‘I’ll do that,’ said Drew, without conviction.
‘No, you won’t. But you can go and wash up the breakfast things, and some more pans. We didn’t finish them all yesterday.’
Everyone attended to their varied activities for ten minutes, and then Thea evidently had an idea.
‘I wonder if we ought to ask Mr Shipley over, as Stephanie suggested. Now we know for sure he’s here, it seems a bit mean not to,’ she said.
‘Oh, yes!’ Stephanie endorsed the idea enthusiastically.
‘Really?’ Drew asked Thea. ‘That’s not what you said yesterday.’
‘I know. But he’s been nice to Steph, and he is our neighbour, after all.’
‘True. I’ve never really known what we’re supposed to do about neighbours. My father always said they were God’s way of making us behave ourselves. He didn’t mean it nicely. He thought the ideal was not to have neighbours at all.’ Then he said, ‘Are you sure you’ll even be here at lunchtime? I thought we were all on standby for a summons from your friendly detective lady.’
‘You and Timmy can entertain him by yourselves, then,’ she flipped back at him. Then she softened. ‘I imagine we’ll be here for some lunch, whatever happens.’
‘Can I have that in writing?’
‘Oh, Drew, stop it,’ Thea sighed. ‘There’s no reason to get agitated about it. It was just an idle thought. He can come for tea, or evening drinks – or leave it a few days. I just thought perhaps he might be feeling unloved. I expect he usually went to his sister, and now she’s died, there isn’t anybody. Not as far as we know, anyway.’
‘Or he might be revelling in the peace and quiet,’ said Jessica. ‘If he was that miserable, he could have asked us to go over there.’
‘All five of us?’ said Drew. ‘I don’t think so. He’ll have seen we’ve got a strange car outside.’
‘You’re overthinking it,’ said Thea to her daughter. ‘And why should you care anyway?’
Before Jessica could reply, Drew interceded. ‘No need to get tetchy, anybody. We’ve agreed that we can’t make any plans until we’ve heard from Ms Gladwin. We’ve all got things we can be getting on with, and if we choose to be neighbourly, we can ask Mr Shipley over when we have a better idea of what we’re doing. Is that okay with everyone?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Thea, throwing him one of those smiles that made Stephanie’s heart swell with relief.
‘Time for some more drink, if you ask me,’ said Drew. ‘It is still technically Christmas, after all. How about some sherry?’
‘Lovely,’ said Thea with a laugh. ‘Wonderfully decadent. And don’t you say anything about driving, either,’ she warned her daughter, lightly. ‘Whatever happens next, we can do it on foot.’
‘I wasn’t going to say a word,’ said Jessica.
Then Ant’s text came through, and the air thickened again. ‘They found the necklace,’ Thea reported. ‘He wants to talk to me.’
‘Nobody’s stopping you,’ said Drew.
‘No rush,’ said Thea, sipping her sherry. ‘Let’s just wait for Gladwin. I’ve had enough of being caught between those two.’
It seemed to Stephanie that she was not the only one who made very little sense of this remark.
It was twenty past eleven when Ant’s phone jingled. Before he knew it, his mother’s voice was in his ear. ‘Happy Christmas, a bit late,’ she said. ‘Are you all right, both of you?’
‘Of course we’re not all right,’ he shouted back at her. ‘We thought you were dead.’
‘No, you didn’t. Don’t be silly. Anyway, I’m coming back this afternoon. You’ll have to tell your father.’
‘Tell him yourself. He’s right here.’
‘No, no,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ve only got a minute. Less than a minute. I don’t want to talk to him.’
Digby was flapping at him from his chair, pushing Percy aside so he could get up. Ant didn’t know what to say. ‘Whose phone are you using?’ he asked his mother.
‘Winnie’s. I’m in her guest house in Oxford. I told you that on Friday.’
‘Your phone cut out. I thought you were saying Winchcombe. Who the hell is Winnie?’
‘My old friend from school. She’s really called Janet, but we always knew her as Winnie.’
‘I wish you’d stop sounding so normal. Everybody thinks you killed Blackwood.’ But the line had gone dead before he could be sure she’d heard him. Digby gave a snort, half frustrated, half amused.
Ant’s mind was whirling helplessly, like a toy car lying on its back, wheels still spinning. His parents’ marriage suddenly seemed to be at the heart of this whole mystery. Had Beverley gone off because Digby had said or done something she couldn’t tolerate? He had noticed that she was getting increasingly tetchy with him as he got older and slower. ‘I’m going to call her back,’ he said. ‘I’ve got the number now.’
‘She won’t answer,’ said his father, with a fatalistic sigh. ‘What did she say to you?’
‘She’s coming home this afternoon. And she’s staying with somebody called Winnie. Or Janet. I have no idea who that is.’
‘Yes, you do. She came to visit when you were about nine. Stayed nearly a week and drove us all mad. She’s a throwback to the seventies, all feminism and short hair and big shoes.’
‘I don’t remember that at all.’
‘Typical,’ said Digby. ‘Though I would never have guessed that’s where she’d gone, I have to admit. I thought she’d be in Winchcombe with her sister. That’s where I was going to start looking if she didn’t come back.’
‘Auntie Laura? Isn’t she about a hundred by now? Is she even still alive?’
‘She’d be ninety-one. She was twenty-two when Bev was born. Half-sister, of course. Not much good as a relative, but that’s the only place I could think of starting with “Win”. Not many wits left, last I heard, poor old Laura.’
‘Why wouldn’t Mum speak to you?’
Digby shrugged. ‘She’d said it all to you already. Why did you have to say that about Blackwood? That wasn’t very bright, was it?’
‘Wasn’t it? Why not?’
‘If you can’t work it out for yourself, I can’t explain it to you.’
Ant’s confusion
