A Crowded Coffin(10)
Sam had been delighted with his final visit before the neighbouring cottage became his and, as he wanted to do some decorating, the plan was that he would stay with Harriet for a few days before finally moving in at the end of the following week. Living cheek by jowl would be fine by both of them. Admittedly they had spent their sixty-odd years squabbling but they weren’t just first cousins; Sam was also her best friend. It would be good to have him close by. She had plenty of friends in the village and beyond, but Sam was different, Sam was special. Besides, he was beginning to emerge from the bleak wilderness that he had inhabited since the death, nearly five years ago now, of his wife Avril, who had been one of Harriet’s closest friends. Village life would be good for him, always something going on….
‘Living in this village will take his mind off his miseries,’ Harriet told the slim tabby cat as she left her mug, bowl and spoon to drain by the sink and went out to inspect the garden. Having moved to the cottage less than a year ago, she was constantly coming across new and interesting plants in the garden. Now, she bent to smell her latest discovery, an old-fashioned Crimson Glory rioting along the fence.
‘You are absolutely the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,’ she told the rose, then checked herself with a guilty laugh as she realized she was whispering so that the other roses shouldn’t feel jealous. Turning to the Old English roses she had put in last autumn, she was glad to see they were still doing well, with Gertrude Jekyll galloping up the trellis. However, Brother Cadfael and her favourite, the Ingenious Mr Fairchild – who in the world thought up these names? – were showing signs of greenfly, along with the odd black spot. Spraying them, she grinned as she recalled Edith’s greeting the night before when Harriet strolled in through the front door.
‘Harriet? Did you know we had Elvis Presley living here?’
‘Don’t you mean Elveece?’ Harriet tossed her keys onto a side table in the oak-panelled hall and surveyed the scene. ‘I love the way he pronounces it and he doesn’t mind in the least that we all copy him. Karen’s the only person who ever calls him Markus. Yes, of course I knew, I told you about Karen’s lovely husband, didn’t I?’
‘I wish you’d been a bit more specific,’ Edith laughed ruefully. ‘I nearly had a heart attack when he turned round and smiled at me, and Rory looked as though he’d seen a ghost. It wasn’t just the physical resemblance; he was dressed all in white. It was a white boiler suit; he’d just come in from a job where he’d been decorating but for a minute I thought it was a full-on Elvis suit. You could have told me he was an Elvis impersonator in his spare time, the likeness is unnerving. We saw him in the sparkly Elvis rig-out later on, when he was going out again.’
Harriet shook her head, laughing. ‘And spoil the surprise? Where is he now, anyway?’
Karen bustled in from the back hall. ‘He’s got a gig at a club in Southampton,’ she explained as she beckoned to Edith. ‘I sometimes sing with him, hence the fifties gear, but not tonight. Listen, Edith, Mrs Attlin said not to bother with supper for them tonight, she’d come down and get something, but I’m not having that. I’ve done them some soup and sandwiches, if you could take a tray up to them, and there’s more for you and Rory in the kitchen when you want it.’ She looked at the visitor. ‘There’s plenty for you too, Harriet, if you like.’
‘I’ve eaten already, thanks,’ Harriet explained. ‘I dropped Sam off at his flat in Winchester and had a bite to eat with him. I’ve come to see if there’s anything I can do to help before tomorrow’s shindig.’
With a nod of approval Karen waved towards Edith. ‘Edith’s got the list of things to do. I’ve got a load of ironing to get out of the way so I’ll see you later.’
‘Did you get anything more out of your grandfather?’ Harriet asked as she and Edith set up hanging rails in a partitioned-off corner of the marquee that was set up at the entrance to the Great Hall. ‘There, that should do well for a cloakroom – nice and handy for the outside loos in the yard. And the indoor loo isn’t too far away either.’ She nodded towards the lavatory that had been tucked under the staircase in the early days of Queen Victoria’s reign by a rare Attlin who had money to spare. The blue-flowered porcelain ought to impress tomorrow night’s diners, Harriet decided.
Edith sighed. ‘Nope, he had his say – pretty much what you told me – and now he refuses to utter another word. I think you’re right, he’s clamming up so Gran doesn’t get upset. You know what he’s like; it happened, he survived, why make a fuss?’ She shivered. ‘But it’s worrying me sick. He doesn’t imagine things, and he’s certainly not going senile. So what happened?’