‘No, she’s at the hairdresser’s and she’s meeting her friend Letty for lunch. She won’t be back until after three.’
‘Good, we might have another clue for her to solve by then,’ said Tamar.
From further inside the barn, Gulliver called to his mother and Tabitha felt a rush of unease. She had not spoken to him since his muttered apology on the phone, and she was unsure how to behave around him. Their once easy friendship had fractured, and as they approached, she decided she wouldfollow his lead. Actions were often the easiest way for people to demonstrate their true feelings, and should Gulliver offer a tentative smile, joke or other endearment, she would respond. She did not believe in bearing grudges.
‘We think the clue must mean the magpies in the broken case,’ Molly said as they reached the doorway. ‘Nothing else fits, although Gull wasn’t sure about the whistle.’
‘What did you think of the style of the clue?’ asked Tamar.
‘Very gothic,’ replied Molly. ‘Gulliver said it was creepy.’
‘The words were carefully chosen,’ said Tabitha and, despite the heat of the day, she shivered. ‘It felt like a curse.’
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Molly.
‘“Blowing the whistle summons danger”,’ said Tabitha. ‘This clue is darker, it has a warning hidden within the words.’
Molly looked uneasy and they all jumped when Tamar’s phone rang; with apologies, she wandered away to take the call.
Gulliver appeared in the doorway, he raised a hand and gave Tabitha the ghost of a smile, ‘Tabs, could you give me a hand?’ he called and disappeared into the gloomy interior again.
‘I’ll be there in a moment,’ said Molly and gave her an encouraging smile.
Tabitha was about to protest, then remembered her promise to herself:follow his lead. He had used the shortened version of her name, it held an intimacy, and his summons halted further discussion about the clue. Tabitha’s night had been punctuated by flickering and intense dreams; the words of the clue had swirled like a murmuration of starlings around terrifying giant wading birds, who picked their way through rivers running thick with blood. The shrill call of a whistle, merging into a bird’s screech, followed by an ethereal and desperate cry for help.
The barn was stifling, its two small windows were thick with grime and the light filtering through them held a murky quality.Gulliver was at the back, shifting a chest of drawers, his grey T-shirt clung to the muscles of his arms and back.
‘Hang on,’ Tabitha called, hurrying forward to help as she saw the corner of the chest snag on a tumble of abandoned fabric. She knelt, tugging free a length of faded blue curtain. It tore in her hands.
‘Sorry…’
‘Throw it on the pile,’ he said, exasperated but not unkind. ‘Half of this so-called “salvage” is rubbish. I’m hiring a skip.’
‘Won’t Edith mind?’
‘She hasn’t been in here for years. She won’t even know.’
‘What if there are answers to more clues?’ asked Tabitha.
‘Unlikely,’ said Gulliver. ‘You don’t believe the story of the clues leading to the long-lost Chaucer?’
‘They might do,’ she said, ‘and for Edith’s sake, I live in hope.’
‘I hope so too, which is why I agreed to Mum’s request to find the hideous taxidermy magpies. But I think you’re all wrong.’
‘I’ve been through the records, there’s nothing else with a magpie listed,’ said Tabitha.
‘It doesn’t follow the pattern,’ snapped Gulliver with a burst of irritation. ‘The other clues have been parts of the house?—’
‘No, they haven’t,’ she interrupted. ‘The first was a painting, which is why I was so surprised when I realised it was still in situ. It could easily have been removed and the second clue lost. The next clue was part of the house, but this one is another artefact, it does follow a bit of a pattern.’
‘I suppose,’ he agreed, but his tone was reluctant.
‘Let’s find it, shall we,’ she said before he could continue his argument, ‘and decide when it’s in front of us.’
He did not reply, instead he moved behind the chest of drawers.
‘Help me to shove this out of the way,’ he said.
