by Agatha Frost
Jessie accepted the keys, letting out a small laugh, and Julia was pleased to see her smiling again. She watched Jessie unlock the cottage door and walk into the darkness, stepping over a large stack of letters as she did.
“Good evening, Emily,” Julia said as she approached Emily’s low wall. “Your roses are looking exceptional.”
“That’s so kind of you to say, Julia,” Emily said as she yanked off her gardening gloves. “You’ll never guess what I heard earlier today.”
Julia wondered if she should start to guess, but she decided saying nothing was the best option. No matter how she approached the topic, Emily would divulge everything she wanted to say.
“I heard something quite interesting walking back from my hair appointment this afternoon,” Emily said, pushing up her greying curls for emphasis. “I don’t usually pass Richard and Sally’s cottage, but I fancied stretching my legs seeing as it was such a lovely day. Well, I say it was a lovely day, but it was ruined by the screaming and shouting that was coming from Richard and Sally’s, or should I just say Richard’s cottage, if the rumours of Sally’s infidelity are to be believed.”
Julia smiled and listened, not wanting to add that she knew those rumours were true.
“It was so loud, I practically heard every word. Your name came up more than once.”
“My name? Are you sure?”
“It’s a small village, Julia,” Emily said, leaning over her freshly pruned rose bush, her eyes twinkling devilishly at being the one to break the information. “Unless there is another Julia who bakes cakes, I’m more than sure it was you.”
“What were they saying?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Emily said, waving her hand. “That wasn’t the interesting part. Sally was crying about how she had visited your café to cancel her wedding cake order, but she was telling Richard how it wasn’t too late and that you were an understanding woman. The poor girl was begging for his forgiveness, mind you, I never thought they were suitable. My own husband was older than me, but those two always seemed odd. If you ask me, I’d say Sally was after Richard’s money. You know he inherited a fortune from his father? Richard Senior was a lance corporal in the army, and he was a thrifty saver. The money had barely hit Richard’s account when Sally started sniffing around.”
“What did you hear that was so interesting?” Julia asked, wanting to get to the point.
Emily could barely contain her smile. She looked up and down the lane to make sure it was clear, before leaning so far into the rose bush that the thorns snagged and tugged at her blouse.
“Sally told Richard that she loved him, and nobody else,” Emily whispered. “Richard replied by saying, and I quote, ‘you think because he’s dead, I’m going to forgive you?’”
Emily leaned back and pulled the thorns out of her blouse. She brushed down the stray strands and folded her hands over her chest, far too pleased with herself to care about the state of her garment. When Julia didn’t respond, Emily’s smile turned to a frown, and she leaned in again.
“You know what that means, don’t you?” Emily whispered again, her eyes darting up and down the lane. “Sally was having an affair with Charles Wellington, and Richard found out, that’s why they were fighting at your step-mother’s garden party.”
“She’s not my step-mother,” Julia found herself saying. “It’s been lovely chatting Emily, but my gran is expecting me for dinner. Have a lovely evening.”
Before Emily could engage Julia in more gossiping, Julia turned on her heels and walked as quickly as her legs would take her back to her cottage. If she hadn’t just discovered that Sally had been at the garden party, the news of the affair wouldn’t have bothered Julia so much, but her mind was spinning so quickly, she didn’t immediately notice that the stack of letters on her doormat was thinner than when Jessie had opened the door. Julia crept down the hallway, and peered into Jessie’s open bedroom door, just as Jessie was folding a letter and cramming it back into an envelope. She opened her wardrobe, curled the letter up, and crammed it down into one of her boots.
Julia stepped back, not wanting Jessie to know what she had just seen. Julia didn’t know what was contained within that letter, but she was more than sure it was linked to Jessie’s sudden shift in mood.
“Ready?” Julia asked, stepping forward again when she heard Jessie close the wardrobe door.
“Do you mind if I stay here and get an early night?” Jessie asked, forcing forward what appeared to be a fake yawn. “Dot won’t mind.”
Julia almost protested, but stopped herself. She thrust forward her kindest smile and nodded, telling Jessie where the rarely used takeaway menus were if she got hungry later. Reluctantly leaving her alone in the cottage, no doubt leaving her to pour over the contents of the mysterious letter, Julia fed Mowgli, grabbed her pecan pie, and drove back into the village.
Julia could barely get a knife through Dot’s lamb chops, but she battled through, smirking across the table to Sue every time one of their knives slipped from the tough meat.
“That was delicious,” Sue said after finishing and pushing her plate away, sending a wink to Julia. “Your homemade mint sauce really complimented the lamb.”
“Homemade?” Dot scoffed as she cut her last piece of lamb in half, her tiny arms working double speed. “You know I don’t have time for that nonsense. Me and some of the girls had our second weekly book club meeting just before you girls got here. I barely had time to throw the chops into the frying pan.”
Julia wanted to ask how she had managed to cook them twice through if she hadn’t had time, but she held her tongue.
“Book club?” Julia asked. “Is that new?”
“Well, our poker club was rumbled by your boyfriend,” Dot said, rolling her eyes as she started to gather the plates. “I simply asked him the laws regarding gambling in the privacy of one’s home, and he took quite the exception to it. Started asking all of these questions, so I told the girls it was better if we switched things up for a while until he stopped sniffing around.”
“What book are you reading?” Sue asked.
“Fifty Shades of Grey,” Dot said casually. “It was the only book in the charity shop with enough copies for all of us.”
Sue and Julia both bit their lips at the same time to stop their laughter from bursting out. Whenever Julia thought she had her gran figured out, she would say something that would prove her wrong.
After the plates were cleared away, Dot brought Julia’s pecan pie from the fridge, along with a small bowl of clotted cream. She served up three generous slices, leaving one for Julia to take home to Jessie.
“Delicious as always Julia,” Dot mumbled through a large mouthful. “I’m not usually a fan of that American food, but I have to say that this is quite lovely.”
“Just something I’m thinking of putting on the menu,” Julia said. “Read about it in a cookbook Jessie got from the library and it intrigued me.”
“Jessie can read?” Dot asked, a brow darting up. “I thought she was raised on the streets?”
“Gran!” Sue cried.
“What?”
“Don’t be so mean!” Sue said, shaking her head at Julia. “Jessie is a lovely girl.”
“Did I say otherwise?” Dot snapped. “I’m just stating facts. The girl was raised on the streets, wasn’t she Julia?”
“She was living on the streets for about six months, Gran. Before that, she was living with foster parents.”
“Poor girl,” Dot said. “It’s not like she’s had the best life. I doubt her education has been consistent throughout her life. How is she? I’m surprised not to see her with you tonight.”
Julia crammed her mouth full of pecan pie, wondering if she should reveal her worries to her family. She decided if she told them, they might be able to give her advice on what she should do.
“She told me she was tired, but she’s hiding something from me,” Julia said after licking clotted cream from her lips. “She’s been sleep
walking too.”
“You used to sleepwalk,” Dot said. “Scared the wits out of me at first.”
Julia stared ahead at Sue, not realising that her gran was talking to her.
“I used to sleepwalk?” Julia asked, her brows pinching together as she dropped her fork, suddenly no longer hungry. “I don’t remember that.”
“Well, you wouldn’t. I never told you. It was right after your poor mother died. You used to get up in the dead of the night to sit by the window, staring out. I thought you were a burglar at first. You almost got a ceramic cat bashed over your head the first time I caught you.”
Julia stared down at her pecan pie, wondering why she had no memory of this. She looked at Sue, who shrugged. It was possible her gran was just confused, but Julia doubted she would make up such a thing.
“How long did it last?” Julia asked, her voice low, almost ashamed.
“You grew out of it eventually,” Dot said, tapping her finger on her chin as she thought. “In fact, I could have sworn it only happened in the times when your father was away. Yes, that’s right. I remember telling him that you were getting up and looking for his car to pull up outside. I think you eventually realised his trips home were getting less frequent and it seeped through to your subconscious.”
Julia tried to conjure some memory of it happening, but nothing came forth. She thought of her twelve-year-old self sitting by her gran’s sitting room window in the dark, staring out at the village green waiting for something that would never come. Her chest tightened.
“I find it best to just confront things head on,” Sue said carefully, seeming to recognise the hurt in Julia’s expression. “Just ask her what’s on her mind. Even if you don’t think she wants to talk about it, she might just need a little coaxing.”
Julia couldn’t touch her pecan pie after that, so when Sue and her gran finished, she cleared the plates away herself, and took her time washing them in the small kitchen sink. When she was finished, she joined them in the sitting room for tea. Julia sat in the armchair furthest from the window, finding it difficult to look in its direction.
“Has your boyfriend said anything about this murder case?” Dot asked after blowing and sipping tea from her small china cup.
“Barker isn’t my boyfriend,” Julia said, hearing the bite in her voice. “I haven’t seen him since the garden party.”
“I’m surprised how little information is floating around the village,” Dot said, scrunching up her face and staring hopefully at the small red telephone in the corner. “You would think somebody would know something? Did you know Joanne Lewis’ husband was working on Katie’s silly spa idea?”
“Where did you hear that?” Sue asked, clearly not having heard that information herself.
“I saw Terry at the garden party,” Dot said, her eyes suddenly narrowing as if she had just landed on some information she had forgotten she possessed. “Well, I saw him on my way back from the bathroom. It was right before I came out and saw you all huddled around the body.”
“You saw Terry in Peridale Manor?” Julia asked, her ears pricking up. “Upstairs?”
“I used the downstairs bathroom,” Dot said, shaking her head. “You don’t suppose I was in the house at the same time that poor man was pushed from the window, do you?”
“It’s possible,” Julia said, sipping her tea and leaning forward. “What did Terry say to you?”
“I was just asking what he was doing in the house,” Dot said, tapping her chin once more. “Yes, that’s right. He was wearing work boots and he stood out like a sore thumb in that house. He had just come in from the garden for some water. He told me he had gotten the contract for the work, and that he was digging out the pool. I told him how ridiculous the spa idea was, and then I came outside, and well, we all know what happened next.”
“Which direction was he heading in?” Julia asked.
“Direction?” Dot asked with a frown. “Why does it matter? The kitchen, I think.”
“Not the staircase?”
Dot thought about it for a moment, looking from Sue and Julia, her mouth opening and closing. She seemed frustrated by all of the questions.
“It might have been,” Dot said, tugging at the brooch fastened to her collar under her chin. “I’m an old woman. My memory isn’t what it was, girls. The staircase and the kitchen are in the same direction, so maybe.”
“I visited Peridale Manor yesterday,” Julia said quietly as she stared ahead, her mind working overtime. “Katie told me that Dad was being questioned by the police, and that he had been at the station all day. Then I saw Joanne Lewis, and she told me about Terry getting the contract.”
“Your father was being questioned?” Dot asked, her frown deepening. “Why?”
“I don’t know yet,” Julia said dismissively. “What I do know is that Joanne specifically told me her and Terry were both outside at the time of Charles’ death.”
“Oh,” Dot said, her hand drifting up to her mouth. “Oh! Have I just uncovered something?”
“Perhaps,” Julia said, not wanting to get her gran excited. “He could have quickly gone back outside again. Wrong place, wrong time.”
Sue sighed and pinched between her brows. Julia could sense what was coming next.
“Julia,” Sue started, looking her sister deep in the eyes. “Why do I feel like you’re investigating this?”
“Because I am,” Julia said, already reaching for her pad to scribble down what Dot had just revealed. “I think the police are trying to pin this murder on Katie or Dad.”
“Do you think either of them did it?” Dot asked, her voice suddenly small.
“I don’t know,” Julia said. “Either way, I want to know, and if they are arrested, I want to be absolutely sure there is no room for error.”
Dot’s eyes widened excitedly, but Sue sighed again and shook her head. Julia knew her sister was just worried about her. She didn’t understand Julia’s need to find out all of the facts. Julia didn’t understand it much herself, it was just a drive she had within her. It was a similar feeling she had whenever she tasted one of her cakes and she was trying to put her finger on why it didn’t quite taste right.
“I’ll keep an ear to the ground,” Dot exclaimed, snapping her fingers together as she ran towards the phone. “In fact, I’ll start calling around to see if people have heard anything.”
Julia wasn’t interested in idle village gossip, she was interested in finding out the truth about what had led to somebody pushing a man out of a window at a garden party. Somebody had murdered Charles Wellington, and her list of suspects was growing by the day. She added ‘Terry Lewis’ alongside Katie and her father, and Sally and Richard. Flipping back a page, she added ‘find out if Terry had a connection to Charles’.
Dropping her notepad back into her bag, she quickly finished her tea and made her excuses to go home so she could shut herself in her bedroom with her notes and her thoughts.
On Julia’s drive back up to her cottage, she was so distracted that she almost didn’t notice Barker getting out of his car. She slowed down, pulling up behind him. When he spotted her, a smile spread across his face, which had the ability to make Julia forget what had been swirling around in her mind.
“Evening,” Barker said, leaning his hand heavily against the top of her car as she rolled down her window. “Bit late to only just be closing the café, isn’t it?”
“Dinner at Gran’s,” Julia said. “I could say the same about you. I suspect the investigation is keeping you all busy.”
Barker pursed his lips, and he almost seemed disappointed in Julia for heading straight to the investigation. She tightened her fingers around the steering wheel, inhaling deeply, trying to rid her mind of it for a moment.
“Can I invite you in for some tea?” Barker asked, glancing awkwardly back to his cottage. “Or some coffee?”
Julia heard the nerves in Barker’s voice, and they mirrored the ones that had suddenly sprung up in her stomach.
She peered past Barker’s car into the dark, imagining her cottage in the distance.
“Do you have peppermint and liquorice tea?” Julia asked.
“They make that?” Barker asked, a brow darting up. “I have black tea.”
“Good job I carry my own,” Julia said as she reached into her handbag to pull out an individually wrapped teabag.
Julia jumped out of her car and followed Barker through the dark, and into his cottage. It was small and similar in layout to Julia’s, but everything else was completely different. Where Julia’s cottage was neat and tidy with appropriate furniture for a period building, Barker’s home was messy, filled with stacks of boxes he still hadn’t unpacked, and glossy furniture that would have better suited an apartment in the city.
“I’ve been meaning to unpack those,” Barker said when he caught Julia staring at the brown boxes. “It’s been a bit busier than I expected.”
They walked through to his small sitting room, which was equally as messy. Pizza boxes and coffee cups cluttered the table, along with paperwork and golfing magazines. Barker turned on a couple of lamps, gathered up the papers, and cleared the shiny leather couch for Julia.
“I had a cleaner at my last place,” Barker said, his cheeks blushing. “I’ve been meaning to find one in Peridale. Either that, or I adjust to cleaning up my own mess.”
“You’re a busy man,” Julia said, not wanting to shame him for the mess. “There is a cleaning agency in the village. I’ll see if I can get their number for you.”
“That would be great,” Barker said as he accepted Julia’s wrapped teabag. “Make yourself comfy. I’ll get the kettle on.”
Barker hurried off to the kitchen, ducking so he didn’t hit his head on the beams. Julia couldn’t decide if the cottage didn’t suit Barker, or if Barker didn’t suit the cottage. He had been living in the village for over a month now. It already felt like he had been there as long as everybody else, but looking at his glossy furniture and packed boxes reminded Julia how different he really was.