He watched Eleanor's hand shake as she took a lid off a saucepan.
"Did you know she was doing it? You're pretty good pals… always got your heads together when I come in." He paused to give her time to answer, and when she didn't: "You know those rows you mentioned," he continued casually, "between Dick and James's chap… and Dick and Prue… well, they were nothing to do with the travelers. Dick wasn't given a chance to talk about what's going on at the Copse, instead he was read the riot act about Prue's heavy breathing. He went straight off to bawl her out and she got all hoity-toity and said it was perfectly reasonable. She's so bloody thick, she thinks the fact that James hasn't challenged any of it is because he's guilty… calls it 'smoking him out'-" another laugh, rather more scathing this time-"or bollocks to that effect. You have to feel sorry for Dick. I mean, it's not something a moron like Prue would ever have come up with herself… so who's been feeding her the crap? That's the bastard should be done for slander. Prue's just the halfwit who repeated it."
This time there was a long silence.
"Maybe Prue's right. Maybe James is guilty," Eleanor managed at last.
"Of what? Being in bed when his wife died of natural causes?"
"Prue heard him hit Ailsa."
"Oh, for God's sake!" Julian said impatiently. "Prue wanted to hear him hit Ailsa. That's all that was about. Why are you so gullible, Ellie? Prue's a tedious social climber who was miffed because the Lockyer-Foxes didn't accept her dinner invitations. I wouldn't accept them myself if it wasn't for Dick. The poor bastard leads a dog's life and he's always asleep by the time the damn pudding arrives."
"You should have said."
"I have… numerous times… you never bother to listen. You think she's amusing, I don't. So what's new? I'd rather be in the pub than listen to a tipsy middle-aged frump trot out her fantasies." He propped his feet on another chair, something he knew she hated. "From the way Prue talks now, you'd think the Manor was her second home, but everyone knows it's a load of garbage. Ailsa was a private person… why would she choose the Dorset megaphone for a friend? It's a joke."
It was a good two hours since Eleanor had realized she didn't know her husband as well as she thought she did. Now paranoia entered her psyche. Why the emphasis on middle age…? Why the emphasis on the menopause…? Why the emphasis on divorce…? "Prue's a nice person," she said lamely.
"No, she isn't," he retorted. "She's a frustrated bitch with a chip on her shoulder. At least Ailsa had something in her life other than gossip, but Prue lives on the damn stuff. I told Dick he was doing the right thing. Get out quick, I said, before the writs roll in. It's hardly his responsibility if his wife embroiders the tag end of a conversation because she's so damn boring no one wants to listen to her."
Eleanor was provoked into turning around. "What makes you so convinced James has nothing to hide?"
He shrugged. "I'm sure he has. He'd be a very unusual man if he didn't."
He half expected her to say "you should know," but she dropped her gaze and said lamely: "Well then."
"It doesn't pass the 'so what' test, Ellie. Look at all the things you've been trying to hide since we moved down here… where we lived… what my salary was-" he laughed again-"your age. I bet you haven't told Prue you're nearly sixty… I bet you've been pretending you're younger than she is." Her mouth turned down in immediate anger, and he eyed her curiously for a moment. She was holding herself under enormous restraint. A remark like that yesterday would have brought a cutting response. "If there was any evidence that James killed Ailsa, the police would have found it," he said. "Anyone who thinks differently needs their head examined."
"You said he'd got away with murder. You went on and on about it."
"I said if he had murdered her, it was the perfect crime. It was a joke, for Christ's sake. You should listen once in a while, instead of forcing everyone to listen to you."
Eleanor turned back to the hob. "You never listen to me. You're always out or in your study."
He drained his whisky. Here it comes, he thought. "I'm all yours," he invited her. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Nothing. There's no point. You always take the man's side."
"I'd certainly have taken James's if I'd realized what Prue was up to," Julian said coolly. "So would Dick. He's never had any illusions about being married to a bitch, but he didn't know she was venting her spleen on James. Poor old chap. It was bad enough Ailsa dying without having some twisted harpy plaguing him with the equivalent of poison-pen letters. It's a form of stalking… the kind of thing sex-starved spinsters do…"
Eleanor could feel his eyes boring between her shoulder blades.
"…or in Prue's case," he finished brutally, "women whose husbands don't fancy them anymore."
In Shenstead Farm kitchen, Prue was as worried as her friend. They were both deeply frightened. The men they had taken for granted had surprised them. "Dad doesn't want to talk to you," Prue's son had said curtly over the phone. "He says if you don't stop calling his mobile, he'll have the number changed. We've told him he can stay here tonight."
"Just put him on," she snapped. "He's being ridiculous."
"I thought that was your province," Jack flashed back. "We're all trying to get our head round the toe-curling embarrassment of your phone calls to that poor old man. What the hell did you think you were doing?"
"You don't know anything about it," she said coldly. "Neither does Dick."
"That's exactly right. We don't… and never have done. Jesus wept, Mum! How could you do a thing like that? We all thought you were working the poison out of your system by slagging him off at home, but to plague him with calls and not even say anything… It's not as if anyone believes your version of what happened. You're always rewriting history to put yourself in a better light."
"How dare you speak to me like that?" demanded Prue as if he were still a bolshie teenager. "You've done nothing but criticize me since you married that girl."
Jack gave an angry laugh. "Point proved… Mother. You only ever remember what you want to remember, and the rest goes into a hole in your brain. If you have any sense you'll replay that conversation you say you heard, and try to recall the bits you've left out… it's damn bloody strange that the only person who believes you is that idiot Bartlett woman." There was the sound of a voice in the background. "I have to go. Lindy's parents are leaving." He paused and when he spoke again his tone was final. "You're on your own with this one, so just remember to tell the police and any solicitors who turn up that the rest of us were in the dark. We've all worked too hard to see the business go down the drain because you can't keep your mouth shut. Dad's already protected this end by transferring it to Lindy and me. Tomorrow he's going to ring-fence your end so we don't lose Shenstead in slander damages." The line went dead as he hung up.
Prue's immediate reaction was a physical one. The saliva drained so drastically from her mouth that she couldn't swallow and with desperation she returned the receiver to its rest and filled a glass at the tap. She began by blaming everyone except herself. Eleanor had done far worse than she had… Dick was such a wet he'd been frightened off… Belinda had poisoned Jack's mind against her from the start… If anyone should know what James was like, it was Elizabeth… All Prue had done was take the poor girl's side… and, by default, Ailsa's…