The ponytail nodded vigorously. ‘He used to come and chat to me if I were the one doing the Snuggery that week. Have a coffee.’ Her voice darkened. ‘He was always on his own on a Saturday, on account of you-know-who being off with that horse. Like she supposedly was the night he died.’
‘You think Ffion wasn’t in Carlisle like she told the police?’ said Thelma.
‘What she told the police and what shedidare two different things, I’m thinking.’ The ponytail bounced dismissively as Jax angrily changed gear with a clash and a roar. Again Thelma’s foot flexed. Time to change the subject.
‘Just before Neville started working at Lodestone, he was an Ofsted inspector, wasn’t he?’ asked Thelma. ‘Was that his only work, do you know?’
‘It was enough. Wakefield one week, down south the next, up north the week after that. I used to say to him: “Nev, for God’s sake slow down.”’ She sighed and finally, blessedly, slowed down herself as the first of the houses appeared. ‘Up and down the country like a blumin’ yo-yo, bless him.’
Thelma sighed inwardly. The task of finding one particular person who Neville Hilton had upset seemed to be rapidly taking on needle-in-haystack-like characteristics.
Although lengthening, the shadows were still harsh and sharp in Hollinby Quernhow main street. The deserted main street. There was none of that afternoon bustle you get in even the smallest of places – people delivering leaflets, walking the dog, children coming from a school bus. The place looked to be asleep in the late afternoon sunshine … Nonotasleep, Thelma thought,dead. Despite the heat of the afternoon she shivered as it suddenly struck her that in a place with so few actual inhabitants the village wasn’t such a bad place to stage some kind of dark deed.
With a business-like scrunch of gravel, Jax smartly brought the car to a halt in front of the Old Barn.
‘Right.’ Jax turned off the engine. ‘Right,’ she said again – but she didn’t move. For all her brisk tone, she seemed in no particular hurry to get out of the car.
Thelma looked at the empty driveway. ‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone here,’ she said.
‘There isn’t.’ Jax unclipped her seatbelt. ‘Ffion’s off at the stables today – she always works till gone six on a Monday with late riding lessons.’
Thelma frowned at this. ‘Maybe we should come back when she’s here?’
‘Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, I’ve Helmsley and Masham ladies; Friday, Saturday I’m flat-out with the holiday lets,’ said Jax. ‘Ithasto be today.’ She wrenched open the car door. ‘Anyway, Ffion wants me here.’
‘Did she say so?’ asked Thelma.
‘Not in so many words, but the place hasn’t been touched since the other week. I bet it’s in a right old state.’
As Jax sorted out cleaning materials from the boot of the hatchback, Thelma looked around uneasily. Jax seemed confident enough, and of course there must have been times when she cleaned with neither Mr nor Mrs Hilton being there … but even so. To give herself something else to think about, she walked over to the wheelie bin, now standing flush against the wall near the kitchen door. It was easy to see where it would be put for collection, the spot by the gate was delineated by a small, neat sign:Blue trade waste wheelie bin HERE. Neville’s work no doubt. She walked towards it and stopped in a place where she reckoned the bin would foul the driveway.Yes. Turning round, the squat square structure that was the Snuggery was in plain sight. What could be more natural than leaving the bin here if someone were to call you from the front door of the holiday let?
‘Oh my God!’ Jax’s voice cut into the still afternoon, shrillwith outrage. Thelma quickly moved to where she was examining a stack of filled charity bags heaped willy-nilly near the front door.
‘Well, she hasn’t wasted any time,’ said Jax, poking in a bag. She straightened, holding up a tie, like a huntsman displaying a kill. ‘Nev’s Rotary tie – and him only dead five minutes.’
Thelma could see the younger woman was upset and so refrained from pointing out that in fact Neville had been dead for the greater part of five weeks, and that clearing the possessions of those who have left us was one of those enforced, heartbreaking chores that follow in the wake of death.
‘That’s really upset me,’ said Jax plaintively. ‘I mean I know Ffion’s always bagging up her own stuff and leaving it out, but I thought at least she’d have taken Nev’s into the shop herself instead of leaving it out here like it’s rubbish.’
‘Come on,’ said Thelma, gently leading her away. ‘Let’s do what we came here for.’
Standing on the threshold of the Snuggery, Thelma was struck by that feeling common to holiday cottages lets, the sheer impersonality of the place. No stack of mail jumbled on the hall table, no coats crammed on the pegs, no bags and boots dumped in the hallway. Like so many of the properties in Hollinby Quernhow, the Snuggery was a house but by no means a home.
‘Okay …’ The word was drawn out and there was an uncharacteristic waver in Jax’s voice and Thelma became suddenly aware that her friend had not moved since stepping inside the hallway. Indeed, the ponytail was distinctly on the droopy side and a slight tremble was detectable in the hand clutching her plastic bucket of cleaning materials.
‘Why not let me go in first?’ said Thelma gently.
‘I’m just being stupid,’ said Jax.
‘Not at all.’ Followed by Jax, Thelma led the way from room to room – bathroom, bedroom and kitchen – opening windows as they went. The kitchen was especially immaculate, all gleaming glass and steel. On one of the granite worktops stood one of those knifeblocks that looked like marble, but were somehow magnetised, four knives glinting in the afternoon sun. It was a make familiar to Thelma through Teddy’s delivery work and now she looked more closely at the four knives … Shouldn’t there befive? But before she could pursue the idea further Jax’s voice broke into her thoughts.
‘Chelse said how it had all been left clean.’
Thelma felt puzzled. If Chelsey had specifically said the place was clean, then how come Jax was so insistent the place needed cleaning? Unless Ffion had specifically asked her? She remembered her previous thought: why was the Snuggery so clean in the first place, when its occupant had apparently left in such a hurry? These were the thoughts in Thelma’s head as she followed Jax to the living room.
Again Jax stopped.
Thelma laid a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. ‘There’s absolutely no need for you to go in there,’ she said.
