He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn when he’d shared his stew with us—brown rain jacket, blue sweater, brown corduroy trousers tucked into black Wellington boots—and he’d leaned his bicycle against the side of the motor home. His bright blue eyes were somber, almost melancholy, when we emerged from the gap in the trees, but when he spotted us, they lit instantly with the same glimmer of amusement they’d held when I’d slithered down the hill into Gypsy Hollow.
“Well, isn’t this nice?” he said. “My old mates Lori and Kit, come to welcome me home.” He rested the stick against the arm of the chair and got to his feet. “I’ll fetch the stools and a couple of cups. We’ll make a party of it.”
October’s chill had returned at sundown, so it felt good to sit near the fire and sip the hot, sweet tea Leo brought for us from the motor home. When he’d used the word “party,” I’d remembered the police report and wondered what kind of drinks he’d serve. I’d been faintly relieved to discover that he’d filled our cups with nothing stronger than tea, cream, and sugar. The same notion must have crossed Kit’s mind, because I saw him sniff his tea surreptitiously before sampling it.
“Drink up,” said Leo. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” He stirred the fire with the long stick, then leaned back in his chair and surveyed us amiably. “What’ve you two been up to while I’ve been away?”
Aunt Dimity: Vampire Hunter
189
“We’ve been worrying about you,” I replied frankly. “I don’t mean to pry into your private business, Leo, but where in the heck have you been for the past two days?”
Leo slapped his thigh and roared with laughter. “A funny way you have of minding your own business, Lori.”
“Lori wasn’t the only one who was worried,” Kit chimed in loyally. “We were both afraid that you might have had an accident.
The weather was pretty rough for cycling.”
“True enough,” Leo acknowledged agreeably. “It was pretty rough for hunkering down in an old tin can, too. The caravan can get a bit gloomy on wet days, so I cycled to the Oxford Road, hitched a lift into town, and spent the weekend in more cheerful surroundings.”
He jutted his chin toward the bicycle. “Shredded a tire on the way back, though, so I won’t be cycling again anytime soon.”
I asked myself what kind of accommodation Leo could possibly afford in a pricey place like Oxford and thought immediately of St. Benedict’s, a homeless shelter in which Kit had stayed when he’d been down on his luck. I’d volunteered to work at St. Benedict’s often enough to know that the place was clean, warm, and safe, but I wouldn’t have described it as cheerful. Then again, I admitted silently, I wasn’t Leo. St. Benedict’s might have seemed like a five-star hotel to him, compared to the “tin can” he’d driven to Gypsy Hollow.
“Sorry if I gave you a fright,” he added. “An old bush ranger like me is used to coming and going as he pleases. It never dawned on me that you might miss me—but I’m touched that you did.”
“You should have come to the manor house,” said Kit. “The Harrises have lots of spare rooms.”
“Kind of you, Kit,” said Leo, “but your bosses wouldn’t want a stranger pottering round their house.”
“I don’t think you are a stranger to Anscombe Manor,” Kit said slowly. “I think you stayed there a long time ago, in your younger days, when you got to know Gypsy Hollow and High Point and the Upper Deeping Fair.”
190 Nancy Atherton
Leo bent forward to stir the fire again. “Been checking up on me, Kit?”
“Not intentionally,” Kit replied. “I was looking through some old newspapers when I ran across the name Leo Sutherland.”
“You found the police report,” Leo said quietly, still toying with the fi re.
“Yes,” said Kit.
A vagrant raindrop slid from an overhanging branch onto the awning. Ham, Nell’s Labrador retriever, barked once in the distance, then fell silent. Leo rested his elbows on his knees and clasped the stick loosely in his hands, but his gaze never left the fi re.
“It was the only time my name got into the paper,” he said.
“Your father buried all the other stories. He had a lot of clout in the county. Well, he was a war hero with a knighthood to his name, and he had a bucket of cash to throw around. It stands to reason that people did what he told them to do. And he told them straight out to bury every stupid, careless thing I did. He didn’t want the world to know that his brother-in-law was nothing but trouble.”
Kit inhaled sharply. “Then you’re my—”
“I knew it the minute I laid eyes on you,” Leo broke in, still talking to the fi re. “You’ve got Amy’s mouth, her eyes. She called you Kit straight off, said it was less of a mouthful than Christopher. She adored you, Kit, and she was fairly fond of me, though I don’t know why. No brother ever gave his sister more hell than I did. Yes, Kit.”
Leo pursed his lip and nodded. “Your mother was my sister. I’m sorry to say it, but I’m your uncle.”