‘Stop worrying about it, Harriet.’ It was her cousin Sam, murmuring as he appeared behind her. ‘You said the police have it on record and as far as I can see, that’s as far as they can go. Walter seems to be recovering well so you might as well just leave it. There’s nothing more you can do.’
‘But it’s not just that, Sam, there’s this other business too; that young man who’s missing, the village mystery.’ She was about to enlarge on it when their hostess came over to them.
‘Harriet, my dear.’ Mrs Attlin, slightly built like her granddaughter, was elegant in dove-grey lace. ‘And this, of course, is your clerical cousin. How do you do, Canon Hathaway? I remember you coming here as a small boy.’
Acting on impulse, Sam bent to kiss her hand and was charmed when she blushed like a young girl, though he was aware of Harriet’s sardonic grin somewhere to his left. He smiled impishly back, and Harriet felt a rush of affection. To cover her unaccustomed emotion, she turned to her hostess. ‘How are you getting on with your guest, Penelope? I thought he seemed a very nice young man.’
‘Oh he is,’ the old lady was enthusiastic. ‘He’s a darling. It was a shock, of course, when we first saw him. The resemblance is so very strong.’ She looked cautiously round and appeared relieved to see her husband deep in contented conversation with Edith and Rory, the latter scrubbed up nicely in formal dress. Edith looked ethereal in 1950s cream chiffon trimmed with knots of rose-pink ribbon and Harriet grinned as she wondered if Edith would be going in for vintage, like Karen. ‘Walter is being very good about it, but I know it opened up old wounds for him, so I’m trying to keep his spirits up.’ She smiled as she watched Edith eagerly talking to the two men. ‘Edith, of course, is frantic to find out all about Rory but he says he doesn’t want to talk about it at the moment so of course we’re respecting his wishes. He’s had quite a traumatic time of it lately.’
She drifted away to greet more guests and to talk to some of the Rotarians in charge of the event.
‘Uh-oh.’ Harriet interrupted Sam as he started to speak. ‘I smell trouble. Look, heading straight towards us: tall, dark and dangerous, that girl with Gordon Dean. You must know him, or know of him; chairman of this, that and the other, face like a ripe tomato. He’s a big business tycoon type, always in the financial papers and on the news having made yet another billion. He lives just down the road, the nearest thing there is to a next-door neighbour to the farm here. The girl is his daughter, Lara, one of my less agreeable former pupils, and she’s trouble with a capital T. Just watch all the wives take a firm grip on the reins as they catch a glimpse of her.’
‘Harriet, good to see you, my dear.’ Harriet submitted to a hearty kiss and slight squeeze from the burly tycoon who was much of an age with her and Sam. ‘And I know this is Canon Hathaway. We’ve met a couple of times and now I hear you’re planning to join us in the village.’
Sam, not yet wise to the Locksley grapevine, looked as if he was about to engage in conversation, but Harriet, who knew Gordon Dean would bore on at interminable length about his business, his house and his orchids, aimed an unobtrusive kick at Sam’s leg and introduced him to Lara Dean. As Rory and Edith came across the hall, Harriet introduced Rory as well.
‘So this is Rory?’ Observing her former student, Harriet thought Lara’s husky voice – like the sleek black bob, the to-die-for scarlet silk jacket and slim skirt, the pert bosom and the chiselled cheekbones – was expensive and way out of Rory’s league. There was a slight trace of an American accent and she was evidently pleased to encounter Rory. ‘I’ve heard all about you from various people in London when I was there the other day, and of course the village is buzzing about you. It must be such a relief to be home at last after such a ghastly ordeal. I want you to come to our lunch party tomorrow, and tell me all about it. No, I really won’t take no for an answer.’
She drew him closer to her side, linking arms while he blinked at her, looking bemused. ‘Er, thank you, Lara,’ he managed finally. ‘I’d love to have lunch but I’m not sure about my plans for tomorrow. Maybe some other time? I’m afraid, though, that I’ve been warned not to discuss what happened, for security reasons. Besides, it’s all over and I want to put it behind me.’
She pouted and ran a lacquered finger down his sleeve, pantomiming disappointment and Harriet, who had been watching with some amusement, hastened to his rescue. She was forestalled by a chilly intervention by Edith, who had been talking to Sam and to Gordon Dean.