‘Pam, yes, of course. So are you settling in all right?’
‘Not bad. Having problems with the people who’re putting in our bloody kitchen, mind.’
‘Ah.’
The older man did not feign interest in the problems of kitchen-fitting. Carole suddenly identified the strange tension in his manner. It was excitement. Graham had news to impart. And he was waiting his moment, timing the revelation for when it would have maximum impact.
He took a long sip from his drink, made sure that Will had turned back from putting his money in the till and decided that the moment had come. Anyone see the police cars?’ he began casually.
‘I’ve been in here all day,’ the manager replied. ‘Bloody paperwork.’
Graham looked at Nick, who gave a curt shake of his head.
‘I saw one at the end of the lane,’ said Freddie, ‘when I was on my way back from the station. Presumably they wait there to catch the poor buggers who’ve had a skinful in London and shouldn’t be driving home.’
‘That’s not why they’re there today.’
‘Oh?’
‘A rather nasty discovery has been made on Phil Ayling’s land.’
Carole tensed. Surely he couldn’t be talking about what she had found. It was too soon after the event. And the police wouldn’t be volunteering information on the subject.
Graham Forbes played the scene at his own pace. He waited for a prompt of ‘What?’ from Will Maples before continuing. ‘In South Welling Barn it was.’
Nick had his back to her and she couldn’t see any reaction from him, but Carole was quick enough to catch a momentary narrowing of the manager’s eyes. He seemed over-casual as he asked, ‘What’s been found then, Graham?’
‘Bones. Human bones.’ There was silence in the pub. Graham Forbes didn’t need any prompts now. He had their full attention. ‘A complete set,’ he said lightly. ‘That’s why the police are here. Any number of them over at the barn. Lights, photographers, the whole shooting match.’
‘But . . .’ Will Maples licked his lips as if to moisten them. ‘Have they any idea whose bones they are?’
Graham Forbes let out a dry laugh. ‘Give them time. I know your chum Lennie Baylis is a bright boy, but I don’t think even he could provide a complete life history from one look at a skeleton.’
‘No.’Thelandlordchuckled,buthedidn’tsoundamused. ‘I wonder where they’ll start their investigations . . .’
‘You don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to work that out. Presumably they’ll start right here in Weldisham. Check out whether anyone’s gone missing from the village recently.’
Will Maples was thoughtful for a moment. Then he hazarded, ‘The Lutteridge girl?’
‘That’s a thought, Will.’ The old head nodded insecurely on its thin neck. ‘The Lutteridge girl.’
Chapter Four
‘Oh, I’ve met the Lutteridges,’ said Freddie, eager to be part of things. ‘Met them at a drinks party we were invited to first weekend we arrived. Miles and Gillie, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right.’ Graham Forbes’s manner towards the newcomer was diplomatically balanced. He was polite, but kept his distance.
‘So this is their daughter you’re talking about?’
‘Tamsin, yes.’
‘They didn’t mention her when we met.’
‘Probably wouldn’t have done. She’s hardly covered the family name with glory.’
‘Oh?’
‘Had a perfectly good job in London, working on some magazine or other, then chucked it just like that and came back to sponge off her parents.’
‘I heard she was ill,’ Will Maples interceded cautiously.
‘Ill?’
‘Some allergy or something.’
‘Allergic to hard work, if you ask me.’ Graham Forbes was clearly saddling up a hobbyhorse. ‘Trouble with kids these days, they’re cosseted. Cotton-woolled through school, subsidized by the state to laze around for three years at university. They don’t even read, you know, just waste their time on videos and computer games. Then after university they come out into the real world, and is it any wonder they can’t cope?
‘I think drugs have a lot to do with it too. In my young day, everyone drank themselves silly, but drugs were for the really depraved. Nowadays, the kids seem to think no more of taking drugs than blowing their noses. And it’s all over the place, you know, not just in the inner cities. Police stopped some kids in a car on the Weldisham Lane only a couple of weeks ago and found they were under the influence of drugs. God knows where they got them from.’
There was a silence. Will Maples looked studiously at the counter. If Graham Forbes was suggesting anyone had got drugs in the Hare and Hounds, it wasn’t an accusation he wished to discuss.
‘This is the Excuse Generation, you know. Whatever happens, whatever weaknesses of character kids show, there’s always some excuse, some psychological reason for it. Father didn’t show enough affection to them, mother showed too much affection to them, they’ve got an allergy.’ The word was marinated in contempt. ‘In my young day, we just got on with things.’
This statement, delivered with finality, seemed to require some endorsement. Carole couldn’t say anything, Nick clearly never said more than he had to. Will Maples still seemed to be working round his mental dial, finding the right cliché rejoinder, when Freddie came in with the necessary response.
‘Yes, you’re right, Graham. They’ve had it easy.’
‘You got children, Freddie?’
‘No. Pam and I . . . No, we haven’t . . .’ He seemed about to add something. ‘Sadly . . .’ Carole wondered. Or ‘Thank God’? It was hard to tell from Freddie’s manner.
Will Maples seemed over-casual as he asked, ‘You haven’t heard definitely that it was Tamsin’s body they found?’
‘Not body, Will. Bones.’
‘Comes to the same thing, doesn’t it? Either way, the person in question’s dead.’
‘True enough. No, no, obviously not been confirmed it’s anyone. Police have to do all their forensic stuff, off to the labs, what have you. But since you’ve mentioned Tamsin, I wonder . . . Could be right. She’s the only person in the village who’s gone missing recently.’
‘How long’s she been missing?’ asked Freddie, eager to make up lost ground on
