‘And maybe I’ll grab a jacket or something. Leah likes it formal.’
Guinevere wondered why Oliver even cared what Leah would think of his outfit. He seemed a free spirit who followed his own path in life.
On their way to The Bull and Crow Guinevere had time to study Oliver. He had changed into a fresh shirt and jacket, still with jeans, but it made him look a lot more serious.
‘What had your father wanted you to do?’ she asked. ‘For a career I mean.’
Oliver glanced at her. ‘I have no idea. He never told me.’
‘Not even when you left to travel? Didn’t he say: “I had wanted you to do so and so and now it turns out you’re doing this and this”?’
‘No, that’s not like him. He just eats his heart out in silence. I disappointed him by leaving Cornisea, and he’ll never forgive me for that.’ It sounded bitter and at the same time resigned. ‘Islanders are supposed to stay around here. You’re born here, you live here, and you die here. There is this unique sacred bond with the place that you’re not supposed to violate.’
Guinevere thought of Cador’s emphatic statements that this was his place. How far had he been willing to go to protect his place?
She said to Oliver, ‘You grew up here. Didn’t you feel that bond?’
Oliver shrugged. ‘What about you? You grew up in Devon and now you’re in London.’
‘Yes, but there was nothing to keep me in Devon. My grandmother died, her cottage had never been hers, just rented.’ Guinevere bit her lip as she recalled the last time she had walked around it and said goodbye to it all. ‘I took along the furniture for my place in London, even some of the seeds from the garden to grow on my balcony.’ She had to smile thinking of her hollyhocks. Her landlady was taking care of those for the time being. ‘I don’t have anything left in Devon to go back to.’
Oliver glanced at her. ‘What about your parents?’
‘They died when I was just a baby.’ Or so she had been told. Over the years there had been a wriggle of doubt in her mind about whether it was true. In her personal records only a mother was registered, no father. Had they not been married?
She had wanted to discuss it with Gran, but she never had. Afraid to learn some painful truth that would spoil her thoughts of her parents. Her dreams of the happy family they would have been if only they had lived.
She asked Oliver, ‘Don’t you care for your father’s opinion?’
‘Of course I do, but I can’t live my life the way he wants it. I’m just not your typical lord of the manor. I don’t want to sit in a stuffy room cataloguing books.’ Oliver clenched the wheel, then said to her, ‘No offence meant.’
‘And none taken. I don’t want to bury myself in books either, not for ever at least. I want to make plays and costumes and see performances all over the world.’ Just voicing her dream made her heart skip a beat or two. ‘Imagine being able to work in Paris or in Venice. I’d love to do a performance on the water some time, in a floating theatre.’
Oliver smiled. ‘So you want to travel?’
‘Of course. All over Europe and then on to Broadway maybe.’
Oliver grimaced. ‘I hate cities. The noise, the traffic, the people. Give me a tent and a camera in a remote spot by the river where I have to wait three weeks to catch a glimpse of elephants and I’m happy. My team sent me footage this morning …’ he let go of the wheel and patted the pocket where his phone was ‘… of the project they’re working on. Top secret, but let’s say it’s the first footage of this creature in the wild. They were ecstatic.’
‘And you’re not with them.’
Oliver clenched the wheel again. ‘They can manage without me.’
It wasn’t an answer to the question she really wanted to ask. Why are you not with them? Earlier Oliver had talked about his travels in the past tense as if it was something done with. Why had he come home for the summer?
Frowning, Guinevere shifted the weight of Dolly and Vivaldi in her lap. The puppy scratched at the car door as if he was trying to dig a way out. She had to keep his paws away from anything that could get damaged. ‘Do you think Leah really knows something about the murder? A hint about the killer’s identity?’
‘Maybe. She sounded strange. I’m not sure. Almost as if she was worried she’d be overheard or something. By her mother or a colleague at the law firm maybe. I have no idea if she’s at work today. Maybe for distraction? Just sitting at home wondering why can drive you crazy.’
‘I suppose so.’ Guinevere nodded and leaned back in the seat. ‘Maybe she can also tell us more about the ring Haydock mentioned. The Branok ring. He was very secretive about it. Kensa told me that even she didn’t know where he got it and what its connection to Cornisea was. Maybe it was worth a lot of money?’
‘Maybe, but it was still on his hand when he lay there dead so the killer didn’t want the ring. Haydock had taken off his wedding ring and was wearing the Branok ring on that hand.’
‘And where was his wedding ring?’
‘In his pocket, I presume. The police must have found it when they went through his pockets.’ Oliver gestured. ‘LeFevre has the lead over us. The lawyer told me that he will be on the fingerprint analysis, looking at DNA from the cage, that plant material found. Plus he’ll get additional information about the body from the post-mortem. He’s way ahead of us.’
‘Not necessarily. We’re close to the people involved and can learn things from the way they behave and react.’ Guinevere pulled Vivaldi off Dolly’s back. ‘Is that the inn?’
‘Yes. As it’s a lovely day, we can sit outside. Under the cherry trees. They have great cake, but you’re going to try a pasty of course.’
Guinevere grinned at his tone. ‘Of course.’
‘Ah, there’s Leah’s car.’ Oliver pointed at a shiny silver Mercedes.
Guinevere narrowed her eyes. How did Oliver know what kind of car people drove if he was here so little? Just a good observer?
Oliver parked the car next to the Mercedes and got out, stretching himself. Guinevere had to admit that the drive had also made her stiff and drowsy. She took a few draughts of fresh air. Vivaldi sniffed around in the tall grass. He started when a butterfly rose right in front of him. Dolly stood very still, following the creature with her eyes as it soared up to the blue skies.
‘Come on, you two.’ Tugging at the leashes, Guinevere followed Oliver to a heavy wrought-metal gate next to a tall hedge. It led into the orchard. Under the cherry trees a dozen tables stood with chequered cloths on them. Most of them were taken.
Leah sat at the table furthest away from the building. There were drag lines in the grass as if she had moved the table to create even more distance between her and the other lunchers. She was nervously knotting and unknotting her fingers in front of her. As Oliver stepped up to her, she jerked up and even gave a little shriek.
Oliver rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘Hey, calm down. Everything’s all right.’
Leah looked up at him. ‘My father’s dead! That’s not all right.’
Oliver tightened his grip on her shoulder. ‘I meant to say you needn’t be afraid. No one is going to hurt you.’
Leah looked down on the table. ‘I’m just so…’ She swallowed hard. ‘I hate to feel so helpless. I’m used to taking action, to arranging for things, and now I can do nothing.’
Oliver gave her shoulder another squeeze and then rounded the table to sit opposite her.
Guinevere