‘Eurgh,’ said Sam sitting up, which released the lead and the little pup was almost bungeed across the green to be reunited with his owner. The owner picked up his dog and shook his head at Sam.
‘You okay?’ asked Blythe, offering him a hand to pull him to his feet.
‘Been better.’ He looked rather cross.
Their hands met and something shot through Blythe’s system at the touch. She concentrated on hauling him upright. ‘Come on, let me buy you a drink. Everything seems better after mulled wine.’ As if on cue Jassi was serving someone and a whiff of the spicy-sweet drink wafted in their direction.
‘No, you’re all right. And I can see this is your priority so I’ll feed Turpin tonight.’ He walked off without giving her a chance to respond. Blythe let him go.
‘Hey, Arthur, who was that lady you were talking to?’ asked Blythe.
‘In the bobble hat?’
‘Yep, that’s the one.’
‘No idea. She seemed very interested in the village. Why?’
‘Because we caught her snooping around the back of Sam’s place on firework night.’
‘I thought I recognised her from somewhere. She was at the fireworks too.’ He scanned the crowd as if trying to spot her again. ‘I wonder what she was doing around Murray’s cottage.’
‘Thieving, we thought, but then would you keep popping up in the same place and chatting to the locals if you were planning on robbing them? What was she asking you?’
Arthur seemed to be thinking. ‘She wanted to know if there was parking in the village and any local nature reserves.’
Blythe couldn’t work out if that was suspicious or not. ‘If you see her again, can you think of an excuse to bring her over to me so I can quiz her?’
Arthur pulled his shoulders back and he almost matched Blythe’s height. ‘I can question her.’
‘Okay, Arthur, but be careful. We don’t know what she’s up to.’
The vicar took to the podium and the PA system squealed like an excited child. The vicar gave the same welcome he did every year from the same curly piece of paper and the countdown commenced. Blythe had one of those sensations that someone was watching her; she scanned the crowd but everyone was focused on the vicar. She glanced over her shoulder where Sam was standing by his front door with his eyes fixed on her.
‘… two… one…’ The lights on the green burst into a fit-inducing frenzy of sparkliness, closely followed by the surrounding properties. A cheer went up from the assembled crowd followed by a round of applause. Leonora was being congratulated by those around her and Blythe couldn’t help but feel a little glow of pride. The Grinch looked magnificent and the sign pointing to Sam’s cottage flashed happily, in direct contrast to Sam who shook his head, went inside and slammed the door.
28
1stDecember
Blythe had an afternoon viewing at a property where the couple were out at work all day. She’d dropped them an email to let them know she was showing someone around and the wife had replied that everything was neat and tidy and she was happy for Blythe to go ahead and work her magic. They were keen to sell as they had found their dream property to start a family in and it was hanging in the balance.
Blythe was chatting away to the prospective buyers outside. A young couple with a baby in a sling strapped to his mum and snoozing happily. The outside was modern and well maintained, with parking for two cars and in an excellent school catchment area. All of which was making them nod – a lovely sign to any estate agent. Blythe opened the door and let them in first. It was warm and welcoming, which was just the ticket. Blythe closed the door and for a moment she thought the owners had left a radio on because she could hear some rhythmic sounds coming from nearby. Blythe pushed open the living room door and was alarmed to be greeted by a naked bottom bobbing along to the soundtrack of a woman hitting a particularly high note.
‘Oh, goodness, I am so sorry,’ said Blythe to the naked bottom, which stopped mid bob. A head popped up above the back of the sofa. ‘Ah Mr Gardener…’
‘What the hell are you doing?’ barked Mr Gardener disappearing for a moment before reappearing at the side of the sofa hopping on one leg as he speedily tried to get his trousers on.
‘I messaged your wife earlier. Hello, Mrs Gardener,’ said Blythe, going on her tiptoes to peep over the sofa only to see the face of a woman who was not Mrs Gardener.
‘Wife?!’ snapped the woman, now doing up her shirt. ‘You bastard! You said she’d left you.’
‘I think she might now,’ muttered Blythe, as she retreated into the hall. She gave the viewers her best apologetic smile. ‘Perhaps we should start upstairs,’ she said, leading the way.
*
Blythe was relaying the story in the office as there were no clients about and everyone was laughing hard. ‘Have you told the wife?’ asked Heather.
‘You’re not going to rat him out to his missus, are you?’ asked Amir. He was watching her closely. ‘You’ve already grassed him up, haven’t you?’
