looking at the menu. ‘Have you spoken to him at all?’
‘Yes, yesterday, when I was scouring the road for you coming back from Castle Wells. He walked past the house and we got chatting. Apparently, his wife left him just before they were due to move in.’
‘Where was he going?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You said he walked past the house.’
‘Yes, he was going up to his. He must have been
for a walk. I said we’d have him round for dinner one evening.’
My heart thumps. ‘What did he say?’
‘That he’d love to. That’s all right, isn’t it?’
I look down at my menu, pretending to study it. ‘As long as he’s not the murderer.’
Matthew bursts out laughing. ‘You are joking, aren’t you?’
‘Of course.’ I force a smile. ‘So, what’s he like?’
‘He seemed nice enough.’
‘How old?’
‘I don’t know – early sixties, I suppose.’
‘He didn’t seem that old when I saw him.’
‘He’s a retired pilot. They probably have to keep
themselves in good shape.’
‘Did you ask him why he’s always standing outside
our house?’
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‘No, because I didn’t know he was. But he did tell
me that he thought it was beautiful so maybe he’s been admiring it.’ He looks at me, a frown on his face. ‘Is he always standing outside our house?’
‘I’ve seen him there a couple of times.’
‘Not an arrestable offence,’ he says, as if he’s guessed where I’m going with my questions and is warning me off.
‘I didn’t say it was.’
He gives me an encouraging smile. ‘Let’s choose what we’re going to eat, shall we?’
I want to point out to him that a nice enough, retired pilot in his early sixties could still be a murderer but I know he won’t go there, let alone tell the police.
SATURDAY AUGUST 15th
The sharp slam of the post arriving vibrates through the house as we’re having breakfast. Matthew stands, a piece of buttered toast hanging halfway out of his mouth and walks into the hallway, coming back moments later with a couple of letters and a small package.
‘Here,’ he says, handing it to me. ‘It’s for you.’
I eye it apprehensively. Yesterday, the letter had been from Alex but there’s little chance the package is from him. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know.’ He studies the plain white packaging.
‘Something you ordered?’
‘I didn’t order anything.’ Nervously, I put it on the kitchen table, almost scared to touch it. Could it have been sent by my silent caller?
‘Are you sure?’ Matthew puts his hand on my shoulder.
‘Positive.’
‘Do you want me to open it?’
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‘No, it’s all right,’ I say hastily. Even though I could easily rip it open, I pick it up and carry it through to the study. Taking a pair of scissors from the drawer, I snip through the envelope. Inside, there’s a small box.
I take it out and ease open the lid, my heart pounding.
A pair of exquisite silver earrings sit on a black velvet cushion and, recognising them, relief washes over me.
‘Very nice,’ Matthew says, peering over my shoulder.
I hadn’t heard him follow me through. ‘They’re for
Rachel,’ I tell him, closing the box. ‘I didn’t expect them to come so quickly.’
‘For her birthday?’
I think of the cottage on the Ile de Ré. ‘Yes,’ I say.
He leaves to mow the lawn. I slip the earrings into a drawer, and stand for a moment looking out of the study window, looking across the road to the field opposite. I used to feel so safe here, as if nothing could ever touch us.
The house phone rings. I freeze, then remember it’s the weekend. My silent caller has never called on a Saturday before. Even so, I let the answering machine pick up the call. It’s Mary, wondering if I got the various messages she left me about the Inset day. My heart drops.
The holidays are going to end soon and I still haven’t done the work I was supposed to have done. She carries on talking and jokingly adds that she hopes I haven’t lost my mobile because she’s also sent quite a few text messages.
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After Mary ends her message, the telephone rings again
almost immediately. I check the number, wondering if Mary is going to become as persistent as my silent caller.
But it’s Rachel, so I pick up.
‘Hi,’ I say brightly.
‘So, how are you?’
Going mad, I want to tell her. ‘Busy preparing lessons,’
I say instead.
‘Any more calls?’
‘No, not recently,’ I lie. ‘What about you? How’s
Siena?’
‘Beautiful. I’m having great fun, despite Alfie.’ Her throaty laugh comes down the line. ‘I can’t wait to tell you all about him but we’re just about to go out.’
‘No wedding bells then?’ I ask, amused.
‘Definitely not. Anyway, you know me, I’m not
the marrying kind. Why don’t we meet for lunch the