Death in the Cotswolds by Rebecca Tope Read Free Book Online Page A

the Lodge gave rise to.
    ‘Why not just throw it away?’ I asked. ‘What do you care about upsetting some deluded little hypocrite? Isn’t that what you called them?’ I gave him an innocent smile. ‘Good phrase, that. Very memorable.’
    He shuddered. ‘I’ve still got them under my skin,even now,’ he admitted. ‘Thea doesn’t understand it, of course. How could she?’
    ‘You’ve been trying to explain it to her?’
    ‘All afternoon,’ he said. ‘Told her the whole story.’
    ‘Heavens!’
    He smiled ruefully. ‘Heavens indeed. Sun, moon and seven stars, you might say.’
    ‘I don’t know who the Masters in the local Lodge have been in the past few years,’ I told him, reverting to his initial request. ‘I try to ignore them these days, though it isn’t easy. Once you become aware of them, you can’t escape. Even Oliver Grover’s into it now, according to his Gran. She thinks it’s a sign that he’s got a great career ahead of him.’
    ‘Who’s Oliver Grover?’
    ‘Local accountant.’
    Phil snorted. ‘No surprise there, then,’ he said. ‘But I must say they’ve cleaned their act up a lot since all that trouble in the late Eighties. To the point where they hardly seem to matter any more.’
    ‘Damned by indifference,’ I said. ‘Poor things, they must really hate that.’
    ‘I doubt if they’ve noticed,’ said Phil.
    I hadn’t asked him to sit down or have a drink. He did not seem to notice that I had my chairs arranged in a circle, that there were candles and bowls of water and bundles of herbs on the table inthe middle of the room. I only had a few more minutes before I needed to get rid of him.
    ‘Why don’t you just chuck it all in the bin?’ I said, indicating the box.
    ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I know how much store they set by all these knick-knacks.’
    ‘Bibelots,’ I said, using a word I’d always loved.
    ‘Gewgaws,’ he contributed, playing along. For a policeman, his vocabulary wasn’t bad at all.
    But it couldn’t last. ‘Phil – I’ve got some people coming,’ I said. ‘Don’t leave that stuff here, whatever you do. Somebody’s sure to sniff it out. Let me have a think about it and I’ll come over in the morning and we can talk about it then.’
    He went willingly enough back to his girlfriend. On the way to the front door, I saw him pause at his car, open the tailgate and dump the box of Masonic trinkets inside. What did he plan to do with it, I wondered.
    It was bound to be an irritant to them, the mystery of the attic, when all they wanted was to be left in peace. They wanted time together, away from the unpleasantnesses of his work, or the strangeness of human behaviour.
    I didn’t blame them. It didn’t matter to me. I no longer yearned for Phil’s attentions. On balance, I wanted him to be happy. The woman seemed harmless, apart from her deplorable dog. I couldn’t stop them selling Greenhaven, much as I might liketo. Not only would I lose a useful little retainer in my capacity as caretaker, but I might acquire undesirable neighbours who would be noisy and interfering and intrusive. But that was some time off yet, and I could always retreat to the garden behind my house if the people over the street offended me.
    My tasks occupied me as usual. The cat curled on his stool by the Rayburn, and I pottered about the room, making everything tidy and ready for the coming moot.
    Phil had gone and I forgot about him for a few hours.
       
    Six people came to the moot. Four women and two men, plus me. The group included a couple – Kenneth and Pamela – who were planning a full-scale pagan wedding at Imbolc. We’d all argued for Beltane as far more fitting and traditional, but they insisted. They shared a birthday on February 3 rd , and had a strong liking for the quiet optimism of Imbolc, rather than the uninhibited carryings-on of the May celebrations. In any case, it gave us all something unusual to look forward to, and their obvious