Constance studied the neighbour with interest. She assumed that the man thought he was making some kind of joke. Certainly he had spoken without any appearance of deliberate malice — but in village life you could never be sure of these things. Nonetheless Constance decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
‘I think you must have made a mistake, Joe,’ she said casually and with an easy smile.
‘Oh no I ’aven’t, Missus,’ insisted the man. ‘Come on then, tell us what you was up to?’ And he proceeded to tease her mercilessly.
Finally Constance flashed him her most challenging look. ‘Actually, I was visiting my toyboy lover,’ she remarked, grinning broadly, and causing an outbreak of laughter around the table. After all, Constance was known for her wickedly dry sense of humour.
‘God, not him again,’ said Freddie, quite untroubled.
And Constance knew that she had passed the whole thing off beautifully, but she did sometimes wish that she did not have to put up with quite so much small-minded silliness.
Marcia Spry, however, was captivated. It didn’t take much to get Marcia going and this was the kind of exchange upon which she thrived. In her capable hands even a smattering of intrigue could be almost instantly transformed into a full-blown mystery.
The next day Marcia found herself actually standing on the doorstep of Airs Walter’s shop when the other woman opened up at 8.00 am. She hadn’t been able to wait to pass on her latest bit of news.
‘You mark my words,’ she remarked sagely, after treating Mrs Walters to a full account of the events of the previous night, ‘there be things about thigee Constance Lange that just don’t add up.’
Several days later, on a cool but bright autumn afternoon, the weather having apparently settled at last, Charlie was driving through Clifton on his way to see Mrs Pattinson. That always put him in a good mood. He had with him a young partner, a rangy fair-haired young man called Sandy, rather less experienced in the work than was Charlie.
Charlie had met Sandy in the Brasserie as arranged and was giving him a lift in his BMW. Charlie liked showing off his car. The sunshine glinted on the bonnet and reflected against the windscreen. Charlie was wearing his new pale grey Armani jacket and had his Ray Ban shades on. He felt cool. Beethoven blared from the CD player. Charlie hummed along with the music.
Sandy did not seem to be very interested in music, and if he was surprised by Charlie’s choice he gave no sign. Neither did he seem impressed by the car, which was a shame. Perhaps he was just too busy thinking about the job ahead.
It was the first time that Charlie had teamed up with Sandy — and Sandy told him that he had only done three jobs so far for Avon Escorts. He liked the work, though, he said with a broad grin. Certainly Sandy seemed sure enough of himself, relaxed, excited even. And he reacted with gleeful enthusiasm when Charlie explained to him the details of Mrs Pattinson’s latest sex game.
‘A lot of them like games,’ remarked Charlie knowingly, as he explained to his partner exactly what would happen to him and what he would be required to do.
‘Wow!’ said Sandy eventually.
‘Think you can manage it?’
‘I’m horny already...’
Five
On the second Tuesday in October Constance travelled to Bristol to visit her aunt as usual. But this time she arrived back at Chalmpton Peverill much later than ever before. It was nearly 1.00 a.m. Freddie was distraught.
He had been unable to raise her on her mobile phone and had spent the final hour before her eventual arrival wondering whether or not he should call the police. Ultimately he had set himself a 1.00 a.m. deadline before doing so — his wife just made it.
‘I’m so sorry, darling, I let the batteries on the phone go flat. Forgot to charge it last night. Stupid of me.’
Freddie was quivering with anxiety.
‘But where on earth were you? And why didn’t you use a pay phone to call? You must have known I’d be worried sick.’ Freddie spoke loudly, a rare edge to his voice. He could not help being angry, as people are when they have worried unnecessarily. It wasn’t like Constance to be so inconsiderate.
‘I had a break-down on the motorway, that’s all,’ his wife replied quietly. ‘Something to do with the carburettor, they said. And you can only phone the emergency services from those motorway phones.’
‘But they’ll pass on messages, for goodness sake.’ Freddie snapped at her, something he hardly ever did. ‘Why didn’t you ask them to call?’
‘I didn’t think it would take so long. They promised to be quick and I know women on their own on motorways have priority nowadays. Especially after dark. But everything seemed to take longer than I’d thought, including fixing the car. And when I got going again I didn’t want to stop. I just wanted to get home.’
‘Well, I can understand that, I suppose,’ said Freddie, a little doubtful nonetheless. He was already not so angry, but still concerned.
He had gone out to meet her in the yard as soon as he had seen the headlights of the Volvo swing in through the gateway. Now they were standing together in the kitchen. She was still clutching the usual carrier bags.
Suddenly she swayed slightly, almost as if she were feeling giddy, dropped the bags without ceremony and clutched the edge of the kitchen table.
‘I’m going to have to sit down,’ she said in rather a weak voice, slumping quickly into a chair.
Josh was by her side of course, his tail frantically indicating his joy at the homecoming of his mistress. She had ignored him from the start and, as if desperate to attract her attention, the dog began to bark.
Freddie irritably ordered the Labrador to shut up and lie down — and only later reflected on how out of character it was for Constance not to make a huge fuss of the creature. The farmer had not really noticed before how tired and drawn his wife looked. He took in the pinched features and the wan paleness of her cheeks. He was even more alarmed now.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, his voice suddenly full of concern, his irritation reserved for Josh who had stopped barking but was now running agitatedly around the kitchen.
Constance nodded, although her appearance made the gesture a lie.
‘It’s just that it’s been a long day — and I think I’ve eaten something that disagreed with me,’ she said. Even her voice sounded strange.
Freddie had a sudden, disquieting thought. He sat down next to her and took her hand in his.
‘Nothing happened, did it? You know, out there on the motorway... while you were waiting?’
Constance managed a weak smile.
‘Oh no, Freddie, nothing like that. No, I was fine. I just don’t feel all that good, that’s all.’
‘Oh, darling, I’m sorry I was ratty,’ he responded. ‘I was just worried, that’s all. Why don’t you go up to bed. Maybe a good night’s sleep will put you right.’
She kissed him good night in a rather abstracted way, he thought, and he wondered if she was in pain. A little later he heard her retching in the bathroom.
‘I expect I’ll be better now,’ she said, as if by way of explanation when he went upstairs and joined her in the bedroom.
Freddie was almost as worried as he had been earlier when he had sat in the kitchen waiting for so long for her to return. Constance was always so capable, so in control. About the only time he could ever remember her losing control was when she had that row with William. He suspected that had upset her more than she had let on. Neither of them had ever told him exactly what had been said, but Constance did not have a monopoly on sensitivity in the Lange household and he was aware of the tension remaining between them. Rows like that were commonplace in many families, he supposed, but rare indeed for the Langes.