Property of a Lady(69)
‘You can scour it from top to bottom if it will solve the ghost,’ said Nell. ‘I was going to close the shop at lunchtime, and Beth’s going to her party at four. It might be better to do it while she’s not here.’ She smiled. ‘They’re planning a midnight feast at her party. She thinks I don’t know, so I’m not letting on that I do because that’s part of the fun for her.’
‘I ought to go out to Charect House tomorrow,’ said Michael. ‘Jack’s builders won’t be there over the holiday, so I’d better make sure everything’s left secure. Frozen pipes,’ he said, remembering that this could be a problem for house-owners in the depths of winter. ‘Would it be all right if I turned up around half-past four, after Beth’s gone? It needn’t take more than an hour or so, but if I’m still here by six we might go down to the Black Boar afterwards for something to eat.’
She hesitated, then said, ‘Would it be easier to have a meal here? Nothing elaborate – I could just put a casserole in the oven and leave it to simmer until we’re ready to eat.’
‘That would be nice.’ He got up to go. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Nell,’ he said.
Nell spent most of the night wondering what on earth had possessed her to invite Michael to dinner. It was the classic move if you fancied someone. Well, all right, she did fancy Michael. But she was not going to do anything about it. And she was making too much of this. It was only a friendly, convenient meal, meant to round off the search for clues about Brooke Crutchley, during which they could discuss their ghost. It was not as if she was going to put candles on the table or wear a low-cut gown and slink around offering wine in a purry voice. Nell determinedly reminded herself it was just the ghost that was drawing them together, but she was starting to think it was more than that. She looked across at Brad’s photo on the bedside table for reassurance. ‘It’s all right, isn’t it?’ she said to the photo. ‘I’m not going to do anything. He’s just a friend, and this is a bizarre situation we’re both in, and it’s about protecting Beth – and Ellie Harper, too.’
The photograph stared blandly back. There was no animation behind it, no spark, no life. I don’t want you to become just a piece of paper in a frame, thought Nell, in panic. But I think you’re moving away from me – you’re becoming distant. Or am I going further away from you? You never saw Marston Lacy or this shop – you never even heard of the place. You don’t know the people I’m meeting now, and you don’t know Michael or anything about the Wilberforce stories he’s making up for Beth. And it’s starting to become really difficult to reach you in my mind, Brad, she thought, and I hadn’t bargained for that and I don’t know if I can bear it.
But when she finally did slide down into sleep, it was not Brad she was thinking about, it was Brooke Crutchley. It was disturbing to know she was in his house.
It felt odd to be putting together a casserole next day, knowing she would be serving it in what Beth would call a grown-up way. Wintry sunlight filtered into the kitchen and some of last night’s shadows dissolved. Nell enjoyed cubing meat and dicing bacon and mushrooms. She tipped all the ingredients into an iron casserole pot, poured in red wine, and added a sprinkling of herbs. The whole lot could go in the oven around three o’clock, where it would happily simmer on a very low heat for four hours, if not five. She would collect freshly-baked bread and cheese and fruit on the way to taking Beth to her party.
She had been determined not to watch the clock like a teenager on a first date, but after she dropped Beth off and got back home, she was very aware of half-past four arriving, and then quarter to five.
Michael arrived just before five, carrying a bottle of wine and apologizing for being a bit late. He had been out to Charect as planned and had got involved in a problem concerning a water tank, he said.
‘The builders wanted to fire up the central heating so they could leave a bit of heating on over the holiday,’ he said. ‘But there was something wrong with the pump and they can’t get a replacement until the second of January. So they’re draining all the water tanks and pipes to stop them freezing. At least, I think that’s what it is – does it sound about right to you?’
‘Yes,’ said Nell. ‘Would you like a cup of tea before making a start on the clues for the ghost?’
‘I’ll start right away, I think,’ said Michael. ‘It’s a pity it’s the depths of winter, isn’t it – it would be easier to do this in daylight. Because I was thinking the likeliest place to find anything is in the workshops, and I should think it’s a bit cold and dark out there in this weather.’
‘It’s not too bad, actually,’ said Nell, reaching for a jacket and woollen scarf. ‘There’s electricity out there, so we’ll be able to see what we’re doing.’
‘I’ve brought a torch,’ said Michael, sounding pleased at having thought of something so practical.
‘Well, that’ll be useful. And it isn’t as cold in there as you might think. There’s a horrible old iron stove, but I’ve never fired it. I had a couple of convector heaters put in.’
Nell was pleased to see that Michael liked the workshop. He prowled around, commenting on the scent of beeswax and oil, asking questions, and admiring a small Indian rosewood desk she had found under a heap of rubble in the Powys house sale and was stripping off several layers of Victorian varnish.