‘Oh good,’ said Speckle, looking relieved. ‘He doesn’t know of course, but it will only be a matter of days until the roots start to form. I thank goodness we shall not be here when he finds out.’
‘Did he tell you anything about the methods he thought he used to germinate them?’ asked Martha, an inquiring look in her eye.
Speckle guffawed. ‘The eyeballs? I would love to know who came up with that. I thought it was strange enough when your Frankie told me she was confident that dog hair would work.’ So, it was true, thought Thea. Even Speckle had been a suspect for Frankie.
‘Sadly, it didn’t work,’ said Thea, ‘but I thank you for keeping the information to yourself, Doctor Speckle.’
He bowed his head. ‘Discretion is part of my trade.’
Mrs Phibbs cleared her throat. ‘I am very sorry, but I shall have to get back to work. I have lemon curd to serve up.’
‘Shall we walk back for breakfast?’ asked Thea, thinking that at least they had all day to consider the growing conundrum of Fletcher and the eyeballs.
As Speckle held out his arm to Mrs Phibbs to escort her back, they watched the errant band of sheep squeeze through a tiny gap at the edge of the ha-ha.
‘Should we do something about that?’ asked Mrs Phibbs.
‘Maybe later,’ said Speckle, and they made their way up the hill.
On their way to the dining room Thea spied Harriet and Cecily on the terrace. Harriet sat on a bench, leaning back with her legs in a rather unladylike manner, and Cecily was fussing around her with a glass of water.
‘I’ll join you in a minute,’ said Thea to Martha and Speckle. ‘Go ahead to breakfast.’
‘Everything alright?’ she asked Cecily as she approached.
Cecily looked at her, almost panicked. ‘I don’t know what to do. I should know what to do as the hostess, but I don’t.’
‘Is she ill?’ asked Thea, peering at Harriet who was slumped on the seat and had an arm over her eyes.
‘The light,’ mumbled Harriet, and got up in search of some shade. ‘Oh god,’ she said, and then ran around the hedge. Thea and Cecily stood quietly as they listened to the sound of retching.
‘Ah,’ said Thea, as Harriet reappeared around the hedge. ‘The wine?’
Harriet groaned and sat back down. Cecily handed her the water and tapped her on the shoulder from a distance. ‘I am sure I drank a carafe to myself. You know it is always a difficult night when I am shut up with her.’
‘With me?’ asked Cecily, concerned.
‘Not you,’ said Thea, indicating that they should both sit down. ‘Harriet and Emma Fairclough have not always… agreed on all aspects of how a fulfilling life is to be lived.’ It was the best way she could think of to explain it. Harriet was clearly still in love with Emma. Emma was only concerned about her position and was becoming increasingly rude and dismissive in order to maintain it. And Harriet had challenged Emma over her conduct to Thea. It wasn’t surprising she had partaken of a little too much.
‘She wouldn’t even talk to me,’ said Harriet, slumped again and her arm back over her eyes.
‘Oh,’ said Cecily, looking relieved. ‘Should I fetch Mrs Fairclough to discuss it?’
‘No,’ said Harriet harshly.
‘Probably best to leave her be,’ said Thea. ‘We may be at your house, but I am afraid that all of polite society’s problems travel with it. The only thing that will fix Harriet is water and time.’
‘I wish I was more like you,’ said Cecily, fiddling with her fingers in a nervous way Thea hadn’t seen her do before. ‘You always have the answers and know what to do.’
Thea was so incredulous a snort almost escaped her. ‘That is absolutely not true.’
Cecily sat up and turned towards her. ‘But it really is. You have always seemed so together to me, and you are so accomplished in your studies, and you have principles and stand up for people, and your marriage is good, and you have children which I can’t have.’
Thea tried to digest everything that had just cantered out of Cecily in a constant stream. She was shocked at Cecily’s perception of her and she would return to that later, but for now, the thing that was obviously exercising Cecily needed exploration.
‘You can’t have children?’
Cecily shook her head. ‘Neville is desperate for them. He has tried so hard,’ she checked herself. ‘We have tried so hard, but to no avail. And it is me that is the problem.’
