lane to the bus and stood at the bottom of the stairs shouting for him to hurry. There were bags to be picked up and the packed lunch was almost forgotten. Felicity realized the note to Lily Marsh had never been written. She almost shouted to James as he ambled towards the car.
She sat over another coffee and made a list for the farm shop. She had planned the weekend meals already in her head. There was a cake of course, already baked and iced. It was a pity the three older children lived too far away to share it. For dinner tonight she’d made a daube of beef, rich and dark, slippery with olives and red wine. It stood in the pantry and needed only to be reheated. Now she changed her mind. It was too hot for beef. If Neil at the farm had a couple of chickens, she’d do that Spanish dish with quartered lemons and rosemary and garlic. It would be much lighter, beautifully aromatic and Mediterranean. Samuel would like that. She could set a long table on the terrace under the veranda and they’d eat it with plain rice and a big green salad, and make believe that they were looking out over orange trees and olive groves.
Occasionally, when she talked to other mothers, who rushed in and out of her house to drop off their sons, or to pick up hers, she wondered if she was missing out by not having paid employment. They seemed astounded when they found out she was at home all day. But what could she have done? She hadn’t had much of a life before her marriage. She had no qualifications, few practical skills. Besides, Peter depended on her being there, calm and rested, to look after him when he came back from the disappointments at work. Certainly he needed her to be no competition. Imagine if she had become a successful lawyer or businesswoman, if she had started to win awards in her own right! The idea made her smile.
The farm shop was cool, the door into the yard open, letting in the smell of cows and grass. She was the first customer. Neil was still filling the fridge. The huge wooden board, the cleaver, the long pointed knives were still clean. He weighed the chickens and packed them into her bag.
‘They’re not free-range.’ He knew Felicity would be interested. ‘But barn-reared, not battery. You’ll taste the difference.’
‘That was a wonderful piece of pork I had from you last week.’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘It’s all in the cooking, Mrs Calvert. And in the growing. I only cut it up.’
Another ritual. Like Peter taking his letters to work every day and the same three friends being invited for his birthday. This exchange passed between them every week. He carried the veg box out to the car for her and winked as he had added a few extra links of sausage for free into her bag.
‘I hear it’s a special birthday for Dr Calvert.’
She wondered, as she always did, how the butcher could possibly know all her business.
When she unlocked the door the phone was ringing and she ran inside, leaving everything on the drive. It was Samuel Parr.
‘I wondered if there was anything you’d like me to bring tonight. A pud?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Really. Nothing.’
She found herself smiling. Samuel always put her in a good humour. He, too, was always at the back of her mind.
Later, when the chicken was cooking and the house was full of the smell of lemon and olive oil and garlic, the phone rang again. Felicity was sitting outside with the paper and another cafetiere of coffee, enjoying the last hour of silence before she had to drive into Hepworth. James had chess club after school and she’d arranged to collect him. A heat haze covered the fields towards the sea and in the distance the lighthouse seemed to shimmer, insubstantial. When she heard the phone she hurried inside. Her feet were bare. The flagstones on the terrace were so hot that they almost burned and the tiles in the kitchen were cool. The contrasting physical sensations on her feet excited her, made her suddenly catch her breath.
She had been certain it would be one of the children calling, but when she answered the line went dead. She dialled 1471 and was told that the caller had withheld his number. That had happened several times recently. She wondered if she should mention it to Peter. There had been a couple of thefts in the area. Perhaps the phone calls were to check if the house was empty. But she knew she would not tell Peter. Her life’s work was to protect him from unpleasantness and worry.
She finished her coffee, looking out towards the sea. A bath, she thought, using some of that expensive oil she’d bought in Fenwick’s on her last trip to town, to relax her before the guests descended.
Chapter Five
‘Do you fancy a bit of a walk?’ the fat detective said. She stood up and Julie thought how strong the muscles in her legs must be to get all that weight off the seat in one go. Looking at her, you’d think it would take a crane to shift her, one of those huge cranes that towered over the river down at Wallsend. And it wasn’t only her body that was like that, Julie thought. The detective was a strong woman. Once she was decided on something nothing would shift her. She found the idea somehow comforting.
‘I thought you might like a bit of fresh air,’ the woman said.
Julie must have looked at her bewildered, the way Luke would look at you sometimes, when he didn’t quite get what you were talking about.
‘They’ll be coming to remove Luke’s body in a bit,’ said the detective gently. Her name was Vera. She’d told Julie that when they’d first started talking, but Julie hadn’t remembered it until now. ‘No doubt the neighbours will be gawping. I thought you might want to be out of the way. Or perhaps you’d rather see him off. It’s up to you.’
Julie thought of the body submerged by water and felt sick. She didn’t want to think of that.
‘Where would we go?’
‘Wherever you like. Nice day for a walk on the beach. You can bring Laura.’
‘Luke used to like the beach,’ Julie said. ‘One summer he went fishing. My da gave him an old rod. He never caught anything, like. But it kept him out of mischief.’
‘There you are, then.’
They’d put Laura to bed in Sal’s spare room. The detective went upstairs with Julie to ask the girl if she’d like to come out with them. Julie thought Vera was nosy. She’d met people like her before. People who were greedy for other folks’ business. Perhaps that’s what it took to make a good detective. Now, she thought Vera wanted to find out about Laura. If they went out for a walk together, she’d make Laura talk about herself. She’d think the girl had been neglected, that Julie had given all her time to Luke.
Laura was still asleep. ‘I don’t want to wake her,’ Julie said quickly. ‘We’ll leave her here with Sal.’
‘Whatever you think’s best, pet.’ Vera’s voice was comfortable, easy, but Julie could tell she was disappointed.
She didn’t see anyone staring as she walked out of Sal’s front door to Vera’s car, but she knew fine well everyone was looking. Any drama like this in the street and Julie would have been just the same, in the front bedroom, her nose to the nets. Any drama that she wasn’t playing a central role in.
Vera parked the car behind the dunes at Deepden. On one side of the track was a small nature reserve. A wooden hide looking over a pool and a couple of walkways built from planks. In the distance a bungalow, where birdwatchers stayed, the garden so overgrown you could hardly see the house. On the seaward side a stretch of grass, spattered with small yellow flowers, and then the range of dunes. They’d brought the kids here a few times when Geoff had been in the mood to play happy families, and they’d loved it. Julie had a picture in her mind of Luke, aged about eight, caught in mid-air just after leaping off one of the sand hills. Perhaps there was a photo and that was what she was remembering. She could see it quite clearly. The frayed cut-off denims, the red T- shirt, his mouth wide open, part fear, part delight.
Despite the sunshine there weren’t many other cars parked there. Thursday morning and the kids still at school, it was only the active retired and their dogs who had the chance to enjoy the weather. Julie had a sudden thought.
‘I’m supposed to be at work. The nursing home. Mary’ll be expecting me.’
