‘But they don’t do stuff to the neighbours.’
‘Are you sure?’ said Cooper.
‘I’m quite sure. Their dad makes a rule about it. He’d kill them if they did anything to the neighbours.’
There have been some breakins in this area recently. There was one at the church on Friday night.’
‘Oh, we don’t go to church,’ said Melvyn.
‘No, but ‘
‘Besides, isn’t it antiques and stuff that’s being taken? The Renshaws have been done, and the Deardens down the road there.’
‘Yes.’
‘You want to be looking for some gang from outside, then.’
‘We were actually wondering if you had seen or heard anything suspicious.’
‘We’re stuck in the house,’ said Melvyn. ‘And you don’t see much from down here, you know.’
‘Let us know if you think of anything.’
The baby began to cry. It started quietly, but threatened to build up quickly. While Wendy swore over the nappy, Melvyn began to show Cooper and Udall to the door. ‘So what do you think about living next to so many members of the Oxley family?’ said Cooper cheerfully, as he paused on the Taggs’ doorstep. A tense silence fell. Melvyn stopped smiling. Wendy flushed and walked towards the kitchen without another word.
‘Wendy was an Oxley, before we got married,’ said Melvyn.
‘Ah.’
‘She still is, really, if the truth be known,’ he added.
‘Still is? Do you mean …?’
‘Oh, we got married properly, unlike some that I could name. We did it right, in the church with the vicar and everything. We had a reception at the Quiet Shepherd, sausage rolls and cheese
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on sticks. We even had a photographer, and a honeymoon. In the Algarve.’
‘Right.’
‘We’re still paying for that, though.’
‘So …?’
‘So Wendy’s a Tagg according to the law, but still an Oxley under the skin. Heart and soul, if you ask me. Nobody ever leaves that family. Not until they die.’
‘They must be very close, I suppose. Not many families would choose to live so near together.’
‘You can say that again. Personally, I couldn’t wait to get away from my lot. My family only came to the wedding because they wanted to see if it was true what everybody kept telling them about the Oxleys.’
‘But you fit in all right here, do you, sir?’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Melvyn. ‘When I married Wendy, I became an Oxley as far as they’re concerned. One of the family, I am. Don’t make any mistake about that.’
‘Thank you very much/ said Cooper. ‘I wouldn’t want to make two mistakes in the same afternoon.’
Standing in front of Waterloo Terrace, Ben Cooper looked up towards the road. Melvyn Tagg was right - you couldn’t see much from here. Waterloo Terrace was almost completely cut off from view by the thick covering of sycamores and chestnut trees on three sides. Even in the entrance, the track took a forty-five degree turn to reach the road, so that nothing passing could be seen from the houses. Not from ground level, anyway. And probably not even from the upper floor.
He turned back to the houses. Number 5 was next. Its brick facade was indistinguishable from the others in the row, except that the door and window frames had been painted blue, and a plastic water butt stood under the end of the downspout to collect the rainwater. Nettles were growing against the wall, and their tops had already reached the window ledge.
But at 5 Waterloo Terrace, Frances Oxley wasn’t at home. Or she didn’t answer the door, which wasn’t quite the same thing.
‘I think Mr Alton mentioned her/ said Ben Cooper. ‘This must be Fran, Lucas Oxley’s daughter.’
‘That’s the one/ said PC Udall.
They stood on the step and waited for a moment or two. Cooper
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rang the bell again. There was something about the house that made it feel as though there was someone at home, but lurking behind the curtains or in the shadows of the hallway. He stood a bit closer to the front door, listening for footsteps in the hall. Udall followed his lead, taking a couple of steps to the side, and casually glancing through the curtains of the front window. She shook her head.
‘No sign of anyone.’
‘Mr Alton suggested there was a man in Fran Oxley’s life, but he seemed a bit vague about his status.’
‘Maybe he spends a lot of time away,’ said Udall.
Cooper walked backwards to the gate and looked up at the house. The curtains were drawn upstairs, and there was no smoke coming from the chimney, as there was from numbers six and seven. Fran Oxley’s house might be heated by gas or electricity, rather than the smokeless solid fuel Mrs Wallwin favoured.
‘By “away”, do you mean working away, or away at Her Majesty’s pleasure?’ said Cooper.
