Christmas tree, into a huge farmhouse kitchen, off which, in a small scullery, the proud mother lay in a nest of rugs. Six small white puppies were feeding vigorously from her.
“They’re four boys and two girls,” Mabel announced authoritatively. “But we can’t keep them all. When they’re bigger, most of them will go to good homes. And the spots don’t show at first, but they will all be spotty.” She clearly took in and retained any information she was given.
After a few moments admiring the puppies, Mabel announced that they could go now. “Are you feeling better?” asked Jude as they passed through the kitchen. “Because I hear you’ve been poorly.”
“Yes, I’ve had an ear infection.” She produced a perfect parroting of the phrase. “I have lots of ear infections. I may have to have grommets,” she concluded proudly.
“But you are feeling better?”
“Yes. That’s because of the…” it was an adult word too far ‘antibibotics.’
“Good,” said Jude, trying hard to keep a straight face and not catch Varya’s eye. As they arrived in the hall they met Ricky, who was just putting on a Drizabone riding coat.
At the sight of Mabel, he crouched down and welcomed her into his arms. “Ooh, Daddy,” she squealed, “can we play a game? Can we play Hiding Things.”
“Sorry, lovely. Daddy’s got to go out to lunch, and then he’s got meetings in London for a couple of days, but he’ll be back on Wednesday afternoon. That’s only two days away, gorgeous. We can play Hiding Things then.”
“Is this going to be a ‘boozy lunch’, Daddy?” Another phrase she’d clearly picked up from adult conversation.
“Almost definitely, sweetie.” He stood up, with Mabel still in his arms. “Oh, hi, Jude. Very good of you to come and see Mother.”
“No problem.”
“I think it’s her back. Just stress, probably, you know, after what happened. She’s a tough old bird, but I’m afraid she’s not as strong as she’d like to think she is. And, as Lola probably told you, she’s never trusted doctors.”
“I’ll see what I can do for her.”
“Very good of you. I’ve told her you’re coming. If you don’t mind, I must be off, but she’s in the bedroom right opposite the top of the stairs.”
“I’ll find her.”
“Mm…” He hesitated for a moment, as if about to say something, but thought better of it. “I see Henry’s fast asleep, Varya.”
“Yes, Ricky. I was just taking him up to put him in his cot when Jude arrived.”
“Oh well, you’d better take him now.” He put Mabel down and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “You go up and help Varya tuck Henry in.”
“All right, Daddy.” She followed the au pair. Halfway up the stairs she turned and waved at him formally. “See you later, aggelater.”
“In a while, crocodile,” he responded, his seriousness matching hers. Then he turned to Jude. “She’s right, of course. It will be a boozy lunch.”
“Are you going somewhere local?”
“No, up to London. Drive to Fedborough, get the train to Victoria, boozy lunch today and a few more boozy meetings in the next couple of days. Hope I’ve sobered up by the time I have to drive back from the station on Wednesday.”
“Will this be the first time you’ve been to Fedborough Station since you took Polly there on that Sunday?”
“I suppose it will.” He grimaced. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“No, no, don’t worry. Just something I’m going to have to come to terms with.” He still didn’t sound like a man whose stepdaughter had been killed only a week before. But, as Lola had said, it was hard to work out what someone as positive as Ricky was actually feeling.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but have the police got any nearer to explaining what happened?”
“Don’t apologize. Everyone’s asking the same questions. And I don’t blame them. We want to get to the bottom of it as much as anyone else. But I’m afraid the police haven’t told us anything definite yet.”
Jude thought there was no harm in repeating the question she’d put to Piers about the whereabouts of Polly’s mobile phone. Ricky said he had no idea. “I would assume that it was destroyed in the inferno at the shop.”
“Probably, I expect you’re right. I was just thinking, if the phone was found, it might explain a few things.”
“How so?”
“There’d be a record on it of the calls and texts Polly had received, maybe even the message that had made her change her mind and go back to Fethering.”
“I suppose that’s possible. But since the phone is now probably an unrecognizable melted blob of plastic and metal…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. “Anyway, I must get off to this lunch.” He made a childish stomach- rubbing gesture. “Lovely lunch. Best meal of the day. Except nobody lunches properly these days. Back in the sixties, early seventies, we’d have these proper lunches every day. Start with two or three Camparis and orange, have at least a bottle of wine per head and round it off with a couple of brandies. Lunch was part of the creative process back then, bloody good ideas came out of lunch. That’s why the current state of the music business is so formulaic and anodyne. None of the bloody accountants who run things these days ever have a proper lunch. Sandwiches at the desk, a bottle of fizzy water…no surprise no original ideas come out of that. Oh, don’t get me started.”
Jude could have observed that she hadn’t got him started, that he seemed quite capable of self-starting without any help from anyone. But she didn’t. Instead, she asked, “Ricky, thinking back to that Sunday, the one before the fire, could you – ?”
He looked at his watch. “Got to be on my way or I’ll miss the train. Good luck with Mother. Oh, by the way…” He stepped closer to Jude and spoke with a new earnestness. “Don’t worry if she says anything odd.”
“What kind of odd?”
“Well, if she starts making accusations about anyone. She’s a wonderful woman, in very good nick for her age, but occasionally she does get confused. Usually when she’s had a shock of some kind. And what’s happened with Polly has really knocked her sideways. As a result, Mother may say some strange things. Just ignore it. As I say, she’s confused. I’m sure she’ll soon be back on an even keel.”
“But what kind of – ?”
“Sorry, Jude, must be off. Just don’t take any notice of anything Mother may say about Polly’s death.”
? The Shooting in the Shop ?
Twenty
Even on her bed of pain Flora Le Bonnier did look rather magnificent. Though the white hair was ruffled from her attempts to get into a comfortable position amidst the piled-up pillows, nothing could spoil the fine bone structure of her face. There remained a theatrical grandeur about her.
Jude had been fully prepared for the old woman’s attitude to be imperious, but in fact it came closer to humility. “It’s so good of you to come and interrupt what is, I’m sure, a well-deserved break for you.”
“It’s absolutely fine, don’t worry about it.” Jude’s voice had taken on a soothing tone, already part of the healing process. “Now, let’s just find where the source of the pain is.”
In spite of Flora’s assertion ‘I can tell you that – it’s in the small of my back’, Jude ran her hands over the woman’s whole body. She didn’t touch, didn’t even remove the duvet, just let her fingers flow up and down an inch or two above the bedclothes. When she stopped, she said, “Yes, I can understand where you’re feeling the pain, but, in fact, the tension that’s causing it is in your shoulders. Our bodies have an amazing ability to refer pain, just as our minds can refer anxiety.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Flora, intrigued.
“Often when we’re worried about something, we refer that worry to something else.” Jude had done enough
