Page 47 of A Village Theatre Murder
‘Believe me, Julia, half the cop cars in the Cotswolds are on their way here. I’ll be fine for a lift. Now go.’
‘Okay. Bye, Hayley. Good luck.’
Julia drove home slowly, trying to absorb the latest turn of events. Nothing felt quite real, and she was relieved to letherself into her home, greet her beloved Jake, and put the kettle on. As soon as she had a cup of tea in her hand, she gave Sean a call.
‘Perfect timing, you clever thing,’ he said as he answered the phone. ‘I’m right between patients.’
‘Oh, Sean. You won’t believe what’s happened.’
‘Well, as long as no one died, that’s the main thing.’
‘Well…’ She took a gulp of her tea to find she had completely over-sweetened it. It just showed what a state she was in. There was a long silence while she swallowed the unpalatable mouthful and tried to think of a delicate way of phrasing what had happened.
Sean spoke first. ‘What? You can’t be serious. Someone died? Who?’
‘Roger Grave.’
‘The superintendent? When? How?’
‘Sometime last night. It’s not entirely clear how, but it definitely wasn’t natural causes.’
‘And were you…?’
Julia felt fragile, and not up to repeating the whole grisly story over the phone. ‘Sean, can you come over? I could use the company. I’ll tell you everything when I see you.’
‘Of course.’ He didn’t hesitate. ‘I have a couple more patients, and I’ll have to pop home to feed Leo first.’
‘There’s no rush. Why don’t you come for supper? You can bring Leo. And Jono, of course. They’re both very welcome.’
‘If you’re sure?’
‘Absolutely sure.’
‘Well, let me bring the supper. I can stop at the new curry place we’ve been wanting to try, and pick up a takeaway.’
‘Oh, well, that’s a kind offer. But I can just make a bowl of pasta. I’ve got a jar of pesto in the fridge, it’s no trouble…’ It wasn’t much trouble, but she wasn’t exactly in the mood for even simple food preparation. She dropped her half-hearted protests, and said, ‘Actually, I don’t feel like cooking and I would love a curry. Thank you.’
‘Ah, now that wasn’t too hard, was it?’ She could hear him smiling as he spoke. ‘It sounds like you’ve had enough for today. It’s decided. I’ll see you around six thirty with something delicious and comforting. It’s my turn to look after you.’
24
With nothing to do but dwell on Roger’s death and wait for Sean, Julia decided that she might as well get Jake – and herself – out for a short walk before the light fell. The long summer evenings were over. It was starting to get dark earlier, and chilly, too. She would need to get a move on. She fetched Jake’s lead from the hook by the front door.
Jake could hear the merest clink of his lead from miles away. Astonishingly enough, this was the case even when he was, ostensibly, asleep. Before Julia had a chance to call his name he was inside and at her feet, bounding and barking. Henny Penny was looking ruffled and disgruntled in the spot where they’d been lying.
‘All right, Jakey. Good boy. Settle down,’ she muttered soothingly, to absolutely no effect. The only thing that calmed him was getting out into the road, and starting the walk. Once they were on their way, he would downgrade his state quite quickly from ‘hysterical’ to ‘overexcited’ and eventually – after about ten minutes – to simply ‘having a good time’. Julia ushered him out of the door, clipped on the lead and startedwalking. He was still in the ‘overexcited’ state when Aunt Edna appeared on the path, coming towards them.
‘Good afternoon, Aunt Edna. You’re looking well.’
‘Well’ might be something of an overstatement, but it was true that Aunt Edna seemed to have reached a sort of equilibrium. She was so ancient that she never seemed to get any older. She remained reed thin, tottery on her feet, confusing in her communication, yet, somehow, oddly unchanged. One could not discount the possibility of immortality.
‘All’s well that ends well,’ said Edna in a sing-song voice, and then enquired of Jake, ‘Don’t you think so, young man? All’s well, except for bad boys…’
Jake was terrified of the old woman, although in truth she had more to fear from a solid hunk of Labrador than he had to fear from her. One good wag of his tail would knock her off her feet, and from there, a broken hip would be a dead cert, by the look of her frail bones. Jake looked up at Julia for help, the whites of his eyes showing.
‘And except for murder most foul,’ Edna continued cheerfully. ‘Not well at all. Beginning or ending.’ She wagged her finger at Julia and repeated the words, ‘Murder most foul.’
Aunt Edna took hold of the end of a purple scarf – one of many in which she was entangled – and flung it dramatically round her neck. She doffed her non-existent hat in their direction, wished them both, ‘Good evening,’ and wobbled off.
