The Ullswater Undertaking by Rebecca Tope (read dune .TXT) 📕

the something he had referred to was fatal. Thanks to numerous past adventures, both Simmy and Christopher were far too familiar with sudden, violent death. ‘You think she’s been attacked in some way, do you?’

‘I do,’ he said. It seemed, on the face of it, rather a callous act to send the deputy office manager, Fiona Gallagher, to find Josephine. Christopher ought to have gone himself. Or alerted the police and got them to go and see what was happening. Fiona was a quiet, efficient young woman, admittedly, but Simmy’s experience of her was also as a shy and even timid person. Given Christopher’s apprehensions, it was quite surprising that Fiona had agreed to go. Simmy said some of this to him. ‘That’s true, but she’s got a brother in the police and she said she could cope. She grew up on a farm, apparently, and is fine with blood and so forth.’

‘Josephine’s probably perfectly all right,’ Simmy reminded him. ‘We’re jumping ahead outrageously.’

‘I hope so. I just can’t come up with a single explanation that would cover the facts, other than something horrible. She has been known to oversleep now and then, but never for this long.’

The obvious and inescapable assumption had to be that Fabian Crick was involved in some way. The connection was too stark to be ignored. He knew Josephine. He was immersed in a strange family mystery and was not entirely stable in a mental sense. Has Fabian killed her then? Was that unspoken question hovering somewhere in the air between Christopher and Simmy?

‘I will grant you that a missing manager trumps a wakeful baby,’ she conceded. ‘But a drop of fatherly concern wouldn’t go amiss, all the same.’

‘Sorry, love. You don’t think he’s ill, do you?’

‘Not really. He isn’t hot and doesn’t seem to be in pain anywhere. My mother says it’s the growth spurt she’s been going on about. I’m sure she’s been looking up baby care on the Internet – which is actually quite unnerving.’

‘More likely to be your dad, don’t you think?’

‘Could be. That’s even more unnerving.’ But she knew better than to belittle her parents to Christopher. He was all too likely to say – You’re lucky to have them. The absence of his own mother and father was a constant background deprivation, which was now filtering through to another generation. Robin ought to have four grandparents, not two, and everybody knew it.

‘Oh – Oliver’s here. Damn it, that must mean bad news. He wasn’t supposed to come in today. Somebody must have phoned him. I’ll have to go.’

‘Okay. Keep me posted, won’t you?’

Oliver West had been the senior auctioneer before stepping down to let Christopher fill the role. He now described himself as semi-retired and no longer conducted auctions but concentrated on valuations and keeping track of the finances. He had recently acquired a property in the Pyrenees, where he intended to build up a collection of French porcelain. ‘One more year and I’ll be out of your way,’ he said. But if one of his employees was in trouble, he was still the first person the police would go to.

Simmy made herself a substantial lunch and then carried the baby upstairs, where she again broke the rule about taking him to bed with her. The builders had gone off somewhere to acquire more materials and everything was quiet.

Cuddled together, with Robin feeding sporadically, they both fell into a doze. When she woke, she didn’t dare move for fear of waking him. The world could carry on in its own wicked way outside – she was doing what nature intended, as well as what she had promised herself. Phone calls would go ignored, knocks on the door unanswered. She would never get these surreal early days back again, with the little bundle of life blossoming before her very eyes, his dependency so inescapable and the trust he placed in her so complete. She knew, dimly, that there would soon be moments when she got it wrong, let him down, went against his wishes and perhaps even hurt him. The early perfection would be spoilt as real life forced itself upon them. She shuddered at the prospect. It seemed such a cruel business, growing up.

But at least he was finally asleep, his head lolling back against her forearm, mouth open. She needed the loo, so began to work her way free of him, leaving him in the middle of the bed. No harm could come to him there. He must be exhausted, she thought, after being awake all morning. Where, she wondered, was Humphrey and what’s-his-name? She couldn’t remember what they’d said about coming back – or whether they had said anything. Builders were notoriously capricious anyway, in their comings and goings. She had already learnt to avoid drifting around the house in nightclothes, as she would probably have done in recent weeks. Breastfeeding was different – she had warned both men from the outset that they would just have to get used to it. No way was she going to shut herself away for their benefit. She would feed in the kitchen if she wanted to and anywhere else that took her fancy. Humphrey had assured her this was not a problem. ‘My missus fed all ours herself,’ he said proudly. But the young assistant had flushed and shuffled his feet. ‘Be an education for you, lad,’ said his senior scornfully.

But she was here on her own now and the usual routine had been shattered. There was no knowing when Robin would wake up – or when Christopher would come home. Things were happening out there, and she was totally isolated from it all. She didn’t even care, she admitted to herself. Josephine was not someone she had feelings for, although she still harboured some anxiety about Fabian Crick. He knew where she lived and was quite capable of showing up at any time – even though she could think of no good reason why he should.

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