“You pay top dollar, you get only the best.”
“So I see. Here, give me a hand with this.”
Adrian went over and helped Lenny haul the mattress onto the bed. Although snug, they had measured correctly and the mattress fitted nicely. Even with the stark décor—peeling beige paint, faded floral wallpaper and drab dirty-white curtains—the room had a comfortable feel and overlooked the short driveway below, even though trees blocked any view of the lane beyond.
“Do you want this room tonight?” asked Lenny. “Or the one at the back?”
“This one is fine.”
“You don’t want the one with the view?”
“I’ll leave that to the master of the house. Come on, let’s get the sheets and duvet on the bed. Then we can use the plastic sheeting from the mattress to drape over. Even with the door closed, there’s bound to be dust from downstairs.”
Just after they'd finally finished setting up the back bedroom and stood back to admire their handiwork, a female voice sounded from below stairs.
“Hello? Is anybody there?”
Adrian met Lenny’s curious gaze. The voice had a very distinctive Welsh accent.
“Did you leave the front door open?” asked Adrian, walking over to the door to peer down the stairs.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, it sounds as though you have a visitor. Word certainly gets round in these parts,” said Adrian, grinning, before shouting out. “We’re upstairs. Give us a minute.”
“It’s probably the gardening contractor. They’re a little early, which in my book is always a good sign.”
Adrian finished securing the plastic packing from the mattress over the bed and descended the stairs behind Lenny to see a woman standing by the front door, her face frozen in shock.
“Luke?”
“Uh, no. I’m Leonard. Leonard Day. And you are?”
Somehow, maybe hearing the timbre of Lenny’s voice or seeing Adrian standing behind, but something appeared to break the spell, and the woman’s face relaxed. She had a tanned complexion and ruddy cheeks, and wore her grey hair tied back severely from her face. Lending to the outdoorsy look, she sported a green Barbour jacket over an oatmeal jumper, with jeans tucked into green Wellington boots. If Adrian had to hazard a guess—he was usually hopeless at guessing the ages of women—he would place her in her early fifties.
“I am so sorry. I’m Philippa Redfern. One of the owners of Redfern Landscaping. For a moment there you reminded me of someone I used to know. Or, at least, how he would have looked now—”
“Luke Darlington?” asked Lenny.
“Yes, actually.” The woman stopped again and stared at Lenny. “Thought I’d seen his ghost for a moment. You knew him?”
“I never met him, but Luke is—was—my cousin. So there might be a family resemblance,” said Lenny, before stepping down into the hallway and allowing Adrian to join them. “This is my—uh—friend, Adrian.”
Even though he thought of them the same way, Adrian felt a twinge of pleasure hearing Lenny refer to him as a friend. The woman, Philippa, smiled then, and shook hands with each of them before placing a hand over her heart.
“I am so sorry, but honestly, in this dim light, you looked the image of him. Older, of course, than the last time I saw him. But even the way you moved, the way you hopped down those stairs. Gave me quite the start, you did.”
“In which case, I’m sorry, too. Let’s go through to the living room. It’s a bit of a mess, I’m afraid. Thanks for being punctual, by the way.” While Lenny led the way in, Adrian pulled open three of the folding chairs around the small collapsible table he’d been wise enough to bring and they all sat down. But they didn’t get straight down to business, Lenny curious to know more. “In case you were wondering, I inherited this home from my father. Hence the renovations. I thought you might have had trouble finding the place.”
“Ah, well, I’ve been here before,” said the woman. “Many times, actually.”
“Really? Is that how you knew Luke?” asked Lenny.
“Yes. We were good friends. Years ago, of course. I’d have been Pippa White back then, before I married. Used to hang out with Luke and the Williams twins, Freya and Howie.”
“Philippa. Yes, Mrs Llewellyn at the Manor Inn pub in Newbridge mentioned you. Thick as thieves, she said.”
The woman laughed at the comment, while clutching the sizeable flat valise to her chest.
