Thorogood, these people, booksellers… they’re not what you think they’re going to be – not what I expected, certainly. And the worst kind of gossips. This town’s full of gossip. My wife hasn’t been well, that’s why we’ve had to keep closing the shop for days at a time.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Betty said. ‘You couldn’t find anyone else to work there part time?’
‘You can’t just have someone on a string. They want something solid, need to know which days they’re working.’
‘You see, we didn’t ask to look at your books – business accounts, I mean, anything like that, because our business would be different. But what I—’
‘You’d have learned nothing meaningful. All shops are going through a difficult time.’
‘I was also told…’ Another guess ‘… that the shop had changed hands quite a lot in quite a short period.’
‘That’s not uncommon in Hay. Never has been. Not everyone adapts easily. It isn’t London and it isn’t Oxford.’
He’d sounded as if he’d hoped it would be. Even Robin wasn’t that naive.
‘And presumably you’re only offering the shop for rent because you’ve tried to sell it?’
‘Anyone in the town would have told you – and I expect they did – that it was for sale for several months.’
‘You said – which I thought was very honest – that nobody else had wanted to actually live there.’
‘That’s not exactly what I said, Mrs Thorogood.’
‘Is it possible that these premises have… a reputation?’
‘Goodness, what have those people—? It’s an old building, it’s not in the best of condition. And it can get cold in the winter. That’s why we’re not overcharging. If there are any underlying problems with the plumbing or the electrics that I’m not aware of, you may be sure they’ll be put right as soon as I’m notified.’
‘That’s not really what I meant. Are you aware of anything that happened there in the past, which might have cast—?’
‘Like what?’
‘Something that…’ Careful now . ‘Something which might be thought to have left… an atmosphere?’
It could be a smell. Mothballs might bring on an image of an old woman moving around, counting the dresses in thewardrobe, a sense of sadness, regret, missed opportunities. Most people could do this if they spared the time, and the more they did it the stronger the sensations would be, the more vivid the images.
‘Mrs Thorogood, if you’re asking what I think you’re asking, I’ve heard that some poor chap once hanged himself in Back Fold, but not on my premises. That’s the only unnatural death I’ve heard of here.’
‘Who was there before you?’
‘It was an antique shop… well, more of a junk shop. Already empty when the agent took us to view. I thought that in turning it into a bookshop again I was doing something to reinforce the foundations of Hay.’
‘Why had it closed?’
‘Why do any of them close? I was told they needed bigger premises. Mrs Thorogood, I’d be most displeased if any unfounded rumours were to spread. And just to be absolutely clear, when I said no unnatural death, I meant people. More or less the whole of Back Fold had a single purpose at one time. Slaughter.’
Betty said nothing.
‘Of animals,’ Mr Oliver said.
‘When was this?’
‘Until comparatively recently, I believe. Seems to have gone back many years. Centuries. It would have been the castle abattoir. Right below the walls, so there’d always be fresh meat close to hand in the event of a siege or insurrection.’
‘Perhaps that’s it,’ Betty said. ‘We’re vegetarian.’
She watched Robin shifting uncomfortably in his sleep. There was a time when he’d slept like a dog slept, growling delightedly in pursuit of rabbits and squirrels.
She sat down on the sofa opposite his chair in a modern living room which, when they’d moved in, had had an atmosphere of anger and bitterness. If the middle-aged couple who’d sold themthe
‘I’m sorry,’ Betty said. ‘You couldn’t find anyone else to work there part time?’
‘You can’t just have someone on a string. They want something solid, need to know which days they’re working.’
‘You see, we didn’t ask to look at your books – business accounts, I mean, anything like that, because our business would be different. But what I—’
‘You’d have learned nothing meaningful. All shops are going through a difficult time.’
‘I was also told…’ Another guess ‘… that the shop had changed hands quite a lot in quite a short period.’
‘That’s not uncommon in Hay. Never has been. Not everyone adapts easily. It isn’t London and it isn’t Oxford.’
He’d sounded as if he’d hoped it would be. Even Robin wasn’t that naive.
‘And presumably you’re only offering the shop for rent because you’ve tried to sell it?’
‘Anyone in the town would have told you – and I expect they did – that it was for sale for several months.’
‘You said – which I thought was very honest – that nobody else had wanted to actually live there.’
‘That’s not exactly what I said, Mrs Thorogood.’
‘Is it possible that these premises have… a reputation?’
‘Goodness, what have those people—? It’s an old building, it’s not in the best of condition. And it can get cold in the winter. That’s why we’re not overcharging. If there are any underlying problems with the plumbing or the electrics that I’m not aware of, you may be sure they’ll be put right as soon as I’m notified.’
‘That’s not really what I meant. Are you aware of anything that happened there in the past, which might have cast—?’
‘Like what?’
‘Something that…’ Careful now . ‘Something which might be thought to have left… an atmosphere?’
It could be a smell. Mothballs might bring on an image of an old woman moving around, counting the dresses in thewardrobe, a sense of sadness, regret, missed opportunities. Most people could do this if they spared the time, and the more they did it the stronger the sensations would be, the more vivid the images.
‘Mrs Thorogood, if you’re asking what I think you’re asking, I’ve heard that some poor chap once hanged himself in Back Fold, but not on my premises. That’s the only unnatural death I’ve heard of here.’
‘Who was there before you?’
‘It was an antique shop… well, more of a junk shop. Already empty when the agent took us to view. I thought that in turning it into a bookshop again I was doing something to reinforce the foundations of Hay.’
‘Why had it closed?’
‘Why do any of them close? I was told they needed bigger premises. Mrs Thorogood, I’d be most displeased if any unfounded rumours were to spread. And just to be absolutely clear, when I said no unnatural death, I meant people. More or less the whole of Back Fold had a single purpose at one time. Slaughter.’
Betty said nothing.
‘Of animals,’ Mr Oliver said.
‘When was this?’
‘Until comparatively recently, I believe. Seems to have gone back many years. Centuries. It would have been the castle abattoir. Right below the walls, so there’d always be fresh meat close to hand in the event of a siege or insurrection.’
‘Perhaps that’s it,’ Betty said. ‘We’re vegetarian.’
She watched Robin shifting uncomfortably in his sleep. There was a time when he’d slept like a dog slept, growling delightedly in pursuit of rabbits and squirrels.
She sat down on the sofa opposite his chair in a modern living room which, when they’d moved in, had had an atmosphere of anger and bitterness. If the middle-aged couple who’d sold themthe
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