Death and the Dutiful Daughter by Anne Morice

Author:Anne Morice
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2021-02-26T16:00:00+00:00

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(i)

Hopes of my blackmail being a hundred per cent successful were severely dashed when I parked the car in the Rectory drive and looked in vain for a venerable green Mercedes.

‘Toby hasn’t turned up?’ I asked Betsy. I had met her coming from the kitchen garden with a trugful of lettuces and we were walking up to the Stables together.

‘No, but he’s on his way. He telephoned to say he’d be a little late. I’m glad really, because I’ve got something rather horrid to tell you. Oh, don’t look frightened, my pet. I shouldn’t have said that, because it’s nothing like the really horrid things that have been happening. Just a little disturbing and unpleasant.’

‘And, by a strange coincidence, I have something to tell you. Who’s going to begin?’

We had arrived at the long, single-storey brick-and-flint building which now formed the elegant Craig residence and Jasper came out of it, heavily slung about with cameras and tripods. He gave me a smart tap on the behind, tweaked Betsy’s hair and strode off towards the river, looking highly delighted with himself.

‘Dear old Jas,’ Betsy said, gazing fondly after him. ‘He does so revel in this weather.’

‘Name one who doesn’t.’

‘I mean for his work, my dearie. Just look at that sky! Perfect shooting weather. He hates to lose a minute of it and this is the first real opportunity he’s had to get out there since the day Mamma died.’

‘He’s surely not planning to set up anything before lunch?’

‘Gracious, no. Once he makes a start, he’ll be gone for hours. No, he’s just loading up the punt with all his gear, so as to be off the minute lunch is over. Let’s sit out of doors, shall we? It’s so heavenly.’

The stable yard had been turned into a garden, with lawns and rose beds. There was an old clock tower at one end of this quadrangle and a fig tree in the opposite corner. Altogether an ideal place in which to while away half an hour on Sunday morning and I assented gladly.

‘That’s right, my pet, and we’ll have a nice, cold glass of wine. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Could you bring a few chairs out for me? I did ask Jasper to, but, poor love, he can’t think of anything except work in weather like this.’

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