Chapter 8
There was no sign of Abby in the morning, either in the cottage or out in the garden.
Lara presumed she would want to accompany her to the doctor, but realised she had no way of contacting Abby to let her know she had secured an early appointment.
As she waited, Lara texted Becky to say she would be in a bit late this morning.
She then walked up and down the garden a few times practising her limp.
Her foot did not feel too bad but she was pleased to see it had a livid bruise, which she felt would help give weight to her story.
At ten minutes to nine Lara gave up waiting and limped through the side gate and out into the Market Square.
There, beside the gates to the park, sat Abby.
Lara stopped dead in her tracks. It was not Abby’s outfit that shocked her, although there was no doubt the royal blue jacket with its nipped-in waist, gold epaulettes and frogging was her most magnificent ensemble to date.
It was more the fact that Abby was sitting on an enormous chestnut horse.
She sat side-saddle, the skirts of her richly coloured habit fanned out around her.
The horse stamped and sidled beneath her, snorting great steamy breaths into the fresh morning air.
Abby waved her riding crop at Lara in greeting.
Then, turning her horse in a tight semi-circle called over her shoulder, ‘I am just going to give Balthazar his head and get the fidgets out of him. I won’t be long.
’ With that she took off full pelt across the park.
Lara was left staring after her in amazement.
‘She’s only gone and brought her bloody horse,’ she said to a group of teenagers who were crossing the square on their way to school.
Ignoring their startled laughter, Lara turned sharply to her left and headed off down the side road that led to Dr Patil’s surgery.
She had just slowed her pace and remembered to start limping again when Abby caught up with her.
Keeping her horse in check at a slow walk, Abby leant forward and patted him.
‘I hope you don’t mind me bringing Balthazar. It was such a glorious morning I could not resist the temptation. There is nothing quite so enjoyable as cantering through the autumn leaves, don’t you agree?’
Lara snorted. ‘Are you intending to bring him into the doctor’s?’ she asked sarcastically.
‘Oh no, he will be quite safe outside,’ Abby replied breezily.
‘Well, I don’t suppose anyone’s going to steal him, are they?’ Lara muttered. ‘Is… he… um…’ Lara was searching for something.
‘Balthazar,’ Abby interposed helpfully.
‘Is Balthazar a spirit too?’ Lara finished, (she had been going to say ‘Is he dead?’).
‘Yes. I was riding Balthazar when I died and although he was terribly brave, and I really do believe tried to save both of us, he was killed too. An unforgivable thing to do to such a beautiful animal.’
‘I thought you said it was an accident?’ Lara asked suspiciously.
‘Do you ride?’ Abby enquired, as if she had not spoken.
‘No,’ Lara replied. ‘We lived in Newcastle when I was little, so there wasn’t much opportunity.
My Dad worked in the hospital as an anaesthetist and he wanted us to live in the city so he was close to work for when he was on call.
That’s how he and Mum met. She was a nurse at the hospital.
’ Lara paused thoughtfully. ‘That seems to be a kind of tradition in our family, both my grandfathers were doctors, my dad’s mum was a nurse and my mum’s mum was the first female doctor in Liverpool.
In those days they didn’t let her attend the degree ceremony but they did let her practice. ’
Abby smiled, trying to imagine her Aunt Augusta’s face if a mere female had dared to suggest she should like to become a physician.
Lara went on, returning to a more recent past, ‘By the time we moved down South I was into bands and boys and didn’t have any interest in four-legged creatures, so riding wasn’t even mentioned. Although I did have a rabbit.’
‘I do so enjoy a rabbit,’ Abby said, enthusiastically. ‘Our cook had a wonderful way with rabbit and oyster fricassée.’
‘That’s not quite what I meant,’ Lara said repressively, as she fell in step beside Abby and Balthazar.
‘I’ve been racking my brains for anything else that I can remember from around the time of Lady Porter’s death and there were two things that struck me from the funeral.
’ Abby bent her head down to listen. ‘I had made the spray of flowers for Lady Porter’s coffin and after the funeral I took it to the side of the church and started taking the flowers out of it.
I’d asked the family if I could make up posies from it for the care home.
Anyway, I was pulling out some of the last snapdragons when Dr Patil came around the side of the church.
I don’t think he saw me. But I saw him and I am sure he was crying. ’
‘Were he and Lady Porter close?’ Abby asked.
‘That’s just it, I wouldn’t have said so,’ Lara replied.
Abby looked pensively between Balthazar’s ears. ‘And the second thing you noticed?’
‘That was at the tea afterwards. I overheard the vicar talking to Mrs M. He said that Lady Porter was a dear lady and something about the funds for the church roof. It seems she’d told him that she would leave the church the bulk of what they needed – which is a lot of money – and that this had been written into her will.
Apparently, she’d joked about this being a way to keep an eye on him from up above.
Anyway, her son, Richard, had just taken him aside and given him a cheque for ￡25 for the fund.
I think the poor man had thought this was the big cheque and was startled into saying something.
Richard was really put out and said there was no such legacy.
The vicar was clearly embarrassed and worried that he’d put his foot in it.
I think it was only because he was so upset that he said anything to Mrs M.
I just happened to be on the stairs coming down from the bathroom and overheard.
I didn’t hear what Mrs M said, but I did get that first bit of the conversation. ’
‘That is interesting. I cannot believe from what you have told me of Lady Porter that she would have lied about something like this, especially to a man of the cloth. I think we should enquire into this further with Mrs M.’
‘Seeing Mrs M should be fine. She’s still looking after Gillmore House until the honourable Richard moves in. We could call in for a cup of tea this afternoon,’ Lara suggested.
Abby nodded but paused looking distinctly dissatisfied. ‘I cannot keep calling this poor woman by her initial. What does M stand for?’
‘She’s Mrs Mopping, but I can’t remember when I’ve ever heard anyone use that. Everyone just calls her Mrs M,’ Lara explained.
Abby thoroughly disapproved. She could understand a housekeeper not wishing to use the unfortunately appropriate name of Mopping, but Mrs Mopping probably had a perfectly nice name like Gloria or Ruby, if anyone would take the trouble to find out.
By now they were at the surgery and further conversation was put on hold as Abby reined in Balthazar and swiftly dismounted.
It was not long before Lara was called through and she found herself sitting nervously in front of Dr Patil.
The doctor was a tall man with dark hair greying at the temples.
He wore a formal jacket, white shirt and striped tie.
He had the wiry frame that Lara associated with cross country runners and she was not surprised to see a series of photographs on the wall of Dr Patil in all weather gear on various mountainsides.
She knew from local gossip that the doctor was past retirement age, but although his face looked tired and drawn, his movements seemed to be those of a younger man.
He smiled vaguely at Lara over his glasses and asked her how he could help.
Lara launched into her prepared speech about her foot and how she was worried about whether it was safe to drive.
She was acutely aware of her thudding heart and sincerely hoped that Dr Patil did not take her blood pressure.
She was also making a supreme effort not to look at her Kindred Spirit who was wandering around the room looking at the bookshelves and at the papers on the doctor’s desk.
She was not helped in this by Abby, who was giving her a running commentary.
‘I think he looks like a nice man. I do prefer an older doctor, don’t you?
It makes you feel you are in safe hands.
He certainly seems very well read and not just medical books here I see.
Quite eclectic taste, natural history and some nice poetry… ’
Lara interrupted her flow, ‘I do like the peace and quiet of this town, don’t you, Dr Patil?’
‘What, er yes, yes, I suppose I do,’ he replied, looking up from his examination of her ankle.
Lara kept going before Abby could resume her monologue. ‘I hope you didn’t mind me asking about Lady Porter that evening in the pub. I wasn’t trying to be nosy, it’s just that I was very fond of her.’
Dr Patil did not reply but instead asked, ‘Does this hurt?’ as he pressed down on her instep.
Lara shook her head and was about to fill the silence when she became aware of Abby watching her with a finger held to her lips. ‘Give him time,’ she said softly.
Abby’s instinct proved to be correct as after a while the doctor drew himself up, grunted slightly and addressed Lara. ‘I know that she enjoyed your company too. Yes, she was very pleased when you became a frequent visitor.’
‘The two of you were close?’ Lara tried to make the question a gentle rather than an impertinent enquiry.