Echoes in the Cotswolds by Rebecca Tope

Author:Rebecca Tope
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2021-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

‘I was told you might know something about my boyfriend and how he died,’ came the stark assertion, with no preamble. ‘I’ve just had a word with his father, and that’s what he told me.’ She bent down to pat the spaniel as if they were old friends.

‘He told you wrong,’ said Thea angrily. ‘And he knows that perfectly well.’ She made no pretence of not knowing who the boyfriend was.

‘Well, can I talk to you anyway? My name’s Vicky, by the way. I’ve got nothing else to do, and nobody wants me around.’

Thea gave her a searching look. Early twenties, thin, bad skin, straggly hair – the epitome of a drug addict, in Thea’s limited experience. ‘This isn’t my house, you know. I can’t just invite any strange person in.’ The thought had occurred to her that this Vicky was highly likely to pocket a valuable ornament, and insist on eating something from Lucy’s store cupboard. She did look hungry. And she upended all Thea’s latest notions about Ollie and drugs.

‘I’m not strange. Lucy knows me well enough. She wouldn’t mind me being here.’

‘I don’t know that I can just take your word for it, though, can I? I’m always getting into trouble through letting people into houses.’ She thought back to her days in Barnsley, near Bibury, and the awful consequences of letting a woman into a house that was not hers.

‘I’ve heard stories about you,’ said the girl. ‘You’re always in the news.’

‘Not lately,’ Thea defended herself. Not this time, she promised herself. Which led to a realisation that by now there would be quite a lot of coverage of the Northleach murder, with quite possibly a mention of Ms Thea Osborne, also known as Slocombe, who so often found herself involved in such episodes. To her knowledge, no journalistic person had observed her presence, but that was no guarantee. When this Vicky person had gone, she would have to check.

‘Look – I’ve been standing here long enough for the neighbours to notice me. That’s my car, which someone will probably recognise. I’m fairly well known around here, as it happens. If I meant to do anything illegal, I’d never get away with it, would I?’

‘Okay,’ said Thea, regretting that many of her thoughts must have been clear on her face. ‘Come on, then.’ After all, she had brought Faith from next door in already. Why not make it open house and stop fretting?

‘I suppose this is all very familiar to you,’ said the visitor when they were settled in the living room. ‘People trying to get to grips with a death, I mean. Your husband’s an undertaker, isn’t he?’

‘That’s right. Although—’

‘I know,’ Vicky interrupted. ‘I don’t seem very distraught. I can still string sentences together and drive a car.’

‘Except you haven’t brushed your hair,’ said Thea. ‘And those clothes look a bit grubby. And nearly every bereaved person can still drive – including Kevin Sinclair.’

Vicky emitted a great peal of laughter, close to hysteria. ‘Well said! I’m a lot more of a mess than I think, obviously.

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