The Skeleton Tree by Diane Janes (reading women TXT) 📕

‘But you don’t seem to want to make your mind up at all. Several of these firms will accept our old house in part exchange. If we went for one of those deals, we could be on the move in a matter of weeks. You know I have to be in post by the end of March, and Tara’s last exam is the first week in June. I don’t want to be staying at Mum and Dad’s through the week and shuttling up and down the motorway at weekends on a permanent basis.’

‘But a new house, Bruce … It’s a big decision. It isn’t easy. And anyway, it isn’t just my decision. You must have a preference.’

‘I don’t recall you being too worried about my views when you bought The Ashes. I’ve told you, that double-fronted place at Whitwick would suit me. Or the Wolverton – that’s a great design, I don’t see how we could go wrong with that. To be honest, I’d be fine with just about anything we’ve seen, so long as you’re happy with it. There are pros and cons with all these new places. There’s no such thing as the perfect house and you know it. And please don’t try to tell me that where we live now is perfect, because you and I both know that is very far from being the case.’

‘You see, that’s the thing … I’m wondering if we shouldn’t look for something older.’

‘Now, you know we discussed this before. I don’t want to get involved in some chain which collapses when someone further down the line pulls out and everyone else has to start all over again. Besides which, a new house needs nothing doing to it. No more wrecks and projects. These old places are money pits. We want somewhere we can move straight into.’

Wendy reached for the pile of brochures on the bedside table and began to consider them in what she hoped Bruce would take as a positive fashion. ‘Which ones are we going to look at tomorrow?’ she asked.

At the conclusion of the week nothing had been decided and the journey north was mostly accomplished in silence. A little pile of post was lying on the hall floor and the light was blinking on the telephone answering machine. Wendy pressed the button to rewind the tape, then pressed play. When she realized that it was Joan, she was rather glad that everyone else had already dispersed further into the house. Bruce was unaware that they were still on the trail of information about the house’s former occupants, and Wendy strongly suspected that he wouldn’t approve.

‘I’ve made a breakthrough on Peggy Disberry,’ Joan said, after a brief preamble. ‘Do ring me back as soon as you can.’

Wendy waited until the following day when she had the house to herself before she returned Joan’s call. They had touched on the possibility of locating Peggy Disberry several times, without ever reaching any particular conclusion on the subject.

‘How on earth did you find her?’ Wendy asked.

‘Simplest thing, my dear. I just got it into my head to look in the phone book. There are only two Disberrys and the first one happened to be her brother. He was a bit cagey at first and I had to tell a couple of little fibs, I’m afraid. I told him we were researching a history of Bishop Barnard – well, yes, I know … I said it was for a little book we were putting together. Anyway, to cut a long story short, he gave me her address and telephone number and I rang her up. It’s so lucky you’ve rung back just now, because I’ve arranged for us to go and see her this afternoon. I was on absolute tenterhooks in case I didn’t get you in time. You can come this afternoon, can’t you? I can pick you up if you don’t have the use of the car today.’

‘Bruce has taken the car to work … And I have to be home for Jamie at three.’ As she spoke, Wendy felt the weight of her omission in failing to explain to Joan that even if she had half-a-dozen cars sitting on the drive, she would not have been able to use one of them.

‘That’s not a problem. Peggy Disberry lives in Stockton, so it won’t take us long to get there and back. Say I pick you up at one? I can easily get you home for three. Must dash now, my dear, I’ve got a hair appointment.’

Joan arrived on time and kept the engine running while Wendy trotted down the drive to the gate. They screeched away at high speed, with Wendy still fastening her seat belt.

‘Is it far?’

‘No,’ said Joan. ‘It’s that rather rough estate on the edge of Stockton. It won’t take us long to get there at this time of day.’

An unnecessary observation, Wendy thought, since the speed at which Joan was driving meant it wouldn’t take long to get anywhere at all.

‘Any luck with the house?’ Joan asked.

‘You mean selling? Nothing definite. One couple seemed keen, but they haven’t sold their own house yet.’

‘House purchase is such a nightmare these days,’ Joan said, jamming her brakes on as the lights ahead turned red. ‘And it’s not like the old days, when people shook hands on a price and kept to their word. Today everyone thinks they can start horse-trading about the price at the last minute. One has to deal with such a different type of person these days.’

‘Bruce is quite keen to do one of those part-exchange deals on a new house, so we don’t get involved in a chain.’

‘Don’t you rather lose out on the price of your own house with those sorts of things?’

‘Bruce thinks it’s worth losing a couple of thousand, just to move quickly and avoid hassle. He says that if you don’t sell quickly, you often end up having to reduce the price in any