Back home, in her flat, she could smell the sea at night. By day the traffic smells blocked the tang of salt, but by late evening, when the tide came in and the cars made their way home, the wind carried the smell of seaweed and damp tide.

They were further from the sea here, she thought. Thirty, maybe even forty miles. The dominant scent was of jasmine and rose and it was so quiet. So quiet. Too early even for the birds to be chattering.

A car passed in the lane, the engine noise breaking the silence and she found herself wondering who they might be and where they were going at this time of the night. She listened hard, straining to hear as the sound receded into the distance. She liked the house, loved the location and the peace, but wasn’t so sure she could get used to this degree of isolation. And, she reminded herself, Rupert had lived alone. She was sure she could not have done that. Not here. Her little flat was her very own, personal space and she had chosen it after she had lost her sight because of the welcoming feel to it the first time she had visited and the easy layout. Yes, she lived alone there, but she was always aware of others around her. Her upstairs neighbours were quiet, but the occasional thump or heavy step or closing door reminded her that there were people close by and even at night there were street sounds and occasional cars and cats prowling and yowling, barking dogs in the next street …

This was isolated, Naomi thought. At least, to her mind it was and yet several times she had heard those who were used to such seclusion speak of the place where Rupert had died as being in the middle of nowhere.

If Fallowfields was generally counted as being somewhere then just how desperately alone must Rupert have felt on the day he died.

Five

Morning brought a series of shocks.

‘I’ll run through the finer points in a moment, but, to be brief, apart from his share of the shop, he’s left everything to you.’ Donald Grieves, Rupert’s solicitor peered at Alec over the top of his bifocals.

‘To me?’ Alec turned to Marcus Prescott. ‘You knew about this?’

‘Of course. Rupert and I made out our wills at the same time. Whoever passed on first took over the shop. Rupert wanted the rest to go to you. I believe, apart from the house, there’s some seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds in a savings account.’ He looked at Donald Grieves for confirmation.

‘Something of that order,’ Grieves nodded.

Alec was too stunned to say a word.

‘Why Alec?’ Naomi asked and Alec glanced first at her and then back at the solicitor.

‘Yes, exactly. Why me?’

It was Marcus Prescott that replied. ‘Rupert liked you. Loved you. He wanted those things he loved to go to someone he felt the same about, and, as he and your father were no longer on speaking terms, that direction was never an option. Rupert said you always kept in touch and he had adored your visits to Fallowfields when you were younger. He used to talk about one day when there was a storm rolling in from the sea. Do you remember that?’

Alec nodded. ‘Oh yes,’ he said softly. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘He rated you highly, my boy. Said you were honest and kind and just that little bit driven. All qualities I loved in Rupert. You know,’ Marcus continued thoughtfully, ‘I always thought he’d have made a good father.’

The solicitor laughed uncertainly. ‘Pity he never found the right woman.’

Marcus deliberated thoughtfully, and Alec could see that he had revived Naomi’s ruminations of the day before. She no longer thought that Rupert and Marcus had been lovers, but she still questioned whether Rupert would have been interested in ‘the right woman’.

‘So, what happens now?’ Naomi asked.

‘I’m stunned,’ Alec added unnecessarily.

‘Well, everything has been set up to make the transfer of deed and so forth as easy as possible. Um, Rupert was concerned that, even with keeping the house, there will be tax to pay, so he made some provision for that. There’s the bank account, though, with inflation etc, it may not cover everything. I do know that he was keen you should keep Fallowfields. Said so on a number of occasions, said it would stand you in good stead for the long term, but I’m sure he would have understood should you decide to sell. No rush, of course.’

‘No,’ Alec said. ‘I mean. I have to think about this. I’ve still not taken it in.’

‘No, no, of course. I’ve put a little pack together for you. Copy of the will and other paperwork relating to the legacy. You can go through it at your leisure and, of course, don’t hesitate to contact me with any questions.’

Alec allowed himself to be guided to the local hotel where Marcus had arranged for them to have lunch. He felt numbed, shocked. He had hoped for some small legacy from his uncle, just something to remember him by. To have been allowed to take a couple of books from the extensive library or perhaps a few of the family photographs Rupert had framed and dotted about Fallowfields would have been more than enough. To have been left so much … that shifted the balance of Alec’s world.

He had never been badly off. His father, as a doctor, and his mother, as a teacher, they had valued education and experience and Alec had acquired the best of both. He had been loved and cherished and grown up perhaps a little too much aware of his own imagined importance. University and then policing had changed his perspective and brought him into contact with a wider variety of people and backgrounds, but on the whole his transition from high achiever in school to high achiever in the workplace had been smooth and seamless and the salary had followed, supplemented by the investments his father had made on his behalf when Alec was a child.

He owned a house and a car. Both above averagely nice. He did pretty much what he wanted as regards holidays and consumer luxury, but this legacy was something else. A brief look at the paperwork he had been given told him that his assets, even after taxes had been paid, would leave him with something like half a million.

Pounds.

Sterling.

Plus the house.

Not enough to retire on, maybe, but certainly enough to change his life one way or another.

But it wasn’t just this that shocked him, Alec realized. Wasn’t just that he now had a rather large house with a very large garden and an extremely comfortable bank account. It was that it had never occurred to him that Rupert might have had money. Not at all. Rupert had bought Fallowfields at a time when such property was cheap. He had furnished it comfortably but never to a particularly luxurious standard. He had always driven ageing and somewhat quirky cars and …

A thought struck.

‘Marcus, did Rupert still drive?’

‘Yes. He had that old Austin Healey. Why?’

‘Did he keep it at Fallowfields? It isn’t in the garage.’

Marcus looked curiously at him. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘Did he drive to where they found him?’

Marcus shook his head. ‘I thought that, but there was no sign of the car.’

‘So …’

Marcus sighed. ‘Alec, that’s just one of the things I want to talk to you about. Look, here’s the hotel, let’s get our table and order and then I’ll fill you in. Naomi dear, there are three steps, quite narrow but shallow and I’ve checked ahead, our lovely Napoleon will be more than welcome. There’s a bit of an alcove in the main dining room. Napoleon can lie down out of the way and not be trodden on.’

‘Thank you, Marcus.’

Alec made to take her arm to find that Marcus had beaten him to it and was guiding her up the steps. Completely unnecessary, Alec knew. She and Napoleon could manage just fine, but it was a natural reaction on his behalf and, he supposed, on that of Marcus as well.

It struck him, not for the first time, that he should have brought her to visit Rupert. His uncle would have loved her and adored the dog.