Free Folly by Stella Cameron Page A

her then. But you don’t get over things like that.’
    Harriet frowned and then looked chagrined. ‘The son,’ she said. ‘You’re right. It’s so long ago I tend to forget the Cummings lost a child.’
    It didn’t seem the right moment to probe, so Alex waited.
    â€˜He drowned,’ Mary said. ‘In the Windrush down that back way in Bourton-on-the-Water. I think he was about four.’
    Alex set down her cup and saucer with a clatter. She got up and went to the windows. Moss-covered gravestones in the churchyard, mostly very old and leaning this way and that, accentuated the silence everywhere. In early spring there would be snowdrops, bluebells, then daffodils beneath ancient trees to soften the scene. But in winter it was stark, like that place in her heart that waited to ache at inconvenient times.
    Black mould stained the church walls but some of the original stained-glass windows remained to brighten the chilly building.
    â€˜Alex?’ Harriet said quietly after a while. ‘What is it? I’ve seen you go off into yourself like this before. You never did it before you went away.’
    Alex put on a smile and turned around. ‘I feel bad for the Cummings,’ she said. ‘What a horrible thing. I don’t remember anyone drowning in the Windrush. It’s so shallow.’
    â€˜The boy hit his head,’ Harriet said. ‘That’s what they said at the time. Slipped and nobody saw him until it was too late.’
    â€˜Poor Cathy and Will.’
    â€˜Cathy hasn’t had it easy,’ Mary said, ‘what with—’
    â€˜No point in gossiping about old things,’ Harriet interrupted.
    Mary set her creased mouth. ‘I think Will still has his moments. Likes the horses too much. That’s how they ended up selling the Black Dog, or so it’s said. And it makes sense.’
    The gambling problem was something Alex already knew about but Will seemed to have himself under control these days. ‘Let’s hope he’s put all that behind him,’ she said. ‘Doc James said something about Cathy overreacting to someone else’s tragedy. I can imagine how all the recent police activity and the horror of what happened in the woods up there could upset her badly.’
    Harriet gathered the three cups and went to the kitchen to empty the cold dregs. She returned and poured boiling water to top up the pot.
    Someone rapped on the front door.
    Harriet beat Alex to the window, leaned out and said, ‘Must be our day for visitors. In you come.’
    She poured tea, making no attempt to say whose feet they heard on the stairs. When Tony Harrison came into view she scurried off, muttering about getting another cup.
    â€˜Hello, Tony,’ Alex said.
    He didn’t smile, but spread his feet and put his hands behind his back in a stance that was becoming familiar. Then he saw Oliver. ‘New family member?’ he said, and his features softened a little. ‘Looks like he needs some meat on his bones.’
    â€˜I’m making sure he gets it,’ Harriet said, returning with a cup and saucer. She buttoned the cardigan to her beige twinset but Alex thought it was more to have something to do with her hands than because she was cold.
    â€˜I’ll take a look at him,’ Tony said and gently lifted the cat from his warm spot. Kneeling, he put Oliver on the soft if worn silk rug in front of the fire. ‘Welcome, fellow,’ he said, palpating his body while the cat looked up at him, unblinking, and made no attempt to escape the intrusion.
    â€˜I came looking for you, Alex,’ he said, continuing to examine the animal. ‘I heard about last night.’
    Wishing she could warn him off talking in front of the Burkes, Alex didn’t answer. They already knew too much. Who had told him, anyway?
    â€˜If I’d had any idea, I wouldn’t have left you. It’s not safe up there on your