‘And they don’t want to sell?’
Blythe sucked her lip. ‘It’s not that. I actually think they will be very happy to sell. I just don’t know who the owner is.’ Arthur was looking decidedly puzzled. It was time to own up. ‘The house is Murray’s.’
Arthur looked suitably shocked. ‘Oh, I see.’ Then his expression changed to something worse than shocked, he looked disappointed – it was the same expression she’d seen on Ludo. She felt awful.
‘I know it was a stupid thing to do. But I just thought Murray’s house would have to be sold anyway and this buyer had a really unique set of requirements, which Murray’s place could satisfy. It seemed like the perfect match. So I showed him the house and he fell completely in love with it.’ She was about to try to explain further in an attempt to change Arthur’s expression but Sarvan appeared to take her drinks order, distracting her. She had a brief chat with Sarvan about Murray, but he couldn’t remember who had told him about Murray’s funeral, and he had no further details so they moved on to the delightfully warm weather. Blythe paid and turned to take her drinks back to Vicky. ‘Take care, Arthur. Thanks for listening,’ she said, moving away from the bar.
‘I can make a few enquiries,’ he said.
‘Sorry?’ Blythe spun around, sloshing her Diet Coke but managing to contain the snowball in its fancy glass.
‘I used to be a solicitor’s clerk and I still know a few people locally.’
‘Thanks. I’m not being funny but anyone I’ve spoken to today has given me a straight brush-off because they won’t divulge who their clients are. Even if they’re dead.’ Which did seem a little extreme to Blythe especially as what she had done would be a benefit to them.
‘That is true, but if you have someone who would love the house like Murray did then I feel we should do what we can.’ He gave a wan smile.
‘Thank you, Arthur. That would be great.’ At this stage she was grateful for any and all assistance, however unlikely it was. ‘And in the meantime, if you could keep an eye out for anyone putting up a for sale sign in Murray’s garden…’
‘Will do,’ he said, and he turned back to his receding pint.
6
10thJune
Vicky waited outside the village hall with all the dads who had been sent to collect their offspring from Rainbows and Brownies. It seemed to be an unwritten rule that mums dropped off and dads picked up. But that was not the case for her. She was both mum and dad – always had been. It was just one more thing she had to do. The situation may have been different if she and Owen had stayed together. The thought of him made her shudder and the dad next to her gave her a cautious glance before quietly taking a sly step away from her. That was fine. It was best if men kept away from her. She’d decided that long ago thanks to Owen. Eden came skipping out with her friend who ran off the moment she spotted her dad. She wondered if Eden noticed things like that?
‘Hi, sweetie, how was Rainbows?’ she asked.
Eden beamed a smile. Her two front baby teeth were missing. She was growing up. ‘It was fun. Look, I made this myself!’ Eden excitedly thrust a clear bag at Vicky containing a lumpy brown substance, which worryingly did look like she’d made it herself.
Vicky recoiled. ‘Wow. What have you got there?’ It looked exactly like what she’d been picking up on her dog walks.
Eden’s grin broadened. ‘It’s chocolate fudge! Do you want to try some?’
As unappetising as it looked the first rule of parenting was that you could never refuse to try your child’s cooking, however bad it appeared. ‘Of course I do.’
‘Mia is going on holiday on an aeroplane,’ said Eden, wide-eyed. It was moments like this that Vicky felt like a bad mum. She couldn’t give Eden what other parents could. She knew lavish holidays weren’t everything but she hated the thought of Eden missing out, of her feeling somehow lesser than her friends.
‘That’s nice for her,’ said Vicky.
‘She’s going to America to a place called…’ Eden paused with a lump of brown on her finger as she puckered her forehead in thought ‘…Vagina!’ she announced with gusto.
‘Virginia,’ corrected Vicky.
‘She’s going to ride a horse like a cowboy, sleep in a wigwam and go to theme parks with really scary rides!’
Yep, Vicky couldn’t compete with that. ‘Once I’ve built up the dog-walking business we might be able to go on a little holiday,’ said Vicky, thinking out loud.
‘To America?’ Eden’s voice was almost a gasp.
‘No, sorry, that’s really expensive. I was thinking a caravan in Devon would be fun.’
Eden’s slopey shoulders said she didn’t agree.
They walked along with Eden dipping her finger in the fudge bag. ‘Snowy Owl says people should walk their own dogs and that Hot Dogs sounds like you’re opening a McDonald’s.’ Eden laughed. ‘Silly Snowy Owl. McDonald’s sell burgers not hot dogs.’
Vicky wished Snowy Owl would keep her beak to herself especially as Vicky was proud she’d finally settled on a name for her new business and had spent quite a few hours printing out flyers she was going to distribute around Holly Cross and the neighbouring villages. Over the next few days the plan was to walk Princess and Barnaby and deliver the flyers at the same time – two birds, one stone.
