Chapter 5
The day of manual work meant Jamie woke the following morning with a satisfying ache in his upper arms and shoulders. Automatically, he reached for his phone to check the time, then picked up his watch when he remembered he’d left his phone in the van.
He’d realised last night, pretty much as soon as he walked in the door, and had been all set to return for it before deciding it wasn’t urgent.
In fact, there was something liberating about being detached from it for a while.
He’d be in trouble with Violet. No doubt she’d called him and he’d missed it.
In fact, he should probably fetch the phone and message her before she sent out a search party. That thought got him moving.
Padding over to the window, he dragged a hand through his hair.
He blinked at the view which he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to.
The seagulls weren’t as close as that first morning, but their shrieks were fairly constant, especially in the mornings.
Considering how intrusive the sound was, there was something surprisingly soothing about it.
Downstairs, he fed Misty, then rifled through the teas. Jasmine Green Tea. He frowned at the packet for a moment, then shrugged. He’d give it a go. He ripped at the packet and deposited the teabag into a mug before switching on the kettle. While it boiled he went in search of his phone.
He plucked it from the door pocket in the van. No missed calls, just a couple of messages. Both from Violet – one yesterday evening, saying she missed him, and one this morning. It just said good morning and had only been sent a few minutes ago. He felt a rush of relief that he wasn’t in trouble.
Hastily he typed a message in reply, asking how she was.
He hit Send, then jumped when something pressed against his leg.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked Misty, who purred and nuzzled his shin.
He looked back at the front door – wide open.
It didn’t take long to get complacent about the cat.
Gingerly, he crouched, hoping she wouldn’t scarper like she usually did when he paid her too much attention.
With a hand under her stomach he lifted her into his arms without issue.
As he went to close the van door he spotted a pair of secateurs on the passenger seat.
He’d put the rest of the tools away in the garage yesterday evening but had apparently missed those.
Reaching for them, he noticed the writing on the handle.
Langford was written neatly in permanent marker.
He’d thought they were Moira’s when he’d picked them up yesterday but obviously not.
“Looks like I need to nip out after breakfast,” he told Misty who surprised him by rubbing the side of her face affectionately against his chest. “Oh, you want to be friends now, do you?”
The sound of the neighbour’s door opening caught his attention. The elderly lady’s eyebrows lifted a fraction when their eyes met.
“Hello,” he said, slipping the secateurs into his back pocket.
She looked as though she might ignore him again, but walked in his direction. “You’re a new lodger, I assume?”
“I’m house-sitting,” Jamie told her. “Moira’s away in New Zealand for a couple of months so I’m looking after the house and her business.”
“She didn’t tell me she was going, but we don’t speak much.” She had a slight limp as she took a few steps closer. “Is this Misty?”
Jamie nodded as she reached to stroke the cat.
“Cute,” she said as Misty rubbed her head under Jamie’s chin. “She likes you.”
“It seems like it.”
“I only ever see her sitting in the window. I don’t think she goes outside much.”
“No. She just followed me out. I’m Jamie, by the way.”
“Rosa,” she replied curtly, then looked him up and down. “You’re old.”
“Excuse me?”
She tilted her head at the house. “Moira usually has kids staying. Not kids really, but teenagers and young people. There’ve been a fair few over the years. They play their music loud and come in late at night making a racket.”
“I promise not to do either of those things.”
She looked sceptical, then her features softened. “I’d appreciate that. How do you know Moira?”
“I don’t, she just needed someone to look after her house.”
“Strange,” the woman muttered. “But then she always has been.”
“Have you been neighbours for a long time?”
“Yes. We used to get on. Back when she was married. She was a police officer then.” Her eyes rolled slightly. “An upstanding member of the community. That didn’t last long.”
He squinted. “How do you mean?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s too chilly for me to stand around chatting. And I need to go or I’ll be late.”
“Okay,” Jamie said as she turned on her heel. “It was good to meet you.”
She waved over her shoulder and ambled away.
“I need breakfast,” Jamie muttered to Misty, walking back inside.
“Speaking of breakfast, you’ve not been getting into the cereal, have you?
” Probably not – not without making a mess of it anyway.
He could swear it was going down faster than he was eating it, but he was probably in denial about how much of the stuff he’d been eating.
In the kitchen, he put Misty down. He was pouring water into his mug when his phone rang.
“Hi,” he said to Violet, then frowned at her image on the screen. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Why? Do I look that bad?”
“No. I just thought you’d be at work by now. Are you still in your pyjamas?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m working from home today.”
“How come?”
“Just didn’t feel like going in.”
He lifted an eyebrow. When he’d tried to convince her to come to North Berwick with him she’d been adamant working remotely wasn’t an option. Apparently, she needed to be in the office. He smiled tightly. Probably not worth getting into.
“Daniel isn’t in today,” she said. “I couldn’t face dealing with the office politics alone.”
“What’s up with Daniel? Is he ill?”
“No. Just took a day off. He and Sarah are finalising some wedding stuff. Hopefully, that means we’ll get an invite soon. I’m still worried we’re not going to be invited.”
“Daniel’s your work bestie. It’d be weird if he didn’t invite you.”
“Except I’m fairly sure Sarah hates me.”
Jamie grinned. “To be fair to her, the only time the four of us went out together you got drunk and kept referring to Daniel as your work husband.”
“For a start, I wasn’t drunk. Possibly slightly tipsy. But also . . .” She got gradually louder, as she always did when trying to make a point. “Work husband is just a thing that people say. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s a platonic term for a work friend.”
“Yeah, but it clearly made her uncomfortable and you kept on with it.”
“I didn’t realise it made her uncomfortable.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. She probably hadn’t noticed because she and Daniel were too busy exchanging private jokes about their colleagues. The whole evening had been a bit of a disaster, and it wouldn’t surprise him at all if they weren’t on the wedding-guest list.
“Anyway, I just wanted to say hello, before I get caught up in work,” she said. “What are your plans for the day?”
“I don’t have a lot planned, I was just going to have breakfast and—”
“I hope you’re eating healthily,” she said, cutting him off.
“I was thinking I’d make an omelette,” he lied. Discreetly, he angled himself to make sure she didn’t have a view of the packets of cereal on the sideboard. “And I’ve been drinking tea in the mornings instead of coffee.”
“Really?”
“Yep.” His eyes went to the piece of paper beside the kettle.
He’d made his own little chart like the one on the fridge, keeping score as he worked his way through the selection of teas.
So far everything had been between a five and a seven.
He hadn’t found anything he either loved or hated.
“Jasmine Green Tea, today,” he told Violet, taking the string of the teabag to dunk it up and down.
“That sounds good. We should really have some different teas at home. What are you doing after breakfast?”
“I have to return a pair of secateurs to the place I was working yesterday. I might have a walk along the coastal path after that . . . do a bit more exploring.”
“That sounds a lot nicer than my day,” she said with a sigh.
“I offered for you to come with me.” He picked up the mug and blew on the hot tea. “There’s a desk with a sea view here that would have been perfect for you.”
“Don’t say that,” she complained. “I would have loved to, but there’s no way I’ll get that promotion if I’m never in the office. I need to be seen so they think I’m invaluable.”
Jamie nodded. “Maybe you can at least come for a few days at some point.”
“Yes. I’ll come up for a long weekend.” She smiled sadly and he had a suspicion that plan might not come to fruition. Work had become an obsession recently, and he wasn’t convinced she’d take even a few days off.
He told her he’d talk to her later and ended the call.
Moving to the table, he winced when he took a seat without removing the secateurs from his back pocket. He’d drink his tea, then shower and head over to the Langfords’ place.
Without hesitation, he took a long slurp of the green tea and regretted it immediately. He gagged and almost didn’t manage to swallow the mouthful.
“Zero,” he said, dodging past Misty as he moved quickly to the sink and dumped out the contents. “Definitely a zero.” He scribbled the score on his paper before heading for the shower.
It was almost ten when he stood on the doorstep of the Langfords’ house. That wasn’t too early, was it? Tentatively, he pressed the bell for a second time.
“No one answering?” a voice called. The neighbour to the right was stepping out of her house.
“No,” he replied. “I guess I’ll come back another time.”
“Someone will be in,” the stocky, brown-haired woman said.
“Marguerite hasn’t left the house since her op.
She’s too unsteady on her feet. Or so Edward says.
She looks pretty stable to me. I’m not sure if he just likes to fuss over her, or if he’s the overbearing type who doesn’t like it when his wife isn’t at home. ”
Jamie recalled how unstable Marguerite had seemed the day before. He wasn’t about to argue, though. He took a step away from the door. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone at home now.”
“Tuesday,” the neighbour mused. “Edward will be playing golf this morning. Heather usually comes over to help Marguerite when Edward’s out. Maybe they’re in the bathroom or something. If you wait a few minutes, someone will probably answer.”
“I only wanted to return these,” Jamie said, holding the secateurs aloft.
“You’re the gardener who was here yesterday,” she stated. “Moira’s replacement while she’s away. I was thinking my garden could do with a bit of attention too. If you have time.”
“Yeah.” He fumbled in his wallet and pulled out one of Moira’s business cards which he’d added his number to in biro – the effect wasn’t professional but it did the job. “Give me a call and we can arrange a time. I’m Jamie.”
She snorted a laugh at the business card.
“It’s not my business,” he said, hoping his cheeks weren’t bright red. “I’m just helping out for a while.”
“I’ve seen the van around. Always makes me smile. I’m Trisha, by the way.” Her eyes went to the secateurs and she chuckled. “They put their name on them? Don’t know why that surprises me. What are they like, eh?”
“It’s a good thing they did, or I wouldn’t have realised I’d taken the wrong ones.”
She shrugged. “I reckon they’ll fit through the letterbox.”
“They probably will.” Automatically, he moved to try and was about to push them through when he paused. “Someone might trip over them. I could probably just leave them out on the step . . .” Something inside caught his eye. Crouching so he was level with the letterbox, he peered into the hallway.
“What are you doing?” Trisha asked.
He swore loudly at the sight of Marguerite lying in the hallway surrounded by pieces of wood – the rail and balusters from the landing.
“Marguerite!” he called with his mouth by the letterbox. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
“What’s going on?” Trisha asked beside him.
“She’s not moving.”
Elbowing Jamie aside, Trisha peeked through the letterbox. “Oh my god. That looks bad.”
“We need to get in there.” Jamie straightened up and glanced around. “I can see if the back door is open,” he said, setting off down the side of the house. “Can you call an ambulance?”
“Yes. I have a spare key somewhere too. I’ll see if I can find it.”
Jamie raced round to the back of the house but had no luck getting in. Should he kick a door in? Was that as easy as it looked on TV, or was he just going to end up with a broken leg? Hopefully, the neighbour had found the spare key and he wouldn’t need to find out.
At the front of the house, the neighbour was nowhere to be seen, but a car pulled up and Mr Langford stepped out.
“Everything okay?” he called to Jamie with a puzzled frown.
“No. Can you come quickly and open the door? Your wife has had a fall.”
There was no urgency to his movements as Edward walked towards Jamie. “What are you talking about?”
“I was returning those,” he said, pointing to the secateurs on the step. “I saw Marguerite through the letterbox. I was trying to get in through the back—” Frustration got the better of Jamie as Mr Langford failed to respond. “Open the door. Quick! She needs help.”
Finally, he put his key in the lock, then gasped as he moved to his wife, lying sprawled in the hallway.
“I’ve called an ambulance!” Trisha shouted, reappearing. “I can’t find my key though . . . oh good, you got in. Is she all righ—” She stopped abruptly as Mr Langford let out a pained cry. “Oh my god. Is she dead?”