newsletters, which she deleted unread. Offer of £5 off if she took a train to London before the end of October. And an enthusiastic email from Elton about a property they were completing on in Wimbledon, The sort of thing you could so go to town on, rejigging the space for best effect and greatest profit.
The thought that she’d yet to tell Elton how spectacularly pear-shaped her project had gone made her feel queasy. Unless, she thought, regarding her now empty glass, that was due to pouring one-third of a bottle of wine into a stomach that had scarcely seen food today. She caught Janice’s eye and ordered cottage pie. And another glass of wine.
While she waited, she googled Shane Edmunds and Timothy O’Neill. If the police national computer hadn’t thrown anything up then her Internet search wasn’t likely to, but she had to try something. Predictably, all she dug up was their social media accounts, presumably as phoney as they were, and social media accounts of different Shane Edmundses and Timothy O’Neills.
Her dinner arrived and she felt better for eating it. She was just deliberating between another glass of wine or a more sensible cup of coffee when a man she didn’t know strode into the pub and came to stand just around the corner of the bar. Tubb had replaced Janice as server and he ambled over to hover expectantly.
‘I’m hoping you can help me,’ the man began loudly. ‘I’m looking for someone called Benedict Hardaker. Ben.’
Alexia gave him a second look. The man had thin sandy hair and a forehead that looked as if it saw a lot of frowns.
Tubb shrugged. ‘Sorry, mate. Don’t think I know him.’
The man’s frown dug deeper furrows. ‘He might be staying with his uncle. Gabe Piercy.’
Tubb gave his odd smile, the corners of his mouth turning down instead of up. ‘I know Gabe. Not been in here tonight, though.’
‘He’s not at home either. Neither he nor Ben seem to have been answering their phones lately.’
Tubb looked sympathetic. ‘Bad signal round here sometimes.’
‘Right.’ The man’s cheeks were mottled red. ‘Perhaps if you do see Gabe you could give him a message to pass on to Ben? It’s very important that Ben sees his brother. Tell him Imogen really needs his help, too. Oh, and we’d actually appreciate knowing that Ben’s OK.’
Tubb began to move off to serve a customer. ‘If I see Gabe I’ll try and remember the gist.’ He didn’t look as if he’d try very hard. Probably the man ought to have at least bought a drink before demanding favours.
Alexia pinned her gaze to her phone screen. Should she speak up and say that Ben was fine – if you didn’t count being moody and changeable? But Ben might be hiding out in the woods for a reason.
On the other hand … the messages had sounded as if they could be important.
The ‘buts’ continued to circulate in her mind while the man drummed his fingers on the counter then turned and left.
Tubb paused in front of Alexia on his way to the till. ‘Have you seen Gabe today?’
She nodded. ‘Think he was going out this evening.’ He’d been going to see Christopher – they’d taken one awkward interview each: him Christopher, her Jodie – so maybe he was still there.
‘Gabe’s nephew is the wizard in the woods, isn’t he?’
Alexia nodded, unsurprised. Tubb knew a great deal about the village and everyone in it.
Tubb grunted and went to the till, frowning. Alexia had known Tubb since she was a child being brought into the beer garden for lemonade and crisps on a summer’s afternoon. Despite his often dour façade he had a code so far as his pub was concerned. It was the village’s oasis and people deserved to be able to relax there unhounded. Ben was a prospective customer by virtue of having chosen to live in Middledip, even if on its very edges, whereas the man asking after him was an outsider.
In following the possible workings of his mind, Alexia found herself making a decision. ‘I’ll make sure the nephew gets the message. I can ring Gabe.’
‘Thanks.’ Frown disappearing now that someone else was taking responsibility, Tubb moved on to another customer without even making the anticipated complaint about the Middledip Wrecking Party taking all his business last Saturday.
Alexia fished out her phone and dialled Gabe’s number, but the call went straight to voicemail. She sighed.
What now? Nobody would blame her for filing this under ‘not my business’ and simply passing the messages to Gabe tomorrow, but something about that solution didn’t sit well. She had a strong feeling Ben should be warned about the man looking for him. Maybe it was because the man had sounded closely connected with the family and Alexia remembered what Gabe had said about everyone who Ben loved letting him down.
Also … her conscience kept nudging her that her remark about the condom had been malicious and, from Ben’s expression, hurtful.
They were both aware that when she realised neither of them had a condom, she’d been so frustrated she could have screamed. Actually, she had screamed, just a tiny bit, and he’d laughed and applied himself to relieving her frustrations in ways for which no condom was required.
She glanced behind her to the window. Twilight. She sighed and gave up on the idea of coffee.
If Ben was surprised to hear a knock on his door in the middle of the evening he was downright astounded to open it and find his caller to be Alexia Kennedy.
‘What an unexpected pleasure.’ He was aware of sounding sarcastic but this afternoon’s interchange had stung.
‘I came to tell you something.’
He looked past her into the darkness. He hadn’t heard the approach of a car. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve walked here.’
‘OK. But I’ve had two large glasses of wine so I didn’t drive.’
It was hard not to notice how she hugged her thin jacket around herself. He took a tentative step back. ‘Do you want to come in to tell me?’
Equally as tentatively, she stepped inside.
As she seated herself in one of the armchairs he shook from his mind the image of the laughing, eyes-dancing Alexia lounging on the floor on Saturday evening, back propped against the same chair as she drank whisky. And, later, naked and glistening Alexia exploring his body with inquisitive hands.
Glad he’d already lit the fire in view of the way she extended her hands to it, he took the other chair. ‘What’s up?’
She wasted no time on small talk. ‘A man was looking for you at the pub. He said it’s important that your brother sees you, that Imogen needs your help, and that “we”, whoever that is, would like to know you’re all right. I decided that some of those messages might be important and as I don’t have your phone number I came over.’
‘Thank you for going to the trouble.’ Part of him wanted to consider why she had. Her collar, he noticed, bore small white polka dots, an unexpectedly frivolous detail of the same otherwise no-nonsense outfit he’d seen her in earlier.
She
