‘We’ll see about that. Leave the keys to the cottage in the key box when you go, and don’t forget to clean up your mess.’
This time he didn’t try to stop her.
Her hands were shaking as she drove back to Bluebell Cottage. She may have looked calm in front of Nathan, but now it was over she was overwhelmed by the sheer unpleasantness of it all. She needed a moment alone and a cup of tea at home.
A strong smell of lemon essential oil still floated in the hallway when she walked in and hung her coat. There may be no sign that Darren or Fluffy had sneaked in again, but she couldn’t help feeling restless. She would never feel safe at Bluebell Cottage until she had all the locks changed.
The idea of talking to Piers may make her physically sick, but she needed his approval to change the locks. She also needed to clarify her position regarding the holiday lets contract… and Belthorn.
‘Hardy,’ Piers barked down the phone. She could hear men shouting in the background. He must be watching a rugby match.
‘I don’t mind if you’re paying for it,’ he said a moment later, when she had explained about fitting new locks at Bluebell Cottage. After their last encounter, she was expecting angry words, insults even, but he sounded strangely subdued, probably because there were people around.
She took a deep breath. ‘Actually, there was something else. According to my contract I get one week’s notice, and even though I haven’t received any official confirmation it is now over a week since you fired me. I am therefore no longer your employee and you need to find a new cleaner and a housekeeper for Belthorn.’
There was a short silence, and Piers mumbled a series of inaudible words. ‘Now you’re being hasty… I can’t find a cleaner at such short notice… I’m sure we can extend… You must stay on… I’ll make it worth your while.’
She drew in a shocked breath. ‘Are you serious? Even if you hadn’t fired me, I would have left after what you did at the restaurant. I will drop the holiday lets keys and paperwork at your house this afternoon and transfer whatever money I owe back into Charles Ashville’s bank account with details of everything I spent so far so you can’t accuse me of any wrongdoing.’
There was another silence. ‘I’m not at home today. I’ll come round to Bluebell Cottage.’
‘No!’ The thought of being alone with Piers made her skin crawl. ‘If you come to Belthorn this evening, I’ll have everything ready for you.’ And at least Piers wouldn’t try anything with Stefan there.
He mumbled that he would be there by seven, and she put the phone down. Everything was changing… Soon she would move out of Bluebell Cottage, and with the loss of the Ashville contract and the clients who had deserted her, Bluebell Cleaning was as good as finished. On the plus side, these may be the incentives she needed to change her life around.
She could contact Maritel, show them her designs, and even play the recording of her meeting with Nathan…
Or she could draw a line on the past, forget Nathan and Maritel, and start afresh. There was no reason why she couldn’t offer both cleaning and designing services. She could even tweak her slogan into ‘When dust and grime get to you, or you fancy a home that’s new… call Bluebell to the Rescue!’ She pouted. Perhaps she could get her granddad to work on that one…
The most important thing was that Stefan was back and that he loved her. She put the kettle on, dropped a tea bag into a mug and sat down. Taking her mobile out of her bag, she saw that she had a voicemail message from Patrick.
‘Hi, Cassie. I thought you might like to know that Darren was arrested this morning in Manchester. He was found asleep in his car at the side of the road, and taken to hospital with suspected sepsis. The police found a lot of stuff he’d stolen in the boot of his car, including my office printer and computer, so it looks like the folks he robbed in Red Moss will get their things back soon. I’ll let you know when I find out more. Bye for now.’
Cassie sat down and heaved a sigh of relief. With Darren being arrested, no one would ever call her a thief again.
She could plan Christmas properly now…
Chapter Thirty-Nine
‘There you are, young man,’ Miss Parker said as she tottered into the small room in the community centre that had been allocated to serve as Santa’s grotto. ‘A couple of homemade mince pies, and one coffee, black, no sugar.’ She smiled as she handed him the mug and the small cake. ‘See? I remembered.’
Stefan stood up from the armchair where he had just spent a few uncomfortable hours and took the plate of cakes and the hot drink. ‘Thank you. I need these.’
She smiled. ‘The fair is winding down, and I was wondering if I could have a word about that old story we discussed the other day.’
‘You mean, Ruth and André?’
She nodded. ‘I decided that you were right. Their families need to know what was rumoured at the time. But please don’t let my talking stop you from eating. You look exhausted, if you don’t mind me saying.’
‘Shell-shocked would be more accurate. I’m not used to dealing with children.’ Stefan pulled his fake beard to drink a sip of hot coffee. The wig stuck to his scalp and tickled his neck. His head ached from the squeals of overexcited boys and girls who had bounced on his knees and from the Christmas music blearing out of speakers. And his back felt stiff, rusty and creaky from sitting down all afternoon.
Miss Parker laughed. ‘At least the day is almost over… Now, about Ruth… My grandmother told me that there was a lot of speculation at the time that Ruth’s former fiancé, Gideon Hardy, had something to do with her death.’
Stefan put his coffee down. ‘Ruth was scared of him.’
‘It looks like she had good reason to be. Gideon had a fearsome reputation for being a brute and a bully. On Christmas Eve – the night Ruth died – he drank heavily at the pub before driving his cart back to his farm. Two farm labourers saw him stop at a crossroads to harangue Ruth who was walking back to the rectory.’
Miss Parker paused, and explained, ‘The vicar had taken her in after her parents threw her out of Patterdale Farm. The witnesses said that Gideon shouted at her then jumped down from his cart, grabbed hold of her and slapped her around the head, and before they could do anything to help, he threw her in the back of the cart and drove off. That was the last time Ruth was seen alive.’
‘Why didn’t they come forward when her body was recovered from Wolf Tarn?’
‘Perhaps they did and nobody believed them, or Hardy threatened them or paid them off to avoid being convicted. Of course, there may not have been a crime… Nobody will ever know for sure what happened to Ruth.’
Thinking back to what Cassie had seen near Wolf Tarn on Christmas Eve ten years before, Stefan drew in a long breath and whispered, ‘Perhaps you’re wrong.’
Miss Parker looked up at him. ‘Sorry?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s nothing. Just an idea I had.’ A far-fetched and completely ridiculous idea, no doubt, and one he wasn’t prepared to share with Miss Parker. He could however share what he’d found out about André Vaillant during his trip to Paris.