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Authors: Rebecca Tope
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much else.
By nine-thirty she was activating her laptop and preparing to send short updates of her whereabouts to her daughter and mother. None of her family understood or approved of her career as a house-sitter. Jessica had joined her a few times, becoming involved in the adventures that so persistently befell Thea when she intruded into the complications that seemed to characterise small English communities. As a newly trained police officer, Jessica was often torn between roles and alarmed at her mother’s cavalier approach. But the girl was currently distracted by a demanding relationship, with little attention to spare her mother. ‘Besides,’ Thea had assured her, ‘I’ve demonstrated by now that I can look after myself, haven’t I?’
The front door stood open, weak sunshine brightening the hallway, which Thea could see from the living room. She liked open doors and fresh air – something she was generally able to ensure in the Cotswold houses she looked after. Double glazing and complicated locks made her impatient, the way they created airtight boxes in which she felt suffocated. Whilst doing her best to follow specific instructions, she was quite relaxed about the matter of security in general. This infuriated Jessica, who reminded her mother that there had surely been enough incidents of violence and criminality around her for her to have learnt to keep herself safe. Thea just shrugged and said if somebody was intent on attacking her, a locked door probably wasn’t going to stop them. Shepointed out that hardly anybody had offered her direct aggression, and that she was simply in the way most of the time. The vacuum created when somebody left their house often gave rise to opportunistic felonies, it was true, but Thea’s role to date had mainly been to bear witness and make sensible suggestions to the police.
Or so she chose to characterise her career thus far. She conveniently overlooked the times when she had been seriously frightened, when the animals in her care had come to harm and her suggestions proved to be much less sensible than she cared to recall.
Frowning at her computer screen, she composed a buoyant message for her daughter that would allay any lingering worries the girl might have. Weather tantalising, work not a bit arduous, great walks and much to explore . A bit telegrammatic, she decided, and added a few embellishments before sending it off.
‘Are you there?’ came a female voice from the hallway. ‘Hey – I need somebody, quickly.’
‘In here,’ Thea called back. ‘What’s the matter?’
Jemima Hobson was standing in the doorway, breathing heavily. She must have run up the drive from the Lodge – a short but rather steep avenue. ‘It’s Dad. I can’t rouse him.’
Thea did not react very quickly. She glanced at the large antique clock on the mantelpiece, thinking perhaps the old man had merely slept in. It was a fewminutes after ten. ‘What do you mean? Have you been into the house?’
Jemima shook her head. ‘The door’s locked. I banged and shouted, but there’s no sign of him.’
‘Haven’t you got a key?’
‘It’s at home. I never normally need to use it – he leaves the back door on the latch.’
‘Gosh! Isn’t he worried about burglars?’ She heard her own hypocrisy, in this question. Why should she assume that Donny was any more paranoid than she was herself?
Jemima shrugged impatiently. ‘Not very, no. He hasn’t got anything of value in the house. I imagine any marauders would make directly for the Manor, don’t you?’
Which wasn’t much more secure, Thea acknowledged silently. ‘Could he have gone out?’ she asked.
‘He only really comes up here, these days, unless Edwina takes him somewhere.’
‘Has he got a car?’
‘Yes, but he doesn’t drive any more.’ Jemima danced agitatedly. ‘Please come with me. We’ll have to break in.’
‘I don’t know how useful I can be,’ Thea demurred. ‘I’m not especially
By nine-thirty she was activating her laptop and preparing to send short updates of her whereabouts to her daughter and mother. None of her family understood or approved of her career as a house-sitter. Jessica had joined her a few times, becoming involved in the adventures that so persistently befell Thea when she intruded into the complications that seemed to characterise small English communities. As a newly trained police officer, Jessica was often torn between roles and alarmed at her mother’s cavalier approach. But the girl was currently distracted by a demanding relationship, with little attention to spare her mother. ‘Besides,’ Thea had assured her, ‘I’ve demonstrated by now that I can look after myself, haven’t I?’
The front door stood open, weak sunshine brightening the hallway, which Thea could see from the living room. She liked open doors and fresh air – something she was generally able to ensure in the Cotswold houses she looked after. Double glazing and complicated locks made her impatient, the way they created airtight boxes in which she felt suffocated. Whilst doing her best to follow specific instructions, she was quite relaxed about the matter of security in general. This infuriated Jessica, who reminded her mother that there had surely been enough incidents of violence and criminality around her for her to have learnt to keep herself safe. Thea just shrugged and said if somebody was intent on attacking her, a locked door probably wasn’t going to stop them. Shepointed out that hardly anybody had offered her direct aggression, and that she was simply in the way most of the time. The vacuum created when somebody left their house often gave rise to opportunistic felonies, it was true, but Thea’s role to date had mainly been to bear witness and make sensible suggestions to the police.
Or so she chose to characterise her career thus far. She conveniently overlooked the times when she had been seriously frightened, when the animals in her care had come to harm and her suggestions proved to be much less sensible than she cared to recall.
Frowning at her computer screen, she composed a buoyant message for her daughter that would allay any lingering worries the girl might have. Weather tantalising, work not a bit arduous, great walks and much to explore . A bit telegrammatic, she decided, and added a few embellishments before sending it off.
‘Are you there?’ came a female voice from the hallway. ‘Hey – I need somebody, quickly.’
‘In here,’ Thea called back. ‘What’s the matter?’
Jemima Hobson was standing in the doorway, breathing heavily. She must have run up the drive from the Lodge – a short but rather steep avenue. ‘It’s Dad. I can’t rouse him.’
Thea did not react very quickly. She glanced at the large antique clock on the mantelpiece, thinking perhaps the old man had merely slept in. It was a fewminutes after ten. ‘What do you mean? Have you been into the house?’
Jemima shook her head. ‘The door’s locked. I banged and shouted, but there’s no sign of him.’
‘Haven’t you got a key?’
‘It’s at home. I never normally need to use it – he leaves the back door on the latch.’
‘Gosh! Isn’t he worried about burglars?’ She heard her own hypocrisy, in this question. Why should she assume that Donny was any more paranoid than she was herself?
Jemima shrugged impatiently. ‘Not very, no. He hasn’t got anything of value in the house. I imagine any marauders would make directly for the Manor, don’t you?’
Which wasn’t much more secure, Thea acknowledged silently. ‘Could he have gone out?’ she asked.
‘He only really comes up here, these days, unless Edwina takes him somewhere.’
‘Has he got a car?’
‘Yes, but he doesn’t drive any more.’ Jemima danced agitatedly. ‘Please come with me. We’ll have to break in.’
‘I don’t know how useful I can be,’ Thea demurred. ‘I’m not especially
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