Murder in Hampstead by Sabina Manea (read this if txt) 📕

me wrong, we had it done a couple of years ago and I absolutely love it. But then I saw what you did with the teal wallpaper at Beatrice Hall and it got me thinking that perhaps I haven’t been very… adventurous. Or true to myself.’ She hugged her mug of coffee to her chest. ‘You see, deep down I’m a free spirit. I love art and colour and life… and I feel that’s what we’re missing here.’

Lucia queried whether a virtue-signalling outfit automatically endowed its owner with bohemian credentials. In her imagination, the harsh lines of the cruelly gutted house had already been softened with pattern and colour. She had come thoroughly prepared and produced some choice photographs of past projects where she had encountered precisely the same problem – it came with the territory. Margaret let out a range of approving noises. She desperately wanted Lucia to instruct her who she should be, and to make it happen. Personal development was one of the many tasks in her military-grade planner to be outsourced to the professionals.

‘I’m impressed how you manage to keep everything so tidy, with children in tow.’ Lucia had spotted a single tell-tale sign – two pairs of small squeaky-clean shoes at the entrance. The housekeeper must have had her work cut out.

‘Thank you. See, that’s why I think this place needs a woman’s touch.’ Despite falling into that category herself, Margaret didn’t see it fit to perform the function. ‘Johnny has no idea. He comes home from work and takes the cleanliness and tidiness for granted. He probably thinks a fairy leaps out of the cupboard at night and sprinkles her magic dust. Keeping house is a full-time job.’ For someone else, evidently. ‘Of course, I’m very lucky. Lily and Oscar are such well-behaved children. We struck gold with the latest nanny. You just don’t know whom you’re going to get these days, and where they’ve come from. Well, we have a few hours of peace and quiet left. They won’t be back from school until half three. Kumon Maths is off today – the teacher’s pulled a sickie – so it will be lovely to have them around a bit earlier than normal. Child-rearing is such hard work, but so rewarding. Being a mother is definitely my calling. Do you have children?’

Lucia had to work hard not to switch off during Margaret’s waffling. Lonely, under-occupied housewives were invariably a treasure trove of information, although some effort was required to sift through it.

‘I don’t. I can imagine it’s a lot of work.’

‘Oh, it is. I’m practically a single mother. Johnny works so hard. He’s barely ever home before nine, and that’s if I’m lucky. I shouldn’t complain. He mucks in so enthusiastically at the weekend. Last Saturday I was able to send the nanny home at midday, and he took them to see the ducks on the Heath. Such a devoted father.’

With the relentless stream of consciousness that was being fired at her, Lucia had forgotten to observe the kitchen itself. She glanced around her with an expert eye. The effect was the same as the rest of the downstairs. There was no indication that anyone ever used the space, let alone tainted it with cooking. The white marble-effect quartz worktops were gleaming. The vast solid walnut and brass dining table must have easily equalled the housekeeper’s gross annual salary. In the middle of it sat a generously waisted Fornasetti vase bursting with a magnificent bouquet of blush pink hydrangeas, cream roses and viburnum.

‘They’re gorgeous, aren’t they? Johnny is such an attentive husband.’ Margaret had noticed the direction of Lucia’s gaze. Her expression was impenetrable – either she had no control over her facial muscles, or she was a great liar.

‘Have you lived here long?’ Lucia was keen to divert the conversation to their neighbour.

‘Going on six years now. The twins were nine months when we moved in. I remember it like it was yesterday – such a sweet age. Exhausting though, seeing how they were both such early walkers. Oh, you should have seen the house. It was a disaster. Hardest six months of my life, living on a building site with two toddlers, handling the builders, the cleaner, the nanny. Johnny was always out, of course. I think I’m due an honorary degree in business management.’ There was absolutely no irony in her pronouncement.

‘It’s such a good area for families. It helps having friendly neighbours, of course,’ Lucia said.

‘Oh, it does. Alla was such a darling. She never once complained about the noise, and there’s plenty, as you can imagine. I just can’t believe she’s gone. Did they work out what it was? I hear the police have been back at the Hall.’ If she harboured any animosity towards the Professor, it was skilfully concealed.

‘I guess they’re just going through the motions, seeing how it was a sudden death. I envy you. My downstairs neighbours are frightful. Any tiny noise and they’re at my door. You’d think I keep elephants.’

Margaret laughed. ‘Oh, how irritating. Some people just exist to make others’ lives miserable. We have done well. Alla was never anything but charming. She’s very much missed.’ The last statement was a polite utterance rather than heartfelt. ‘Well, I thought we could wander upstairs. I really like what you did with the Arts and Crafts house you showed me. Now why didn’t I think of that? The Apothecary’s Garden wallpaper is just the ticket for Lily’s room.’

In the space of less than an hour, Margaret’s taste had undergone a 360-degree turn. In two years’ time, the plain colours would undoubtedly make a comeback as yet another remodelling loomed.

The sleeping quarters bore no aesthetic surprises. There were four bedrooms, with virtually no concessions made to differentiate between the occupants. The children had been allowed a few prints illustrating popular nursery rhymes, a shelf of books and a toy