2. Old Friends

Sarah came down the stairs, two at a time, and stepped past a stack of backpacks on her way through to the kitchen. Chloe was already at the counter, eating cereal, flicking through her phone.

“Tea?” said Sarah, turning the kettle on.

“I’m good, Mum, thanks,” said her daughter, not looking up.

Sarah grabbed some yoghurt from the fridge, fruit from the bowl, started chopping.

“So — I didn’t dream it, last night,” she said.

Chloe looked up at the odd question. “Dream what?”

Sarah nodded to the bags. “My beautiful son, your lovely brother, home from his travels?”

“Oh right, yeah, Daniel.” Chloe acted as though the return was no big deal.

“Did he pop in to see you, say ‘hey’? Must have been around three, no?”

Chloe laughed. “He knows better than to do that,” said Chloe.

Sarah grinned. Chloe and Daniel were close — but she also knew Chloe still treated her brother like he was ten years younger than her, not three.

“Back on the fruit, huh?” said Chloe.

“Oh, yes. Too many work lunches,” said Sarah munching on apple, peach and grapes. “Only three months to the charity half marathon. Got some pounds to lose if I’m going to get my time down.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

“Feels healthy — that’s the main thing. I mean, yoghurt and fruit is nice … not exactly a hardship.”

“Sure,” said Chloe, getting up and rinsing her cereal dish. “Oh, by the way — newsflash — I would not go in the TV room — there’s some guy asleep in there.”

Sarah looked at her daughter. Interesting morning so far.

“Really? Terrific,” said Sarah. “Anyone we know?”

“I’m guessing, from the fact there are two packs in the hall, that it’s somebody Daniel met in Thailand.”

“Or it’s a very fatigued burglar,” said Sarah.

“Nah, not a burglar. Follow the evidence, Mum. From the smell, lack of a shower in — say — a few weeks, definitely a friend of Daniel’s.”

“We’re going to have to get used to that if he’s home for a while. Though the shower thing? Easily corrected.”

“Long as he dumps his washing on you, not me, I’m cool with that,” said Chloe. “Oh, and Mum — I’d really rather not have our uninvited houseguest here next Saturday on my birthday dinner. Maybe he and Daniel could eat out somewhere?”

“Ah, right,” said Sarah, in an instant remembering what it was like bringing up these two as teenagers: the endless squabbles, deals, agreements, compromises.

And here was I thinking that was all over, Sarah thought.

However, to have Daniel home, both kids home, well, somehow it felt as if it was worth it.

“I’m ready, by the way,” said Chloe, drying her hands. “Shall I wait for you? Saturday morning, parking will be a complete nightmare in the village if we’re late.”

“Oh no! Is that the time already?” said Sarah, gulping down her tea. “Yes, right there!”

Since Chloe had started working for Sarah at the web agency — a successful experiment so far — they’d tried to save on car journeys.

Sarah hurled her plate into the sink, and unplugged her phone from the charger. As she did, it rang.

She checked the incoming: Tony Standish.

Tony was Sarah’s solicitor, an old family friend and, in her view, one of the last surviving true gentlemen. She never let his calls go to her voicemail.

Somehow she managed to wedge the phone under her chin as she answered it, gathering up her work things while heading for the front door, steps behind Chloe.

“Tony, hi. Early call for a Saturday — something up?”

“Ah, good morning, Sarah,” came Tony’s calm, warm voice. “Well yes, I do believe there is.”

Sarah knew Tony was not one for exaggeration or undue alarm. If he had a concern, there was something to be concerned about.

“Okay, no worries — just on my way out the door. Catch up soon as I hit the office?”

She shut the door behind her, one eye on the blue sky, sensing another warm day in the offing.

Chloe was already turning her little car round in the small driveway at the front of the cottage. Back and forth, back and forth — a tad fast on those turns.

“Oh, no need to rush. How about you come over later?” said Tony. “Say … eleven? I’ve already called Jack.”

Jack … thought Sarah.

A lightbulb went off. So this wasn’t to do with work — or family. Tony only ever brought Jack and Sarah together when there was something to be discussed that — quite often — would turn into a case to be solved.

She and Jack Brennan, a one-time NYPD detective who had retired to the village a few years ago — were partners in crime.

Or — to be more accurate — crime-solving.

And when he wasn’t keeping his old barge The Grey Goose afloat down on the river, the two of them pretty much carried on like the best of friends, though they never quite used those words, or had completely agreed what their relationship really was.

Whatever it was, Sarah couldn’t be happier that the New Yorker was in her life.

“Eleven o’clock. Got it,” said Sarah. Anything in her diary for that slot would simply have to be moved. “You able to give me a hint what this is about?”

Tony paused. “Oh I think I’d best wait till you’re both here, and then we can all have a nice little chat over a cup of tea and some biscuits, yes?”

“Looking forward to it,” said Sarah, climbing into the car and putting her belt on.

*

Jack threaded his way through the market stalls in the square: shopping basket under one arm, already filled to the brim with a crusty loaf of bread, an assortment of cheeses, salami and other charcuteries and — why not? — a bag of mixed greens and deep red tomatoes for a quick salad.

Cherringham’s weekly farmers market was always packed, and even more so in the summer months when thousands of tourists passed through. But it was always worth the hassle to shop here — the fruit and veg was half the price of some of the local so-called “farm shops”.

And also he got the chance to chat to the stall holders, by now, familiar faces most of them. This ritual, the same the world over, always reminded him of being a kid back in Brooklyn, tagging along behind his mom, shopping at the local butchers and bakers, the types of small shops that had all but vanished from the bustling Brooklyn of today.

His best memory, of course, would be when they’d stop for an Italian ice or, if he was lucky, an assortment of incredible cookies from the Entenmann’s bakery.

Seems like yesterday, he thought.

“Jack! Come stai?” came a voice from one of the stalls.

His favourite olive suppliers, Debbie and Agy: always happy to shoot the breeze. Their stall was a taste of old Italy, and Agy’s Sicilian accent took Jack right back to his New York childhood.

“Va bene, Agy!” said Jack, already choosing his olives for the weekend. The big plump nocellara maybe? The stuffed chilli? Or why not both!

“You better be quick, Jack,” came Sarah’s voice next to him, a hand on his arm. He looked up, and there she was, hair up in that cute tied scarf thing she did, big smile on her face. “Can’t keep Tony waiting.”

“Oh, that time already huh?” he said.

He glanced at the clock on the village hall tower — two minutes to eleven. Then he turned to Agy. “Signore, okay if I leave my shopping with you? Seems I have a meeting to go to.”

“Sure, Jack, I’ll put some of those artichokes in there too, on the house,” said Agy, taking the basket.

“You are too kind! Catch you later. Ciao,” said Jack, moving away with Sarah.

Tony’s office was just yards away, facing the square.

“Such a charmer, Jack. Is there anyone you don’t know in Cherringham?” said Sarah.

Jack pretended to give that serious consideration. “No, I don’t think so,” he said, grinning.

*

But Jack clearly didn’t know Charles Rawlinson, who stood with Tony in the hushed meeting room of Standish Associates, as Sarah and Jack were shown in by Tony’s prim and proper secretary, Mary.

Sarah recognised Charles straight away. Her father had introduced her to the elderly owner of the Cherringham Gin Company years back, when she’d first set up her web business and had been looking for clients.

“Lovely chap,” her dad had said. “Supports all the village good causes, heart’s totally in the right place. Makes a damn fine gin too!”

Charles had bought her an expensive lunch, listened politely to her suggestions, then, with a patient smile, informed her that...