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“Yes, he arrived today.”
That confirms it, Clementine sighed, completely despondent at Moss’s apparent determination not to notice her.
“I didn’t know,” she replied weakly.
“Oh?” The Captain smiled. “He said he was going to come and see you.”
Clementine straightened and blinked at him. Her eyes were alive with hope. “Really?”
“From what he has told me he was going to come and see you to tell you directly. But I don’t suppose you have been at home, eh?” The Captain’s gaze lit with gentle good humour as he winked at her.
“I have been out picking flowers,” Clementine explained weakly.
The Captain’s gaze fell to her basket. “So I see.”
“What do you want to do about the intruder?” Clementine asked, determined to do everything possible to hide how thrilled she was that Moss had decided to investigate her supposedly wild theories.
“We have two choices. We can either stay here and keep watching and see who leaves but will have no idea if whoever is in there leaves through the front door. Or, we can go home and pretend we weren’t here, but I can tell Moss that we saw someone in the house again. What do you think? Keep watch or go home?”
“We cannot do anything even if that person leaves. I mean, we can hardly tackle him to the ground and demand to know what he is doing. The entire village would be talking about it for weeks.”
“Best head home then, eh?” The Captain suggested a little ruefully.
Clementine reluctantly nodded. However, that reluctance soon faded when she realised that Moss might already be at her house waiting for her. Eagerness made her increase her pace as they both quietly retraced their steps. When they reached the edge of the lane, Clementine paused long enough to say ‘goodbye’ to the Captain only for him to throw her a warning look.
“I shall hear nothing of it. I shall escort you home,” he announced firmly.
Given what Clementine had just seen, she didn’t object.
CHAPTER NINE
Moss stood back and looked up at the house before him. It was huge and stood in elegant isolation overlooking the small village a quarter of a mile away. The closest house to Clementine’s was the rectory the vicar called home. Aside from that, the village was an ordinary small group of houses just like any other in England about a quarter of a mile away. There was a sharp spire of a church jutting skyward, and a myriad of buildings all of which contained the usual shops, a blacksmith, a tavern, and several houses all of which lined the main and only road running through it, which then meandered and curled around the area in various directions.
“It’s fine,” Moss growled, even though he was not fine.
He hated places like this not least because the roads wound here and there and meant any journey took longer than it ought. Moreover, whenever a person did go about their business, they were watched by nosy people who had far too much time on their hands and tended to make other people’s business their own. Moss, through nature of his work, was a private man. His work was clandestine at the best of times and had to remain that way. He doubted he could ever move about in a village like Clementine’s and not get annoyed with being the object of so much scrutiny.
In the back of his mind he began to wonder if it was right to expect Clementine to leave the peaceful tranquillity of a house like this to live in a bustling town with a husband who was away on business most of the time. Moss was apt to disappear into the night with little or no idea of when he would be back. There would be occasions when Clementine would be all by herself, sometimes for days on end.
“I couldn’t expect any wife to agree to a life like that.” Moreover, Moss knew it was unfair to expect Clementine to live in isolation in a town she wouldn’t like very much. After all, this was her home. If he wanted to consider a life with her, he had to be the one to move away from town, not the other way around.
I suppose it is pretty, he mused reluctantly as he studied the bountiful roses arching the doorway, and the pretty flower strewn borders lining the narrow path that led to the front door.
It is quite peaceful as well.
Moss tuned in to listen to the birdsong littered with the faint rustling of the branches of the huge oak tree standing sentry-like beside the house. Aside from those noises, not a sound could be heard. It should have been unnerving. In the town he called home it would have been, but out here it was peaceful, and serene enough to make him relax. It was difficult to imagine that anything could be wrong in a small village like this. Everyone seemed friendly and openly curious about others. Nobody seemed to mind one way or the other what anybody got up to. There was a buzz of excitement over the village fair, but Moss suspected that would die down just as soon as the fair was over. When the fair wasn’t forthcoming, he suspected the inhabitants concerned themselves with living in the quiet lull of ordinary life until next year when they would burst back into a frenzy of life again.
“But there is something grossly wrong here,” he whispered.
Moss turned to study the house again and, uncharacteristically for him, experienced a burst of anger toward the killer. It was driven purely by the need to protect the tranquillity that surrounded him and, of course, the woman who lived in the property whose doorstep he was still standing on.
“Why am I still standing here? I don’t know when Clementine will be back. She could be gone for hours. Gazing at the house isn’t going to make her materialise before me,” he muttered with no small measure of annoyance.
While he contemplated whether there was any merit in trying to find her, Moss stepped back until he was standing on the edge of the road that ran past the property. Once again, he looked up at the upper floor windows. He suspected his growing discontent came from disappointment at not being able to see Clementine like he had hoped he could, but without scouring the village for her there was nothing he could do.
It was then that Moss heard people chatting. He listened intently for a moment and realised that a man and a woman were walking toward him. His heart leapt at the thought that it might be Clementine and his impatience built while he waited to see if he was right. As soon as Clementine appeared around the bend in the road, Moss locked gazes with her. He knew then exactly why he had made the journey to her home. Almost instantly, his annoyance melted away and in its place a smile curved his face. He was
wary, not least because he expected her to be cross with him, but she shyly returned his smile and didn’t even hesitate as she continued to walk toward him.
