Cold Justice (Willis/Carter #4)(2)

‘Shall we go to Cornwall instead?’ She softened her American tones. ‘Now that the sun has come out? What do you think, baby?’ She had loved calling him ‘baby’ when they first fell in love. He was ten years younger than her. He had been fresh-faced and innocent and so nerdy and earnest. So absolutely shy that it amazed Lauren that he had ever lost his virginity. He worked in the Royal Observatory and was a genius when it came to understanding the universe. But he didn’t understand other people. He definitely didn’t understand women or what made a relationship work. He was twenty-nine, she was forty-one. She was fast realizing that Toby really was a baby.

‘Thought you had work to finish?’ He was irritated, anxious to the point that she thought he looked ready to cry or scream or down the bottle of wine he’d already had two large glasses from since they’d got back from the funeral.

‘Yes, I have. But I’ll take it with me.’ Lauren worked for an American drugs company. She was writing up her research project on dementia drugs. ‘We could all do with a change of scenery – even the dog,’ she said. ‘It’s funny how he left instructions about the dog, about the funeral, about what he wanted doing with his bloody ashes, but not about his estate.’

She looked at Toby’s face – so pale in the low winter sun that was making him squint. He looked like a lost boy. She hated to see him in such misery.

‘You’ll never get it done there,’ he said, more to himself than Lauren.

Lauren watched Samuel playing with his toys on the floor. He was a quiet boy, sensitive, anxious and very bright; a lot like his father. He was so bright but he rarely smiled.

‘We should let the dog out; it can’t do any harm,’ said Lauren.

‘We’re not allowed dogs in the flat. Anyway, we don’t know if it will turn on Samuel,’ he replied.

‘It’s a tiny dog – not exactly a Rottweiler.’ Lauren smiled. ‘I feel sorry for it.’

‘It’s a terrier – they can be really snappy when they’re old,’ Toby retorted.

‘But it’s only four. We have all its papers from the hotel. Anyway, it’s been with us a month and it still barely comes out of its cage. There we go – the dog needs a holiday. It’s more stressed than the rest of us . . . Settled! Samuel? Shall we go on vacation?’ Samuel looked up at his mother and nodded. She got a tissue from a box on the coffee table and wiped his runny nose. ‘Shall we build sandcastles? See some little fishes in the sea? Throw a ball for Russell? Have some fun?’

He nodded as he watched her facial expressions and tried to mimic them. She kissed him and reached behind her head to unpin her hair. She rubbed her scalp as her hair unwound itself into a bob, short fringe. She didn’t wear make-up as a rule. She had one colour lipstick and it was the one she’d worn on their wedding day. It was pink. She was wearing it today. Toby didn’t look at her; he had a frown on his face. Lauren watched his face contort as he grew more anxious. He was chewing the inside of his cheek.

‘Toby, shall we just go to Cornwall now? I mean, why wait till tomorrow? What do you think? We only need to pack a few things. We’ll wash stuff down there.’

‘Can we think about it tomorrow, please?’ There was an exasperated, persecuted edge to his voice.

‘Yes . . . of course.’ Lauren accepted the setback, walked across to her desk and opened her laptop, but changed her mind as Toby walked back into the kitchen. She followed him and stood watching as he poured another glass of wine. ‘It’s a bit early, isn’t it?’

‘Is it?’ Toby finished pouring himself the large glass of red and took a swig.

She smiled but her eyes remained watchful. ‘Did you know many people at the service?’ Toby answered with a shake of the head. ‘I recognized one of the names at the end when people came past and paid their respects. I saw that man, Stokes, who’s been bothering us about your father’s house. You’d think he’d leave us alone at a time like this.’

She went to find the letter from her desk in the corner of the lounge. ‘Yeah, here it is – Martin Stokes. He wants to know whether we’ve changed our mind about letting it out. He has to return a lot of deposits, he says. He implies that we’ll have to meet the cost if we do that. I don’t see why, unless your dad kept the deposits. I suppose that’s possible.’ She sighed. ‘Christ . . .’ She looked to Toby for a reaction but he didn’t speak. ‘He also says that a private purchaser from the village would like to make us an offer for the house of five hundred thousand – contents not included.’ Lauren shook her head incredulously. ‘They must be joking; we know it’s worth a million? What do they want with it?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Let’s tell Stokes we want it left empty,’ she said. ‘We need to go and have a proper look at it. The quicker we sort out your dad’s estate the better. I have no worries about getting rid of the house in Cornwall but we may not be able to afford to keep it, if we have to pay death duties.’

Toby looked her way briefly then turned away as he said, ‘We will have to; it doesn’t look like he had any money at all.’ He gazed out of the kitchen window down the three storeys towards the street and the parking spaces below them. A woman was struggling past with a buggy. The wind whipped through the new tower blocks and the ones under construction. There were tastefully designed walkways and children’s playgrounds, even a new Waitrose store at the entrance to the complex. It was all very new.