Death of a Friend (10 page)

Saturday afternoon at High Copse Farmhouse did not go according to plan.

‘We’ll light a fire and put a video on,’ said Martha to the boys. ‘Just chill out and do nothing for a bit. If anyone comes for the shop, Richmond can deal with them. Most people probably assume we’ll still be closed.’

‘It’s all right for you,’ grumbled Alexis. ‘I’ve got this woman coming.’

Martha looked at her. ‘What woman?’

‘I told you yesterday. Val, from Quakers. Remember?’

Martha shook her head. ‘Sorry. My head’s not working properly at the moment.’

Alexis spoke with an exaggerated patience.
‘She was one of Nina’s animal rights cronies, and she’s known Charlie for ages. She and Polly Spence – the one who spoke to you at the funeral. I suppose she might turn up as well. They want to make some sort of memorial for Nina. I told you.’

‘It all sounds a bit unnecessary. And yes, I do remember Polly saying something. I thought I told her to leave it for a few months.’

‘Well, they won’t do that. It’s not at all unnecessary to them. They’ve lost both their leaders in one week.’

Martha sighed. It was true her head wasn’t working that day. She had barely managed to drag herself out of bed, feeling the loss of Nina more keenly than at any point so far, having dreamt that her sister was miraculously alive and still waving banners in front of horses’ faces. ‘What do they want
us
to do about it?’ she asked tiredly.

‘I’ll tell you after I’ve seen her.’ Alexis was wandering restlessly round the big living room at the front of the house, where Martha was half-heartedly trying to get a log fire going. The room was dusty and rather dark. A big holly tree grew outside the main window, and had not been cut back for years. The furniture was heavy and solid, made from oak and mahogany: a large sideboard containing the best china and cutlery; a bureau with a bookcase on top of it. Seating was
provided by an oak settle, dating back to the late eighteenth century and upholstered in a brown velvet which had been snagged by cats’ claws and children’s sandals over the decades, and two mismatched armchairs. A big television sat in one corner. It had been Richmond’s when he married Martha, and he had brought it with him, hoping it would make the living room more appealing to some family members. The wholesale crowding into the kitchen was a constant annoyance to him.

Clement and Hugh lay on the floor in front of the TV, with big cushions under their heads. The once-expensive Persian carpet was warm to lie on, but gritty and far from
sweet-smelling
. Dogs and cats used the room in summer evenings when the kitchen became too hot for them.

‘I hope you won’t want to bring her in here,’ said Martha. ‘You’ll have to vacuum it and tidy up a bit, if so.’

Alexis shook her head. ‘The kitchen will do. Everywhere else is in too much of a mess. We’ve missed the spring cleaning season again, I suppose.’

‘You can clean at any time,’ Richmond said mildly. He was perched on a narrow window seat at the end of the room, with sections of the Saturday
Guardian
scattered all around him.
‘Most people do it more often than once a year, or so I understand.’

‘Poor fools,’ said Martha. ‘Nothing better to do. I’m just grateful that none of us was born under the sign of Virgo. We’d really be in trouble then.’

‘Hugh’s a Taurus, and that’s nearly as bad,’ said Alexis. ‘Though it might be useful to have someone who liked cleaning. The windows are so filthy, you can hardly see out.’

‘There!’ Martha crowed. ‘Success!’ The fire had finally taken hold of the pieces of bark and small twigs she had laid on top of several twists of newspaper, and she delicately placed larger logs on top. ‘That should be all right now.’ Something about the sturdy little flames made her feel better. She looked round at the others. ‘There’s nothing like a fire,’ she said idiotically.

‘We live like people in the Stone Age,’ said Hugh. ‘It’s embarrassing.’

‘At your age, old son, everything’s embarrassing,’ Richmond told him. ‘It gets better with time. You can leave home and get a nice modern house on an estate in – oh, four or five years from now. Meanwhile, you’re stuck with us.’

Hugh cocked his head to look at his brother, and the boys exchanged a long glance. Martha, watching them, wondered what had passed
between them. As a teacher, she had some experience of the way children exchanged wordless messages, and she had learnt not to ignore them. ‘Hey!’ she said. ‘Let’s not talk about people moving out. We’re a
family
, and this is our home. It’s true the place is a mess, and with all these visitors, we’re noticing it more than usual. But it’s a great house. It loves us. We understand each other.’

‘Don’t start that stuff,’ Alexis said violently. Everyone stared at her. ‘It’s just a house. I hate sloppy talk like that – pretending it can have feelings. It makes me feel as if I’ve got no choice but to live here until I’m ninety. If Charlie hadn’t died, I might have got away. We could have lived somewhere else, like normal people. As it is – well—’ she threw a trapped look from one corner of the room to another. ‘I don’t know whether I can
bear
to go on living here, especially with that bloody grave in the garden.’

Martha breathed out, a long, steadying bid for time. Then she closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Alexis, what are you saying? I asked you, only a few weeks ago, what you and Charlie were planning, and you said you couldn’t imagine ever leaving High Copse. What’s changed?’

Alexis laughed harshly. There was no mirth in the sound. ‘I should think that was obvious,’
she said, in a choked voice. ‘As far as I can see, just about everything has changed. Hugh’s right. We’re huddled here like neolithic cavemen, letting the house fall apart, too selfishly caught up in our own stupid projects to see what’s happening, ignoring everything that doesn’t suit our warped view of the world. And it was all because of Nina. Big Sister who controlled us with her iron will and her impatience with any arguments. What did we say in the newspaper –
diminished lives.
Well, so they might be, but I’m not going to let it stop there. When I woke up this morning, my first thought was,
No more Nina.
And I was
glad
.’

‘Shut up,’ Martha shouted. ‘Stop it. You don’t know what you’re saying. In front of the boys, too. You should be ashamed of yourself.’

‘Well I’m not. It needed saying.’ Alexis gave one more sweeping look around the room, pausing a moment to focus on the two boys, before striding out. The door was pulled shut behind her, but it wouldn’t slam. A drift of rucked-up carpet had prevented it from fully closing for several months past.

Five minutes later Martha and Richmond heard the car driving up their track before the dogs began to bark. They kept two collies outside, as if they were a real farm; the dogs were
under-stimulated
and something of a liability at certain
seasons of the year. These included lambing time on neighbouring farms, which lasted from January to April, and the summer separation of lambs from their mothers, which made the collies restless and wistful, wanting to join in with the commotion. Their best friend was Clem, who took them into the larger of their two fields and taught them tricks.

Now they belatedly set up a frenzied barking which brought the boys out of their trancelike attention to the television. ‘Nev!’ they said in unison. ‘That’s Nev!’ In a scramble of limbs, they were up and out of the house before the adults could move.

‘How do they know?’ puzzled Richmond.

‘The dogs know the engine, and the boys know the dogs,’ Martha explained. ‘He must have collected his car from his mother’s already.’ She made no move to get up from the settle, but pressed a hand to her temple as if struck by a sudden headache.

‘Come on,’ Richmond urged her. ‘You have to face him sometime. Best get it over with.’

They paused in the doorway, watching the scene. The dogs and children were all trying to win the newcomer’s regard, jumping and pulling at him, as he stood with his back to the vehicle. He was suntanned and lean, with long brown hair tied back from his face. He looked like an
advertisement for lager or Levi’s. Except that there were tears on his cheeks, and he stared at one of the upper windows of the house, as if waiting to see a familiar face.

He laid a hand loosely on each boy’s shoulder, and forced a smile at Martha. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said. His accent was cultured, betraying his origins and the years spent at Winchester School. Nev Nesbitt had been a great catch when Nina Cattermole married him, despite his extreme youth. Only the High Copse matriarch had been dubious. ‘Apart from having a name like a hamster, he’s awfully inbred,’ Eliza had said.

‘Nonsense, Ma,’ Nina had breezed. ‘You can’t get finer breeding than his. We’ll make wonderful sons for England, you see if we don’t.’ And the family agreed that she had been perfectly right.

‘Come in,’ said Martha impatiently. ‘You must be exhausted. What time did the flight finally get in?’

He shrugged. ‘No idea,’ he said. ‘I’m not even sure what day it is.’

‘Nev,’ said Clem, into a moment of silence, ‘are you going to stay with us now? We buried Mum over there, look.’ His thin arm, in a grubby sweatshirt, pointed waveringly across at the oak tree. ‘You have to stay here now. Don’t you?’ 

The boys’ father slowly turned to follow the pointing finger, and then he removed his hands from the children and took a step away from them. The dogs watched hopefully, but made no further noise. ‘I’ll go now,’ he said. ‘Get it over with. Give me a few minutes, will you?’ He looked down at Clem. ‘Back soon – okay?’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Hugh, importantly, putting out a hand to prevent his brother from interrupting.

‘No,’ said Nevil sharply. Then in a more gentle voice, ‘No – I need to go and talk to her on my own. When I get back, I’m going to be gasping for a cup of tea, and we’ll talk and talk.’

Minus Nevil everyone wandered back into the house. Only then did Martha notice that Alexis hadn’t come out to greet her returned brother-
in-law
.
Typical
, she thought crossly.
Trust Alexis to keep herself detached.

But she regretted her unkind interpretation when they all went into the kitchen and found Alexis drooping over the sink, washing mugs and saucepans, with tears dripping into the bowl of grey water. ‘Oh, Lexi,’ she said. ‘What set this off?’

With a big sniff, and a swipe of a damp wrist across her eyes, Alexis tried to smile. ‘This,’ she said, half laughing, half sobbing, and held up a bright red mug with black and gold lettering all
around it. A flower was shedding its petals, and attached to each one was a phrase –
She Loves Me
or
She Loves Me Not
. ‘Charlie and I bought it a fortnight ago at Tavistock market. They say it’s the little things, don’t they.’

‘Nev’s here,’ said Hugh, a hint of warning in his voice. ‘He’s gone to look at the grave.’

‘Oh,’ gulped Alexis. ‘I’d better pull myself together, then, hadn’t I.’ She reached for a grubby tea-towel and wiped her eyes with it. ‘Can’t let him see me like this.’

‘Why not?’ Martha wondered. ‘He’s upset too.’

‘Oh, I can’t
cope
with this,’ Alexis wailed, and she dashed the new mug violently onto the lino-covered floor. It shattered loudly. ‘It’s like the end of the world. I want Charlie back. I’ve got so much I want to say to him.’

Everyone watched her, wary of what she might do next. As the youngest, Alexis had always been given to tantrums and demonstrations of strong emotion. The usual strategy was to ignore her until she settled down. This time, that didn’t seem to be an option. She said again, with intensity, but recovered from the former hysteria, ‘I want Charlie. I can’t go on without him.’

A voice from the corridor brought distraction. ‘Charlie? Why – what’s happened to Charlie?’

Martha put a weary hand to her head, and reached for Hugh as the nearest source of support. The boy squared his shoulders, and looked directly at his father.

‘Your mother didn’t say anything, then?’ Richmond said.

Nev shook his head, his expression confused. ‘I only stayed a few minutes. She was busy feeding a litter of puppies. Tell me.’ His tone was urgent.

‘Somebody murdered him,’ Hugh said, slightly too loud. ‘Richmond found him in a ditch.’

Nev’s eyes seemed to grow a filmy skin, like a sick cat’s. He blinked, and moved his head in a jerky fashion, as if recoiling from an expected blow, only to stop himself midway. It was terrible to see. ‘What?’ he whispered. ‘What did you say?’

‘Sit down,’ Richmond ordered him. They slowly arranged themselves into a rough circle, with Nev as its focus. Richmond leant against the Aga; Alexis remained at the sink. Nev, seated at the table, seemed barely conscious.

Alexis spoke first, not looking at anybody. ‘It happened on Sunday or Monday. We found him on Wednesday, a few hours after Nina’s funeral. He’d been lying there for two or three days. We missed him, but nobody went to look for him. We were too busy.’ 

‘Busy,’ Nev echoed, disbelief resonating in his voice.

‘
You
should have been here,’ said Hugh harshly. ‘We needed
you
. You had the whole week to get here.’

‘Hardly,’ Nev shook his head in disagreement. ‘It was late Friday where I was when you phoned me, and that was two hundred miles from an airline office. I had to pack up, tie up one or two loose ends, especially as I didn’t have any idea when I’d be back again. They got me on the first available flight, but it was delayed. I told you. There was no way I could be here any quicker. It’s a long way from Vietnam to here, you know.’

‘You shouldn’t have gone in the first place,’ the boy persisted. Reproach was pouring out of him, an uncontrollable spate of feeling. His blue eyes stared accusingly at his father and he spoke hoarsely, as if the words were hurting his throat.

‘Don’t give me that.’ Anger flashed into Nevil’s eyes, and he put up a hand like a traffic policeman. ‘We’ve been over all that before.’

‘Well, you can’t go away again,’ the boy stated flatly.