A Crowded Coffin(51)

Margaret surprised her with a quick, sympathetic hug. ‘I’d love to, honey. I’m based here in Winchester for another five days though I’m off to Salisbury for the day tomorrow, and Chichester the day after that. I like to have a theme for my vacations,’ she confessed with a smile. ‘Last time it was castles, the time before that was royal palaces and this year I’m visiting cathedrals.’

As they took their leave Rory had a last word with the Canadian visitor. ‘If you do happen to remember anything, anything at all that strikes you as odd, I mean about the old chap, will you give me a call?’

She shot him a curious glance and surveyed him very thoughtfully, but nodded and promised, in spite of her repeated assurances that there was nothing at all out of the ordinary that she could recall.

As Rory edged the car out of the city and headed towards the hills Edith sat in the back seat talking to their unexpected feline passenger. Hector was curled up in an extra-large cat-travel basket, gazing out with placid, gooseberry-green eyes and responding amiably to her polite advances. She had to agree with Rory that a cat so large and indolent was probably not going to be scratching anyone anytime soon, so it must have been the brambles after all.

At Sam’s new home, the semi-detached twin of Harriet’s cottage, they used the key he had given Rory and carted Hector and his belongings upstairs to the back bedroom. Sam’s furniture from the flat had been delivered the previous day and besides his own room, the spare room had a carpet, a pair of twin beds and a chest of drawers already, though there were no curtains as yet.

‘He should be all right,’ Edith said hopefully as they watched the hefty grey and white tabby uncurl himself from his basket to take a languid stroll round his new quarters. A sniff of approval at his food and water bowl, a disdainful glance at the litter tray, ready for action and tucked away in a corner, and Hector stalked off to his own bed where he promptly fell asleep.

As she waited for Rory to double-lock the front door, Edith was startled to see a sleek silver Porsche parked alongside Rory’s elderly Vauxhall, and Brendan Whittaker coming down Harriet’s front path, next door. He looked disconcerted to see them.

‘Oh, er, I was looking for Miss Quigley,’ he said, looking self-consciously at the expensive-looking bouquet of lilies he was carrying. ‘Gordon wanted me to see her and make sure she was comfortable.’

‘She’s at our house,’ Edith told him, surprised. ‘Didn’t you know? I’ll take the flowers for her if you like?’ She looked round but Rory had disappeared down the side path, so she walked to the gate. ‘That’s a nasty scrape on your wing, what have you been up to?’

‘That?’ He shrugged as she indicated a mark on his car. ‘Nothing to do with me – some fool parking badly. I found it like that when I got back to the car. Bloody nuisance, though; I’ll have to put in a claim unless I can get it done privately.’

‘Hard luck,’ she sympathized. ‘Did whoever did it leave their name and insurance details?’

‘Of course not.’ He stared at her. ‘Never mind that, how about a drink sometime soon? Tonight maybe? No, of course you can’t tonight, but tomorrow perhaps. I’ve scarcely seen you since you came home.’

‘It’s only been a few days.’ She fobbed him off with a mumble about her grandparents and he drove off as Rory reappeared.

‘I was just checking Harriet’s back door,’ he said. ‘In case anyone’s been poking about in there. It’s all over the village that she’s up at the farm, so why didn’t lover-boy know?’

‘He’s not,’ Edith was frowning. ‘He’s just someone to have a laugh with now and then. But what did he mean, I can’t have a drink tonight? Why not?’

Back at the farm she soon found out.

‘You’re in the dog house,’ Karen informed her with a cheerful grin. ‘The vicar phoned earlier to remind you that you’d promised to go out with him for a drink tonight and asked what time he should he pick you up.’

‘No I didn’t.’ Edith was indignant. ‘I said sometime or other, not tonight. Anyway, why does that put me in the dog house? It’s not a crime.’

‘It is to your grandfather,’ Karen shrugged, and bent to take out some trays of tiny sausage rolls from the oven. ‘He doesn’t approve of the vicar making up to you. And you needn’t look at me like that; I heard him tell the vicar that himself.’

‘He did?’ Edith was irritated but impressed all the same. Her grandfather rarely interfered in her life.