Chapter 6 #2
Abby gazed at her thoughtfully and then said slowly, ‘I think we must not forget that I am here for you and our time would be better spent considering the fate of Lady Porter.’ As she turned away, Lara wondered if she detected a tinge of regret in Abby’s tone.
Walking to the cottage door she once more inhaled the scent of freesias. Lara thought it was a shame that freesias always reminded her of Julian. They were such a popular flower, the shop had to stock them pretty much all year around.
She had met Julian when she had run a plant stall at the Church fete.
Lara had seen him around before this, of course.
He was hard to miss. Tall, with dark blond hair.
Good looking, with a bit of a… something…
about him. Even if he favoured a country style dress that did not particularly appeal to Lara.
Pristine cords and tweed jackets. He had run the stand next to hers promoting his property business.
But in reality it was a free bar for his raucous friends.
She had put much thought into her own stand and in the end was pleased with the hours of effort that created a tumble of plants cascading from antique planters and containers that she had sourced from all over the county.
She hadn’t sold a single plant.
Now, she can’t believe her naivete or how arrogant she had been, expecting to impress everyone.
Yes, quite a few people had looked at her stand, and the vicar had spent some time admiring her display.
Pity she suspected. He was a kind man. She had to watch as people wandered past clutching armfuls of plants grown by local gardeners from the WI stall and from the tent set up by the Gardening Club.
She had tried to put on a brave face but had felt ridiculously foolish and exposed.
The worst point came when Sarah, who ran the deli, had wandered over to the stall.
She hadn’t said anything to start with but then turned to Lara and began, ‘I mean it’s beautiful, I mean it really is. I just...’
‘Just what?’ Lara had fired back angrily, her excruciating embarrassment emerging as a belligerent defensiveness.
Sarah had looked taken aback, but after a moment countered with, ‘Well, it would be like me setting up a cake stall. Madness with all this around.’ She gestured to the WI and homemade bake stalls.
Lara could think of nothing to say, apart from, ‘Oh, bugger off’, but she had stopped herself just in time.
Although in retrospect she imagined it might well have been written on her face.
Since then she has found it difficult to face the deli owner, despite Sarah being one of the people she would have liked to know better.
Julian had observed some of this exchange and hadn’t so much taken pity on her, as laughed at the turn of events.
He had made very rude remarks about certain members of the WI, told her Sarah’s food was overrated, and let her in on some glorious gossip about the chair of the Gardening Club.
All the time he had fed her Pimms and, later, Prosecco.
Over the course of the afternoon she softened towards his dress sense and they talked flowers and about the countryside.
He said he loved freesias. She liked this about a man, admitting to liking flowers and she told him she did too.
Although in reality they weren’t her favourite flower – not even close to the top of her list. She could not help enjoying the envious glances of some of the women passing by, and in part this did ease her hurt.
But as tipsy and grateful as she was, it did also warn her.
This was a man who attracted a lot of attention.
So when he asked her out she turned him down, as if it were a joke not to be taken seriously.
After that he pursued her with a dogged and surprisingly floral determination.
She would come out to her van and find a freesia under the windscreen wiper, one was popped under her knocker, another posted through the shop letterbox.
Sometimes it was just the flower, occasionally with a note asking her out again.
She began to wish that she really did love freesias.
She also began to drive the long way round on deliveries in the hope of catching sight of him.
When he had stood outside the shop with a freesia in his teeth she had given in. Did she regret it? She hardly knew.
Abby watched Lara as she returned to the van having delivered the posy.
She would have given much to know what the florist was thinking.
Once back in the van they drove together through the winding lanes from village to village, dropping off the other deliveries.
Abby stared out at the fields and woodland around her.
Great swathes of the countryside were now bathed in golden light with only the odd corner still shrouded in shadow and glistening with frost. At one point the road climbed steeply and followed the spine of the chalk downs.
Spread out below them was a landscape of sweeping pastures.
On the horizon stark leafless trees bent as if peering down the hill, the wind at their backs.
As she studied them it occurred to Abby that though she had told few people her tale it had been easier to speak of it when she gazed into the distance.
She thought there might come a day when she would talk to Lara about Miles. But not yet.
With that Abby set about reviewing what Lara had told her about Lady Porter’s overdose.
‘I recall you said the coroner concluded a probable suicide. Do you think that Lady Porter could have administered a fatal dose by mistake?’
‘No,’ Lara said briefly, but firmly. Then after a pause, ‘I know some people said she was old and not always with it, but she really was all there. Just like you and me.’ As an afterthought Lara added, ‘Well me, anyway.’
‘Did anyone else query Lady Porter’s death?’ Abby asked, a trace of a smile in her voice, ‘apart from you.’ She then added, ‘And me.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Lara replied, trying not to grin.
‘I certainly didn’t hear anything. I did raise it with Dr Patil when I bumped into him in the Wentworth Arms one evening.
He’d been Lady Porter’s doctor for years.
He just said he knew that the family and the coroner were satisfied.
’ Lara added, ‘I did get the impression he didn’t want to talk about it, and that maybe I had offended him. ’
Abby considered this for a moment. ‘Perhaps not surprising if it called into question his professional judgement. So we have Dr Patil, probably, loyal family practitioner. Then, I presume the family benefited from her death?’ she queried.
‘I should certainly think so,’ Lara replied. ‘She only had one son, Richard. He’s in his early fifties, runs the local solicitors, and you see him everywhere – at most of the events we do flowers for…’
‘Do you like him?’ Abby interrupted.
Lara screwed up her face. ‘I don’t really know him,’ she said. But after some consideration, added, ‘If I had to guess, I’d say he’s a pompous arse. But that doesn’t necessarily make him a murderer.’
‘No, just a pompous arse,’ Abby chuckled.
Lara grinned openly this time. ‘I know he likes to be called The Honourable Richard as often as possible and there is a rumour that he tried to get people to call him Lord Porter when he first came here. But the title isn’t hereditary and someone found out.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Porter put a stop to that herself. ’
Abby nodded thoughtfully. ‘Do you know if anyone else benefited from her death?’
‘I couldn’t say,’ Lara answered, beginning to feel daunted, ‘and I wouldn’t really know how to go about finding out.’
Abby felt far from despondent. ‘There is always a way,’ she said with confidence. ‘I believe Lady Porter’s housekeeper would be a good place to start, and I am also intrigued by your doctor. He may be just what he seems, the faithful family practitioner, but I think you ought to talk to him again.’
There was no time to discuss things further, as by now they were back on the edge of the square and Lara was fully occupied looking for somewhere to park.