Fear in the Cotswolds (6 page)

She knew she should apologise, abasing herself for the outrageous waste of police time. But that would be to admit the credibility of the theory that the man had not been dead, and this she could not do. He
had
been dead. The snow wasn’t melting on him, there was no sign of breathing, he was stiff to the touch. The convenient explanation was understandably the one the men adopted – but she knew it was wrong.

Darkness closed in shortly after four, the sky having clouded over again. Tuning to the local radio station again, Thea heard with dismay that there was no foreseeable prospect of a thaw. Aged countrymen were rounded up to recall the five-week freeze of 1947, or the barely less unthinkable Big Snow of 1963. With irritating relish, the presenters had already decided that this was another memorable winter which would go down in history for the length of the white-out.

The police had expressed a fleeting concern for Thea’s plight, unable to get the car out, and with no guarantee that the electricity supply
would survive. Heavy branches, weighed down with snow, could bring cables down. Snow could do unpredictable things, as everybody knew. ‘So could you ask the council to send the snowplough down here?’ she suggested, trying to keep her nerve.

The sergeant pursed his lips. ‘Not our department, I’m afraid.’ Every time he spoke, she heard a ghostly unspoken
madam
at the end of each sentence. Didn’t they say that any more? Had it gone the same way as
love
and
pet
? How were they supposed to address female members of the public these days?

When they first arrived she had waited to see whether they knew who she was – the former girlfriend of Detective Superintendent Phil Hollis, and active participant in investigations into a number of violent deaths in the Cotswold area over the past year or two. By the time they’d reached the second field she had concluded that her anonymity was safe. There was no hint of any familiarity with her name, or role as house-sitter. She was just a slightly unreliable woman in her forties who had brought them out on a wild goose chase, possibly because of a hormonal problem, or the trauma of the snowfall.

‘OK,’ she said to the dogs, having taken a deep and bracing breath. ‘You two have to go out, like it or not. The rabbits need fresh bedding, and I ought to find the cat. Then tomorrow,
we’re going to walk out to the road and see what’s going on in the bustling community of Hampnett. We will not give dead bodies another thought. Right?’

Hepzie looked at her, with a slow tail wag, but Jimmy merely sighed gently and laid his long nose on his narrow paws.

The evening was an ordeal, by any standards. The enveloping blanket of snow created an unnatural silence that led to the impression that the world had disappeared, leaving nobody but Thea and the animals in her care. And perhaps a superhuman figure who could bring himself back to life at will. Repeatedly, the memory of the tall ghostly man from Saturday intruded into her mind, embellished by subsequent events, until she was convinced he had been the same as the ‘dead’ man in the field. The mental quote marks around the word annoyed her, even while they refused to go away. She argued obsessively with herself about the logic of believing him to have been a genuine ghost. Logical, because it fitted at least some of the facts; impossibly foolish because she had
touched
him and found him to be all too convincingly solid. Ghosts were insubstantial, fading away at the very idea of touching them. No, she reproached herself – they weren’t even
that. They were nothing, they did not exist.

Although, persisted a small inner voice, if they were ever going to exist, this was absolutely the right setting for it. How many ghost stories began with snowy nights, and a lone woman in an isolated house, awaiting the attentions of a supernatural visitor?

She turned the television up loud, watching a costume drama which made no less than fifteen blatant historical mistakes in ten minutes, with such a hopelessly anachronistic tone to the whole thing that she could hardly bear to stay with it. But all the other channels were even worse, and she couldn’t summon interest in any of the available DVDs, so she left it on. At least it helped her to forget the various threatening aspects of the world outside.

At last it was ten-thirty and she could decently go to bed. Jimmy was escorted outside, to a point only five yards from the house, where he cooperatively relieved himself in the beam of light shining from the open front door. The snow was becoming a fixture, the strange light and the absence of sound already half familiar. But Thea barely looked at it, her attention fixed on the welcoming light from the house, and the shivering dog at her heels.

Saturday morning dawned with a fleeting hope that by some miracle all the snow would have vanished in the night, only for it to be dashed immediately. There was no mistaking the flat light and muffled silence outside the window. ‘Here we go again,’ she sighed as she rolled out of bed and went to the window.

Automatically she was sweeping the visible scene for fresh footprints, for a renewed reason to fear that inexplicable things were going on out there during the night. There were plenty of footprints, but she was satisfied that they had all been made the day before, and their visibility meant that no further snow had fallen. Her resolve to walk up to the road was firmly in place, and she dressed in layers of warm clothes, with this intention in mind.

The rabbits were subdued, but their shed felt bearable, temperature-wise. The nest of babies was just as before, and a quick check reassured her that they were still very much alive. ‘Better muck you out today,’ Thea told them. ‘You’re a bit whiffy.’ Lucy had shown her a bale of wood shavings behind the hutch, used for their bedding. She would do the living area, letting Jemima’s sanctuary remain as it was for a few more days.

Jimmy was much as usual but the donkey’s temper wasn’t good. He tossed his head irritably
when Thea tried to stroke his ears, and she saw that he had been lying in a pile of his own excrement. ‘You’re meant to do that outside,’ she reproached him, realising she was in for a second session of mucking out at some stage that day.

As she returned to the barn, she heard the phone ringing. ‘Another broken computer, I suppose,’ she muttered to Hepzie.

But she was wrong. It was Lucy Sinclair, speaking from the Canary Islands. ‘I’ve just heard about your snow,’ she began, her voice warm with lazy sunny days. ‘I can’t even imagine it. Are you all right?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Thea, without even pausing to think. ‘It’s all rather an adventure.’

‘Have you seen Kate? Has she come past?’

‘No, I don’t think she can get along the lane. The snow’s quite deep.’

‘Oh, she will. She’ll use the tractor if necessary. I’d have expected her to have done it on the first morning. She’s very resourceful, and she likes to be useful.’

‘I ought to check that she’s all right, then – do you think?’

‘You don’t have to worry about her. She can get out the other way. It’s
you
I’m concerned about. She’s your best hope of clearing a path. Try phoning her.’ Lucy gave the number from memory, and Thea jotted it down. ‘Although
she’s one of those annoying people who lets a phone ring if she’s not in the mood to talk. She hasn’t even got 1571, so you can’t leave a message.’

‘I might walk down later on, if there’s no reply. How far is it?’

‘Over half a mile. If the snow’s as bad as you say, you’d better not. It’s quite a winding track, with a lot of stones and potholes. But you can see the house from the first bend – you could have a look to see if there’s smoke coming from the chimney, or any other sign of life. How’s Jimmy?’ The question burst out as if it couldn’t wait another second.

‘He’s absolutely fine. Hepzie has won him over and they’re good friends. He licks her.’

‘Mmm.’ Lucy did not sound enthusiastic about this news. ‘I hope he won’t miss her when she goes.’

‘I know – I wondered about that. But I couldn’t really stop them.’ She could, of course. She could keep her dog out of the conservatory fairly easily. The truth was she didn’t want to – it was sweet seeing them snuggled together.

‘I expect he’ll just forget her. I don’t think his memory works much any more.’

‘Probably,’ said Thea vaguely, wondering which piece of news she ought to disclose next. ‘So you’re having a good time, are you?’

‘Wonderful,’ breathed Lucy. ‘Total bliss. I’m sorry you’ve got the hassle of snow, but if I’m honest I have to say it convinces me I did the right thing. I could never see the attraction of snow, and you sound as if you rather enjoy it.’

Stifling the flash of resentment this caused, Thea merely laughed. ‘I expect the novelty will soon wear off,’ she said.

‘Oh, it’ll all be gone in a day or two. Like we said last week – snow never lasts for long in England.’

Stop tempting fate
, Thea wanted to shout at her, but all she did was laugh again, before drawing breath to say,
A man died and the rabbit
had babies
.

‘Oh, gosh, I’ll have to go,’ Lucy hissed suddenly. ‘There’s a man I’m trying to avoid, and he’s just come round the corner. Thanks a million, Thea. I’ll call again soon.’

All Thea could do was bid Lucy goodbye.

She did not really regret her failure to tell Lucy about the man in the snowy field. It was ingrained habit to shield her employers from bad or disturbing news, for as long as she could. Terrible things happened, sometimes even to the creatures left in her care, but she had come to the conclusion that bad news could generally wait, and it was kinder to leave it until the people came back, and had to take up the reins again. It
had not been her fault that Lucy rang off before there was a chance to get everything said.

But she did feel a mild sorrow at the missed opportunity to share the experience of the baby rabbits. That was the sort of news liable to bring amusement and pleasure, surely. So much more difficult to talk about death, with the response entirely unpredictable. What if Lucy had said, ‘Oh yes, that must have been Kevin. He’s always doing that – drinking himself into a stupor, so everybody thinks he’s dead. Why…there was even a woman a year or two ago who called 999, thinking she’d found a body.’ How reassuring that would have been – and how unlikely!

Outside again, muffled in hat, scarf, gloves and one of Lucy’s thick coats, she was aware of a dilemma as to which direction to take. To the left was Old Kate’s farm, where all was still and silent, as far as Thea could tell. To the right was the road, and people, and the prospect of rescue from the growing feeling of being trapped.

There was no real contest. With impeccable logic, she persuaded herself that even if Old Kate was in difficulties, there would need to be a way forged out to the road, and Thea needed to work out for herself what was feasible. She followed the trail made by the four men the day before, noting with amusement a place where they had
obviously followed each other onto the side of the track, where a low stone wall was completely covered with snow, to the point of invisibility. Somebody had apparently fallen over it, sweeping the snow away and exposing some of the mossy stones. Footprints mingled and circled close by, and then led back to the middle of the lane.

She had Hepzie with her, the lead in her pocket for when they reached the road, which just might have traffic passing. Although she suspected that anybody wanting to drive in and out of Hampnett would use the other approach, which was much closer to a main road. Even so, she expected to see tyre marks and slush and other signs of near normality.

Emerging from the lane with aching legs and a very cold nose, the first thing she saw was three figures walking towards her from the direction of the village. One much taller than the others. A woman and two children. She fastened the lead to Hepzie’s collar and went to meet them.

‘Hello, again,’ she said to Janina-from-Bulgaria. ‘These must be Nicholas and…’ She had forgotten the other boy’s name.

‘Benjamin,’ said the older boy with a scowl. ‘I’m Benjamin.’ It was instantly obvious how much more prepossessing the younger boy was. Dark hair and long eyelashes above deep soulful eyes made him the sort of child that everyone
wanted to hug. His brother was very different – a long face, with mud-coloured eyes set too close together, and a discontented expression.

How unfair, thought Thea. ‘Well, I’m pleased to meet you,’ she said. ‘I suppose you’re having a bit of a holiday, with the schools being closed.’

Three unsmiling faces stared at her as if she was mad.

‘Mummy’s gone,’ said Nicholas, with a wide-eyed look. Thea found herself wondering for a crazy moment whether the body she knew she had seen had been the apparently stupid Bunny, and not some disreputable man, as she’d assumed. She looked at Janina for an explanation.

‘She has not
gone
, Nicky,’ she said, shaking his hand gently as it clung to hers. ‘She can’t come home because of the snow. She’s sent you a text, remember?’

‘Which he can’t read,’ muttered Benjamin.

‘Where is she?’ asked Thea.

‘Bristol, she says. The roads are too slippery, she says. She will not risk it.’ Janina’s words were redolent with scorn.

‘She’s going to miss my party,’ the younger boy said, fury suddenly seizing him.

Thea began to give more credence to Janina’s assessment of her employer. ‘It’s today, isn’t it?’

‘How do
you
know that?’ demanded Benjamin.

‘I met Janina last week, and she told me. It sounded like a big event.’ She waved an arm at the wilderness of white still masking fields on all sides. ‘But will your friends manage to come?’

Janina groaned quietly. ‘The phone has been ringing all day, yesterday, with people saying they will try. I think most of them will make it.’

‘And you have to organise it all,’ Thea sympathised. ‘Where’s Dad?’ She cocked an enquiring head at the boys.

‘He’s…he’s,’ Nicky stammered.

‘He’s going to clear all the snow away from the front drive when he gets home from work,’ supplied Benjamin coolly. The air of weary cynicism in a six-year-old was uncomfortable to witness and difficult to respond to.

‘That’ll be useful,’ said Thea feebly.

‘This country is pathetic,’ Janina said, with much the same tone as her older charge. ‘In Bulgaria we can deal with snow. Here, life comes to a stop.’ She spread her hands in a helpless gesture.