Guilt in the Cotswolds (5 page)

‘I’m a haven from it all. Dad and me, that is. She loves coming to stay with us. She thinks my dad’s perfect. We both think she’s amazing, getting so successful before she’s even twenty-five.’

An unworthy thought flitted across Thea’s mind. Judith was young and pretty; Richard Wilshire was divorced and appeared not to have a woman in his life. Did he harbour fantasies about his daughter’s famous friend? Wouldn’t it be odd if he didn’t? And did Judith have a boyfriend of her own age?

‘Well, I’m sure there’s a simple explanation for him going missing. Did you say you’d been to the farms he was meant to visit?’

‘One of them. He was due in Yanworth at eleven this morning, expecting to be there about two hours. I was thinking he might join us at the pub for lunch. I deliberately chose one that was more or less on his way. So Judith and I waited by the gate from about half twelve. When he didn’t come, I went in to find him. The farmer was in the yard, all his cows assembled and waiting, but Dad had never shown up. The chap was furious. He kept me talking for ages. Said he could see for himself that he’d got at
least four reactors. There’s a lump that comes up on the animal’s neck. He hardly needed Dad to tell him. He’d tried Dad’s mobile as well, with no reply. I didn’t know what to say to him. Something
must
have happened. I should call the police,’ she burst out. ‘I know he wouldn’t let Andrew down like that if he was all right.’

‘Andrew’s the farmer?’

‘Right. He was so angry,’ the girl said miserably. ‘The TB business is so cruel. I don’t know how they bear it. Those poor cows, killed in their prime – and it’s always the farmer’s favourite that has to go.’

It would seem that this young lady was not good at bearing things, Thea thought. A sensitive little flower, evidently. Even perhaps a moral coward. ‘I imagine your dad has to take a fair bit of aggravation when he breaks the bad news,’ she said.

‘And the rest. They’re always yelling at him about it, and how the tests are so inaccurate and there’s no justice. He’s had to get very thick-skinned about it.’

‘Somebody has to do it,’ Thea murmured, not really believing her own words. If nobody would do it, the system would have to change, and that might be a very good thing. ‘Well … I’m not sure what we ought to do now. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve got my instructions, and I’d better press on with the job. It’s up to you whether you contact the police, but as I understand it, they’re unlikely to worry too much about a grown man not answering his phone.’

‘I know,’ Millie said. ‘Especially when he’s done it before.’

‘Pardon?’

‘He went off with no warning five years ago. It was dreadful. He came back three months later and never said where he’d been. It ruined the marriage with my mum. Well – you can understand it, can’t you? She was sure he’d been away with another woman, and he would never persuade her otherwise.’

Thea was lost for words. That ordinary, stiff-backed man had some kind of secret life, then. Other implications dawned on her, thanks to this astonishing piece of family history. No wonder Millie got agitated when he went off without saying where he was going. No wonder she was such a clingy daughter, well into her twenties. Because despite her protestations, she was clearly panicking at his unexpected absence.

‘You said he was completely predictable now? And yet …?’ she left the question hanging.

‘I know – it sounds silly, doesn’t it. But this time I know it’s different,’ Millie insisted. ‘This time, I’m sure something awful’s happened to him.’

Millie left, saying she had no idea where she should try next in her search for her father. She still seemed dazed and unfocused. Thea could offer little convincing reassurance, still unable to grasp much useful information about the various characters in the Wilshire family. Her own position was uncertain if Richard didn’t materialise. Who would pay her? The ethics of the business had become even more murky than before, and she wondered whether she ought to go and see old Mrs Wilshire herself. That might bring a very necessary enlightenment – but it might also be frustrating, painful and embarrassing.

The afternoon was waning, which meant she could decently abandon the work for the day. She could sit and watch TV, phone Drew and feed Hepzie. The absence of any other animals to care for felt more strange as time went by, rather than less. There should be a bewildered dog to console or a cat to befriend. Instead there was a void, which any amount of mysterious old possessions
couldn’t fill. Perhaps, she thought, she could bring a manageable pile of letters or diaries downstairs and sit with them on her lap, going through them slowly. Or was that too intrusive? There had been no vetoes at all. Nothing was said to be private or out of bounds. Besides, you couldn’t just discard letters without reading them first. They might be from somebody famous, or have tremendous family significance. The problem, of course, was knowing significance when you saw it. The historian in her resisted the idea of binning any papers at all. But she had accepted the job, and at the very least she ought to produce a modest pile of totally superfluous and irrelevant business correspondence labelled ‘To be thrown away’.

She ran much of this past Drew when she phoned him. He listened carefully and concluded, ‘You haven’t got time to read everything, by the sound of it. And if Millie’s taking an interest after all, you should probably leave it to her to go through actual personal letters. Don’t you think?’

‘I’m not sure she is taking much interest, actually. I can’t work her out. She disapproves of putting her granny in a home, but she doesn’t go to visit her there. She doesn’t seem to have much idea about other people’s feelings. It’s all about her. Admittedly she is worried about her dad, but that’s because he’s let her down in the past and she’s not sure she can trust him. I expect he’ll turn up again.’

‘I hope he does eventually. I’ll need him to sign things when the old lady dies.’

‘Drew! That could be years and years away.’

He laughed. ‘I was joking – sort of. In fact, I don’t think I would need him, anyway. It’s all prepaid, which is the main thing.’

She had a thought. ‘Do you suppose he
intended
to go missing all along? I mean – he’s got his ducks in a row, hasn’t he? Nobody really needs him any more. He’s free to go off to his secret life.’

‘Sounds exciting. And Richard Wilshire did not strike me as an exciting sort of person.’

‘Little do you know, he’s got hidden depths,’ said Thea, and told him about the man’s disappearance five years previously.

‘I had no idea,’ Drew said. ‘Where on earth can he have been? And has he gone there again?’

‘Millie thinks not, for some reason. She’s sure he’s in trouble of some kind. The problem for me is – do I carry on as instructed, assuming he’ll turn up next week and pay me?’

‘Good question.’

‘That’s not helpful.’

‘Wait till I get there. It looks as if I can be with you tomorrow afternoon and stay until sometime on Sunday.’

‘With the kids?’

He paused teasingly. ‘Not with the kids.’

‘Pandora’s having them?’

‘Not Pandora. Not Maggs. Nobody you know. Timmy’s got a friend, Jake, who has a birthday. They’re going
to a thing called Digger World, and there’s a sleepover afterwards. Not to be outdone, Stephanie organised to go to
her
friend’s house as well. I’m not sure she’s altogether popular with the family concerned, but I’ve been on the phone to the mothers for ages, getting the logistics straight and promising to reciprocate sometime. How do people manage with five children, like your sister?’

‘They don’t need friends. They’ve got each other. They do music lessons, most of them, some sport, and that’s about it. Anyway, you get special credit for being a single father. All those mums feel sorry for you.’

‘So they should.’

‘Well, I don’t.’

‘You’re a hard woman.’

‘Careful! I don’t have to let you in, you know. But I will, because you’re going to love the mattress on the bed here. It must be stuffed with angels’ wings or something, it’s so soft. You can drown in it.’

‘Hmm. Doesn’t sound very healthy.’

‘Nonsense. Anything that ensures such a lovely deep sleep must be wonderfully good for you.’

She could sense his hesitancy when it came to talk about bed. Drew had a streak of prudishness that she found quite endearing. He never indulged in anything that could be remotely described as telephone sex during their nightly conversations, for which she was grateful. It could only lead to frustration and a feeling that something between them had been tainted. Besides, his children were in the house, and he could never be
entirely sure they weren’t hearing some of what he said.

She changed the subject. ‘Any funerals booked for next week?’

‘Two. One Tuesday, one Wednesday. Both small, with family carrying the coffin, so it’ll be easy enough with me and Pandora. She’s really doing ever so well, you know. I thought Maggs was unique and nobody could ever match her for enthusiasm and competence, but Pandora’s getting very close.’

‘Is Maggs jealous?’

‘She would be if she noticed, but she’s so wrapped up in little Meredith, she doesn’t care what happens here.’

‘I should go and see her.’ Thea was in no great hurry to inspect the baby, although she was curious to see how it had turned out, with a short plump mixed-race mother, and a very tall fair-skinned Devonian father. Maggs had been adopted as a tiny baby, and her parents were, according to Drew, utterly besotted with the newcomer. ‘Are the grandparents still around?’

‘Oh – I forgot to tell you. They’re planning to move house, to be closer. That’s very good news for me and Peaceful Repose, if it means they’ll mind the baby when Maggs comes back to work.’

‘Aren’t they terribly old?’

‘Not really. He’s seventy-five and she’s about seventy. Maggs isn’t thirty yet, you know. She’s always seemed older than she really is.’

‘Time for a whole litter of babies, then.’

‘Could be. Den seems to think another one’s on the cards, at least.’

‘Already!’

‘No, I mean theoretically. He’s a different man these days. It’s as if something’s got uncorked, and released all sorts of sentimental stuff he’s been bottling up.’

‘Sweet,’ said Thea, injecting all the sincerity she could muster into her voice. She and Carl had only produced one child, in their early twenties, and never been especially demonstrative or sentimental about it. Jessica had turned out well, forging a career path through the Greater Manchester police force. Thea kept in touch, and saw her every couple of months or so, but they were nobody’s idea of a devoted mother and daughter. Which made her think of Millie Wilshire again. ‘Did you meet Richard’s wife?’ she asked. ‘Millie’s mother.’

She could hear his gulp of surprise at the abrupt switch. ‘No. She’s got a new man, or something, hasn’t she?’

‘I don’t know any more than what you told me last month. Do you think she’s got designs on this house at all? Is she actually divorced from Richard?’

‘No idea. It’s a very casual acquaintance, you know. I realise I should probably have vetted them in more detail on your behalf, but I assumed you’d work it all out for yourself, the way you do usually.’

‘So you think I should leave the letters and things unread, then,’ she concluded, ignoring his words. ‘Just empty all the cupboards and boxes and try to sort everything out and make lists of it all?’

‘Right. And don’t forget the attic.’

‘I’m leaving that until you get here. You can go ahead and wrestle all the spiders into submission.’

‘Very funny. I thought you could take a break, while I’m there.’

‘You thought wrong. I’d never finish if I did that. You can help.’

‘Providing we can go out in the evening somewhere – and visit my house. I’ve got a long list of things I ought to check. Won’t you take Sunday morning off, either?’

‘I might. Just get here as soon as you can, and we’ll see.’

‘I’ll drive like the wind.’

‘Good,’ she said, not being superstitious enough to think that any injunction to be careful would make a difference. She had lost a husband to a road accident; she had little fear that the same fate would befall her fiancé.

Her second night on the blissful mattress went just as serenely as the first had done. She sank into it with a sigh of delight, compounded by the knowledge that Drew would be with her for the third night, and the old thing would be tested in quite a different way. The likely wallowing and floundering this could entail might add to the fun, she thought hopefully. A flash of memory of the unfortunate results of lovemaking with her previous boyfriend in a strange bed was quickly suppressed. Phil Hollis’s back was something she definitely did not want to think about.

Saturday morning dawned dry and sunny, and it seemed a shame to be indoors. But there was no choice but to carry
on with her unpacking, sorting and listing. She finally established a routine that speeded things up considerably. A pattern within the house itself came into focus, too. The main bedroom held clothes, shoes and magazines that were relatively current. Although quite tidy, it had obviously been a room in daily use, with much less care taken to preserve things in good condition. Drawers of jumbled headscarves, gloves, socks – it suggested normal life, as did the contents of the wardrobe. The second bedroom, however, was like a museum by comparison, everything packed away and then left to gather dust. Thirdly was Richard’s one-time retreat, with boyhood possessions abandoned and forgotten. Lastly, the little dressing room was a personal archive, with the numerous diaries and packets of letters. It made perfectly good sense now, and Thea found herself making decisions more easily as she examined the things with a more cursory interest than before. There were still unanswered questions, it was true, but she had a feeling they would be explained relatively easily once she had a better look at the paperwork.

Overhead, the attic weighed on her like a threat. Attics were where the real clutter was generally to be found. Beloved objects that no longer worked; precious outgrown toys; overflow from bookshelves and cupboards; and anything that might one day come in useful. Although Rita Wilshire did not strike her as a woman who hoarded short lengths of string, used paper or plastic bags, empty envelopes or sheets of brown paper, she was still a woman who threw as little
away as possible. There was sure to be a mass of stuff to be tackled on the top floor of the house.

Fortunately, Drew was going to be there to help. She was determined to employ him for much of the Sunday morning, despite his intention to visit his neglected house in Broad Campden.

But first there was Saturday morning, and that was rudely interrupted before eleven o’clock. The door knocker rapped insistently and Thea thumped crossly down the stairs, from where she had been trying to create some order, to answer it.

Millie Wilshire was there yet again, this time with two companions. Hepzie, following as always in her mistress’s wake, was delighted to see that there were visiting canines: a pair of black and white sheepdogs, looking dauntingly intelligent and intrigued, squirmed around Millie’s legs.

‘Er … Hello,’ said Thea. ‘Is there any news of your father?’

‘Not a word. Listen – these are his dogs. The poor things were on their own in the house all day yesterday. I decided – partly thanks to you, I should say – to go and see Gran. But I’ve got quite a few other jobs as well, and there’s nobody to look after them. Up to now, Gran’s always taken them, but she obviously can’t now. I don’t suppose you’d have them here, would you? They know the house and they’re terribly well behaved. They just need to be kept amused. Dad takes them to work
with him quite a lot, and they really are fantastically obedient.’

‘Kept amused,’ Thea repeated. ‘How, exactly?’

‘You can take them for a run. There’s a big field just up there.’ She pointed towards the footpath that Thea had found the previous day. ‘Throw balls for them, that sort of thing.’

‘How long do you want me to keep them?’

Millie heaved a dramatic sigh. ‘Well, if my father doesn’t come back, a day or so, I suppose. I’ll leave him a note at the flat and send a text, to tell him where they are. If he shows up, he’ll come and collect them from you.’

‘But you don’t think he will,’ said Thea, noting the tone of the girl’s words. ‘And then what? What am I supposed to do? About the house, I mean.’

Millie merely gave her a blank look. ‘I’ve stopped trying to guess what’s happened to him. I don’t see what I can do if the police won’t listen to me. Either I just sit at home worrying, or I get on with my own life and assume he knows what he’s doing. Judith thinks it’s the stress of all this stuff with Gran that’s sent him off the rails. That’s what she says, anyway. She might just be trying to stop me thinking it’s something more sinister than that.’

Thea heard the implications all too clearly. Like Judith, she was eager to avert any such line of thinking. ‘I’m sure she’s right. He’s just gone off to sort himself out for a bit. Now it’s the weekend, he can have a breathing space. And your grandmother might well
know where he is, anyway. I don’t expect anybody’s asked her, have they?’

‘That’s where I’m going this afternoon. But he’s never just abandoned the dogs like this. He knows I’ve got to work. And he let Andrew and the others down yesterday. That’s completely out of character.’ She noticed Thea’s sceptical expression, and went on defensively, ‘It is. Last time wasn’t the real Dad. Some madness came over him. He’s not like that any more.’