Stolen

by Susan Lewis

  ‘You wish I wasn’t here, don’t you?’ he challenged. ‘If I weren’t I suppose you’d still be over there, flirting your little heart out, and now you’re pissed off with me for cramping your style.’

  ‘Oh Joe stop this, please. It’s been a long day, I’ve got a lot on my mind and none of it’s connected to Simon Bancroft – other than how he might help sort out this wretched business with the Crumptons.’

  Joe’s expression remained stony. ‘And turning to me for advice would be out of the question?’

  Her eyes widened incredulously. ‘Simon and Michael are lawyers,’ she told him brusquely, ‘and Michael’s putting us in touch with someone who is well placed to take this on. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going back to the office to …’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I do mind. I’m here to spend time with you …’

  ‘No, you’re here because there are no auditions at weekends, and presumably Charlie’s got no work for you at the market. If you were gainfully employed, or had a proper home instead of that cupboard of a room at Charlie’s, I doubt we’d ever see you.’

  He looked so stunned she might have slapped him. ‘I’m here,’ he said quietly, ‘because of you and Hanna, so to suggest I only came because I don’t like my current accommodation …’ He shook his head disbelievingly. ‘How can you think I’m just using you because I don’t have anything better to do?’

  Sighing, she reached for the bottle to refill her glass. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘it wasn’t what I meant. I just wish …’ She broke off, not sure it was a good idea to go any further.

  ‘What do you wish?’ he prompted.

  Her eyes went to his, then back down to her glass. ‘Nothing,’ she said. Unless she was prepared to tell him to stop coming, which she wasn’t because she didn’t have the heart to, there was no point reminding him again that they were supposed to be on a trial separation.

  ‘Neither of us has eaten yet,’ he pointed out, ‘so why don’t we take a stroll down to the pub?’

  She wasn’t hungry and she didn’t want to go.

  Apparently sensing the rejection he said, ‘You can’t work every hour God sends.’

  ‘You know how hectic it is leading up to an auction. Mum was always in the office until late …’

  ‘She used to eat.’

  ‘Joe, why are you making this so difficult? I need to focus on what I’m doing and …’

  He was on his feet. ‘Don’t worry, I’m out of here, and if you’ve got it in mind to go back over there to Simon Bancroft …’

  ‘Just stop it!’ she shouted. ‘I’ve told you what I’m doing, now for God’s sake, go to the pub, and leave me alone.’

  After he’d gone she sat where she was for a moment, waiting for her conscience to start berating her. Unusually, it seemed slow in coming to life, but she had no doubt it would turn up at some point, whereupon she’d no doubt find herself trudging down to the pub after him to try and make up, and he’d be thrilled and forgiving and want to shower her in drinks and make love to her when they got home as though everything was completely repaired and all they’d had was a silly lover’s tiff.

  Feeling suddenly angry again, she got to her feet. The hell she was going to let herself do that. She didn’t want to go to the pub, nor did she especially want to make up, and she certainly didn’t want to have sex. So whatever her conscience might have planned for later, it could just forget it, because she was going over to the office to continue examining Maureen bloody Crumpton’s desk and computer to see what other little treats might be lying in wait.

  Unhooking the keys from their usual place, she grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and had just started off across the courtyard when she heard the phone begin to ring. Deciding to take it in the office she hurried towards it, keys at the ready, but to her surprise as she went to unlock the door she found it was already open.

  With a beat of alarm, she took a step back. There were no lights on inside, and the phone was still ringing, but just because no one was answering didn’t mean no one was there. If someone was, it might not be a good idea to burst in and confront them. On the other hand if it was Maureen, come to spirit away whatever evidence she might have left behind, she had to be stopped.

  Wishing now that Joe hadn’t gone out, she stood very still as the phone stopped ringing, waiting for the sound of someone moving.

  Silence.

  Inching quietly back to the door she tried to listen, but apart from the thunderous thud of her heart there didn’t seem to be any other noise. However, if someone was in there they might well have heard her coming and could even now be waiting behind the door …

  Stepping back again, she looked around the courtyard. It was exactly as it always was, cluttered with objects that must have seen who’d unlocked the office, but could never tell. Oddly shaped shadows were spreading and stretching like conjuring tricks in the glow from the wall lamps, turning chairs into sofas and wardrobes into caves, while an eerie bank of trees loomed over the rooftops, black in the moonlight and watchful in their stare.

  Praying she was doing the right thing, she put a hand to the door and eased it further open. The creak of the hinge was like an audible searing of fear in her heart. She waited, terrified that someone would come rushing at her. She should have gone back to the kitchen to find some sort of weapon. Her father’s gun flashed through her mind, and was gone.

  Nothing was happening.

  Surely no one was in there.

  She pushed the door wider and quickly snapped on the light.

  ‘Well, it certainly doesn’t look as though anything’s missing,’ Sarah commented as Michael and Simon joined her and Lucy in the office twenty minutes later, after scouring the rest of the grounds.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Michael said to Lucy.

  She nodded, and pushed back her hair.

  Simon was inspecting the lock. ‘It hasn’t been forced,’ he told them, ‘so either you forgot to do the necessary when you left …’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Lucy assured him. ‘And I set the alarm. I remember, because Joe made some remark about …’ She broke off, not wanting to admit that he’d said no one would want to make off with a load of old junk. ‘It just stuck in my mind,’ she said lamely.

  Seeming to sense her discomfort, Michael turned to the others, saying, ‘In which case, it has to come down to those who have a key and who also know the code.’

  ‘As far as I’m aware,’ Lucy said, ‘there’s only me, John, Maureen and Hetty who comes to clean.’

  Simon almost laughed. ‘Well, I know who my money’s on,’ he declared.

  Since no one was going to challenge him on that, Michael said, ‘The next question is: what’s missing, because something has to be.’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘Nothing that’s evident, but what we don’t know is what might have been done to the computers, or if something’s been taken from any of the desks or files that we had no idea was there.’

  Michael was nodding thoughtfully. ‘What could have happened,’ he said, ‘is that whoever was here was frightened off when Joe came back early. I take it he did come back here?’

  ‘Yes, he did.’ Since no one asked where he was now, she didn’t volunteer it.

  Michael said, ‘We should check the computers to see when they were last used.’

  As Sarah went to turn them on, Simon said, ‘Do you want to contact the police?’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘I don’t see what good it would do when we can’t even say that someone broke in, much less tell them what’s missing.’

  Since no one could argue with that, Michael finished checking the computers and said, ‘The latest one to be used is this one, and that was at seventeen thirty-six, so as it’s your machine, I’m guessing it was you.’

  Lucy nodded. ‘That was about the time I left.’

  Before shutting them all down again, he said, ‘I know this is a bit after the horse has bolted, but maybe now is a good time to install some passwords.�
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  ‘Yes, we should,’ Lucy agreed. ‘Sarah, you can do yours, and I ought to dig out the instructions for the alarm so I can reset the code.’

  ‘I can probably help with that,’ Michael told her. ‘It’s the same make as the one I have at the office.’

  ‘If you give me a couple of passwords,’ Simon said, ‘I’ll sort out the other two computers.’

  ‘Um, let me see,’ Lucy said, trying to force her mind past the obvious Ben and Hanna, ‘you can set mine as … nightingale, and the other one as sparrows.’

  After doing the honours, Simon turned off both machines, and followed the others outside as Lucy entered a new code into the alarm before locking up and joining them.

  ‘I know I’m probably going to get my head bitten off for this,’ Simon said, as they started back to the farmhouse, ‘but we’re all presuming it was Maureen or an accomplice who was here, but you said John has a key as well. So are we …’

  ‘Simon, you’re in danger of undoing your apology,’ Sarah warned.

  ‘It wouldn’t have been him,’ Lucy said, ‘and anyway it couldn’t have been because he was with us when it happened.’

  Accepting that was true, Simon said, ‘OK, I just wanted to be sure we weren’t ruling him out because no one can bring themselves to think ill of him.’

  ‘You’re making up for us all,’ Sarah informed him as Lucy led the way into the kitchen.

  ‘Hey, Mum, there you are,’ Hanna declared, glancing up from the raspberry smoothie she was pouring.

  ‘Hey you,’ Lucy said, going to drop a kiss on her head. ‘You’re back earlier than I expected.’

  ‘Really? I’d have stayed longer if I’d known that. Hey, Sarah.’ She started to frown as Simon and Michael crowded into the kitchen. ‘Where’s Dad?’ she asked.

  Turning to put on the kettle, Lucy said, ‘He popped down to the pub for something to eat.’

  ‘What, on his own?’

  ‘I wasn’t hungry. Would you like some cocoa?’

  ‘No thanks, I’ve got this.’ She was still gazing suspiciously at the men.

  ‘This is my brother, Simon,’ Sarah told her, ‘and Michael you might already know through your granny.’

  Hanna’s expression didn’t lighten much. ‘Hey,’ she muttered, her eyes travelling from one to the other. Then, putting down her smoothie, she said, ‘I think I’ll go and find Dad.’

  Realising she wasn’t happy about her mother being with men she didn’t know, Lucy let her go, and began trying to think of a way to get everyone to leave without seeming rude or ungrateful, before Hanna dragged her father in to break things up his way.

  ‘So,’ Simon said, stepping into the awkward silence, ‘what are your feelings about contacting Maureen?’

  Lucy glanced at Michael, then Sarah. ‘I’m not sure I can see what’s to be gained from it,’ she replied. ‘Can you?’

  They were both looking pensive as they shook their heads.

  ‘She’ll obviously deny having anything to do with it,’ Michael said, ‘and I’m not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing to let her know that we know she’s been here. If she thinks we’re still in the dark she might attempt it again – I mean if she didn’t get what she came for.’

  ‘And how are we even going to know if she did?’ Sarah added.

  With a sigh Simon glanced at his watch. ‘I hope this isn’t going to offend you,’ he said to Lucy, ‘but in light of what happened earlier, it’s probably not a great idea for me to be here when your husband gets back.’

  ‘I’m not offended,’ Lucy assured him, ‘and again I’m sorry for the way he spoke to you.’

  Simon smiled wryly. ‘I don’t suppose it would help if I told him I have no designs on his wife?’

  Lucy smiled. ‘He’s in a tetchy mood at the moment, so I think it’s best if we all try to forget this evening happened.’

  Coming to give Lucy a hug, Sarah said, ‘I can hardly wait to see what my next party’s like.’

  Laughing, Lucy said, ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘Eight thirty sharp. We’ve got a busy day while these two mess about morris dancing.’

  ‘You’ve got my number,’ Michael said, giving Lucy a peck on the cheek, ‘call if you need anything, any time.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she whispered. ‘I appreciate it.’

  Minutes after she’d closed the door behind them Lucy was still standing in the kitchen, sipping the abandoned smoothie as she went over the events of the evening. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that when the kitchen door suddenly burst open she almost leapt out of her skin.

  ‘Oh, Hanna!’ she snapped, as Hanna stormed in. ‘Do you have to be so heavy-handed?’

  ‘I thought you said Dad was in the pub,’ Hanna retorted crossly, as though Lucy had deliberately misled her.

  ‘It’s where he said he was going. I take it he wasn’t there?’

  ‘No, and Juliette’s mum said she hasn’t seen him all evening.’

  Lucy shrugged. ‘Well, obviously he went to another pub,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he’ll be home any minute. Now, have you eaten? There’s still some quiche …’

  ‘You gave me tea before we went out,’ Hanna reminded her, taking what was left of her smoothie. ‘I’m going to watch telly.’

  ‘OK, I’ll join you in a minute. I just want to text Ben, then I think I’ll try Granny again. Has she been in touch with you at all today?’

  ‘Not since this morning. They must be in Exmoor by now.’

  ‘Of course. They’ll have arrived hours ago.’

  As she found herself speaking to her mother’s voicemail again she was imagining Maureen, or possibly some other members of the Ring, creeping about the office looking for only they knew what. Or perhaps they’d been planting something! As the thought occurred to her she felt a sudden overwhelming sense of protection towards her parents. How dare anyone terrorise them and push them out of their business and home? No one had the right to do this to two such innocent and kindly souls, but someone was definitely trying, and when she found out their identity they were going to be more than sorry they’d ever crossed her path.

  Sarah was on her way out of the bathroom, swathed in towels, when the phone started to ring. Hurrying along the landing, she called out to Simon, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get it,’ while guessing he probably hadn’t heard it anyway. It wasn’t yet eight o’clock on a Sunday morning and he was a notoriously heavy sleeper.

  By the time she got to the phone in her parents’ room, now hers, whoever it was had rung off, but given the time of day she guessed it had been her mother and quickly rang back.

  To her surprise she didn’t get an answer straight away, and was just wondering if she’d misdialled when a beep on the line signalled that her mother was trying again.

  ‘Hello, early bird,’ she said, switching over to take the call. ‘Sorry I didn’t get to you in time.’

  There was a pause before her mother said, ‘This is the first time I’ve rung, so it must have been someone else.’

  ‘At this hour? Heavens! Oh, unless it was Lucy. Maybe I ought to call and find out. Can I ring you back?’

  ‘Sarah, before you go,’ her mother said quickly.

  ‘Yes?’ Sarah prompted when her mother didn’t continue. Then, with a tremor of unease, ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m … Tell me, how are you?’

  Though warmed by the sunlight streaming in through the windows, Sarah felt a chill passing over her heart. This was the first time in more than a year that her mother had sounded this low, and all she could think was that Sheila had told her about John. ‘I’m fine,’ Sarah said quietly.

  ‘And Simon?’

  ‘Yes, he’s fine too.’ She tried a note of irony as she added, ‘You know him on Sunday mornings. It’s against his religion to stir before nine o’clock.’

  There was no hint of a fond smile in Rose’s voice as she said, ‘He’s always been the same.’

  Feeling o
ld demons starting to stir, Sarah’s eyes moved to the large photograph of her parents she kept on a chest between the windows. They were laughing wholeheartedly, as though they had not a care in the world. She was trying to hold on to that memory, to bypass all the bad times and draw strength from the good, but it was like trying to bury herself in thin air. ‘Mummy, what is it?’ she made herself say.

  Rose took an audible breath. ‘Sheila told me …’ She cleared her throat. ‘Is John …? Is he still there, in Cromstone?’

  John. No Mckenzie, no Mr, just his first name, confirming that she’d known him well. Sarah hadn’t really doubted that, so why was it bothering her now? Her gaze stayed on the photo, but in spite of the joy it exuded all she could see was her mother’s beautiful face fading into a ghostly, anxious replica of itself – a replica that Sarah had come to dread over the years. Oh my God, what is it? What is it? She started to panic.

  ‘Tell me,’ Rose said hoarsely, ‘I’d like to know …’

  Sarah waited, too tense to speak, not even knowing if she wanted her mother to continue.

  Starting again, Rose said, ‘Sheila told me about Pippa.’

  Pippa. The same affectionate diminutive that John used for his sister.

  ‘Sarah, I’d like you to give me their number,’ Rose said.

  Sarah started to speak without really knowing what she was going to say. ‘I can do that,’ she said, ‘but I need to know …’

  ‘Darling, please don’t ask any questions. Not yet. I will tell you everything, I promise, but I must speak to John first.’

  Sarah was finding it hard to think past that. She knew Simon wouldn’t let their mother get away with it, that he’d insist on knowing something before handing over the number. But with a sixth sense warning her that an awful amount of suffering was involved in whatever lay between her mother and John, Sarah felt ready to delay knowing what it was for ever, rather than experience any more pain for those she loved.

  ‘Sarah,’ her mother said softly, ‘there’s nothing for you to worry about, my darling.’

  ‘Then why …’ She swallowed dryly. ‘Why all the secrecy?’

  ‘There are reasons … I’m not sure if they’re good any more, but what I did, what happened …’ Her voice choked with emotion. ‘Darling, I can’t tell you anything over the phone. I’ll have to see you, but first I must speak to John.’