her shoulders relax.
They stopped in Shelford and asked, but no one had seen John Reavley on the Saturday before his death, and the yellow Lanchester was a car they would have remembered.
They had sandwiches and a glass of cider on the village green outside the pub at Stapleford.
He was not quite sure what to say, afraid in case his voice unintentionally carried disappointment. While he was still considering, she began the conversation, talking about various things, interesting but inconsequential. He felt himself gradually enjoying it, his mind following hers as she spoke of Russian theater, then Chinese pottery. She was full of opinions. He did not appreciate how hasty they were until it dawned on him that she was speaking to reassure him, to lend him the strength of normality and of not being the leader for a little while. It amazed him and embarrassed him a little, and yet there was a warmth to it that for an instant brought a sharp prickle to his eyes, and he was obliged to turn away.
If she noticed it, she affected not to.
Afterward they drove north again. They turned right on the Works Causeway, past the gravel pits and the clunch pit—named for the peculiar sticky local clay—and drove into the village of Fulbourn. It was nearly three o’clock, a bright afternoon with the heat shimmering up from the road. Even the cows in the fields sought the shade, and the dogs lying on the grass under the trees and hedges were panting contentedly.
They swung into the main village street and drew to a stop. It was almost deserted. Two boys of about seven or eight stared at them curiously. One of them had a ball clutched in a grubby hand, and he smiled, showing a gap where his front tooth was still growing in. He was obviously more interested in the car than in either of its occupants.
“Ever seen a yellow car?” Joseph asked him casually.
The boy stared at him.
“Do you want to look inside?” Judith offered.
The other boy backed away, but the gap-toothed one was braver or more curious. He nodded.
“Come on, then,” she encouraged.
Step by step he came toward the car and then finally was persuaded to peer inside the open door while she explained to him what everything was and what it did. Finally she asked again if he had seen a yellow car.
He nodded slowly. “Yes, miss. Bigger’n this, but Oi never seed inside it.”
“When was that?”
“Donno,” he answered, still wide-eyed. “Way back.”
And no matter how she tried, that was all he knew. She thanked him and reluctantly he allowed her to close the door. He gave her a beaming smile, then turned and ran away and disappeared into a crack between two cottages, closely followed by his companion.
“Hopeful,” Judith said with more courage than belief. “We’ll ask again.”
They found an elderly couple out walking, and a man with a dog, strolling in a side lane, thoughtfully sucking at his pipe. None of them remembered a yellow car. Neither did anyone else in Fulbourn.
“We’ll have to try Great and Little Wilbraham,” Joseph said flatly. “Not very far.” He glanced at her and saw the anxiety in her eyes. “Are you all right?”
“Of course!” she answered, staring back at him levelly. “Are you?”
He smiled at her, nodding, then started up the car again and climbed in. They headed back into Fulbourn and from there north across the railway line east to Great Wilbraham. The streets were quiet, towering trees motionless except for the topmost leaves flickering gently in the breeze. A flock of starlings swirled up in the sky. A tabby cat blinked sleepily on top of a flat gatepost. The peal of church bells sounded clear and mellow in the warm air, familiar, gentle as the smell of hay or the sunlight on the cobbles.
“Evensong,” Joseph observed. “We’ll have to wait. Would you like something to eat?”
“It’s early for dinner,” she answered.
“Tea?” he suggested. “Scones, raspberry jam, and clotted cream?”
They found a tea shop willing to serve them at this hour. Afterward they went back into the street and walked up toward the church just as the congregation was leaving.
It was not easy to approach someone gracefully, and Joseph was awaiting an opportunity when the vicar saw him and walked over, smiling at Judith and then speaking to Joseph.
“Good evening, sir. Another beautiful day. Sorry you’re just too late for the service, but if I can be of any help?”
“Thank you.” Joseph looked around with genuine appreciation at the ancient building, the worn gravestones leaning a little crookedly in the earth. The grass between was neatly mowed, here and there fresh flowers laid in love. “You have a beautiful church.”
“We have,” the vicar agreed happily. He looked to be in his forties, a round-faced man with a soft voice. “Lovely village. Would you care to look around?” His glance included Judith.
“Actually, I think my late father may have come here a little while ago,” Joseph replied. “His car was rather distinctive, a yellow Lanchester.”
“Oh, yes!” the vicar said with obvious pleasure. “Delightful gentleman.” Then his face clouded. “Did you say ‘late’? I’m so sorry. Please accept my sympathies. Such a nice man. Looking for a friend of his, a German gentleman. I directed him to Frog End, where he had just rented the house.” He shook his head, biting his lip a little. “Really very sad. Takes a lot of faith sometimes, it really does. Poor gentleman was killed in an accident just after that himself.”
Joseph was stunned. He was aware of Judith beside him drawing in her breath in a gasp. Her fingers dug into his arm. He tried to keep himself steady.
“Out walking about in the evening and must have slipped and fallen into Candle Ditch,” the vicar went on sorrowfully. “Up where it meets the river near Fulbourn Fen.” He shook his head a little. “He wouldn’t know the area, of course. I suppose he hit his head on a stone or something. And you say your poor father died recently as well. I’m so sorry.”
“Yes.” Joseph found it difficult to gather his feelings in the face of this sudden very real compassion. Indifference woke anger, or a sense of isolation, and that was in some ways easier. “Did you know this German gentleman?”
An elderly couple passed; the vicar smiled at them but turned back to Joseph and Judith to indicate he was engaged, and the couple moved on.
“I did not know him closely, I regret to say,” the vicar shook his head. They were still standing out on the road in the sun. “But it was actually I who rented him the house, on behalf of the owner, you know. An elderly lady who lives abroad now. Herr Reisenburg was a very clever gentleman, so I’m told, a philosopher of some sort—kept largely to himself. Melancholy sort of person.” Grief filled his mild face. “Not that he wasn’t very pleasant, but I sensed a certain trouble within him. At least that’s what I thought. My wife tells me I imagine too much.”
“I think perhaps you were correct, and it was sensitivity rather than imagination,” Joseph said gently. “Did you say his name was Reisenburg?”
The vicar nodded. “Yes, that’s right, Reisenburg. Very distinguished-looking gentleman he was, tall and a little stooping, and soft-spoken. Excellent English. He said he liked it here. . . .” He stopped with a sigh. “Oh, dear. So much pain sometimes. I gathered from the gentleman in the yellow car that they were friends. Corresponded with each other for years, he said. He thanked me and drove toward Frog End. That was all I saw of him.” He looked a little shyly at Judith. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” Joseph swallowed, the tightness almost choking his throat. “My father was killed in a car accident the next day . . . and my mother along with him.”
“How very terrible,” the vicar said in little more than a whisper. “If you would like to be alone in the church for a while, I can see that no one disturbs you.” His invitation included both of them, but it was Joseph he reached out to touch, placing his hand on Joseph’s arm. “Trust in God, my dear friend. He knows our path and has walked every step before us.”
Joseph hesitated. “Did Herr Reisenburg have any other friends that you are aware of? Someone I might speak to?”
The man’s face crumpled in regret. “None that I saw. As I said, he kept very much to himself. One gentleman asked for him, apart from your father, at least so I am told, but that’s all.”
“Who was that?” Judith asked quickly.
