Part 16 (1/2)

'This is nice,' he said, struggling to an upright position and leaning forward to kiss her.

'It is, isn't it?' she said, her stomach melting with the pleasure of just seeing him there, propped up against the white pillows.

'Come back to bed, then.' He turned back a corner of the duvet and waggled his eyebrows at her. She giggled.

'Drink your tea first,' she said. 'Or it will go cold.'

It did.

'And now,' said Libby, some time later, 'I shall have to make more tea and go and see if Ali and Ahmed are open this morning.'

'Why?' asked Ben lazily. 'It's Sunday.'

'And I promised Ad a proper Sunday lunch, which I completely forgot about. So I'll have to go and see what Ahmed can rustle up.'

'He might have a frozen chicken,' said Ben doubtfully, 'but what about vegetables?'

'I might have to cadge off Pete and Harry or your mum,' said Libby. 'Do you think they'd mind?'

'I'll give Mum a ring,' said Ben, swinging his legs out of bed. 'Where are my trousers?'

'Do you have to put your trousers on to phone your mum?' Libby snickered. 'Will she be shocked?'

'Idiot. My phone's in the pocket.'

When Libby returned from the bathroom to get dressed, Ben was back in bed.

'We've all been invited to lunch at The Manor,' he said, holding out a hand. 'So you can come back to bed again. We've got some time to make up.'

'Did you force your mum into it?' asked Libby suspiciously.

'No, she was delighted to ask us. It gives her a chance to cook properly, she said. You know how she loves entertaining.'

'Cooking, yes. I wouldn't say she liked entertaining as in dinner parties.'

Ben grinned. 'No. I can't see my mum in a glam frock serving goat's cheese on a raspberry coulis, can you?'

Libby grinned back and let her dressing gown fall to the floor. 'No, thank goodness,' she said, and dived back under the duvet.

By the time Adam appeared, Ben and Libby were in the garden, respectably dressed and in deep conversation about summer flowering perennials.

'Morning, Ma,' he said, pus.h.i.+ng a hand through tangled hair. ''Lo, Ben. Is there any tea?'

'You can make some,' said Libby. 'Hangover?'

'No,' said Adam with some surprise. 'I got a lift home from someone and he didn't want to be late, so I was in by about half twelve. You were already asleep.'

'Well, good,' said Libby, avoiding Ben's eye, 'because Hetty's invited us up to The Manor for lunch.'

'Hey, great,' said Adam, brightening. 'But I thought you were going to do lunch?'

'I was, but now Hetty's invited us. I expect she wants to see you.'

'She's got a soft spot for you, you know,' said Ben, sitting down on one of the slightly unstable garden chairs.

Adam looked down at his feet. 'Yeah, well,' he said.

'Go on, then, have a shower and I'll make you some tea,' said Libby, giving him a fond push towards the cottage.

It was a shock later, when Libby turned on the radio while clearing up the kitchen from the previous evening, which unaccountably hadn't been done, to hear that the midday news bulletin contained a reference to both the discovery of the Creekmarsh skeleton, although without naming the house, and Tony West's murder. Sc.r.a.ping the remains of the chicken into the bin, Libby realised she hadn't once thought about 'the investigation' since Ben had arrived. She smiled a secret little smile.

Promptly at one o'clock, Ben, Libby and Adam presented themselves at The Manor. Hetty greeted them without fuss and showed them into the sitting room, where Ben's father Greg sat, frailer than ever, but ever the courteous host. Lunch was served at the huge table in the kitchen. Adam's eyes gleamed at the enormous rib of beef, the tureens of vegetables, Hetty's special gravy and horseradish sauce.

'Enough to feed an army as usual,' said Ben, grinning at his mother, who wielded a skilful carving knife.

'Plenty to see us through the week,' said Hetty. 'Take some 'ome cold, gal, put it in 'is sandwiches.' She nodded towards Adam, who beamed back at her.

'Will you be needing sandwiches next week, Ad? Or will Katie be back?'

'Who's Katie?' asked Ben.

'She's, like, Lewis's sort of housekeeper-secretary,' said Adam, helping himself to roast parsnips. 'She's been away since well, I don't really know. She wasn't there yesterday.'

'She's just gone home for the weekend,' said Libby. 'Lewis said she'd gone to London.'

'So what's he like then, this Lewis Wotsit?' asked Hetty.

After lunch, Libby offered to help with the clearing up, and, as usual, Hetty said it would all go in the dishwasher she gave it a pat and she preferred to do her pots herself.

Adam, perfectly at home at The Manor, wandered into the library, which, he told them, was the perfect setting for a murder and wondered why Ben and Libby both told him to shut up.

'Actually, Ad, I was going to ask your advice about something,' Ben went on.

'My advice?' Adam looked shocked.

'You must have picked up a certain amount working with Mog?'

'Well, yes, I suppose so,' said Adam, glancing nervously at his mother.

'I need a bit of advice on what to do with that bit of the old lawn that goes down to the wood,' said Ben, putting an arm round Adam's shoulders. 'Would you come and have a look at it?'

They disappeared through the French windows and Libby watched, an amused expression on her face.

'There now,' said Hetty, coming in with a tea tray. 'I didn't make coffee. Thought you'd like a cuppa.'

'Lovely, thanks, Hetty,' said Libby, who was still full of Cabernet Sauvignon. 'Does Ben really need Adam's advice on the garden?'