‘A double murder?’
‘Oh, bother.’ Libby shook her head. ‘I didn’t mean to say that. The police haven’t linked the two as far as the public are concerned, but yes. Two.’
‘Poor sod. So it’s his garden on the news. They haven’t said so, have they?’
‘I don’t think so, and I’m truly surprised that it hasn’t leaked to the media. If they connect poor Lewis to either of the murders then it will, obviously.’
‘And is he connected?’
‘Sort of,’ said Libby uncomfortably and looked across at Ben.
‘Ah,’ said Harry, following her gaze. ‘Not happy about it?’
‘Well, not really. I think we’ve sorted it out now, though.’
‘Sorted it out? The murder?’
‘No –’ Libby hesitated. ‘Did I tell you Fran and Guy are getting married?’
‘It filtered through,’ said Harry. ‘And that’s our Ben’s problem, is it? Wants to follow suit?’
‘How did you feel two years ago when Peter suggested it to you? You came and talked to me about it.’
‘Two blokes are somewhat different from the conventional couple, dear heart.’ Harry slid off the arm of her chair and took her empty glass. ‘Refill time.’
The conversation became general, and Libby made a resolution to make time this week for a good long chat with Harry, who had been her confidant ever since she had moved to the village, and she his. He could be abrasive and brash, but was surprisingly softhearted and understanding, and adored all his new extended family, in which he included Libby and all three of her children. His own background he never revealed, although Peter had hinted at a troubled childhood.
Later that evening, as Ben and Libby walked home in the twilight, Ben himself mentioned Steeple Farm.
‘Harry was telling me about Pete’s problems with it,’ nodded Libby.
‘Pete and James,’ said Ben. ‘It’s left to them equally. James doesn’t want to live there, which you can understand, him being a young-man-about-Canterbury.’
‘I always thought he would move there, for some reason.’
‘They talked about it, but not an option, really.’
‘And they can’t let it because it’s not up to elf-ansafety?’
‘Exactly. When Millie did it up, she only did the cosmetic part she wanted herself.’
‘That awful kitchen,’ said Libby.
‘Yes, and you haven’t seen the rest of the house.’
‘Is it dreadful?’
‘Decoratively, yes. Completely out of keeping with the building itself. It could fairly easily be put back together again, though, but Pete and James don’t want to spend a fortune getting it ready to let if they’re just going to sell it when Millie dies.’
‘So Harry was saying. I’d love to have a look round. Do you think they’d let me?’
They stopped outside number 17, and Ben looked at her.
‘I was just going to suggest it,’ he said. ‘I wondered what you’d think about living there?’
Chapter Sixteen
LIBBY WAS SO STARTLED she dropped the key. Ben bent to pick it up with a rueful smile and opened the door. Sidney greeted them from his favourite place halfway up the stairs and Libby stumbled on the step.
‘Careful,’ warned Ben. ‘It’s only visitors who are supposed to do that.’
Libby preceded him into the sitting room and carried on to the kitchen. Sidney had been at the bread bin again. As she absentmindedly wiped muddy paw prints from the sink and the work surface, she marvelled at Harry’s prescience, then looked up and stared through to the conservatory. Or was it prescience? Had Peter and Ben already discussed this possibility? The more she thought about it, still wiping the now clean bread bin, the more likely it seemed.
‘Penny for them?’ said Ben from behind her. She turned round.
‘Have you and Peter talked about this?’ The words came out as an accusation, which was not what she wanted, but too late now. Ben’s eyes narrowed.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because Harry made the same suggestion. He was joking, I’m pretty sure, but it’s such a coincidence.’
Ben sighed. ‘Yes. Pete mentioned it a few weeks back.’ He held up a hand. ‘Hear me out. He was simply saying he wondered if I wanted to carry on living at The Manor, it was nothing to do with you.’
‘No?’
‘Well, not until he said you might be happier living somewhere new to both of us.’
‘Ah.’ Libby turned back to the bread bin.
‘Do you want a drink?’ Ben came up beside her.
‘We’ve been drinking all day,’ said Libby. ‘I’d prefer coffee, I think.’ She filled the kettle and pushed it onto the Rayburn. ‘Come and sit down. You’d better tell me all about it.’
‘That’s all there is, really,’ said Ben, leading the way into the sitting room and sitting on one of the upright chairs by the table in the window. Libby frowned. This was not a good sign.
‘Pete suggested – what? You might like to rent it? Or do it up, like Harry said?’
‘Is that what Harry said?’ Ben looked interested. ‘Because that was the idea. It was fairly vague, but Pete said if I wanted my own home rather than The Manor, wouldn’t it be a good idea? Especially if you would feel happier in a home that was “ours” rather than mine or yours.’
Libby was silent for a moment. ‘I can see his point,’ she said eventually. ‘I really would not like to live at The Manor.’
‘Because of my mum and dad?’
‘Obviously. But it also feels too big. I know you grew up there and it’s your family home, but what on earth would we do with all those rooms if – when – it becomes yours?’
‘It isn’t entailed, you know. I could sell it.’ Ben leant his elbows on his knees and looked at the floor. ‘And I have asked if I could move in with you permanently. Even though this house is so small.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘I mean,’ said Ben with a sigh, ‘I’m perfectly happy to continue our relationship on your terms. Just I’d prefer we were actually together as a couple.’
Libby was silent once more. This was simply going over old ground. Slowly, she went back to the kitchen and poured hot water into a cafetière. Looking back over her shoulder to where Ben sat, still gazing at the floor, his curly grey hair just beginning to show signs of thinning, her heart squeezed within her. She turned back, assembled mugs, milk and cafetière on a tray and went back into the sitting room.
‘We’ve been round and round this subject over the last few days, haven’t we?’ she said, putting the tray down carefully. ‘And last night I thought we’d resolved it. We’ve both given way and reached a compromise. I agreed we should live together properly and you agreed to come here. Should we not leave it there for a while and get used to it?’
Ben looked up and smiled. ‘But we are used to it. The only difference will be me coming here after work and not going to The Manor before work.’
‘Hmm.’ Libby poured coffee. ‘All your stuff will be here, though.’
‘Yes, and perhaps that’s another reason to think of Pete’s offer.’
‘How would it work, though? If you do it up, will Pete pay you for it?’
‘I think his idea is that I – we – live in it rent free while we do it up, then when Millie dies we buy it as sitting tenants.’
‘Because he can’t sell it while she’s alive.’
Ben nodded. ‘That’s why Mum made sure about hers and Dad’s power of attorney, so I can deal with anything I need to while they’re still here.’
‘I thought that was how it was,’ said Libby. ‘But what about this place?’
‘You could hang on to it. Escape route,’ said Ben, picki
ng up his mug.
Libby made a face. ‘That’s not very optimistic,’ she said.
‘Well, we could live here while we do up Steeple Farm. You’ve been inside, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, when Millie gave me breakfast. It gave me the creeps a bit.’
‘Did it?’ Ben looked up. ‘Inside?’
‘No, the outside. It’s a picture-book place, but those eyes …’
‘Eyes?’
Libby shivered. ‘The windows under the eaves.’
Ben frowned. ‘I always thought they were picturesque.’
‘Well, I’ll have to have a proper look, won’t I,’ said Libby. ‘When can we go?’
Ben gave her a relieved smile. ‘As soon as you like,’ he said.
As soon as you like turned out to be Monday afternoon, when Ben had finished his not-tooonerous duties on The Manor estate. In the morning, however, after Libby had done a little desultory housework, she was determined to find out more about Cindy Dale. She had given Adam strict instructions to ring her if he had any news and given him sandwiches again in case Katie hadn’t returned from her weekend away. She switched on the computer and found a couple of local news sites. There was nothing about either murder. In desperation, she called Lewis’s number.
‘Libby.’
‘Yes. Hi, Lewis. Just wanted to know how you were.’ Libby squirmed. She was being unwarrantably nosy, and Lewis didn’t exactly sound friendly.
‘I’m fine. As a matter of fact, I’ve got someone with me just now –’
‘Cindy?’ breathed Libby.
‘Yes. Adam was going to ring you.’
‘To tell me?’
‘Ye-es,’ he said slowly.
‘Right.’ Libby cheered up. ‘I gave Ad sandwiches again in case Katie hadn’t come back, but I can’t bring any more today. I’m going out.’
‘Yes, Katie’s back. You can’t come out?’
‘Did you want me to?’
‘Adam will ring you,’ said Lewis briskly. ‘Got to go now, Lib.’
Libby switched off and sat back in her chair. So what was that all about? Was Lewis warning her off? Bit of a cheek after having invited her into the case. Or did he still want help? Was that why Adam was going to ring her?
A few moments later the phone rang.
‘Ma, it’s me. Lewis asked me to call.’
‘Yes?’ Libby wasn’t going to say she’d been hassling Lewis.
‘That Cindy Dale’s here and Lewis doesn’t know what to do with her.’
‘Has he told the police?’
‘Oh, yes. And they’ve been to talk to her. Trouble is, she’s staying here. I don’t think Katie’s best pleased, and Lewis certainly isn’t.’
‘So why did he want you to call me?’
‘Motherly advice.’ Libby could tell he was grinning.
‘Is he going to get me up to speed?’
‘Yes, but not while Cindy’s around. Could we take him to Harry’s tonight?’
‘It’s Monday – he’s not open.’
‘Oh, bugger. What else can you suggest?’
‘I can’t come over this afternoon, even if I had the car. Ben and I are going out.’ She hadn’t said anything to Adam about Steeple Farm.
‘OK. Could he come over tonight to the house? Would Ben mind?’
‘Not sure,’ said Libby, thinking furiously. ‘Let me have a word with him and I’ll get back to you.’
Before she could lose her nerve, she punched in Ben’s mobile number, hoping he wasn’t at that moment up to his thighs in farmyard mud.
‘Lib? What’s up?’
‘Are you busy?’
‘Not dreadfully. Looking at the tenants’ milk quotas. Why?’
‘You know Lewis Osbourne-Walker works for house makeover programmes?’
‘Ye-es.’
‘And he was a professional before that?’
‘I didn’t, but it follows.’
‘I wondered if we might ask him to have a look at Steeple Farm?’
There was a short silence, then Ben burst out laughing. ‘OK, OK,’ he said. ‘It’s the naffest excuse I’ve heard, but OK.’
‘Really?’ Libby was stunned. ‘You don’t mind?’
‘If it means you’re going to look more favourably on the Steeple Farm project, of course I don’t mind. We’re going at two-ish, aren’t we? So ask him to come over at half past.’
‘This afternoon?’ she squeaked.
‘I thought that was what you wanted.’
‘Well, yes, but –’
‘That’s all right, then. I’ll see you at lunchtime.’
Libby sat back in her chair, still astonished. Shaking her head, she hit Adam’s number on speed dial and waited for him to pick up.
‘Ma?’
‘Ask Lewis if he can come to Steeple Farm this afternoon at half past two. Tell him it’s a bona fide house job.’
‘Eh? Isn’t that where Mad Millie lived?’
‘It is. Peter needs it done up.’ Libby crossed her fingers. That was what she would tell Lewis, too.
‘Really? You’re not bamming?’
‘No, it’s true. Ben and I will be there. Do you know where it is to give him directions?’
‘He can look up the postcode and use the satnav,’ said Adam. ‘Can I come with him?’
‘You’ll be working.’
‘Not much to do now I’ve mapped out the parterre. Not until Mog comes back. If Lewis says yes, can I?’
He sounds like a ten-year-old again, thought Libby, with a sharp stab of nostalgia. ‘Yes, of course, if Lewis doesn’t mind. How’s Katie, by the way?’
‘Fine. Well, a bit down about Tony, ’cos Lewis told you she knew him, didn’t he? Not well, but he got her the job with me. Otherwise she’s OK. Not happy about this Cindy, though.’
‘No, you said. What’s she like? Cindy?’
‘Odd,’ said Adam. ‘I dunno what I expected, but she definitely isn’t it.’
‘Tell me later,’ said Libby.
‘We both will,’ said Adam, obviously now in high spirits. ‘See ya.’
Libby called Ben back to tell him the good news, then called Fran to give her an update.
‘By the way,’ said Fran when she finished exclaiming over Libby’s news, ‘that hotel had a wedding cancellation, including celebrant, on the third week in June. We’ve taken it.’
‘My God!’ said Libby, winded. ‘That’s only a few weeks away. How –’
‘Will we do it?’ Fran laughed. ‘Not much to do. We’re going to ring or email everyone this afternoon, then make sure we can get the outfits ready in time. That’s about it.’
‘Have you booked Ben and me into the hotel itself?’
‘We’ve taken all the rooms, so yes. Are you going to be together?’
‘I told you.’ Libby felt herself blushing again. ‘We’ve sorted it out.’
‘Not marriage, though,’ said Fran.
‘Not marriage, no. Not yet anyway,’ said Libby, surprising herself.
‘Well! So there’s hope?’
‘Don’t know,’ said Libby. ‘We’ll see.’ She took a deep breath. ‘So. Is Guy excited? Are you excited?’
‘Yes to both questions.’ Fran certainly sounded as though she was fizzing. ‘I’m sure this is the way to do it – quickly, with no long waits while everything gets boring.’
‘I think you’re right,’ said Libby. ‘How’s Sophie? And your three?’
‘I’ve already called Jeremy. He wasn’t overjoyed as it was still only four o’clock New York time, but he’s coming over. With the girlfriend.’
‘Coo! You’ve never met her, have you?’
‘No. I haven’t told the girls
yet, because I know they’ll both moan at me and call me selfish.’
‘Then tell them they’re the selfish ones and hang up,’ said Libby.
‘I might well do that,’ said Fran, which made Libby raise her eyebrows. ‘Sophie’s just thrilled about the whole thing, and is likely to outshine everybody.’
‘That’s good. Is she giving her dad away?’
Fran laughed again. ‘No, but I suppose she could be his “best woman”, couldn’t she? You were for Pete and Harry.’
‘Excellent idea,’ crowed Libby. ‘See? All organised. Now I’d better go and get Ben’s lunch before we go and see Steeple Farm.’
‘Good luck,’ said Fran.
I’ll need it, thought Libby, and she went into the kitchen.
Chapter Seventeen
STEEPLE FARM WAS AT the other end of the village. The lane turned right from the main Nethergate road and wound up between high banks until, as Libby had thought before, they could have been miles from civilisation. No traffic noise reached them, apart from the sound of a distant tractor. Libby looked up at the house and realised that the two dormer windows with eyebrows of thatch no longer looked like evil eyes.
Ben opened the heavy oak door onto the anachronistic hallway, with its thick red carpet, walls painted cream, gilt touches in the wall lights, switches and chain-store picture frames. A teak telephone table, complete with cushioned seat and space for directories, stood by the stairs. They exchanged rueful glances.
‘This hall is flagged, isn’t it?’ asked Libby. ‘She didn’t have it pulled up?’
‘No. It’s still in the kitchen, too, underneath the vinyl.’ Ben pulled a face and led the way into the pale wood and stainless steel kitchen Libby remembered so well.
‘Is the larder still here?’ asked Libby, opening the door to what once would have been a boot room. Still was, with old coats and rubber boots forlornly abandoned years ago, by the looks of it.
‘Over here.’ Ben opened a door. ‘She seems to have kept it as a junk store.’
‘There must be other places in the house more suitable,’ said Libby. ‘I’ve always wanted a larder.’
‘So you’re thinking of it favourably?’ Ben closed the door and took her by the shoulders.
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