Libby’s eyes snapped open. ‘I’m a bit tired. And it’s quite wearing being a family liaison officer.’
‘Eh?’
Libby sat up straight. ‘Pour me a drink and I’ll tell you all about it.’
Ben listened carefully while Libby recounted the afternoon’s events.
‘And on top of Hetty’s pasties, it’s had the effect of making me very, very tired,’ she finished, swallowing the remains of her glass of wine.
‘I can see that it would,’ said Ben. ‘What happens now?’
‘Nothing, as far as Fran and I are concerned. I suppose we keep in touch with Rosie – that’s us being liaison again – but whether Ian will keep us informed of the progress of the investigation, I’ve no idea.’
‘I’m sure he will,’ soothed Ben. ‘After all, it was you two who brought him in. He wouldn’t know anything about it otherwise.’
‘He said that,’ said Libby. ‘Fran was feeling guilty that she hadn’t found the bodies.’
‘Sensed them, you mean?’
‘Yes. But she did feel as though she couldn’t breathe when we went to see the barn. I just thought it was TB.’
‘I’m glad I know you well enough to interpret,’ said Ben, getting up to fetch the wine bottle. ‘I assume you mean TB victims from the sanatorium?’
‘Yes. But obviously not.’ She sat forward. ‘I’m still worried about that re-burial. And the flowers.’
‘Yes, that is odd.’ Ben frowned. ‘I mean, the reburial had been long enough ago for grass to grow over it, hadn’t it?’
‘I think Ian said within a year, or something. But the flowers were only laid between our visit on Friday and Ian’s first visit.’
‘So someone who did the re-burial or knows who it is laid the flowers. And that was a female, too, wasn’t it?’
Libby nodded. ‘It’s all so odd. I do believe Rosie now, you know. And I’m pretty sure something happened with Andrew and she can’t come to terms with it. Or she regrets it.’
‘Ah, the older woman syndrome!’ said Ben. ‘I’ve seen that before.’
‘If you’re referring to me,’ said Libby with dignity, ‘I am not as old as Rosie, and I did
‘You had a bit of trouble with the idea of a relationship though, didn’t you?’
‘Well, yes, but I think it’s more than that with Rosie.’ Libby sighed. ‘Still, I don’t really want to know the details. I told you Andrew came walking into the kitchen uninvited, didn’t I?’
‘No, you didn’t. When? This afternoon?’
Libby nodded. ‘And asked what I was doing to upset her. That made me think, actually. Why did he think she was upset? Presumably because she’d told him she was at some point during the day. And, I would think, because of her reaction when I told her I’d seen him off, she’s already told him she didn’t want to see him.’
‘And she said she’d made a fool of herself.’
‘Yes. So perhaps he seduced her and then she regretted it. Very easy to do.’
‘But not when you’re in your mid-sixties.’
‘No. Fran was a bit horrified at first, until I reminded her that she was practically a newly-wed herself in her mid-fifties.’
Ben didn’t reply, but gave her a slightly twisted smile and Libby cursed herself. The thorny marriage question had been decently buried for some time now, and she had to go and bring it up. She put down her glass and stood up.
‘Come on, old-timer,’ she said. ‘Let’s see how easy it is to seduce people in their mid-fifties.’
‘Which one of us,’ said Ben, standing up and taking her hand, ‘is doing the seducing?’
Libby smiled and led the way to the stairs.
Chapter Twenty-three
THE PHONE WOKE LIBBY far too early.
‘Libby? It’s Rosie. I didn’t wake you, did I?’
‘No,’ croaked Libby. ‘Course not.’
‘Only I want to go and see the barn. I don’t know how to get there. Would you take me?’
Libby struggled to sit up.
‘Um – yes.’ She cleared her throat, and Ben opened his eyes. ‘When did you want to go?’ Ben groaned and turned over.
‘Well – sometime today,’ said Rosie. ‘If it’s not too much trouble,’ she added hastily.
‘Can I ring you back?’ asked Libby, glancing at the clock. ‘It’s only twenty to eight.’
‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. Of course.’
‘Did you call Fran?’
‘No. I don’t know why, I just thought -’
‘That I’d be more likely to say yes.’
There was a small chuckle. ‘Yes, I suppose so. I’ll wait for your call.’
‘What was that about?’ Ben heaved himself onto one elbow. Libby told him.
‘Will you go?’
‘I can’t think of an excuse not to. Unless I say Ian won’t let us near the site.’
‘Well, he probably won’t,’ said Ben, and swung his legs out of bed. ‘I’m going to make tea. Do you want it up here?’
‘No,’ sighed Libby. ‘I’m awake now. I’ll come down.’
‘So what are you going to do?’ Ben said ten minutes later, as they sat at the kitchen table.
‘Phone Fran.’
‘Not Ian?’
‘I think it might not be the right thing to do,’ said Libby. ‘If Rosie wants to, fine. I shall tell her I don’t think Ian would allow it, then she can take it from there.’
‘Sensible.’ Ben stood up. ‘Well, as I’m up early, I might as well go up to the office early. Then I might be back early.’ He leered at her. ‘I might get a repeat performance.’
‘Don’t push your luck.’ Libby grinned up at him.
Deciding that it was too early to ring Fran, Libby rang Rosie back instead.
‘Look, Rosie, Ian’s not going to want to you poking around the murder site. In fact, you won’t be allowed to. There will be police on site. You’d never get past them.’
‘I know that. I just want to see where it is.’
‘I suppose I could take you to Cherry Ashton,’ said Libby doubtfully. ‘There’s a pub there. We could have lunch.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Rosie, sounding more cheerful. ‘I’d like that. Will you ask Fran?’
‘If you like. Then she could pick you up. She’s nearer you than I am.’
Libby looked at the clock and called Fran.
‘I know it’s a bit much,’ she said, ‘and we’ll have seen more than enough of each other, but I don’t know that I could cope with Rosie on her own, and she’s your friend more than mine, anyway.’
‘Hardly a friend,’ said Fran. ‘She’s my writing tutor. But OK. I’ll give her a ring and tell her what time I’ll pick her up.’
‘If we’re going to that pub for lunch, make it about midday. We can meet there.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘I can’t remember, but it’s on the crossroads. If you go to Heronsbourne, take the road towards Steeple Mount and Steeple Cross, you’ll find a turning to your left to Cherry Ashton. Then there’s a crossroads with a pub on the corner. That’s it.’
‘Twelve o’clock then,’ said Fran, and rang off.
