I broke the latch on the gate when I pushed it open.’
‘Scrumping and vandalism in one fell swoop,’ Amy said with a grin. ‘You’re a one-woman crime wave, Kay Lovell. The neighbourhood-watch coordinator will have to be informed. Oh, wait. You are the neighbourhood-watch coordinator—’
‘Oh, stop it,’ Kay said, unable to suppress her answering grin. Then, picking up the kettle, ‘Coffee?’
‘Please. Do you want me to send someone over to fix the gate?’
‘No, I can handle it. The bit that the bolt slides into had rusted away, that’s all. I’m sure I’ve got one in the shed.’
‘What’s it like in there?’
‘The shed? Do you want to do a landlady’s inspection now? I really should have some notice so that I can tidy up a bit…’
‘Linden Lodge.’
Yes, well, she knew that was what Amy meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it though.
‘It’s so mysterious behind those high walls,’ Amy prompted.
‘No, just overgrown,’ Kay said. ‘Polly sat down to make a Michaelmas-daisy chain while I cut back the brambles and she completely disappeared. Just for a minute I thought…’ She let it go. She didn’t want to remember how she’d felt in those few horrible seconds when Polly had failed to respond to her call. When all she could see was the open gate and a million hideous possibilities had rushed into her head…
‘You cut back the brambles?’ Amy asked, distracting her.
‘What? Oh, well, yes. They were strangling an espaliered peach. Poor thing.’ She concentrated on spooning coffee into the cafetière. ‘Don’t snigger, Amy.’
‘Me? Snigger? Perish the thought.’
‘Well, don’t smile, then. I know it was pathetic of me. I just can’t bear to see anything suffering.’ She stopped, turned away to take down a couple of mugs. She knew she didn’t have to explain. Amy never needed explanations. She just seemed to know. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I’ll drop a note through the letterbox tomorrow when I go and fix the gate. Just to explain.’
‘About cutting back the brambles to save the peach tree?’
‘About nicking the blackberries. For a good cause.’
‘There’s no one at home to care and ghosts don’t need explanations, Kay.’
Startled, she turned to look at her visitor. ‘Ghosts?’
‘You didn’t feel it? The garden always feels haunted to me whenever I walk past.’
‘No. It wasn’t creepy, just…sad.’
‘Maybe that’s what I meant.’
Kay didn’t think so. She hadn’t felt any ghosts there, but Amy was well known locally for her slightly fey qualities, her ability to feel more than most people could see.
‘A For Sale board went up on Friday. Did you know?’ she said, determined to change the subject. She hadn’t felt anything beyond sadness, yet even now her skin was goosing. And she had to go back there to fix the gate.
‘I heard it was on the market. Such a pity.’
‘Did you know the people who lived there?’
‘The Ravenscars? Not well. We’d met at village events, of course—the fête, a fundraiser for the hall, that sort of thing—but I was busy with the children. I had Mark that year and I was still establishing the business. They were younger, hadn’t been married more than a year or two and were still more interested in each other than anyone else. They came to the harvest supper, though. I remember Sara Ravenscar was thrilled at the way the whole village comes together for that. She’d have approved of you having the blackberries.’ Then, ‘Her death was such a tragedy.’
‘I heard she died from tetanus poisoning. Is that true?’
‘Well there were complications, but can you believe it in this day and age! Apparently her parents didn’t believe in any kind of vaccination and, like most enthusiastic gardeners, she couldn’t keep a pair of gloves on.’ Then, ‘After she died Dominic went overseas. I heard he was working on some kind of aid programme.’
‘I’m surprised he didn’t sell the house, or let it. Rather than let it stand empty. Whoever buys it will need to put in a lot of work and not just in the garden. The paintwork is in a very poor state.’
‘Maybe he couldn’t bear to let it go so soon. Then I suppose coming back seemed even worse so he shut it out. Now he’s like a needle stuck in an old gramophone record, unable to move on.’
Kay gave a little shiver, as if a goose had walked over her grave. ‘Well, he’s put it on the market now. That’s movement of a sort.’
‘Maybe. I hope so.’
‘Yes, well, I’ll take the wheelbarrow and clear up the stuff I chopped down when I fix the gate. Maybe I should approach the agents and see if they want the garden properly tidied up. I’ve rather let my own business slide while Polly has been off school for the summer.’
Amy looked as if she was about to say something, but when she hesitated and Kay raised her brows she just said, ‘Bearing in mind what happened to Sara Ravenscar, make sure you wear gloves. Have you put something on those scratches?’
‘Tea-tree oil.’ She glanced at her hand where the sharp thorns had caught her when one of the brambles had whipped back suddenly. ‘The minute I got home. And my shots are up-to-date.’
‘Good.’ Then, as a pyjama-clad Polly hurtled into the room, Amy turned to scoop her up into her arms. ‘Hey, sweetheart! Just the girl I wanted to see. Can your mummy spare you tomorrow?’
Polly, who knew when a treat was being offered, still hesitated. ‘Tomorrow?’
‘All day. We’re taking the boys to the sea and Mark really, really wants you to come too.’
Her eyes went round. ‘Oh, wicked!’ Then, ‘But I’ve promised to help Mummy make the pies…’
‘I think I can manage,’ Kay assured her, trying hard to ignore the stab of annoyance that Amy had left her with no real choice. ‘If Amy can,’ she added. ‘Are you quite sure you can cope?’
‘Absolutely. Four children works better than three. Jake can do adventurous things with George and James and I get to have fun rootling around the rock pools with the little ones.’
And the unspoken message that she needed to let Polly go sometimes, that being quite so protective was not good for either of them, came across loud and clear.
‘Well, in that case, how can I resist? I hope you all have a lovely day.’
‘Did you see how many blackberries we picked, Amy?’ Polly demanded, snapping the tension that stretched between them. ‘And I made a purple daisy chain, too.’
‘Purple?
