“All of them.”
There was a moment’s quiet in the kitchen while we both thought about what I’d just said. “Would you like me to make you one?” I asked.
“Really?”
I nodded. “What colors do you like?”
“Yellow and red are my favorites.”
“I have yellow and red material,” I said, and if I didn’t, charity shop purchases on my bank statement went unremarked on by James. “I’ll need to measure you up first, though.”
I went to find a measuring tape while he boiled his kettle and Mrs. B stayed to watch in case he took a liberty and charged his phone as well.
“You making much progress down there?” she was asking when I got back.
“Well, it’s only the first week,” the man said. “But so far so good. The bones are coming in thick and fast, and we’re cleaning and sorting them.”
Mrs. B helped me measure him. I was nervous and my hands were rather shaky to start with. I’d never made clothes for someone else before, and I’d definitely never measured a man I’d only just met; I was glad it was only a T-shirt I’d offered to make. Mrs. Billings took to it like an old pro and soon we had arms, inner arms, shoulders, waist, and length.
By then the kettle had started to cool, so he gave it a quick reboil and prepared to return to the graveyard.
“I’ll see you soon then, um, Lady Langley…love?”
“Daisy,” I said. “My name’s Daisy.”
“Lovely name,” he said. “I’m Artemis.”
“Really?” I said.
“Yes, really. But you can call me Arty.”
Chapter Ten
“There’s bones all over the village,” Mrs. Billings said, arriving in the kitchen a few days later. Since the discovery in the graveyard, she had upped her hours and was here most days. She was enjoying being the go-between for the village gossips and Langley Hall, although she hadn’t consulted her employer—me—about whether or not all this overtime was required, and I wasn’t seeing a lot in the way of extra productivity. What’s more, I was running short of knickknacks to put out for her and needed an urgent restock at the charity and souvenir shops.
“Brought these for you.” Mrs. B dropped a handful of probably-finger bones on the table. “They washed up on the playing fields. Next door’s boys brought them round, knowing I was coming up here.”
“Thank you. Do you think the table’s the best place for them?” I asked, stepping away, slightly disgusted.
“Where else?” she asked me, looking at the floor, and she had a point. “Still no word from Doug Newman,” she said. “Jo’s beside herself. She doesn’t know what to tell the kids. It would help if she could just have some answers. I’d swing for him if I saw him now.”
The story moved on a stage a few days later.
“They’ve found a body,” Mrs. Billings said as we sat ourselves down for our morning tea, which I was finding less enjoyable now that it was a daily occurrence. I’d started ordering boring Rich Tea biscuits in an effort to hurry her along. So far it hadn’t worked. For a moment, I thought she was talking about more bones and I didn’t react to her comment. Then, the difference between what might be referred to as a bone and what we would call a body registered. “And?” I asked her, all agog to hear which one it was.
“They think it’s Lennie Green,” she said. “Poor, poor man.”
Even though it had only ever been a matter of time, my heart stopped and my face froze.
“It were all over the village this morning. They haven’t said officially it was him, but they’re saying his family have been informed, so same difference.”
“It could be someone from somewhere else,” I suggested, but why was I suggesting it? Trying to put other ideas into Mrs. B’s head wasn’t going to change the outcome of the identification. Although it wasn’t over until the results were announced: Itcouldbe someone else. Mr. Newman, for example.
“Couple of kids out playing found him, down by the river. Poor mites.” Mrs. Billings shuddered. “They’ll have nightmares the rest of their lives.”
Yes, as I could confirm, he was in a pretty gruesome condition. Probably only held together by his clothes.
“Oh, Lennie, Lennie Green.” Mrs. Billings was slipping into lament mode. “Dread to think what happened to him, to turn up like that, all these weeks after he went missing. Shall I put the radio on? There’ll be a bulletin soon.”
