[Inspector Peach 12] - Pastures New Read online

  Geoffrey had forgotten that the wine which he had thought would mellow any antipathy in the room to his announcement would affect him too. By the end of the meal, the central character in this little drama had lost any apprehension about the way his bold initiative would be received. He wanted to share his happiness with the world, to let a tiny part of his own wellbeing overflow into the glum lives of those around him.

  In other words, Geoffrey Aspin was pleasantly tight.

  He was not drunk by any means. Nor was he one of those tiresome men for whom drink is a prelude to aggression. He tended to see the best in people, to embrace the world as his friend, when he had had a few drinks. Thus he listened benignly and with gratitude to Steve Hawksworth’s speech of congratulation on reaching his seventh decade in this teeming world.

  It was a speech which was acceptable for the occasion but otherwise unremarkable. His son-in-law made a couple of innocent and rather feeble jokes about how frightened of Geoff the prominent industrialist he had been, when he came into his life as the wooer of his younger daughter. The audience, by now in benevolent mood, laughed happily and even produced a little sporadic applause. Steve, who had been inhibited by the sour demeanour of Jemal and Carol Bilic, gathered confidence from this. After being initially tentative, he grew quite fulsome in the latter stages of his address. Geoff Aspin was altogether a splendid fellow, who looked far too young to be sixty. But Steve wasn’t going to argue about that, since they had all been provided with this splendid party to celebrate the milestone. General applause and bucolic ‘here here’s’. He was sure there would be many more happy occasions of this kind in the future and he looked forward to them eagerly.

  Steve made no mention of the woman sitting with a modest smile at Geoff’s side, because that is what the family had agreed and he was careful not to move outside that brief. He concluded by asking the company to rise and toast the achievements of their hero’s first sixty years and his health and happiness in the next forty. The guests shuffled awkwardly to their feet, raised their glasses with a ragged chorus of ‘To Geoff!’ and then applauded with the enthusiasm of those not called upon to perform as they sank happily back into their seats.

  Geoffrey Aspin had drunk another glass of wine as he smiled modestly at his son-in-law’s compliments and waited a little nervously for the moment when he would respond. But he had always carried drink well, and he did so now as he rose to respond to his son-in-law’s modest panegyric. He scarcely swayed at all, and there was no sign of a slurring in his speech.

  He failed to recognize that alcohol and adrenalin can be a dangerous combination, but that can hardly be accounted a moral defect in a man.

  He thanked Steve for his generous comments and everyone in the room for attending this celebration of what must indeed be a milestone in anyone’s life. It was good to have your family around you at moments like this. He gazed fondly round the top table at his two daughters and their husbands and received rather stiff and self-conscious smiles in response - it is not easy to behave naturally when the public spotlight is turned suddenly and unexpectedly upon you. Only Steve Hawksworth, still full of relief at completing the ordeal of public speaking, beamed spontaneously. Geoffrey glanced at his notes and moved on. It was likewise delightful to have your close working colleagues of many years here to share this occasion. Geoffrey nodded at another table, and his business partner and senior staff nodded a more spontaneous acceptance than the family had managed.

  After replying to Steve’s anecdotes of apprehension with a couple of stories of his own about his son-in-law, Geoffrey spent two minutes more in this conventional vein. Then he moved away from the carefully written notes in his hand.

  ‘The vast majority of people here today will remember my wife Jill.’ There were murmurs of assent, and then the big room fell unnaturally silent and people began to study the impressive oak panelling of its walls. This was serious stuff, when they had not expected it. It might be necessary to realign their responses. ‘Jill and I were very close. Very close indeed, as most of you knew.’ Geoffrey paused a little too long; there were shufflings of feet as slumped forms made themselves a little more upright, making noises which were suddenly louder in the otherwise silent room. Geoffrey was conscious of the change in atmosphere, but it prompted him only to move a little more quickly into his change of agenda.

  ‘Jill’s passing was a blow to all of us. But the greatest blow of all was to me. I don’t mind telling you that both my work and my private life suffered for quite a long period after Jill’s passing.’ He looked round the room, but saw only people staring fixedly at the immaculate table linen in front of them: it wasn’t safe to look at your neighbour when speakers embarked upon reminiscences of this sort. ‘I don’t mind telling you that I was a lonely man. A very lonely man indeed. Some of the evenings and the nights took an awful long time to pass.’

  This was Britain, and men didn’t reveal things like this. The absolute silence was telling him that, and warning him to move on quickly to other and lighter things. But Geoffrey Aspin, with the bit between his teeth and a proud purpose in view, was oblivious to such warnings, just as he was to the uneasy movement of caution as the helpless Pam Williams lifted an admonitory hand beside him. ‘But one cannot grieve for ever, and as Steve was kind enough to say a few minutes ago, hopefully a lot of my life still lies before me. And a few months ago, a new presence came into that life. A presence which has both enlivened and enlarged it.’ He was proud of that phrase, which he had scribbled on the back of his hand only ten minutes earlier.

  A nervous murmur of approbation ran through the tables furthest from his. Those around him stared up at him, striving to secure his attention, willing him to abandon what they now sensed was coming. Geoffrey stared over their heads towards those distant, less intimate faces, smiled the secure smile of the man with a pleasant surprise to deliver, and pursued his grand design.

  ‘This is a happy occasion, as Steve has been good enough to remind us, a sentiment which you have just endorsed with your toast. It is an occasion which I now propose to make even happier. Many of you have been introduced to Pam Williams today. No doubt you have found her a winning lady, as I have.’ He glanced affectionately down at the woman beside him, who was staring stonily at the full glass of wine in front of her. ‘You do not know her well, as yet. But in the years to come I hope that you will have the opportunity to get to know her very well indeed. Ladies and gentleman, I ask you to rise once again to your feet and drink to the health of the future Mrs Aspin!’

  He lifted his own glass as his voice rose exultantly on the final phrase and waved it over the heads of his listeners in a wide, triumphant, all-embracing arc. There were slightly drunken cheers, maudlin male shouts of congratulation, a round of applause which was just a little late in coming but which embraced most of the company beyond the top table. People shuffled to their feet and muttered ‘The future Mrs Aspin’ with varying degrees of clarity and embarrassment. Then there was a ragged, rather inebriated cheer for Geoff’s news and the minor, pleasant sensation which it afforded to most of his listeners.

  No one in his immediate vicinity applauded. There were various expressions upon the faces of those nearest to Geoffrey Aspin, but only Steve Hawksworth attempted approbation, and his attempts to clap were instantly stilled by molten looks from his wife and her sister.

  Geoffrey remained on his feet for a moment, apparently unconscious of the reactions on his own table as he gazed out at the wider world beyond and savoured the effects of his surprise announcement. Then he subsided happily into his chair, smiling the inane smile of the man happily a little drunk, and refocused with difficulty on the face of Pam Williams next to him.

  He was surprised to find that it was not filled with pleasure. Indeed, it was tight-lipped with anger, as he had never seen it before. Still he ignored the warning signs, as only a man overconfident with wine would have done. ‘That’s told ’em, love. No turning back now, eh?’

  Pam
Williams hissed rather than spoke her furious reaction. ‘You should never have said that, Geoffrey Aspin. Believe me, you’re going to regret it!’

  Seven

  Geoffrey Aspin’s declaration of his marital intentions formed a natural climax to the day’s activities.

  Most of the people present thought that it was a premeditated move, that he and the family had known all about it in advance but had kept the secret so as to allow the day’s central character to make an appropriately dramatic announcement. There were many references to dark horses and cunning old foxes as his friends shook his hand, thanked him for the party and said their farewells, though it did seem a little odd that the lady in question should not be at his side to receive their congratulations. A natural shyness, Geoffrey explained affably.

  The atmosphere on the wide gravel forecourt outside Marton Towers was scarcely one to encourage suspicion, or indeed any emotion other than bonhomie. The late afternoon sunshine was warm still, gilding the old mansion with a serenity it had not always enjoyed during its chequered history. The gentle southerly breeze was welcome after the warmth of the panelled dining room, and people lingered a little, gazing down the half mile of the long, arrow-straight drive, which ran between the twin rectangular ornamental lakes towards the monument under the trees in the distance. Perhaps they were reluctant to abandon this glimpse of a life very different from the ones most of them were about to resume.

  Lucy Blake wrung the hand of the man who had been so kind to her in her youth, aware as she offered her best wishes for his new life that Geoff Aspin in his excitement was only dimly conscious of who she was. She managed a brief word with her old friend Louise. They promised each other that it would not be so long before they met again, but Lucy saw that Louise Hawksworth was preoccupied with other things, and suspected for the first time that her father’s declaration of his marital intentions had been a shock to her.

  Lucy drove away with a feeling of sadness. At one time she and Louise had had no secrets from each other, and she would have pressed her friend about what was worrying her without any qualms. How natural, unthinking and uncomplicated are the friendships of adolescence, and how much more difficult such unthinking spontaneity becomes as life proceeds.

  Such melancholy reflections were soon dispersed by the familiar delights of the Ribble Valley on a perfect late-June evening. Bathed in the setting sun, Pendle Hill looked unusually benign, like the flank of some huge primeval animal which had settled in the green pastures around it to sleep away the night. She drove slowly through the quiet countryside, enjoying glimpses of the River Hodder through the fresh green of the trees, then the derelict and picturesque stones of the ruin the locals called Cromwell’s Bridge. This traditionally most Catholic part of the country had endured some stirring times in the past, with the old faith under fire and the primitive superstitions of the age bringing the Pendle witches to trial and death at Lancaster.

  One of Lucy Blake’s interests was local history, and she mused on these and other things as she enjoyed having the lush growth of the valley largely to herself early on this Saturday evening. She felt perfectly relaxed; she was not working until Monday morning. A lazy Sunday with a lie-in and the newspaper, and a mother who would very probably overrule her protests and spoil her with breakfast in bed, stretched invitingly before her. Then she might relax and enjoy a little sun in the privacy of Agnes Blake’s neat cottage garden, with the long green ridge of Longridge Fell which she had known since childhood rising protectively above her. She loved her modern flat in the town, but she did miss the old stone houses of the village, the garden, and the illusion of an unchanging world around her.

  Thoughts of her mother brought her back to more practical considerations. Agnes would want to know all about her day: about Louise, about Geoff Aspin and his new lady.

  Particularly about Geoff Aspin and his new lady. Lucy addressed her thoughts to the account she would deliver.

  The row of old stone cottages looked well as she eased the little blue Corsa into her mother’s drive. In front of the house which Lucy Blake knew so intimately the roses were now in full flower and the Cambridge blue of lobelia fringed the neat oblong beds in the small front garden. Lucy remembered holding her father’s hand and trying to pronounce the names of the summer bedding plants when she was a very small girl, in the years before she had gone to school and learned of the wider world beyond the boundaries of this cottage. She allowed herself a moment of sadness for those dear, almost forgotten days of innocence, then went up to the open front door and called cheerfully to her mother that she was here.

  ‘How was the food?’ asked Agnes Blake, as she brought in the teapot in its knitted cosy and relished the moment which always delighted her, when she sat down to discuss the latest events in her daughter’s life.

  Lucy enlarged on the delights of the five courses and the coffee and the impressive setting of Marton Towers, but she knew it was but an elaborate prologue to her impressions of the principals involved in this impressive setting. ‘It was good to see Louise again,’ she said presently. ‘She’s Louise Hawksworth now, of course. It’s surprising how quickly the years pass. She was looking much older than I expected. I suppose she thought that too, when she saw me.’

  ‘Some people just ignore the years,’ said her mother darkly. ‘Some people think they can behave like kids for ever.’ Lucy refused to rise to that. ‘Louise’s husband made the speech proposing the health of Geoff Aspin.’

  Mrs Blake was not to be diverted. ‘Your friend Louise has two children now, I believe.’

  ‘You believe correctly. It was I who informed you of it.’

  ‘Some people are busy getting on with life, whilst others are still wandering around waiting to get married.’

  ‘I’m neither wandering around nor waiting to get married, Mum.’

  Agnes Blake sniffed her dismissal of that view, a seemingly difficult feat which she achieved with practised aplomb.

  ‘Most women of my age have several grandchildren. I have one daughter, who hasn’t even bothered to get married.’

  ‘That’s in hand, as you know, Mum.’ Lucy saw immediately that she had made a mistake: her mother would move immediately to the subject of dates. She said hastily, ‘One of Louise’s children has Down’s syndrome. There were no children at the party, so I didn’t see him, but I think he’s quite badly handicapped. Louise is plainly very fond of him, but I think she has quite a hard life.’

  Her mother looked at her sternly, as if she suspected a diversionary tactic, an attempt to dismiss her demand for grandchildren by the use of this poor child. She decided on inspection of her daughter’s face that she was being too cynical. However, Agnes had no wish to discuss the possible pitfalls of pregnancy at this point. ‘And how was my old friend Geoff Aspin?’

  Lucy wondered whether with ten years between them the two had ever been close friends. But she remembered her mother’s disapproval of the rumours she had heard about the entry of another woman into Geoff’s life, and she was determined to make the most of this welcome diversion. ‘He looked a lot older than the man who was so kind to me when Dad died and Louise and I were still teenagers. But that’s only natural. Geoff Aspin was looking well. Very well indeed, in fact. He seemed genuinely happy.’

  Another sniff which carried more import than a paragraph of words. ‘And was this woman he’s been consorting with there?’

  ‘I like that phrase, Mum. “Consorting with.” I’ll remember that. Covers a multitude of unworthy speculations, that does.’ Agnes gave her daughter the look which had quelled all insolence when she was a child. ‘Was this woman there?’

  ‘Yes, she was there, Mum. Sitting happily at Geoff’s side during the meal, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Bold as brass, then.’ Agnes nodded, as if there were a grim satisfaction in having her worst fears confirmed.

  ‘She seemed a very pleasant woman, actually, Mum. I think Geoff might in fact be quite lucky to have found her.’ Lucy
knew very little about Pam Williams, but she felt compelled to be her ally against this maternal disapproval.

  The sniff this time was of unmitigated contempt. ‘You know nothing about these things, our Lucy.’ She paused whilst she waited for the argument which did not come. ‘Good-looking, is she? Plenty of paint to cover the wrinkles, I expect.’ Agnes nodded happily on the thought.

  As far as Lucy knew, her mother had rejected all offers of close male companionship since her father’s early death. She wondered for the first time whether that had caused Agnes any distress. ‘It’s not like you to be so uncharitable. Mum. The lady’s called Pam. From what little I saw of her she seemed a charming woman. She’s only a little younger than Geoff, I think. And certainly not the painted trollop you seem to have in mind.’

  Agnes was silent for a moment. Then she said briskly, ‘Aye, all right, then. But you’ll not deny that men of Geoff Aspin’s age have a habit of making fools of themselves, when they’re left to their own devices.’

  ‘I bow to your superior knowledge, there, Mum.’

  Agnes flashed her a warning look, then broke into the grin she could no longer resist. ‘So is it serious?’

  ‘Very serious indeed, Mum. Geoff Aspin announced in his speech that he’s planning to marry her. And good luck to them, I say!’ she added defiantly.

  Her mother did not argue as she had expected her to. Lucy realized with a little shock that she was quite disappointed about that. Instead, her mother said quietly, ‘Jill’s been dead for coming on for four years now. I suppose it might be time enough.’

  ‘Geoff’s a healthy man who’s only just reached sixty. With any luck, he’s got a lot of his life still ahead of him. And so has Pam Williams! ’ Lucy said with a belated feminist emphasis.