A Bitter Feast(57)

“Right this minute,” said Gemma, “you’re going to have tea.”

“But I—”

“Kettle. Mug. Teabags,” Gemma directed. “Then we can sit for fifteen minutes and sort things out. You’ve had a terrible shock.”

“Oh, right. Okay. If you’re sure.” Viv dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her apron, but she turned to the kitchen shelves, fetching an open box of Yorkshire teabags and a couple of chipped mugs. She filled an electric kettle, then turned to Gemma as it began to heat. “I’m so sorry about Grace being so rude. I know she’s upset about yesterday—she was fond of Nell—but it’s more than that. Lately, she’s been so hateful all the time—I don’t know what to do with her. And now I have to tell her about Jack. He was so good to her, you know. He has—had a grown daughter, so he knew how to talk to her—” Viv stopped, shaking her head. “I can’t think what—”

“Tea first,” Gemma interrupted. The kettle boiled and she poured hot water over the teabags she’d plopped in the mugs. When the tea had steeped for a couple of minutes, she added milk and sugar without asking. “Is there somewhere we can sit, just for a bit?”

Nodding, Viv led her, not into the bar area, for which Gemma was grateful, but into the smaller dining room behind Bea’s office. As they sat at the nearest table, she said, “Grace is how old? Eleven?”

Viv nodded.

“Well, it’s a hard age, isn’t it?” Not that Gemma felt she could offer expert advice. Kit had been eleven when he’d come to them, true, but his circumstances, like Charlotte’s, had been traumatic. And, besides, weren’t girls supposed to be harder to deal with than boys at that age?

“Yes, but—” Viv cradled the blisteringly hot mug in both hands, as if it could warm her from the outside in. “I know kids start needing to assert their independence, but this seems different. And the last few weeks, she’s seemed almost . . . I don’t know. Sly.” She sipped at the tea, making a face as it scalded her mouth. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining it all. But I do know that she’s going to be devastated about Jack, and that she won’t let me comfort her. And that she’s going to blame me—and maybe she should.”

“What?” said Gemma, startled. “Why?”

“He wasn’t himself last night. He was drinking, and Jack didn’t drink, not really. I offered to drive him home but he said he was fine. He wanted to walk. It was what he always did. And I didn’t press him. I went in and checked on Grace and when it started to rain I didn’t even think Jack might be getting soaked, and all the while—” Viv gulped at her tea, seeming not to notice the heat now, or the tears sliding down her cheeks. “All the while he must have been lying in the road and no one— If I had insisted on driving him—” Viv set down her cup and wiped a shaking hand across her cheeks.

Gemma reached in her pocket for a tissue and handed it to Viv. “You couldn’t have known what would happen. You said Jack always walked home?”

Viv nodded. “He has a car, a little Renault, but he doesn’t use it often. He says the walking keeps him fit. He’s ex-army, you know.”

Gemma found that didn’t surprise her. And she couldn’t imagine that Jack, even drunk, had not got out of the way of an oncoming car.

“What about family?” she asked. “Was he married?”

“Divorced for yonks. There’s a grown daughter—lives somewhere up north. I don’t even have a contact number—” Viv’s face crumpled again.

“Don’t worry about that now. The police can take care of it.” Gemma thought for a moment. “Viv, if Jack’s drinking was out of the ordinary, did he do or say anything else unusual last night?”

“No. He told me not to fuss. But—” She frowned. “He seemed, I don’t know. Maybe worried. He—”

Viv broke off at the sound of car doors slamming in the pub car park. Footsteps crunched on the gravel and the kitchen door banged. Viv set down her mug, her face draining of color.

Ibby came into the dining room from the kitchen, his mouth set in a scowl.

“What the hell, Viv? It’s after ten. Why aren’t we open? Sarah and Jack were probably held up the same as us, but you could have managed serving coffee and bloody cake, if that’s not too far below your high and mightiness. The police had the whole freaking road shut down and we had to go the long way round, can you believe it? You’d think they’d realize people had to get to—” The expression on Viv’s face finally seemed to penetrate his tirade.

Ibby stared at them, glancing from Viv to Gemma. “Viv? What is it? What the hell’s happened?”



“Your black eye is coming along quite nicely this morning,” Booth told Kincaid as they drove down Becky Hill Road towards the village.

Kincaid smiled. “Thanks. You’re not the first person to encourage me this morning. But I do feel a bit better,” he added, although he was not sure it was true.

“I expect you look a damn sight better than the poor bugger they found in the road,” Booth said, all levity gone. “I talked to him yesterday. Nice bloke.”

Kincaid wished now that he’d gone into the pub and met the man himself. “Gemma spoke to him as well.”