‘It’s a goose. And I don’t think we could face it without her. Christmas is never very jolly here at the best of times, even though Mum does make an effort to keep it all going.’
‘She’s probably just exhausted, then. Can’t face another year of that. Gone off to Windsor or Wincanton for a break by herself.’
‘I never thought of Wincanton,’ he said. ‘Where is it?’
‘Somerset. Not terribly far, but unless she knows someone there, it’s pretty unlikely, isn’t it?’
‘The point is – why couldn’t she just tell us? Why the secrecy?’
‘Scared you’d talk her out of it, presumably. I don’t know, Ant. She’s your mother, not mine. People do funny things. But she did phone you, so you know she’s alive. That’s the main thing.’
‘You sound just like Dad,’ he said glumly.
‘And you sound like a lost little boy crying for his mother,’ she said brutally. ‘I bet you she’ll show up tomorrow evening and you’ll have a lovely roast goose, after all.’
The call finished with Ant feeling even worse than before. Did Thea privately think that Beverley actually had nicked the Blackwoods’ trinket and run off with it somewhere? Or was she so accustomed to violent murders and convoluted police investigations that a simple case of a missing woman carried little to interest her? Ahead lay the rest of Saturday, and then the whole of Christmas Eve. His plan had been to tidy the house, walk the dog, and wrap the presents he’d got for his parents. None of that seemed to have any point now, except for his faithful and long-suffering Percy.
Chapter Six
The afternoon was passing rather aimlessly at the Slocombe house. Thea built up the log fire, and all four females settled down in front of it, letting the warmth seep into them and relishing the peace. The scent of the tree in the corner was faint but real, spreading the smell of Christmas, adding to Stephanie’s blissful condition.
Thea was looking and feeling rather less blissful. ‘When are we going to move the table?’ she said suddenly. Drew’s belated suggestion about the dining table was as unusual as it was irritating.
‘When Drew comes back,’ said Jessica. ‘It won’t take a minute.’
‘I suppose I’m in charge of the funerals while he’s gone. He never even thought about that, did he? I can’t leave the house until he gets back. What if I have other things to do?’
‘Like what?’
‘Like trying to help Ant and Digby,’ she muttered. ‘Sounds as if there’s a problem over there.’ Drew’s sudden dash north to gratify his mother’s wishes seemed to Thea to justify a few hours devoted to the mysterious disappearance of Beverley Frowse. But her phone was not linked to the business line, which effectively meant she would have to stay in the house just in case, the whole time Drew was away. Unanswered calls would be diverted to his mobile – which he would be unable to answer if driving.
‘They’ll be fine,’ said Jessica airily, on the basis of no real knowledge.
‘That’s where you’re wrong. Ant’s really worried about his mother,’ Thea snapped. Then she noticed Stephanie’s alarmed expression, and modified her tone. ‘But it is what it is, I suppose,’ she added with a sigh. ‘I don’t suppose it’s anything much. And there’s always a possibility someone will phone about a funeral.’ Despite she and Stephanie having agreed that people really should not die at Christmas, the fact remained that they did. Their relatives might well expect a suitable response, even from an alternative undertaker with limited facilities and a young family. ‘So I’ll try to be good and stick by the phone.’
‘We should play a game,’ Stephanie said a minute or two later, anxious not to let any of this magical time go to waste, as well as hoping to improve Thea’s mood. The spaniel was snuggled against her on the big armchair, and the firelight was dancing on the shiny surfaces of the decorations hanging from the ceiling.
‘Good idea,’ said Jessica. ‘But nothing too noisy or competitive.’
‘Most things need an even number of people,’ said Thea, clearly not wanting to get up from her place on the sofa. But then she gave herself a slap. ‘Listen to me, making difficulties as usual. A game would be brilliant.’
‘Snakes and ladders,’ said Stephanie. ‘That’s all down to chance. Anybody can win, from the age of two to a hundred. It says so on the box. And it doesn’t matter how many players there are.’
‘Where is it?’ wondered Thea.
‘Middle drawer,’ Stephanie told her with total certainty. And it was. ‘And we should have candles,’ she added. ‘I love candles.’
‘Tomorrow. We’ll put one in every window, to welcome Dad and Timmy home again.’
‘And mulled wine,’ said Jessica. ‘And did you get some crackers?’
‘Obviously,’ said her mother, with a sigh that suggested contentment as well as the long list of tasks ahead of her. ‘Charles Dickens has a lot to answer for, you know.’
‘It can’t all be down to him.’
‘The tree was Prince Albert’s idea,’ said Stephanie. An annoying idea occurred to her. ‘I suppose it’s quite bad for the environment, cutting down all these trees?’
‘They say not, because they grow them specially, so they don’t count,’ said Thea quickly.
‘That makes no sense at all,’ Jessica laughed. ‘But just at the moment I can’t pretend to care.’
They played snakes and ladders, the dice consistently favouring Stephanie. Thea accused her of cheating and fetched a plastic cup to use as a shaker. The rattle it made was loud in the peaceful room. ‘It is fairer like that. Her little hands don’t turn it around properly,’ Thea insisted.
But still Stephanie got fives and sixes, dodging the snakes almost every time.
‘We forgot the carols,’ said Jessica, as the game came to a finish. ‘I knew there was something missing.’
‘The quiet’s nice, though,’ said Stephanie.
‘It is,’ Jessica agreed. ‘We can have the CD playing all day tomorrow – and the next two days, if we don’t get sick of it by then.’
‘Right,’ said
