House of the Hanged by Mark Mills Page A

didn’t appreciate the bounty of the sea. Tonight, lobster pilaf was on the menu in honour of Lucy’s arrival. Lucy had always adored lobster, and in Paulette’s eyes Lucy could do no wrong. In fact, aside from her own daughter, who was sometimes drafted in as a sous-chef , Lucy was the only person allowed in the kitchen while Paulette was working her magic. Even Tom was banned, until it was time to start bearing the platters of food to the table.
    Paulette was running late today. By half past ten, long after Tom had laid Hector to rest, she still hadn’t appeared at the villa. This wasn’t unheard of – she relied on her unreliable husband Claude for a lift to and from work – but given the recent turn of events Tom felt an understandable clutch of concern.
    He was about to lock up and head for the cove when he heard the crunch of tyres on gravel.
    They had clearly had a blazing row in the car. Claude wore the look of a man still smarting from the lash of his wife’s tongue, and he sheepishly mumbled some excuse when Tom appeared from the house.
    Paulette didn’t speak; she stomped inside, leaving the two men to unpack the provisions.
    â€˜She sometimes wonders why you aren’t married,’ said Claude.
    â€˜Does she?’
    â€˜I don’t.’
    Lucy was alone on the beach, stretched out on a straw mat, reading a book.
    â€˜Good morning,’ Tom called as he approached.
    Lucy twisted to look at him. ‘Morning.’
    She was a wearing a skin-tight black maillot , cut high on the thigh and open at the back, the very height of risqué beachwear fashion.
    He deposited himself beside her. ‘I like your new bathing costume.’
    â€˜Mother hates it. She says it leaves nothing to the imagination.’
    Venetia’s things were laid out nearby, but she was nowhere to be seen.
    â€˜Has she gone off and drowned herself in protest?’
    â€˜Sadly not. She’s taken the kayak out.’
    â€˜Excuse me?’
    It was a preposterous notion. ‘She woke up this morning and decided she was fat, so she’s resolved to be more active.’
    â€˜That rather scuppers her theory that all women who take exercise are lesbians.’
    Lucy smiled, but there was something unconvincing in the curl of her lips, and it very soon became clear that she was carrying something she wanted to say.
    Raising herself up so that she was sitting cross-legged in front of him, she reached across and gently took his hands in hers.
    â€˜Tom, I know what happened last night. I saw you.’
    He felt his heart lurch.
    â€˜I was here. Well, there . . .’ She nodded behind her, up towards the headland. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the Albatross – my wonderful present from you – and I just had to get up and come and have a look. That’s when I saw you down here.’
    He stared deep into her dark eyes, trying to calculate just how much she could have seen from up there on the headland. Enough. Damn the moonlight.
    Sweet relief followed moments later.
    â€˜It was Hector, wasn’t it?’
    He lunged at the excuse she’d offered him, an explanation he would never have had the presence of mind to conjure up on the spur of the moment. He lowered his gaze by way of affirmation.
    â€˜What happened?’ she asked.
    He was safe now, working ahead of her, already putting the finishing touches to the story.
    â€˜I think it was poison. They lay a fair amount of it around these parts against rats. God knows where it happened. I suppose it’s best I don’t know who’s responsible, or I might just do something I regret.’
    Don’t over-egg the pudding , he told himself.
    â€˜Where did you find him?’
    The pain in her eyes was palpable, and he opted for the gazebo. If he mentioned the gulley, she was liable to make a pilgrimage there. She might even find the fresh grave he had just dug for poor Hector.
    Lucy