Murder At the House On the Hill Page 2

  Nancy twisted in the window seat to look out at the High Street. ‘I’d wait two minutes if I were you.’

  ‘Why?’

  She nodded towards the small supermarket opposite the bookshop where a young woman had just come out, struggling with her shopping bag and umbrella.

  Jonathan followed her gaze. ‘Blimey. Well spotted.’ He leaned back from the window in case she saw him.

  ‘One of these days, the way you treat women is going to catch up with you, Jonathan Murphy, and I won’t be around to save you.’ Kate was Jonathan’s ex-girlfriend and Nancy thought that she still loved him even though Jonathan ran from anything that came close to being a relationship.

  Jonathan checked outside again. The coast was now clear. ‘You’ll always be around to save me, Nancy, that’s why we’re friends.’ He yanked open the door. ‘I’ll pick you up on the night of the party like a proper chaperone.’

  ‘As if you could ever be called that!’ Nancy cried after him but he just whistled and walked away as if he hadn’t heard her. She shook her head. She didn’t like the casual way he treated women but occasionally she was envious about how easily he seemed to navigate relationships. She hadn’t dated anyone since her university boyfriend Richard had ended their three-year relationship, and wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to. A broken heart wasn’t something she was in a hurry to have repeated.

  Nancy heard her grandmother talking excitedly to the vicar’s wife in the office. She couldn’t help but feel the same shiver of excitement herself at the thought of this party. Of finally getting to see inside the grand Roth Lodge. And getting to dress up, too. She felt rather like Cinderella finally getting to go to the ball.

  She picked up the muffin Jonathan had left. Charlie lifted his head to look hopefully at her. ‘After all this excitement, I deserve this,’ she told the faithful beagle, taking a big bite.

  Chapter Three

  After Nancy had closed the bookshop for the night, she walked with Charlie to the village green. Jane had left earlier to start cooking dinner at their cottage. Nancy watched as the beagle took off across the field, running joyfully after a day in the shop. They came to the green twice a day; he loved the space and it always cheered Nancy to see the dog so happy. The evening was bitterly cold so she kept moving to try to not freeze to death, throwing a ball for him, and thinking longingly of getting home for warmth and food. She turned to look at the village behind them, the wind whipping fiercely around her. At least the snow had abated for now.

  A family waved to her as they walked past. Nancy knew pretty much everyone in their village, and everyone knew her. She adored Dedley End with its cobbled streets, stone walls and the rolling green countryside that framed it all and had never imagined living anywhere else – although she did wish that sometimes there could be a bit more excitement to be had there. Which was why there was a definite spring to her step since receiving the invitation to the Roth party. She was pleased for her gran too. They always needed a pick-me-up without their loved ones at this time of year. Not only had they lost Nancy’s father, George, but her mother had left years ago. And Jane’s husband had long since passed away too, so it was now just the two of them.

  George Hunter had died when Nancy was just ten years old so her memories of him were fuzzy. He had named her after Nancy Drew and as an avid fan of mysteries, had instilled a love of books in her from a very early age. Jane always told her that she was so much like him, and that made her happy, as did looking after the bookshop, which had been his pride and joy.

  Her mother, Samantha, had walked out when she was only six, leaving her father a note to say she couldn’t cope with family life so Nancy didn’t remember much about her at all. Her mother’s image came from the few photographs Jane had of her. If Nancy was honest, she didn’t try to remember that much about her. It only caused her pain to think of the woman who had made the decision to leave her daughter behind.

  ‘Come on, Charlie, let’s get some food,’ she called out to the beagle, her nose now completely numb. Charlie came obediently and they set off down the road towards the cottage they shared with Jane. It stood at the edge of the village with a view of the green, opposite the church. It had been built in the eighteenth century and Nancy loved it fiercely even though it was draughty in winter and the roof occasionally leaked. She had lived there since she was ten apart from three years studying English Literature at university in Bath, where she had met her ex, Richard. Richard had wanted them to move to London together after graduation but how could she have abandoned both her grandmother and her father’s bookshop? Richard had gone without her in the end, and she had returned home to Dedley End and had been there ever since.

  ‘We’re home!’ Nancy called out as she let herself in, Charlie running eagerly ahead, smiling at the warmth and delicious smell of food that greeted her.

  ‘In here!’ Jane called back from the kitchen.

  Nancy hung up her coat and took off her boots, put her bag down on the stairs, and went in to see her. Her grandmother was stirring a big pot on the cooker and Charlie was furiously drinking from his water bowl. ‘I’m absolutely frozen.’

  ‘Sit down and I’ll bring over the food, you’ll soon warm up.’

  Jane was a brilliant cook and Nancy’s stomach rumbled as she sat at the small pine table in the kitchen where they ate their meals. Jane gave Charlie his dinner then dished up two bowls of stew, mash and veg for herself and Nancy. Nancy poured them both a gin and tonic, their tipple of choice, and they tucked in happily.

  ‘Jonathan was asking earlier about why the Roths stopped associating with the village all those years ago? I couldn’t quite remember the whole story,’ Nancy said when she felt warm enough to talk. Charlie finished his food then disappeared into their small lounge where a log fire burned, knowing they’d join him in there afterwards.

  ‘The last time I went there was about thirty years ago, so before your parents met…’ Jane broke off, clearing her throat. It was always a hard subject. Jane had told Nancy that her father, George, had loved his wife with all his heart and had been devastated when she left the village, never to be seen again. Nancy could never understand how anyone could walk away from their loved ones like that. Jane took a sip of her drink, then continued. ‘Your grandfather and I were invited to the annual summer garden party as usual. The whole village used to be invited along every year. George came with us, too. Marcus, who is still the head of the Roth family and older than me, hosted the parties, with his wife Louisa. Everything was splendid as usual but then there was a sudden change in the atmosphere. Their butler came out and told us all that we had to go home. It was so sudden. We didn’t know what was going on. Afterwards, the talk around the village was that their housekeeper had stolen a lot of money. The housekeeper was fired and disappeared from the village so I always assumed that was true. After that, the garden parties stopped.’ She paused and leaned forward. ‘In fact, they never invited any of us into that house again. I suppose they didn’t know who to trust after that. She had been treated as one of the family and was a local woman. There were rumours that there was more to it, that Louisa Roth had health issues and her husband Marcus thought she needed peace and quiet. Which may be true as she died a few years later. Must be twenty years ago now – not long after your father actually, and she was still pretty young. Our GP back then said it had been cancer – he was a little loose-lipped down the pub sometimes but the funeral was private, of course.’ Jane shrugged. ‘Marcus’s son went on to have two sons of his own and Maria, of course, but they all were sent to boarding school and I think most of them live in London or in their own houses now. Whatever the reason, they stick to their own kind now, you know? Social circles that none of us are part of. They stopped bothering to be involved with anything going on in the village; they even stopped using the local shops. They’ve never set foot inside the bookshop, for instance.’

  ‘How strange. It seems so extreme,’ Nancy said, helping herself to a second
helping of creamy mash.

  ‘Very. Who knows what’s been going on in that house for all these years? But it’ll be lovely to see it again. It’s very grand. You’ll love it. It’s a house right out of a novel,’ she said, her eyes twinkling at the very idea.

  ‘That’s what I hoped,’ Nancy said. ‘How do you even end up living in a house like that?’

  ‘Well, the house has been in the family since Marcus’s grandfather, I believe. The family obviously have inherited money but they also have an investment company, stocks and shares – buying up businesses and that sort of thing. They are definitely multi-millionaires, that’s for sure. Money makes money, love, it’s a rule of life.’

  ‘Hmm, if only we knew what that was like.’ They smiled though. They knew bookselling would never make them a fortune but they loved it too much to really care. ‘But, seriously, what shall I wear to this party? I don’t think I want to buy something for just one night. The invitation says black tie, though.’ Nancy couldn’t remember the last time they had got really dressed up for an occasion. Penelope’s wedding three years ago perhaps.

  ‘I’m sure I have something upstairs. Let’s have a look once we’re finished. We’ve still got some apple pie left for dessert, I’ll make us some custard.’

  Nancy smiled, glad she had a fast metabolism with her gran around. ‘I’m so curious to see the house but also meet the family for the first time. So, Maria is Marcus Roth’s granddaughter then?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Jane confirmed, bringing over the apple pie. ‘Gloria told me to look at the engagement announcement in the paper, and I’ll be honest, she is a plain girl but I suppose when your family have millions then you’re desirable to just about anyone.’

  ‘Gran!’ Nancy admonished, laughing. ‘I’m sure she’s a lovely girl and has found someone who really loves her.’

  Jane looked sceptical. ‘You may be right, but I don’t suppose it was a hardship to discover what her surname was. And we’ll finally get to see Lucy Roth too.’

  ‘Who’s that?’ Nancy asked curiously as she tucked into her pudding, not as up-to-date on village gossip as her gran was.

  ‘She’s married to Harry Roth, the eldest of the boys. Apparently, they met in Paris when he was working over there and had a whirlwind romance before turning up at Roth Lodge married. Gloria said that by all accounts the family weren’t too pleased about it. She’s quite glamorous, though. I saw her driving through the village once, and she looked like a model. I bet she’ll wear something stunning. We need to make sure you look the part.’

  Nancy was unconvinced. She was tall and slim, yes, but could certainly never be described as glamorous. She looked down at her wool skirt and jumper and felt suddenly nervous that she’d be completely out of place at this party. Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed to go after all.

  Jane noticed she’d suddenly gone quiet. ‘Don’t you fret. You’ll be the belle of the ball by the time I’ve finished with you.’

  * * *

  After they had eaten, they went upstairs to Jane’s room, which faced the front of the cottage. Nancy’s was at the back with its sloping roof, and view of their small, square garden. Nancy sat on the bed while her gran searched through her two wardrobes. She had loved fashion when she was younger and had kept all of her favourite clothes. ‘I wish you weren’t so much taller than me,’ Jane said with a sigh. ‘I’m not sure if any of these are going to work. Oh, I’ve had a thought.’ She turned to look at Nancy. ‘I mean, you might not want to wear it but it will look stunning on you.’

  ‘What is it?’

  Jane pointed to the shelf at the top of the wardrobe. ‘See that box on top there? Can you reach it and bring it down?’

  Nancy did as she was asked and laid the box on the bed, opening it up, and coughing a little from the dust as she did so. They both leaned over to see inside. Folded up inside was a gold dress.

  ‘It was your mother’s,’ Jane said softly. ‘She left it here when…’ She trailed off and cleared her throat. ‘So I kept it for you.’

  Nancy stared at it. It was a heavy beaded gold knee-length dress, and it was beautiful. ‘It was my mother’s,’ she repeated, unsure how to feel. She had very few of Samantha Hunter’s belongings – although her mother’s wedding dress was in the loft; clearly she hadn’t wanted to take that when she fled their home, leaving six-year-old Nancy behind. Nancy had never seen this dress before. But she supposed she rarely asked her gran about her mother. When her dad died just four years after Samantha left them, she had hoped that her mother might turn up at the funeral, and explain why she ran away without her only child. But she hadn’t.

  Nancy knew that her father had tried to find her after she walked out. Jane had told her about it when she had asked but all he could find out was she had been seen getting the train to London and after that, there had been no trace. He had asked the police for help but as she’d left a note saying she was leaving, they were unable to do anything. And so Samantha Hunter had never returned to Dedley End.

  When Nancy was a teenager, she made the decision not to think about the woman who so clearly didn’t think about her, and refused to even wonder about where her mother might be or look for her in any way. She had googled her once a few years ago but hadn’t even found a Facebook account so she had told herself to forget about her. It was pointless to dwell on the reasons why she had left; she was gone, and that was that.

  It was her father’s death that tortured her more. Because she had known he loved her and she had loved him too, and they had their shared love of books, and their beloved bookshop, to tie them together. And because the accident had been both a shock and a mystery. She had so many questions but very few answers.

  Even though technically Nancy wasn’t an orphan, she felt as if she was one. ‘Would it even suit me, though?’ she said, gesturing to the lovely dress.

  ‘You’ll look like a flapper in it with your bob.’

  Nancy looked at her grandmother shocked. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Flapper,’ Jane repeated more loudly. ‘From the 1920s. Why, what did you think I said?’

  She shook her head, deciding it was better not to answer that.

  ‘It’s up to you though, love.’

  Nancy ran her fingertips over the fabric. ‘Did you see her wear it?’

  ‘Once. Your parents had a New Year’s Eve party at your old house.’

  Nancy had walked past it many times; it was the next road over from her gran’s cottage, and it was strange to think it had housed her and her parents once upon a time. The fact she had once been part of a family of three felt like a fairy tale now.

  ‘She was tall and slim and dark, just like you. She looked stunning in this dress, so glamorous. I remember your father looked like he’d never seen anyone so beautiful,’ she said, her voice breaking a little bit.

  ‘I can’t wear it if it’ll make you sad.’

  ‘It won’t, I promise. I was just feeling a little bit sentimental. I’m fine. You could wear it with your black heels and I have that gold clutch bag; that would go perfectly.’

  Nancy looked at the dress. It was gorgeous. ‘I just never thought I’d want anything of hers, you know?’

  ‘I know. And sometimes I’m sentimental about things but I don’t think we should be about this. It’s a dress that hasn’t been worn in years and you need something for this party. Let’s face it; there’s no time or money to buy something new. We should be practical.’

  Nancy smiled. She liked looking at it like that. ‘You’re right, Gran. Thank you.’

  Jane reached out to rub Nancy’s arm. ‘You have so many people who love you, never forget that.’

  Nancy nodded. ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Right, we’re going to miss our soap if we don’t get a move on.’ Jane stood up to go downstairs. Nancy hesitated, but picked up the box and put it in her room before following her grandmother into the lounge, wondering if the ghosts of the past would ever really leave her.

  Chap
ter Four

  That weekend, Nancy and Jane walked to the one and only pub in the village as they always did for Sunday lunch, the only day they allowed themselves not to open up the bookshop. Once a week they treated themselves to a roast dinner at the White Swan, a thatched-roofed white building at the top of the High Street. No one was quite sure how it came by its name as they were nowhere near the river. Walking inside the warm pub, where a log fire crackled, they went over to the table always reserved for them by the window where Jonathan and Penelope already sat.

  Nancy stopped at the bar to get her and Jane a drink and then she joined them, passing her gran a G & T, waving at Jonathan who was nursing his beer, and giving Penelope a kiss on the cheek before sitting down. She slipped out of her tweed coat and took a sip of her own drink, her cheeks warming up almost instantly.

  ‘This drink is so needed,’ Penelope said, gesturing to her wine, her blonde hair bouncing in its ponytail. ‘Kitty hasn’t slept well this week and I’m exhausted. It’s horrible to say, I know, but I’m glad of the break today.’ Penelope Gordon had been at school with Nancy and Jonathan and helped out part-time at the bookshop in between looking after her little girl. Kitty spent Sundays with her grandparents when her dad was away. He worked in the army and was currently abroad so his parents helped out to give Penelope a rest once a week. This meant she could often join them for lunch. Jonathan never needed an excuse to come into the White Swan so almost every week he sat with them too.

  ‘Of course you do, don’t be silly,’ Nancy assured her. Nancy always admired how stoically Pen dealt with her husband being away so much. She was still the same fast-talking, petite blonde with sparkling blue eyes as she had been at school. Nancy had always envied her small stature. They had first become friends when a group of kids had been teasing Nancy about her height at the start of primary school.