Thea merely nodded and flapped a hand as if to say it wasn’t up to her to keep them at it. Now the time was growing so close, all she could think about was her lunch date with Clovis Biddulph.

172

Chapter Thirteen

She had suggested the pub in Quenington from some obscure sense of keeping Clovis well out of sight of anyone in Barnsley. Word was less likely to get back to Drew, or even Gladwin, that way. Whatever happened next, the whole encounter would be far best kept secret, if she could manage it without telling any direct lies. A quick check on the Internet reminded her that the pub was called The Keeper’s Arms. Ruefully she noted that it welcomed dogs. She felt sorely tempted to rush back to Broad Campden to collect the abandoned Hepzie, regardless of what Tabitha Ibbotson might think. It was not getting any easier without her. The morning’s walk had been just as flat and empty as those of previous days. Watching the spaniel nosing around, with bursts of exuberant flight, ears flapping, had always been more than half the point of a country walk.

She did her best not to be early, but somehow found herself setting out just after noon. The unfamiliar car might cause trouble; there could be roadworks or a great 173logjam of coaches at Bibury, which was on the way. While not wanting to appear eager to meet Clovis again, neither did she want to keep him waiting, in a show of female hard-to-gettery. Just be normal, she kept telling herself.

Quenington was itself full of historical and geographical interest. The buildings were ancient and unusual; there was the River Coln, which gave its name to a number of local settlements. Thea had been there once, two or three years earlier, on a day out that had included so many points of interest that she could now remember none of them in any detail. She drove a short way past the pub, with ten minutes to spare, and decided to take a quick walk up to the Knights’ Gate, that had taken her fancy on the previous visit, mainly because it claimed some connection with the Knights Templar, which were always fascinating.

She located it without difficulty and stood admiring its age-old charms for a minute or two. Then, as she walked back, the driver of a dark-blue car tooted at her and she realised her assignation was about to begin.

Clovis parked in the road outside the pub and sat waiting for her. With a brief greeting, he stood back and let her lead the way into the building. Tables were arranged like an ordinary pub, rather than a blurry combination of pub and restaurant that was more or less the norm in the Cotswolds. Without discussion, they settled at a corner seat by a window, with pints of beer in front of them. ‘We’ll order lunch in a minute,’ Clovis told the man behind the bar. He had not given Thea time to properly look at him, barely meeting her eye and moving briskly. Now, sitting across a pine 174table from him, she stared bravely into his face.