiss on Letty’s forehead. “Good night.”
Hayley checked pantry and freezer before she took her place behind the bar. They should be able to cope for three or four days without Letty’s cooking, if she reduced the menu, but she needed to hire someone for the kitchen as soon as possible. She could kick herself for postponing the inevitable.
The Women’s Institute might help. Hayley waved at Sue Littlewood, WI secretary and unofficial manager of the local grapevine. Despite it all, she could be discreet if needed. Sue came here regular as clockwork twice a week with her girlfriends. The tradition started as a subtle rebellion against the boys’ night out their husbands insisted on. The wives had started an arrangement with Letty. She’d introduced burger and pint nights on the two evenings a week the men dropped by, so their spouses didn’t need to cook. For their ladies’ nights out, the men were left to fend for themselves, and if they dropped into another pub for a bite, it hurt no-one.
Sue and her three girlfriends giggled like teenagers. Hayley moved over to them. Bella Jones, Sue’s spirited sidekick, clapped her hand over her phone screen.
“It’s okay,” Sue said. “I’m sure Hayley wouldn’t mind getting an eyeful.” Bella took away her hand.
Hayley whistled as she scrolled through a series of shirtless pictures. The ladies might be close to sixty, but they hadn’t lost their interest in the acting and other talents of stars like Tom Hiddleston and Idris Elba. She paused on one shot that in itself could delay menopause.
Sue winked at her. Hayley handed back the phone. “Nice selection,” she said.
“We thought if the men can ogle anything in a short skirt, we can treat ourselves too,” Sue said.
“Good on you.”
“Where’s Letty tonight?” Bella, whose unrivalled skills as a hairdresser made her a prime source for gossip, had given Hayley her first haircut when she was knee-high, and as such counted herself as a member of the family.
“That’s why I’ve come over,” Hayley said. “Would you be able to recommend anyone I could hire for the kitchen? I want Nan to be able to slow down without having to worry.”
Bella clucked her tongue. “I’ve told her. Again and again I’ve said, Letty, you’re not getting any younger. Although she is the best cook in the county.”
Sue said, “Would it be full time, or only the odd hour or two?”
“If possible, full time. Nan would probably want to supervise him or her in the beginning, but ideally she won’t have to do anything much longer.”
“Leave it with us,” Sue said. “I can think of one or two who might fit the bill.”
“That would be wonderful. Do I know them?”
“One of them used to do a bit of cooking and housework for the Dryden’s.” Sue lowered her voice. “Naturally she didn’t go back after you-know-what. Her husband wouldn’t have it.”
“You’re not thinking of Grace, are you?” Bella’s lips thinned into a grim line. “I’ve seen her bedroom and it was not a pretty sight. I know someone who might fit the bill.”
Sue nudged her and beamed at Hayley. “See? Don’t you fret about a thing, love.”
The brass doorbell chimed. Bella’s hands went to her lavender-tinted curls to fluff them. The other ladies showed more restraint, but they too perked up.
Hayley returned to the job. A handsome man in his thirties propped an elbow on the bar. Brown curls flopped onto his forehead.
His face looked familiar, but it took her a moment to place him as John Dryden’s massage therapist. He used to drop in with Ben and Donna sporadically, or on his own, so he probably lived in one of the villages close by. He’d been a huge hit with the women, she recalled, especially with an absent girlfriend, although none of them had scored. Or if she had, it all happened discreetly enough to stay secret.
“A pint of Guinness, please,” he said.
“Sure.” No wedding band, broad shoulders and well-defined muscles. If he were to become a regular, Hayley saw trouble ahead. Like in every other small place, there were enough single or unhappily married women to make an eligible man a prized trophy, and enough unhappily married men to dislike any competition.
She sat his glass in front of him. Chris; now she remembered the name. He wasn’t her type, but she could see the appeal. Especially in comparison to her regulars. A stallion among a herd of donkeys.
She noticed him watching the room in the bar mirror.
“Looking for someone?” she asked.
He gave her a confidential grin which would have made more than a few hearts flutter. “Trying to get my bearings. Much easier to jog your memory first before I put my foot in. It’s been a while.”
“It has.”
“I definitely remember you. Sally.”
“It’s Hayley.”
He chuckled ruefully. “See? Slipped up already.” He took a swig. “Not much change though.”
“You’ve entered a time-warp.”
“It can’t be that bad. Even here people leave or arrive.”
Something clicked in Hayley’s head. If she guessed correctly, he’d been looking for Eve. She filed that information away in her head as she shrugged and switched her focus to one of the old-timers who leant his cane against the stool. “Your usual, Pete?”
Chris left soon after, to Bella’s disappointment. She liked a bit of eye-candy, as she called it, and in her first year as a widow she’d organised the annual Women’s Institute outing in form of a theatre trip. The theatre hosted an all-male dance revue. Three women resigned from the institute after their return, and ten new ones signed on.
Hayley paused, half-polished glass in her hand. Had Bella done Donna’s hair? In that case she needed to have a good chin-wag. Her own hair could do with a cut. Or she could arrange an appointment for Letty. In special cases Bella offered home-visits.
Eve waited in her car until she was sure Kim had no customers.
“Hello again.” Kim looked up from arranging clothes by colour on a rack. She seemed genuinely pleased. “I hope you haven’t come to reclaim your donations. One of your
prints is already sold.”
Eve scanned the jewellery display. The chandelier earrings with their marcasite stones and the tiered fan shapes were as beautiful as she remembered.
“To be honest, I came back for these earrings,” she said. “Can I have a look at them?”
Kim unlocked the display and lifted out the velvet-covered shelf.
The earrings sparkled in the light.
“They’re proper period pieces,” Kim said as Eve held them to her ears. “They suit you.”
“I’ve been invited out for dinner,” Eve said. “He’s only ever seen me in jeans and muddy shoes, so I wanted to make a good impression.”
“He’s taking you somewhere fancy, I assume?”
“It sounded like it.” Eve twisted a strand of hair.
“You sound nervous. Don’t be.” Kim held up a hand-mirror. The fans at the bottom grazed Eve’s chin.
“I haven’t had a first date in years. Hell, I haven’t had a date in years.” Now Eve had a tight knot in her stomach.
A tinge of sadness washed over Kim’s face.
“I don’t know if you’re single or not, but why do these things get harder as we get older?” Eve asked.
“Maybe because we’ve got more to lose.”
“True. And I’ll take the earrings. If he turns out to be a loss, at least I’ll have some gorgeous new jewellery.”
She fished out her purse. No need to overdo the girly chat at this stage.
Chapter 10
Eve arrived at the arranged spot at a minute past seven. She’d stuck to jeans, but a blazer, the new silk blouse and the earrings carefully straddled the line between casual and dressed-up.
Ben was already waiting. He got out of the car to open the door for her. Eve climbed in, suddenly tongue-tied. She’d promised herself to steer clear of any too personal topics, and as a result was lost for words.
“How was your day?” she asked, painfully aware of how trite this question was.
Let Sleeping Murder Lie: A cozy mystery Page 7