She went down again and made tea, discovering that the milk had gone sour overnight, with no fridge to keep it cool. The so-called cool box was a poor substitute in August. There was no avoiding the necessity to do some shopping. There had to be buses in and out of Cirencester, even on a Sunday. That would be the main task for the morning, then. It would be a good diversion from the problem of Grace, who could huddle 69in her attic as much as she liked. The laptop would find a timetable, and location of the nearest bus stop. But when she turned on the computer, a quick consultation revealed the shocking news that buses did not run on a Sunday. She sat back in disbelief. The problem could only be solved by walking to Bibury and back, or asking Drew to bring more supplies. Why had she been such a fool as to not bring enough food in the first place? She had not thought past Saturday evening – and neither had Drew. Unless, she thought cynically, he had planned all along to pay regular visits with food boxes, as a way of keeping an eye on her.

Well, the day could not be allowed to run away like this. She went back upstairs and shouted, even more loudly than before, ‘Grace!!’

When there was still no reply, she stomped up the steep stairs, and banged on the door at the top. Then she pushed it open and went in.

The woman was lying on the pile of blankets, one arm flung out. Her legs were bent and splayed in an unnatural, graceless position. Her face was very white and still, the eyes open.

‘Oh, God,’ said Thea.

70

Chapter Five

The body was warm when Thea put a trembling finger to the neck, but there was no sign of life. How? came the question repeatedly. And When? And shamefully, there was also a thread of selfish panic that she, Thea, would be blamed for this. She had been stupid, dishonest, gullible. She had kept her visitor secret when she should immediately have told Drew, and probably Gladwin, of her existence. She had left the door unlocked and gone for a self-indulgent walk for no good reason at all.

Now she had to tell the world about it. She had to attract the attention of the people of Barnsley, and admit to Tabitha Ibbotson that she had seriously messed up. What would happen next? Would the police forbid the builders entry to the house? Would they send Thea home to her rightful place at her husband’s side, feeding and entertaining his children?

She swallowed and looked again at the body. Police? Was this a deliberate killing, then? Given her substantial previous experience, that had been her immediate 71assumption. There was no blood, no visible wounds. Grace was wearing a T-shirt and pants, lacking any sort of nightwear. Again, Thea reproached herself for failing to offer anything of the sort. Not that she had a spare nightie with her anyway. The pale legs looked pathetically vulnerable, and the outflung arm suggested at least some feeble effort at self-defence. If the cause had been heart failure or a brain haemorrhage, would there have been less movement?