A Cotswold Christmas Mystery

that seemed uncalled for. Thea was, as usual, chafing against the responsibilities of the coming days, and both women knew there was still a lot they had not told Drew about events over at the Crossfield Estate. That, Stephanie suspected, was the real issue. All three female members of the family had become involved in a sudden death that was very likely to develop into a murder enquiry within a few days. Drew never approved of Thea’s activities in that direction, and he never liked it when Gladwin made contact. When it happened again, he was not going to be pleased. And knowing that put them all on edge.

It began innocently. Thea had simply switched on her phone and glanced at the screen. ‘Expecting a call?’ asked Drew, with no hint of irritation.

‘I thought my mother might get back to me. She hasn’t thanked me for the jumper I gave her.’

‘Bad example,’ he smiled. ‘But tomorrow’s soon enough, surely?’

‘She’s really checking to see if there’s anything from Gladwin,’ said Jessica – which was, Stephanie concluded, definitely a piece of mischief, even if it didn’t sound like it at the time.

‘Oh?’ said Drew, still perfectly relaxed.

‘Well, not really,’ Thea defended herself. ‘At least – I have been wondering whether anything else has happened.’

‘Else?’ He was now more alert.

‘We’ll tell you about it tomorrow, okay?’

It was too late. Stephanie closed her eyes, already grieving for the wrecked atmosphere. All three of the adults seemed to be impelled to fight, for absolutely no reason. There must be some horrible aspect of human nature that came to the surface whether you chose it or not. She thought of Mr Shipley saying there was that of God in everyone. There was also obviously that of the devil as well.

‘What is there to tell?’ he persisted.

‘There’s a police investigation into the death of Rufus Blackwood,’ said Thea, with a sheepish expression.

Drew gave her an exasperated look. ‘And that’s the reason you turned the phone on? Aren’t we enough for you?’ The question went deep and true. It was a most searching and accurate question that needed an answer which treated it seriously.

‘That’s not it, exactly,’ Thea began. Then she squared up to the three faces before her. ‘Well, if you put it in those words, I suppose the truth is that you’re not, no. I love you all and I love all this Christmas happiness and I want everything to be warm and safe and contented. But there has to be more to life. I can’t help it.’

‘That’s all fine. I’ve no problem with that. But on Christmas Day? That’s just not reasonable.’

‘He’s right, Ma.’ Jessica’s voice contained real anger. ‘If you felt like that, why did you ever marry him?’

Stephanie put her hands over her ears and shrieked. ‘No! Stop it!’ It was her worst fear, that something like this would erupt and spoil the day. The best of it was already over, of course. Once the presents were opened, there was no more magical anticipation. But they could at least enjoy the aftermath in peace – couldn’t they?

‘Don’t shout,’ said Timmy in a very small voice. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing. Nothing.’ Thea got up and went to hug him. ‘It’s all my fault for looking at my phone. Just shows, doesn’t it, what beastly things they are. I’m very sorry, Tim. Don’t get upset, either of you. It’s time for a drink and a bit of cake or something. Then you two can go to bed and tomorrow we’ll tidy up and eat cold turkey. Is everybody happy now?’

Jessica forced a smile that convinced nobody, and got up from her place on the floor. ‘I’ll go and make us some coffee,’ she said.

Stephanie slowly expelled the air she’d been holding onto, still hearing echoes of her own outburst. It had certainly had a good effect. The real shock had been Jessica’s words, taking the whole conversation into unbearably deep waters. Why did you ever marry him? It carried ghastly implications that Thea and Dad might get unmarried, and what would become of them all then?

Before they drifted off to sleep, Stephanie suddenly asked Timmy, ‘So what’s she really like? Our new grandmother, I mean.’

He turned towards her in the faint light coming from the landing, ‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

Timmy lay flat on his back, and stared at the ceiling, happy to be invited to share his impressions. ‘Well, she’s a bit like a person from a Roald Dahl book. Knobbly fingers and bushy eyebrows. But her nose is just like Dad’s, and she does that thing with her knees the same as him.’

Stephanie knew exactly what he meant. All her life she had watched her father gently strumming an inaudible tune on first one knee then the other, whenever he was sitting down. It was maddening for anybody in the same room and everybody tried to stop him from doing it. Only Thea seemed to find it appealing. ‘At least it’s better than humming,’ she often said.

‘Really?’ Stephanie was highly intrigued by this proof of family likeness. ‘That’s amazing.’

‘She was quite scared of seeing us, you know,’ Timmy elaborated. ‘And sad about Grandad or Grandpa, or whatever we’re meant to call him.’

‘It probably doesn’t matter, now he’s dead,’ said Stephanie. ‘Go on.’

‘She hardly looked at Dad at all when we first got there. Picked me up and squeezed me as if I was about three, and said I looked just like her husband.’ He grimaced at the memory. ‘That was horrible.’

Stephanie examined her brother’s face with interest. His colouring was as fair as hers, except for his eyes, which were light brown, while hers were blue. The shape of his head was different, too – longer and narrower. She remembered how people had commented on how unlike his mother he was, when he was little. ‘Oh,’ she said.

Timmy hadn’t finished. ‘And then she let the dog attack me. The house was cold – all the windows were open. I think she was trying to get rid