Emma Page - Hard Evidence

The food was as delicious as Iris had promised. Julie chatted in an entertaining fashion, scarcely ever, Lambert noticed, saying anything very personal about herself. He managed to gather that she was living on the outskirts of Millbourne, she had a job in the town, and that was about all. He asked about her job but she made a face, implying it was of little interest. ‘Is it so dull?’ he pursued. But she would only say: ‘It’s certainly not what anyone could call exciting. I’ll be back at work on Monday morning. I’d just as soon forget the job till then.’ He asked no more personal questions.

When Iris brought the coffee Julie said to her: ‘I wouldn’t at all mind coming back here for a longer break, say a week or two, quite soon. Do you think that would be possible?’

‘I think you’d be all right,’ Iris told her. ‘It’s still pretty early in the season. It would be a different story if it was July or August. And two of the residents are leaving soon. Miss Hammond’s off to her cottage in the next week or two and Mrs Passmore’s going to join an old friend who’s been widowed – they’re going to try sharing her house together, to see if it works out. I should think it would, Mrs Passmore’s easy to get along with.’

She caught Lambert’s quick glance at the nearby table where Mrs Passmore sat over her coffee and liqueur, selecting a chocolate from an expensive-looking box in front of her. ‘You needn’t worry,’ Iris assured him. ‘She won’t hear us talking about her. She’s pretty deaf, though she’d never admit it. You have to face her straight on and talk quite loudly if you want her to hear. She’ll have to come round to wearing a hearing aid sooner or later but she’s putting it off as long as possible.’ She grinned. ‘You’d think folk would have got beyond vanity at her age but it seems they don’t. Take that hair of hers. Looks well, doesn’t it? That’s a wig. Funnily enough, she doesn’t make any secret of that. Wigs are quite a hobby of hers, she has half a dozen in different styles and colours, they cost a fortune.’ She turned to go. ‘Yes, I’m sure you’ll be all right,’ she added to Julie. ‘Give them a ring as soon as you’ve settled on a date. I’m sure they’ll be able to fit you in.’

As they were finishing their coffee Lambert saw Miss Hammond push back her chair and walk across to Mrs Passmore’s table. Mrs Passmore looked up at her, watching her lips; Miss Hammond spoke slowly and clearly. ‘I’m going over to the cottage this afternoon; I’m leaving in a few minutes. I wondered if you’d like to come with me and take a look round, see what you think of it. I’m sure you’d find it interesting and you may have some ideas about improvements.’ Her voice took on a cajoling tone. ‘It’s a beautiful afternoon. I’ll be sure to bring you back here in time for tea.’

‘It’s very kind of you, Olive.’ Mrs Passmore’s voice already held a refusal and Miss Hammond’s face drooped. ‘But I’m playing bridge this afternoon, I’m being collected at half past two.’ She didn’t offer Miss Hammond a chocolate. ‘Some other time, perhaps,’ she added in a tone that didn’t promise much. She picked up her coffee cup and drank from it in a manner that spoke unmistakably of dismissal.

Miss Hammond gave a resigned nod. She wore a faintly dejected look as she left the dining room. ‘Poor dear,’ Julie said lightly. ‘She didn’t even get to show Mrs Passmore her new shoes.’

Lambert looked at his watch. ‘Time I was moving.’ As they came out into the hall he said, ‘I enjoyed our lunch. I hope you have a pleasant weekend.’

Julie smiled. ‘It was very kind of you to help me with the car.’ She slid him a beseeching little look, open, unguarded. ‘Will I be seeing you again?’

For a moment he was tempted; for a moment he felt himself a green lad again, her own age. But common sense at once brushed aside the thought. Whatever he was currently in the market for, it very definitely wasn’t for naive, immature young girls, however winning their ways, however pretty their clouds of hair.

By way of reply he made a noncommittal sound. He consulted his watch again with deliberate openness and gave her an impersonal smile that very distinctly said goodbye.

Her beseeching look fell away. She smiled brightly back at him, raised a hand in a departing wave and turned to go upstairs to her room.

She had got the message.

Lambert came down the hotel steps and set off for the car park. A short distance in front of him he saw the stocky, chalk-striped figure of Miss Olive Hammond, walking briskly in the same direction.

Miss Hammond’s car, a Volkswagen Beetle, was parked a few yards from his. ‘A glorious afternoon,’ she called across as he halted to fish in his pockets for his keys. She looked pleased to see him. ‘I’m making the most of this weather; I’m going to do some gardening at the cottage I’ve bought.’

She suddenly walked swiftly over to Lambert’s car and positioned herself strategically in front of the driver’s door. ‘I’m moving into the cottage very soon,’ she continued in a rush. ‘I’ve been going over there, making a start on the garden. It’s quite a wilderness, the place has been empty for years.’

Lambert had by now found his keys. He went up to his car but Miss Hammond showed no sign of budging. She went rattling on. ‘It’s an old cottage, Victorian. It was modernized – after a fashion – back in the year dot. A lot of people would be put off by the state it’s in but I know it will be very attractive when I’ve finished with it. I’m looking forward to it all tremendously. I’ve never owned a property before.’

‘I’ve never owned one at all,’ Lambert said.

‘I’m going to see about plans for an extension. Then there’ll be all the repairs and improvements, it’s going to be very exciting.’ She pulled a face. ‘You’d be astonished at how much it’s all going to cost. I know I was. It’s only when you actually get down to it that you realize what prices are these days.’

Lambert mustered his patience as best he could. ‘I dare say you can get it added on to your mortgage,’ he suggested.

She waved a dismissive hand. ‘Mortgages are not for me. I wouldn’t want to be saddled with one at my time of life. Cash on the nail, that’s the only thing at my age. I won’t be taking a holiday this year, I’m devoting all my time to the place.’ She jerked her head. ‘I’ve started going to salerooms and auctions. I’ve bought a few odds and ends, just the bare minimum to start with. I’ve got them in store, ready to move in. I want to get old furniture as far as I can – not real antiques, of course, they cost the earth, but you’d be surprised what nice little cottagey pieces you can still pick up cheap. I’ve been reading up about old houses, old furniture, the different styles and periods.’ She grinned. ‘They’re getting to know me at the public library.’

Lambert tossed his keys into the air and caught them again. Olive ignored the hint. ‘Are you fond of gardening?’ she asked.

He tossed the keys again. ‘I can take it or leave it.’

‘I’ve had a look round the garden centres and shops but the plants and shrubs cost a small fortune. But I’ve thought of a way of getting round that.’ She made a pleased little face. ‘I intend cadging cuttings and plants from Luke Marchant. I can slip him a few bob – much cheaper than buying them.’ She raised a cautionary finger. ‘Mum’s the word, of course. No need for His Nibs to know anything about it.’

Lambert’s patience came suddenly to an end. ‘I must be getting along,’ he told her brusquely.

Still she stood immovable. ‘I’m going to be all alone at the cottage after I move in. It’ll be quite a change, after living in a hotel for the last four years.’ She looked up at him. ‘It’s going to feel very strange.’