Creature Comforts

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘It’s a possibility, but it still may be that some of the latest dream sequences are actual memories coming to the surface.’

  I digested that for a moment. ‘So I might not have entirely lost my memory of the accident, just buried the painful bits away somewhere?’

  ‘That’s right, and now, due to the shock of the second accident, it’s starting to surface. It will be interesting to see if the dream progresses beyond the cut-off point it’s previously reached, won’t it?’

  ‘Yes, fascinating,’ I said wryly. ‘I’ll let you know if it does.’ And then after a bit more conversation she had to go, though as always, I felt better for talking to Daisy, even if I was no wiser about what was reality and what wasn’t.

  Judy called me and I’d just sat down at the table with a mug of coffee and a loaded plate when the back door slammed and Debo came in, with Babybelle determinedly plodding after her. At the sight of me, her flag of a tail waved, sending the nearest seat cushions flying like chintz Frisbees.

  ‘Flattened her pen again,’ Debo said in explanation. ‘I think she was looking for you, Izzy.’

  ‘Can’t you put her in one of the stronger runs?’ I asked.

  ‘No, we need those. At the moment we have two dogs that really might bite someone if they got out and panicked.’

  Babybelle plumped herself down heavily against my leg with a long sigh, as if she’d trekked across a desert to be with me again.

  ‘Oh, sweet – she loves you,’ Debo said fondly.

  ‘Actually, I think she just loves the idea of breakfast. She’s drooling over my feet.’

  ‘Don’t give her any,’ Judy said firmly. ‘If she’s going to be your dog, she’ll have to learn that we don’t give scraps at the table, just like Ginger and Vic have.’

  I was about to refute any intention of adopting Babybelle, when she looked up at me with those big, sad, amber eyes and laid an ingratiating webbed paw the size of a soup plate on my knee.

  I said to Judy, ‘You tell her about the house rules, then.’

  Debo asked me what I was going to do with myself that morning.

  ‘I thought I’d make a start on sorting the paperwork in the office and then I’m going to have lunch at Cam’s new gallery with him and Lulu.’

  ‘I’m baking some curry puffs in a bit,’ Judy said. ‘I’ll make extra, so you can take some with you.’

  ‘Great!’ I loved Judy’s hot and spicy curry puffs.

  Debo, lavishly spreading about half a pound of butter onto her toast, said, ‘I expect you’ll think of all kinds of clever ways to economise! Judy’s been suggesting we make cutbacks for ages, so I really should have listened to her.’

  ‘Better late than never,’ Judy said, firmly removing the depleted butter dish to the other side of the table, out of reach.

  ‘I’ve been thinking, Izzy darling, that we’ll need more money to get us back on an even keel than just what’s left of your legacy, so I’m going to phone a friend or two after breakfast to help make up the rest,’ Debo said brightly.

  ‘If any of your friends and former lovers will actually answer the phone when they see it’s you after their cash again,’ Judy said.

  ‘Of course they will,’ said Debo, opening her already huge grey eyes even wider in surprise. ‘Because they know if they don’t, then I’ll just go and stand on their doorstep and ring the bell till they let me in!’

  She would, too, and later, when I’d shut myself in the office (determinedly accompanied by Babybelle) and was staring slightly desperately at a mountain of paper, under which might possibly be a roll-top desk, I heard her talking on her mobile in Judy’s cherished little rose garden outside the window.

  ‘Oh, no, Elton, darling,’ she was saying sweetly. ‘Of course I’m not after you for your money again! What on earth made you think that?’

  You have to give her full marks for trying and, usually, succeeding. It’s just a pity she spends it faster than she gets it.

  By twelve I had all the papers roughly sorted into stacks on a folding card table and, having found the keys to the filing cabinet in the desk drawer, discovered that it was completely empty, apart from several cellophane-wrapped packets of sage-green cardboard hanging files.

  There was no method in Debo’s madness. Old bills that had been paid were tossed back onto the heap with the new, while a whole bundle of ominously red-printed final demands appeared to have been purposely hidden away in the cubbyholes of the desk. Out of sight, out of mind.

  The only positive thing was that, since her accountant had sorted and removed the paperwork for the previous tax year, there was a lot less of it than there might have been.

  By late morning I was ready for a break, and once I’d washed off the dust, Judy coaxed Belle out to the kennels while I set off for Hidden Hoards, laden with still-warm curry puffs swaddled in tinfoil and a thick tea towel.

  I felt oddly furtive as I walked out of the Sweetwell gates, because it had suddenly occurred to me that perhaps Rufus Carlyle would expect us to come and go by the little gate in the wall now, like everyone else. But then, I’d still have to cross the drive and cut through a private path to get to it, so it wouldn’t really make sense.

  The Green lay quiet and still under a cloud-soft sky, apart from the library van, which was parked in front of the church. I could see Lottie Ross just climbing into it, so unless old Jonas was minding the shop then she must have closed for five minutes.

  The garage, which had fallen into disuse long before I was even born, was next to the village store. Once the blacksmith’s, it showed signs of its later evolution by the single ancient faded blue petrol pump that stood outside. Cameron had cleaned it up and left it there, like a piece of found art. The front of the building, where there had once just been huge wooden doors, was now glazed to let lots of light into the gallery and there was a Hidden Hoards sign over the door.

  Cameron opened it as I arrived and said, ‘Hi, Izzy! Come on in – Lulu’s already here.’

  I walked past him, pausing to take in the interior: it went back much further than I’d expected and was surprisingly light, what with the new glazed front and a couple of windows at the sides. A floor of reclaimed wooden timber had been laid and the walls freshly painted a plain, soft white. At the far end, under a large skylight, Lulu was laying out a motley collection of foodstuffs on a small, square table, so I went over and added Judy’s contribution.

  ‘Isn’t this a great space for a gallery?’ I enthused. ‘It’s a Tardis of a place!’

  ‘It’s huge, isn’t it?’ agreed Lulu. ‘There’s a vast storage area at the back and a little room with a sink and kettle and stuff.’

  ‘And a convenient convenience,’ Cam said. ‘The plumbing and wiring were all ancient, so replacing those, putting in the windows and laying the new floor cost a fortune. It was lucky I could live with Mum and sink all the money I made from selling my London flat into the renovation.’

  ‘How are you going to arrange the interior – leave it as one big space?’ I asked.

  ‘No, my studio will be up at this end and I might hold art classes here, too, eventually. I’ve got a folding glass-and-wood room divider coming next week, so I can keep the studio separate, or throw the whole space into one for an exhibition, if I want to.’

  ‘He’s really figured it all out,’ Lulu said, exchanging warm smiles with him and then munching into a spicy curry puff. ‘Mmm, these are good!’ she added appreciatively.

  I clocked the warmth of those exchanged smiles with interest, for, as I’d suspected, their feelings for each other had moved on from friendship to something deeper, even if Lulu was currently in denial. I’d thought I might feel excluded by such a change in our triangle of togetherness, but in fact I just felt sort of benevolently pleased.

  ‘Judy made the curry puffs this morning. Do you want the recipe?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ Lulu said. She loved to cook, though she’d never had any desire to become a chef, like her brother, Bruce.<
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  ‘Here, have a ham and mustard sandwich,’ Cam offered, pushing a paper plate in my direction. ‘Mum made them, and there’s a chunk of pudding cake in that plastic box.’

  We munched companionably. The thing about having best friends is that no matter how long it is since you’ve seen them, the moment you’re back together, it’s as if no time at all has passed.

  ‘When are you aiming to open?’ I asked Cameron.

  ‘I was hoping this weekend, just in time for Easter, but it’s all taking longer than I expected. As well as my own work, I’m going to stock locally made arts and crafts – not cheap manufactured tat, but really good stuff.’

  ‘You’ll need a counter with a till on it, then, won’t you?’ Lulu suggested.

  ‘I know, and luckily I’ve just managed to source an old wooden one on eBay, so I’ve hired a van and I’m going to collect it tomorrow from Birmingham.’

  ‘You really are organised!’ I said admiringly.

  ‘I have to be, because if the gallery fails, I’ll be back to teaching art in an inner-city school, and I feel I’ve served my time doing that.’

  ‘But it won’t fail, and once we get the Haunted Holidays trail up and running, you’ll have loads of visitors eager to part with their cash for something unique and original, you’ll see,’ Lulu assured him.

  But she said it with less bounce and enthusiasm than she’d shown at the meeting, and for the first time since I’d arrived, it occurred to me that she might have something on her mind.

  Cam seemed to have noticed too, for he said, ‘What’s up, Lu? You’ve got dark circles under your eyes and you keep sighing.’

  ‘It’s nothing really,’ she said. ‘Just that I had an email last night from Solange, my friend in the village, telling me that Guy’s mistress has left him and gone back to her husband and children.’

  ‘Well, that didn’t last long,’ I commented.

  ‘No, but at least it meant he was too preoccupied with her to follow me after I ran off with Cam. I’d been afraid he would, because he was always so jealous – and then it turned out he’d been seeing this other woman for ages.’

  ‘He was never jealous of Cam, though,’ I said, and she grinned wryly.

  ‘True, but only because he thought he was gay.’

  ‘I can’t think how he got that idea,’ Cam said indignantly.

  ‘No, nor anyone else,’ I agreed. ‘Did Solange say anything more, Lulu?’

  ‘Only that his mistress came into the café just before she left, moaning about Guy again. She said he’d turned cold and strange as soon as she’d moved in and also seemed to think she was some kind of servant, who would cook and clean the house and service the gîtes, between visitors, while he went out drinking himself senseless with his friends. He’s a slave driver.’

  ‘Well, we already knew that,’ I said. ‘You were run ragged doing all the practical stuff while he played the jovial host and pottered round his vineyard.’

  ‘That’s how it turned out, though it seemed more of an exciting joint venture when I first went to live in France with him,’ she said. ‘He helped more then and didn’t drink quite so much.’

  ‘What do you think Guy will do now?’ Cam asked. ‘He surely won’t follow you over here, after all this time.’

  ‘I hope not. Perhaps he’ll just get another slave? I didn’t quite realise how much I was doing, or how exhausted I was, till I left – and that was thanks to you, Cameron.’

  They exchanged warmly affectionate smiles again. I was sure they didn’t realise they were doing it.

  ‘I feel guilty that you’ve lost your annual painting holiday week in the Dordogne, Cam,’ she added.

  ‘It was nice while it lasted, but I only really did it so I could see you,’ he said. ‘But maybe I could offer painting classes to some of the Haunted Holidaymakers?’

  ‘Oh, great idea!’ Lulu pulled out the bulging notebook that seemed to be a permanent feature in her handbag now and made a note. ‘If the weather’s nice, you could hold the classes at the Spring, or up at the waterfall … though then I suppose you’d have to shut the gallery while you were out.’

  ‘I expect Granddad would mind the shop. He likes to keep occupied.’

  ‘I’ve had three Haunted bookings for this weekend,’ Lulu said. ‘That makes things easy from the haunting point of view, because there are two ancient rooms that naturally creak a lot in the night and another right by the backstairs, which do the same. Old houses make a lot of noise; I suppose it’s all the timbers expanding and contracting, or something.’

  ‘Or maybe it really is haunted?’ suggested Cameron. ‘I’m sure Uncle Tom believes in Howling Hetty, because he won’t have her name mentioned in the house.’

  ‘He seemed OK about all the other haunted stuff at the meeting,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Yes, it’s just her. I don’t know why.’

  ‘I’ve drawn up a list of all the extra signposts and information boards we’ll need, and where they should be sited around the village,’ Lulu said, thumbing through the notebook to find the right page. ‘I thought we might discuss—’

  ‘Just stop right there,’ I told her, getting out my own notebook. ‘Because first of all, I’m on a mission and I need your help …’

  Chapter 10: Sparks

  I told them both about the flashback to the accident when Harry died, where I’d been in the back seat of the car, not the front, and how ever since then my recurring dream seemed to have expanded, showing me scenes and details I hadn’t previously remembered.

  ‘So – do you think perhaps you weren’t driving?’ Cameron asked.

  ‘No, not really. Daisy Silver said I might have seen what I wanted to have happened, rather than what really did. And of course, you and I had been in the back of that car only the previous week, Cam, when they gave us a lift home and we were all singing.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true.’

  ‘But it has made me feel determined to find out exactly how the whole sorry mess unfolded. I’m tired of feeling guilty for something I can’t even remember doing, and sometimes I even feel angry with Harry.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ Lulu sympathised. ‘It was his own stupid fault, after all! If he hadn’t thought spiking Simon’s tomato juice with vodka was a funny thing to do, he’d have been able to drive them safely home, like he always did. So no one blamed you except Cara, and she was all bitter and twisted because she had to turn that modelling agency down and take up her place at Oxford University instead.’

  ‘No one who was directly involved has ever really talked to me about it,’ I said, ‘though Judy and Debo have only just told me that Simon tried to see me in hospital, so he might have wanted to.’

  ‘He blamed himself, even though it wasn’t really his fault, either,’ Cam said. ‘So, this mission you’re on is to talk to everyone involved and get as much of a true picture of what happened as you can?’

  ‘That’s it in a nutshell,’ I agreed, opening my notebook. ‘I’ve drawn up a list, and of course Cara is the most important witness, followed by Simon, Dan and Tom. But I also added Debo and Judy, because they were there within minutes, and you two, who were the last to see me at the pub.’

  Cam, Lulu and I had helped out at the Screaming Skull for pocket money. Lulu and I had cleared tables in the restaurant and collected empty glasses, while Cam had been general kitchen dogsbody.

  Cam said, ‘I don’t think some of them will be that keen on talking to you.’

  ‘No, especially Cara, the one who should know all the answers, if anyone does,’ Lulu agreed. ‘I think she’d drunk quite a bit, but not nearly as much as Harry.’

  ‘I know she told at least one lie at the inquest, because I’d never have insisted on driving, so that’s made me wonder what else she might have lied about,’ I said.

  ‘At the time of the inquest, you weren’t expected to recover, so it probably seemed safe to put all the blame onto you,’ Cameron said. ‘She wouldn’t expect you to be
around to contradict her.’

  ‘I suppose not, and it certainly won’t make her any keener to talk to me now. Still, at least she’s at Grimside, within easy reach.’

  ‘I don’t think she and Cripchet are getting on,’ Lulu said. ‘He’s away quite a bit at his place up in Scotland, or his London club, and there’s a lot of talk. Did you know he’d taken on Simon Clew as head gardener at Grimside?’

  ‘Yes, but only because Dan thought I already knew and let it slip yesterday when I ran into him on my way to the Spring. I’ve ticked Dan off my list already, since I asked him about the accident then, and it’s plain I won’t get any more from him than he’s already said.’

  I sighed. ‘I don’t know if he’s telling the whole truth or not, though he certainly did pull me out of the car in case it went up in flames, which I suppose was kind.’

  ‘Kind doesn’t really fit in with the Dan we know and don’t love,’ Lulu commented drily.

  ‘But Tom saw him lifting me out, so I know that bit has to be true,’ I said. ‘Only Tom’s never wanted to talk about it, either.’

  ‘I’ll explain to Uncle Tom how you feel,’ Cam promised.

  ‘If you could persuade him, that would be wonderful,’ I said gratefully.

  ‘Auntie Pauline died from pneumonia around that time,’ Cam said. ‘That’s probably why he doesn’t want to look back. She’d been very difficult for a few years with the early-onset dementia, but he must have still loved her, because he was really cut up at her funeral.’

  ‘Yes, Jonas said much the same to me the first time I went to the pool for a swim after I’d got back from my convalescence with Daisy,’ I admitted. ‘Remember how Jonas always used to call us over to the cottage and make us drink that revolting nettle tea to warm us up afterwards?’

  ‘He still drinks it – he calls it his secret rocket fuel,’ Cameron said. ‘He’s well past ninety now, so there must be something in it!’

  ‘After Jonas told me that Tom never mentioned that night because of Pauline dying soon after, he said that since Lady Cripchet had been killed in a point-to-point a couple of weeks later, that that made three sudden deaths and so there wouldn’t be any more.’