Since Ben and Joss Beckett took over The Fair Maid and Falcon, they have had to deal with ghosts, gangsters and well-dodgy goings-on. Despite that they have their own family of twin daughters and dogs, and a fabulous ‘found family’ of friends.
Leaving Sian to feed the twins, I dragged Ben over to the office. He opened his mouth and I forestalled him with a big kiss.
“I take it we are expecting visitors.”
He nodded, but there was a grim set to his jaw.
“Right then. Let’s do contingency planning. There’s no way to stop Stella from going to assure herself Audrey is okay, so we’ll send a couple of Connor Smith’s boys to ride shotgun. They all adore Star, and her cream buns, so she’ll be as safe as houses.”
The atmosphere in the office dialled down several notches and he managed a half a grin.
“Why didn’t we think of that?”
I let that one go and enumerated the rest of my thinking on my fingers.
“Extra manpower in the ice cream parlour. And in here. And a couple of big lads in the house. That should do the job.”
“It should. But what do we tell the twins?”
I thought for a minute.
“Are any of the guardsmen any good with tools?”
“They’re all better than me,” he offered.
I shook my head. “So are Bud and Lew.”
His chuckle was real enough and he fondly mussed my hair before pulling himself back to the business in hand.
“I think that the two older guys who replaced that louse Andrew are pretty handy. But why?”
“There’s quite a bit of maintenance wants doing over at the house. The twins won’t question a man with a screwdriver. Though they might just get right on his nerves.”
He beamed. “You never let me down.”
After a stolen kiss he went off to make arrangements and I grabbed a few precious minutes with my girls. All too soon it was time to smarten myself up and head across to meet some gentlemen I had rather hoped to never encounter again. I left Bud and Lew playing with the twins but took Stan and Ollie with me. We bellied up to the bar and I fortified myself with a glass of impeccable claret. Ben wasn’t far behind me, and, although he opted for a pint of a local golden ale, and we managed to talk about the possibility of stocking the brand regularly instead of as a ‘guest’ we were both as edgy as cats in a rainstorm.
At the appointed time, three men came quietly into the bar. One was slight and expensively tailored. I remembered him. The other two were more obviously hard men, though I reckoned them less dangerous than their boss. They walked over to where I sat and the man I remembered smiled.
“Mrs Beckett. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
I extended my hand and he shook it with careful gentleness. Meanwhile the dogs were giving his companions their most unfriendly side-eye. One man put a hand in his jacket pocket and I felt myself stiffen.
Before I had chance to do more than glare his boss rounded on him and snapped out an order. The hard man cringed and seemed to diminish inside his clothing.
“Our hostess’s dogs would seem to be correct in their estimation of you. Either remember your manners or go and wait in the car.”
The hard boy met my eyes and I kept my face cool and disinterested. Eventually he ducked his head.
“Apologies, madam.”
I inclined my head. “Accepted. But please remember I am very fond of my dogs.”
Boss man laughed, a sound of genuine amusement.
“There is a lesson there for you boys. Courage doesn’t always come with big muscles.”
I didn’t quite follow his train of thought there, but I wasn’t about to ask dumb questions.
Ben put a restraining hand on my shoulder, though, just in case.
“Be welcome to The Fair Maid and Falcon,” he said formally. Then in a more normal voice. “Can we feed you?”
“That would be a greater civility than we are accustomed to.”
I grinned at him as Ellen appeared with menus.
“Your table is ready, if you would like to follow me.”
Once we were seated and our drinks order was placed I had a thought.
“How many of you are out in the car park?”
“Four. In two cars.”
I signalled to the waiting Ellen.
“There are four gentlemen in the car park who are also hungry I’m sure. Have two of the boys move a picnic table to a convenient spot and take their food orders out to them.”
“Which cars?”
Once she had the necessary information she bustled off.
The two hard boys fiddled with their hands and I sort of took pity on them.
“You having a problem deciding what you want to eat?”
They nodded. “We aren’t used to eating at the establishment of a Michelin starred chef.”
I had to laugh. “Would it help to know I don’t cook much these days?”
That drew a smile, but then the braver of the duo shook his head. “I don’t reckon you as the type to let standards slip.”
“Busted. And I will admit to being proud of what we serve. What sort of food do you like?”
This time they both grinned naturally. “We aren’t proud, so long as there’s plenty.”
Ben took over as smoothly as if he wasn’t in a state of high adrenaline.
“How about tapas?”
“What, like you eat in bars at Benidorm to stop yourself getting pissed?”
“Sort of. Only better.”
They nodded enthusiastically and in the end we opted for tapas for five, with extra chips and garlic bread.
Boss man smiled at me, but addressed Ben.
“You may find it difficult to believe, but I’m truly not here to pick a fight with your family. I have a great deal of respect for your business ethics and your support for the community. It’s merely a case of explanations from both sides.”
Ben’s jaw unclenched fractionally. “Okay. I guess.”
“Shall we eat our lunch and talk after?” I suggested.
“That seems like an excellent notion.”
The food arrived with commendable speed, and our guests were soon wholly occupied by the variety and excellence of the dishes. Even the boss man lost his veneer of superiority sufficiently to all but groan at the medley of flavours. I had wondered at Ben’s addition of extra chips and garlic bread, but he turned out to have been right on the money as every dish was all but licked clean.
When they had finished eating, the youngest of the trio made me a mock bow.
“It’s a good job you’re married, or I’d be here every night making a fool of myself by courting you for your tapas.”
His boss offered him a stern look, but when I laughed he palliated the severity with a wry grin.
“It’s a good job I more than halfway agree with you. It’s also a good job her husband is a secure sort of a gentleman.” He indicated Ben with a hitch of his chin. “Because he’s certainly not a man it would be sensible to irritate.”
“Indeed he wouldn’t.”
“As the woman is blind enough to never see any man but me, I can afford to be complacent.” Ben spread his easy charm. “Does anyone want pudding?”
After a fair bit of groaning we established that everyone was full and coffee would be the order of the day.
Ben and the two hard boys took their coffees to the bar, leaving me and my dogs to converse with the boss man.
“Cards on the table?” I asked.
“It would be easiest.”
“I’ll begin then. It has been brought to my notice that certain groups of people are interested in a plot of land we acquired to add to the pub and the market garden. I’m also pretty certain that some people are suspicious of our motives for buying it.”
He nodded and I continued.
“The old man to whom the land belonged died and his daughter offered it to the parish council, who had neither the money nor the will to make the purchase. They suggested that Ben and I buy it. Given that one part of the land is a field that abuts the market garden and another is an orchard that runs alongside our beer garden I could see the business sense. Ben, of course, thought the paddock would be ideal to house ponies for our twin daughters. This. Is. Not. Happening.”
My companion grinned a sort of sharky grin. “My daughter has a horse, and it keeps me poor.” Then he sobered. “I can see the field to add to the market garden. But what use are the other bits?”
“Not a lot. Particularly as it’s all protected and covenanted. But look at it this way. If a developer got his sticky hands on the orchard how long would it take them to break the covenant and build on the orchard at least. Imagine having a dozen or so ‘luxury homes’ sharing the access road we maintain and complaining that the pub is too noisy, etcetera.”
“I hadn’t considered that, but it’s a valid point. It is indeed a valid point. And the paddock?”
“It was just part of the parcel. Currently it’s home to some sheep and a group of pigmy goats. Now. I believe we said something about cards on the table.”
“We did, and it’s a troubling tale. Forty or so years ago, a shipment of arms and ammunition went missing. So far as I am able to ascertain it just disappeared. Those for whom the consignment was destined were unamused, as were those who were the providers. After some ‘investigation’, suspicion fell on a fairly small cog in the delivery machinery. He was questioned closely and let go. However, there was a faction convinced enough of his guilt to take vengeance. His wife was kidnapped and never seen again. He was sent her fingers in a box, but nothing else was ever found. She was seven months pregnant. The young man hanged himself.”
He stopped speaking and one look at the porridge grey of his skin had me signal to Ben for a large brandy. A few sips later and my guest had himself back in hand.
“Thank you for your patience. Anyway. This sad story was all but forgotten until a very old man died in a hospice in Limerick. His last action in life was to write a confession of his part in the abduction and murder of an innocent woman.”
It came into my head that a lot of innocent women, and children, and men had died in what is often revered to as ‘the troubles’, although that was an idea I had sense enough to keep to myself as my guest continued speaking.
“The letter stated that the murder victim was buried somewhere in the New Forest, which doesn’t narrow things down by much, and we were pretty much back to square one when we got a breakthrough. The hospice where our informant died received a monthly cheque to help pay for his care. From the man from whose daughter you purchased the land.”
And that was when the penny dropped. The hidden thing supposedly on our land was the body of a murdered woman. My companion passed me his brandy glass…
There will be more from Joss, Ben and their friends, courtesy of Jane Jago, next week, or you can catch up with their earlier adventures in Who Put Her In and Who Pulled Her Out.
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