Her absence was all anyone could talk about, excepting William Sabine who wasn’t remotely interested, up at the Big House ballroom where the developers were holding their first public consultation on their proposed plans for Clove Lore Castle.
‘Mr Bovis not here, neither?’ said Caroline Capstan, Samantha’s mum, and owner of the Clove Lore Laundry Company, leaning back in her seat to address the gossips in the row behind.
‘Strange,’ replied the village postie.
‘Nobody knows where she is,’ joined Minty, slipping into the row behind, making no pretence about her eavesdropping. ‘Her own daughter, Laura, the headteacher, hasn’t heard from her, can you believe? Doesn’t know where her own mother might be.’
‘An’ she made no mention of taking an ’oliday,’ threw in Jowan, settling beside his wife, Aldous trotting to a stop unhappily between the chair legs, wondering why his morning walk had been curtailed with a boring delay in his own ballroom.
‘Mrs Crocombe’s Ice Cream Cottage has been open every day for decades. That woman doesn’t know the meaning of a day off, let alone a holiday,’ added Mrs Capstan.
‘What are we talking about?’ said Estée Gold, getting in on the gossip in a magnificent white kimono with bright red flowers in her hair.
Minty gave her friend an appraising, surprised look but kept any comments to herself, instead letting her know that she was worried about Mrs Crocombe and Bovis. Missing a meeting on the fate of a local landmark wasn’t like them at all.
‘Ran off together, have they?’ Estée said salaciously, only to be tutted at by the lady of the manor. ‘What? It’s more than possible they’ve taken themselves away for a dirty… I mean aromanticbreak.’
‘If that’s all it is, why the secrecy?’ said Jowan. ‘There’s not one of us doesn’t know those two are paired up like doves in that shop. No, I reckon there’s more to it than that.’
‘Harri mentioned something about Bovis saying the brakes on his Land Rover were on the wonk,’ put in Samantha, artlessly, as she shuffled down the row, coming to join her mother. Jasper Gold, Sam’s boyfriend, wasn’t much interested in the planning meeting and had stayed away to prepare for his Valentine’s movie night, only three days away. He was outside on the lawns now, setting up his projectionist’s booth.
‘I hates to say it,’ began Jowan in a knowing tone, ‘but she has been prone to rash decisions in the recent past.’
Minty tutted. ‘The fling with the sea captain?’
Estée sat up all the straighter at this. ‘An affair?’
‘He was an old fraudster, turns out,’ Jowan added, stroking at Aldous’s beige head by his knee. ‘But he’s long gone, back to sea, and our Bovis has been a steady companion to her ever since. I’d say they are good influences on one another.’
‘I’d say they are as thick as thieves,’ Minty put in.
‘An accident, then?’ Estée began, spreading her hands before her, painting the scene. ‘It’s easy enough to picture. Night-time, a country lane. A rickety old Land Rover trundles through the sleet and snow.’
‘Hasn’t snowed in Clove Lore these fourteen months, Estée,’ attempted Jowan, only to be cut off.
Estée was still caught up in the drama in her imagination. ‘An owl hoots, the driver, an elderly, red-faced and very silly man, is momentarily distracted. A tyre hits a patch of ice, they skid, he brakes, the brakes fail, his passenger screams, they hit a wall, stones and metal crunch horribly, a whimper…’
‘Thank you, Estée! That’s very… vivid,’ put in Minty, a hand to her temple as if to soothe a headache. ‘I’m sure we’d have heard about any accidents in these parts.’
‘That is, if they haven’t skidded into a flooded quarry, or a reservoir?’ Estée enthused. ‘My character inDestiny’s Peaklost her second husband in just such an accident when his Porsche went to the bottom of Lake Tahoe with him trapped inside… or so we thought!’
‘Ooh, are we talking aboutDestiny’s Peak?’ said Izaak enthusiastically, as he took one of the last available seats, right next to Estée. He had remained her biggest fan, next to his husband Leonid, even while becoming one of her only friends, now that she was a skint ex-celebrity long since abandoned by her A-list mates. ‘How did the scriptwriters get him out of that one in time for season five?’
‘Amnesia, of course,’ said Estée very seriously.
Pained, Minty shook her head.
The developers were taking the stage. Three white men, all in dark suits, were tapping lapel mics and fiddling with a laptop and projector before spreading into a line before the assembly.
‘Picture this,’ said one, the mic boom in the speakers drawing the room’s attention.
‘Castle Lore like you’ve never seen it before,’ said another.
‘None of uz have seen it,’ shouted one of the old timers from the front row.
William Sabine, seated next to him, didn’t respond to any of this, only clasping his hands on his lap and listening.
Undeterred, the third man took over. ‘Picture our castle ruin, a magnificent historical backdrop to a modern, fully accessible holiday resort, open year-round, bringing visitors to Clove Lore and employing people from across the region.’
