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.’
‘You should get yourself a pet. A dog. Or a cat. Very good company.’
She shook her head at once. ‘They’d take too much looking after.’
‘A bird, then.’
‘A bird,’ she echoed on a note of lively interest.
‘Get a budgie,’ he suggested. ‘Teach it to talk.’
She smiled. ‘I might just do that.’
He took a step forward. ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’ He gestured at the car door. ‘I really must be off.’
She moved reluctantly aside. As soon as he had got in and closed the door she stooped and rapped on the window. He wound it partway down. She seized hold of the top of the glass and stuck her face in at the opening. ‘You’ll have to come over and see the cottage. You and your young lady.’
Lambert switched on the engine. ‘She’s not my young lady. I just happened to come across her today. I won’t be seeing her again.’
‘Then come by yourself. Any time you’re in the neighbourhood, do call in. The cottage isn’t on the phone yet but no matter about that, you can just drop in, take me as you find me. I can give you a cup of tea – something stronger, if you like. I can always rustle you up a meal.’
‘Very kind of you.’ He managed a smile of sorts. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’
She began to rattle out hasty directions for finding the cottage. He made to start winding the window up again and she was forced to withdraw. She was still calling after him as he pulled out without further ceremony. He was off and away, down the drive, out through the gates, heading for Cannonbridge.
All at once the day took on a totally different complexion. In no time at all he would find himself giving the chief inspector an account of his wasted morning. Not a prospect he relished.
Before he had put a couple of miles behind him all thought of Olive Hammond and her cottage had gone from his mind.
The cuckoo had barely uttered his first hollow notes when the spring weather turned abruptly fickle, with gusts of rain, showers of sleet and hail, followed by a succession of grey, damp days, giving way all at once to another spell of cloudless skies and warm breezes. Horse chestnuts blossomed white and pink along the avenues, lilac and laburnum bloomed in suburban gardens, hanging baskets of lobelia and
