Chapter 12
The day lay before Julia like a great empty expanse.
Deliciously empty. She stretched out in bed with a deep, audible sigh of pleasure.
Unusually for her, she had not one single obligation or arrangement to consider.
No one to see, nothing pressing to do. Bliss.
And exactly what she needed after the busy, stressful day she had had yesterday.
She might even go back to sleep for a bit, she thought.
She punched and fluffed her pillow into the correct size and shape and turned over on her side to do just that.
She closed her eyes. Immediately, her mind started coming up with tasks and activities with which to fill the deliciously empty expanse: she should dead-head the fading spring flowers; she could make the flourishing garden spinach into soup; she might tidy the kitchen drawer, which was full to bursting with orphan items; she should pop in at the garden centre for a few seedlings to fill the gaps; and then there was the filing she’d failed to do…
Julia banished the ideas and determinedly squeezed her eyes closed. She would force herself back to sleep by doing the relaxation and breathing exercises she’d got off the internet.
In through the nose… she intoned in her head, channelling the woman she’d watched online. Aphrodite: that was her name.
Relax your feet…
She let her feet fall open, her toes splay out.
Let your legs feel heavy…
It was quite remarkable really. Her legs and feet did feel heavy, almost as if there was a weight on the blanket.
‘Ow!’ she yelped, as a sharp prick seared her big toe. Her eyes opened to see Chaplin lying on her shins, his paws wrapped around her feet, his ears pricked up and his tail swishing manically in her direction.
‘You bit me!’ she said, pulling up her knees and dislodging the cat. Chaplin rolled over onto his back, presenting his tummy for a tickle.
Julia sat up. ‘You are very naughty,’ she said, feeling cross and resentful, but stroking him anyway. ‘Just one morning’s lie-in. Is that too much to ask?’
He closed his eyes to better enjoy the affection and tilted his head even further back to present his hard little chin for a scratch. Julia complied.
Now that she was unmistakably and irrecoverably awake, she might as well get on with the day. She reached for her phone and did Wordle in three guesses – rather cleverly, she thought – and then got up and padded down the corridor to the kitchen to make tea.
Jake, as ever, was thrilled to see her. It was nice to be loved, she thought, as he bounced and bounded, crashing into chair legs and threatening her shins with bruises.
‘I know, I know, I’m happy to see you, too,’ she said, patting him as best she could, given that he was a moving target. The poor chap hadn’t had his walk the day before, since Julia had been busy with her embarrassing run-around with the frying pan.
‘We will take a lovely long walk a bit later,’ she said to his whirring tail. ‘I could do with the exercise, too.’
Jake was so mad with pent-up energy that she decided to take him out as soon as she’d done the morning routine of getting herself dressed, feeding Chaplin and Jake, the chickens, and herself, and tidying up the kitchen.
‘Right, are you ready?’ she asked. The kitchen was tidy, and Julia herself was suitably attired for a good long walk, with a tummy full of oat porridge and tea.
They headed for the woods, to enjoy the bluebells that grew like a carpet between the trees. They’d been almost at their peak when she had visited a week or two ago. They would be glorious now.
Jake wasn’t particularly impressed by floral displays, but he did enjoy a well-trodden path, strewn with occasional objects of interest – a good stick to carry along for a bit, the scent of a fox to follow, a bad-tempered Scottie to annoy with his boundless good humour.
Julia let him run, without paying him too much attention.
She looked around at the gorgeousness that surrounded her, listened to the happy chirping of the birds in the trees, and marvelled again at how good her life was here in the Cotswolds.
It had been risky and scary leaving London, where she had a whole life.
But the move had more than paid off, and she was very grateful.
She had a pretty cottage with a flourishing little garden, she had beloved animal companions, she had good friends – including her oldest and dearest friend, Tabitha – and she had a handsome, kind and loving partner.
The mention of Sean and Tabitha set off a little wave of anxiety. She knew that she would have to talk to Sean about this marriage idea sooner rather than later. He’d been interrupted twice trying to make his proposal and been foiled by circumstance each time.
She would have to do something about Tabitha, too. Something to ensure that she didn’t miss her niece’s special day and forfeit the hard-earned pounds she’d forked out for tickets.
Julia tried to push both of the worries out of her mind, focusing instead on the bluebells, and the soft vivid green mosses that hugged the bases of the trees.
But the idea kept coming back to her – the only way to help Tabitha get to Ghana was to clear her name, and the best way to clear her name was to find the real killer.
If there was one thing Julia knew from her years as a social worker, it was that any dramatic or violent act came from an emotional place.
Whoever killed Basil Crow in that violent manner was filled with rage.
Rage about what? If she wanted to find out who killed Basil, she would have to go back to motive.
Money and love. Those were the big ones.
On the love side, well, Mary seemed devoted to Basil.
And Jacqueline hadn’t brained him with a frying pan.
The second wife was, as far as they knew, in Argentina.
Delilah was the only other wife, and although she did not seem that fond of her late ex-husband, she also had no real motive – the marriage had been over for years and she had moved on.
It struck Julia that with the wives looking unlikely she – or the police, rather – should be looking for a money-related motive.
A sudden brightening alerted her to the fact that she was reaching the edge of the woods and the beginning of the path that led across the lane to the river.
‘Come, Jake,’ she called, rattling the lead. It wasn’t a busy road, but she wanted him with her.
Across the road, she saw two figures who looked like tweens or teens. This was not a good thing, because Jake loved teenagers. Adored them. They were so much more fun than sixty-something ladies. They might throw a ball, or turn on a hosepipe, or go for a run at any moment!
Jake looked from Julia to the kids, and from the kids to Julia, weighing up his decision.
She saw in his sorrowful expression that he was going to have to reject her and choose the kids.
As he readied himself to bolt across the road, she lunged for him and grabbed his collar.
Once she had her hand on him, he submitted to the inevitable without a struggle.
‘Still pretty fast for an older lady,’ she muttered.
Together, they crossed the road. When they got to the other side, she let go of his collar.
These young people didn’t look like the type of young people who might throw a ball, or turn on a hosepipe, or go for a run at any moment. In fact, they both looked rather sad.
The girl, who seemed to be a year or so older than the boy, had a couple of dried reeds in her hand.
With a slow, dreamy movement, she snapped off a bit of reed an inch or two long, and tossed it into the slow-flowing stream.
Her eyes followed it dully as it bobbed and swirled and disappeared, at which point she snapped off another piece.
She repeated the action in a mindless way.
The boy – her brother, Julia assumed – sat on a bench, slouched over a phone, tapping at the screen.
Jake was having none of it.
He bounded up behind the girl who, understandably, gave a startled yelp and dropped the reeds when the large dog appeared in her field of vision. He pressed against her leg in a companionable way, and then bounded off to greet the boy. Jake stuck his big brown head between the boy and his phone.
The boy tried to push him away, but Jake was nothing if not determined. He lay his head on the boy’s lap and gave him a goofy smile.
The girl slouched over to join them, Julia hurrying along behind.
‘I’m sorry, he’s just very friendly,’ she said, trying to encourage Jake to leave his position on the boy’s knee.
‘It’s okay,’ the boy muttered. He sounded grumpy, but he had put his phone down and was patting Jake’s head.
‘He’s cute,’ said the girl. Both the children had an accent, Julia noted, and dark glossy hair. The tourist season hadn’t started in earnest, and it wasn’t the school holidays, so it was unusual to see children around on a weekday.
‘His name’s Jake. And I’m Julia.’
‘I’m Emilia,’ said the girl, who looked to be about thirteen, and who was clearly the elder of the two. ‘And this is my brother Mateo.’ Mateo looked up, finally, and gave Julia a quick nod before turning his attention back to the dog.
‘Hola Jake,’ he said.
Jake ran off to the river and came back with a pine cone, which he dropped on the boy’s lap. Mateo looked at it blankly.
‘He wants you to throw it,’ said Julia. ‘I must warn you, if you throw it once, he will want you to throw it all day.’
Mateo smiled for the first time since they’d met.
He had a sweet smile. He picked up the damp, lightly chewed pine cone from his lap and tossed it, sending Jake scurrying after it into the undergrowth.
The boy’s smile faded, replaced with the sad, blank look Julia had seen on both children’s faces as she and Jake had approached them.
‘Can I have a turn?’ the girl asked her brother, when Jake brought the pine cone back. She looked sheepish, as if she might be a bit too old for such things, but wanted a go anyway.
He shrugged, as if it was all the same to him.
Emilia threw the pine cone and laughed as Jake ran after it, skidding to a halt just at the water’s edge and then leaping into the river.
He splashed about in utter joy and madness, before dragging his wet brown body back up the bank, pine cone in his teeth.
Jake shook himself, sending arcs of water spraying out in all directions.
Even Mateo laughed at that, and both the kids shrieked when Jake came hurtling towards them dripping water and trailing bits of river weed behind him.
From then on, the two kids and the dog had great fun, throwing and splashing and catching.
Julia was eager to have a brisk walk along the river, but seeing how his presence lifted the children’s spirits, and how happy Jake was to have their attention, she didn’t have the heart to take him away.
She sat on the bench Mateo had vacated, and let the day unfold as it might, watching the children and Jake play some distance from her.
About fifteen minutes into the game, Aunt Edna came hobbling towards them.
She was in her spring attire, which was similar to her winter attire, but the scarves and boas and shawls within which she wreathed her spindly frame were made not of wool but of gauze and cotton and silk and – if Julia’s eyes were to be believed – wrapping paper. The colours were brighter, too.
‘Good morning, Aunt Edna,’ she said when the old woman came into hearing distance.
‘Buenos días,’ Edna said. Why she was speaking Spanish, Julia had no idea. With Edna, it was best to go with the flow. ‘I see the dog has friends.’
‘Yes, they’re having a lovely time. And it’s such a nice day for splashing about.’
‘It could be. But you must beware the Ides, the tides. The water, water everywhere. You can’t know what’s going to go drown. Down.’
‘You make a good point, Aunt Edna,’ Julia said, to be polite.
‘No, I don’t. But the point made me. Adiós,’ Edna said, ending the mysterious conversation abruptly. She tottered away.
Jake came panting over and flopped down at Julia’s feet. The teens trailed after him, looking a little pinker of cheek and brighter of mood.
The girl rattled off some words to her brother as they walked. Julia couldn’t hear well, but was it Spanish?
‘Thank you for letting us play with your dog,’ Emilia said politely. ‘He is a good dog.’
‘You are welcome,’ said Julia. ‘He enjoyed having you both to play with.’
‘We must go now,’ said the girl. ‘We have…’ She hesitated and exchanged a few words with her brother. They were definitely speaking Spanish. Was that why Edna had been speaking Spanish? Julia felt the quiet satisfaction of solving a small – albeit very small – mystery.
‘Homework,’ said Mateo. He had sat down on the grass next to Jake and was gently playing with his silky ears.
‘That is right. We have homework. We have taken time from school to come here to England – it is two weeks already that we have been away – so we must do some school work. We told our mother we will be home soon. Come, Mateo.’
He stood up. ‘Goodbye, Jake the good dog, goodbye senora.’
The two young people had a brief exchange in Spanish. There was quite a lot of pointing.
‘Excuse me, but do you know in which direction is The Swan Inn?’ asked Emilia. ‘We came from there but we have become about turned.’
‘That way,’ said Julia, pointing in the direction away from Berrywick village. ‘It’s about a twenty-minute walk.’
‘Ah, thank you. It is a small village, but even so…’
‘Where are you from?’ Julia asked, although she had a suspicion that she already knew the answer.
‘Mateo and me, we are from Mendoza. But we have some families here. We have someone like a sister. And also a small brother. Half. And before, we had…’
The teens exchanged glances, and something sad seemed to pass between them. Even Jake was quiet in the silence that followed.
‘Mendoza?’ asked Julia, with a frown. ‘Remind me – that’s in South America, isn’t it?’
‘Argentina,’ said Emilia with a smile. ‘That is our home country. Mateo and me, and our mother.’
‘But not our brother and sister, although I wish… Our brother and sister live here,’ said Mateo, his voice flat and sad. ‘We have been on a visit with them.’
‘We must go,’ said his sister. ‘Mamá will worry.’
‘Bye bye, Jake,’ said Mateo, going back for one last cuddle. ‘Good boy.’