‘Yes, and they don’t even have a school harp, so that cost us five and a half grand,’ she says. ‘And we have to transport it too.’
I hand her the milk with a poorly executed look of sympathy.
‘I’m not going to have milk, actually,’ she says with a shake of the head. ‘But thank you.’
I put the milk back, admiring Tor’s habit of making everyone serve her, even in her own home.
‘Is Cait around?’ I ask. ‘It’d be nice to see how she is.’
‘Oh, she’s in the studio.’
‘In the garden? She’s not in the guest room?’
‘Well, if Owen does turn up, I don’t want him in the house with the children around. It wouldn’t be safe,’ says Tor. ‘It’s cosyenough, and I gave her as many blankets and cushions as I could find.’
‘Can I see her?’ I interrupt, fearing another long tale.
‘You do that. I can’t visit myself as the planks the builders have left are quite unstable. Wellies outside in the welly-hut – help yourself.’
Chapter16Accomplice
I find a pair of wellies in a small knee-high shed that looks like an Icelandic troll house. I pull them on and wander up the garden path, through patios and arbours, and across wooden planks that criss-cross six long trenches. The studio is usually reserved for relatives that Tor doesn’t like, and has one double bedroom and a small ensuite. It is quite idyllic, sitting alone under the leafless trees.
‘Cait, darling, how are you?’ I say, pushing the door open.
She is sitting on the edge of a camp bed. She shushes me and points to the red-haired twins who are fast asleep on the double bed.
I lean down and hug her shoulder, hoping it creates a sense of camaraderie, but she doesn’t smile.
‘How are you keeping?’ I whisper.
‘Not so good as you’d expect.’
‘Do you want to come outside and talk?’
Cait puts on a pair of wellies and follows me to the large leafless beech tree.
‘Did you get my text last night?’ I touch her arm. I’m pulling out all the stops here, but she still pulls away.
‘I’ve been moving. I’ve not had time to reply.’
‘You must be exhausted. You had two big shocks yesterday – Owen’s texts and then the body. Anyone would feel stressed.’
‘It’s not good,’ she says firmly.
‘Well, positive news first. On the home front, I’ve cleaned things up and booked the decorators. Second, the man’s not even been missed. Nothing at all in the papers.’
‘An adult wouldn’t be counted as a missing person for some time,’ she says, flippantly.
‘No, but it does mean no one realizes he’s dead, which is good, right?’
‘What have you done with him?’ Cait chews her nails, which doesn’t help her look.
‘He’s safe and sound in the car. The boot, I mean.’ I decide not to tell her that I found out he was following me just yet, as she’d use it as further reason to tell the police.
‘Inyourcar?’ she says with a withering look. ‘So that’s now contaminated too. Well done, you.’
‘I’ve been scoping out potential disposal sites.’
