Nancy nodded, even though she personally thought the Straw Bear Festival sounded a little disturbing. ‘Who’s next year’s bear?’
‘Dylan Wood. Married to Imogen. You might have met her this morning too.’
Nancy thought of the beautiful blonde. ‘I did.’
Then something caught her eye out in the water. She gasped and stepped forward, unable to truly make sense of what she was seeing.
‘Is that a...spire?’ she asked.
Way out in the centre of the reservoir, a tall, pyramidal stone point broke through the surface of the water, a black cross at its tip.
‘Old church,’ said Dean. ‘The site of the reservoir used to be a hamlet – Wakeley Green. When they decided to flood it they moved some of the buildings but about eleven remain. At this time of year, when the water levels have dropped, you can see the roofs of some. Sometimes you’ll have a view of the chimney pots too.’
The spire was darkened by decades of being submerged in the cold of the reservoir. No doubt it was slippery with algae. There was something ghostly about it and Nancy tried to imagine the rest of the church sunken beneath the surface. People’s homes too. She shivered.
‘You want to show me the rest of the house?’ asked Dean. ‘Then I can work up a quote for everything.’
‘Sure,’ said Nancy. She pulled her gaze from the water and led him out of the room.
SIX
Friday 4 September
Unpacking boxes was hungry work and Nancy had looked up from the mountain of protective paper she’d accumulated to see that it was lunchtime – and she was starving.
She walked into the village – her first proper exploration of the high street. Ripton was several hundred years old and the buildings were of the original warm grey stone with slate roofs. There was everything she could possibly need: a chemist, a local grocery that also housed a post office, a bookshop with all the latest titles displayed in its bay windows, a butcher’s, a gift shop, a pub. She found herself wandering into them all, buying bits and pieces before remembering she had nothing in for dinner and her friend from university, Beth, was coming to visit for the weekend. She spotted a deli and it was when she came out, clutching a bag full of fresh pasta, a jar of homemade tomato sauce and three large slices of pecan pie, her stomach by now screeching with hunger, that she found herself jostling for space on the narrow pavement with an elderly lady.
‘You’re the new girl,’ declared the lady, smiling. ‘Moved into Willow Barn.’
Nancy, who had been about to cross over the road to a cafe to get some lunch, turned in surprise. So this was what Dean had warned her about...everyone will get to know you. And your business.
She looked at the elderly lady in her knee-length green mac and soft, wide-fitting shoes, the kind that allowed for bunions. A floral scarf set off the cheerful expression on her face as she waited for Nancy to answer.
‘I am,’ said Nancy, a touch distracted as she wondered how this woman could possibly know. Perhaps a new face stuck out a mile in this village, perhaps the woman had seen her going to her new house – or perhaps word had got about and she had been thoroughly discussed. But this lady was looking at her with a wide, friendly smile.
She put out her hand. ‘Nancy,’ she said. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Hazel,’ said the woman. ‘I’ve lived in Ripton my whole life. All seventy-two years. Never had any reason to go anywhere else. You’ve definitely picked a good ’un.’
‘Oh, excuse me,’ she said, suddenly seeing something behind Nancy and she dug into her coat pocket, where she extracted an old metal tin that had once held travel sweets. Nancy saw Lorna approaching with a dog on a lead.
‘Would Cooper like one?’ asked Hazel and, barely waiting for Lorna’s nod of approval, she fed the cocker spaniel a treat.
‘Thanks, Hazel,’ said Lorna. ‘How’s the exercise plan going?’
‘I’m out here every day. Doctor’s orders. “Got to get the blood sugar levels down.” It’s exhausting to tell you the truth. And not the same since I lost Sukey,’ she added, her eyes welling up.
Lorna patted her arm. ‘She was a lovely dog. And she did get to fourteen, you know. That’s a ripe old age.’
‘Thanks, love. Anyway, I’ve given up all my biscuits and I only have sweetener in my tea now. Hopefully that’ll shut the doc up. Diabetes, my backside.’
Lorna turned to Nancy. ‘Hazel’s our resident dog whisperer. Been shopping?’ she asked, looking at Nancy’s bags.
‘A few things for dinner.’ Nancy nodded across the road. ‘And I think I need a coffee.’
‘You’re going to Bruno’s?’ said Lorna.
Nancy thought she detected a note of alarm in her voice. ‘Yes. Unless...it’s a bad idea?’
