DEIRDRE SAT AT her dressing table, looking at her reflection. She saw a round face, almost free of aging lines, with cheeks suffused with a healthy colour, and a mouth that had always turned up at the corners, whether she was smiling or not. Her careful coiffure was not as perfect as when she set out that afternoon, but still the curls caught the light and shone a reddish gold, just as her hairdresser had promised.
“Not bad,” she said aloud, and then burst out laughing all alone in her luxury bedroom. She looked back to the time before Ivy had come to Springfields. Her life had been exemplary, duty bound and boring as hell. Not that she had any idea if hell was boring or not. Perhaps she would go to hell, after this afternoon! This sent her off into further peals of laughter. Who would have thought Theo would still be so good at it?
Her telephone rang. She knew it would be Ivy, wanting to know how she had got on with gleaning information about Beattie from Theo. She sobered up. The fact was that their fun and games had been so sustained-and they both in middle age!-that only half an hour or so had been left for serious conversation. She had tried, but Theo was not listening. He was much more interested in arranging their next meeting, and in telling her how she had changed everything and he could only thank God that she had come back into his life in time.
“Deirdre? Are you there?” Ivy’s voice was sharp, and Deirdre quaked.
“Hello, Ivy. How are you?”
“What d’you mean, how am I? I’m exactly the same as I was not many hours ago. I’m ringing to see if you got anything interesting out of Mr. Theo. Did he remember Beattie in the early days? How she got the job? References? Where she came from, an’ all that?”
Deirdre sighed. “Ivy dear,” she said. “I have just had a call from an old lady in town who I visit from time to time. I’m a social services volunteer, you know. She wants me to help her straightaway. I must be off now. We’ll meet on Monday as usual, I hope? Gus will still be in Springfields, I expect. I’ll tell all then,” she added.
Uncrossing her fingers, she prayed for forgiveness and humming cheerfully went downstairs. She looked at the clock in the hall, and saw that it was little drinkies time. “It’s not that I’ve forgotten you, Bert,” she said aloud. She knew what he would say fondly. A leopardess cannot change her spots.
KATYA HAD ENJOYED her walk with Miss Beasley this afternoon. They had gone in the opposite direction from the church, and come out of the village into a tunnel of trees. Katya had asked Ivy if she would like to turn around now, but Ivy said she was quite capable of going farther and so they had strolled through the tunnel and out into a sunny lane leading to a farm. A tractor and trailer were parked in the nearby field, and as they watched, a young man heaved sacks of feed out of the trailer and tipped it out for the flock of sheep gathered around him.
This pastoral scene had made Katya nostalgic for holidays she had spent with her grandparents in rural Poland. Ivy, seeing her expression, had greeted the young farmer with a cheerful good afternoon, hoping he would come over for a word.
He had introduced himself as David Budd, and asked Katya pleasantly where she had come from and how long she would be staying. While they stood talking, his mobile had rung, and answering it, he had said that yes, he could be home by the time the baby-minder had to go.
He apologised to them, and said his wife Rose was up at the Hall, and had been kept later than usual. “She keeps the old man company while the housekeeper is at market, you know,” he said. “Seems the old duck has been delayed, and Rose has to stay on a bit longer.” He had excused himself, saying he must get on his way, but invited Katya to drop in anytime and meet Rose and the best toddler in the world, in other words, his son Simon.
This encounter had, as Ivy hoped, cheered up Katya, and they returned to Springfields in good spirits. After her abortive call to Deirdre, Ivy remembered Rose’s call to her husband, and wondered what had happened to delay Beattie. Then she decided that so long as it was delay, and the housekeeper had not returned early, all would have been well. In any case, Deirdre had sounded happy. Odd, but happy.
Now she made her way downstairs to supper. Mr. Goodman was waiting at his table, and beckoned her over with a ready smile. She sighed. She would rather have had a quiet meal on her own, but knew that the old boy might well have remembered more about those early days, and the case of the disappearing mother.
“Good evening, Mr. Goodman,” she said.
“Good evening, Miss Beasley,” he said, and wondered when it would be safe to call her Ivy.
Ivy looked round for Gus, but he had not yet come down. “We must keep a seat for Mr. Halfhide,” she said, and felt uncomfortable when she saw the old man’s face fall.
“Had hoped to have you to myself,” he whispered.
Ivy was in unfamiliar territory here, and said clumsily that Mr. Halfhide was convalescing and good company was part of his recovery programme. She saw Gus approaching, and with relief waved him to their table. When Gus saw that she was sitting with little Roy Goodman his heart sank. He thought that Ivy should at least have been prepared to defend him from the oldest inhabitant.
After they had made short work of roast chicken and apple crumble, the three sat on over coffee, chatting idly. Then Roy Goodman said something that made Ivy sit up. “When I was a lad,” he began, “this was a private house, you know. Belonged to one of the Roussel family. They’d got a tenant in. A real recluse, she was. Never went anywhere, and had a woman looking after her. It was after she died that it was sold, and became an old folks’ home.”
“When was that?” Ivy said, and her tone made Gus look at her enquiringly.
“Oh, I’m not sure,” Roy said. “I’m so old, I sometimes think I remember Queen Victoria!”
“Rubbish!” said Ivy, and added that she was not so far behind Mr. Goodman, and she could barely remember her mother telling her about Queen Mary. She looked around the dining room, and said that it must have been a lovely house when it was in private hands. “Did you ever come here, Roy?” she said, apparently casually.
Roy beamed. “Well, Ivy,” he said, reaching out and touching her hand lightly, “I do vaguely remember that my mother sent me to Springfields to deliver a parcel that had been mistakenly sent to the farm. But the recluse didn’t answer the door. It was the companion. Yes, that’s right, she was called the companion. A quiet woman, she was. Not much seen about the village herself. Just came to the village shop for supplies, and that was about it.”
“Not to church?” said Ivy.
Roy shook his head. “Never to my knowledge. And I was in the church choir at that time. Sixpence a time, we got. That’s why we went, I’m afraid, not for the love of the Lord!”
Gus smiled. He had been thinking about the companion. “I don’t suppose you could possibly remember who the parcel was addressed to?” he said. It was a forlorn hope, but worth asking.
“Good heavens, no!” Roy said. “I was in a hurry to hand it in and get away. There was something creepy about the place in those days.” He paused, and then said politely, “Um, I wonder if you’d mind telling me why you’re so interested in those old long-gone days?”
Gus looked at Ivy, and after a second or two she nodded almost imperceptively. Gus got the message and cleared his throat.
“We should probably have told you before, Roy,” he said, “those old days may be very important to us.” Then he explained about being more or less thrust into matters surrounding the death of Mrs. Blake, and his decision to use his considerable experience in the field of investigation. “Being a stranger to the village, I needed a well-placed local assistant. That’s Ivy here,” he added, patting her hand, which she withdrew instantly. “And then she enlisted her cousin Deirdre at Tawny Wings, who has all the advantages of modern technology at her fingertips. And,” he added, “though it is probably too premature to say so, we are a pretty good team.”
Roy looked at them in astonishment. “Now I see it,” he said. “But you forgot the person who could be most useful to you.”
“Well, don’t beat about the bush,” said Ivy. “Who?”
“Me,” said Roy. “Meet your new team member.” He held out his hand, and neither Ivy nor Gus had the heart to refuse him.