The Long Call (Two Rivers #1) - Ann Cleeves Page 0,36

use a coffee. I’m ready for one myself.’

Once the coffee was made, they moved to a table looking out over the river. ‘Is this about Simon?’

‘You heard?’ Matthew wasn’t surprised. Of course, the news would have spread through the place by now.

‘Saw it on the telly this morning.’

‘He worked with you?’

The big man nodded. ‘As a volunteer. He was a lovely baker. They taught him that in the army. Apparently, he did a couple of tours to Afghanistan. Soldiers have to eat like the rest of us.’

‘Of course.’ Again, Matthew’s perspective on Simon Walden shifted. Had the man been suffering from PTSD? Would that account for the mood swings and obsessions? ‘How did he come to be working with you?’

‘Caroline Preece asked me to take him on. Her dad’s on the board of trustees of this place and it’s not wise to upset Christopher.’

‘Why?’

Bob shrugged. ‘He’s a wealthy man and he’s used to getting his own way. He runs the board. And he dotes on that daughter of his. But Simon was okay. Not like most of the volunteers, who are pains in the arse. Chatty bloody women. He just did what was needed. I could leave him to get on with it. Some days he’d come in early – no fun on the bus from Ilfracombe – to start the bread. We do all our own baking. It would pretty well be ready when I got here. Saved me a bit of work.’

‘He didn’t drive?’

The cook shook his head. ‘He killed a child once. He never got behind a wheel again. You can understand it.’

Matthew thought Walden had confided in Bob more than he had the women with whom he was living. That made sense. They were men together, closer in age. ‘Lucy Braddick works here too?’

‘Only a day a week at the moment.’ Bob showed no curiosity in why Matthew was asking. ‘Her group at the day centre take it in turns. Not in the kitchen but waitressing, clearing tables. She’s one of the good ones, Lucy. A great little worker. And sunny. Always smiling. The customers love her.’ He paused. ‘I’m thinking of taking her on properly, paying her a living wage if the day centre is up for it. It only seems fair; she’s every bit as good as the regular staff.’

‘Would she have met Simon Walden?’

‘Well, we keep the day centre chaps this side of the counter. Health and safety. You know how it is. Anyway, no room to swing a cat back there. But yeah, they chatted to each other. Simon was brilliant with all the regulars from the centre. I think Lucy was a favourite.’

Matthew nodded and thought that was one mystery cleared up. Lucy had recognized Walden from the kitchen. It didn’t explain, though, why she’d seemed so vague about where they’d met or why he’d made the trek to Lovacott on the days before he’d died, making a point of sitting next to her on the bus.

* * *

By the time Matthew had finished talking in the cafe, it was late afternoon. Outside, there was still a bit of heat to the sun. Matthew could feel it on the back of his neck as he walked to his car. He crossed the bridge and drove into the town, planning to get to his desk at last, to catch up with what had been going on at the station, to put Ross out of his misery by allowing him to show off what he’d achieved during the day. But at the last minute he changed his mind and headed towards his old school and the big houses that looked out over Rock Park. He’d been given Christopher Preece’s address by Jonathan. He was interested to meet Caroline’s father, the man whose money had given birth to the Woodyard.

The house was detached, built in the arts and crafts style, with mellow brick and mullioned windows, small dormer windows to break the roof-line, not very old but traditional. A row of trees marked the border of the garden; there was a small pond and a terrace. A pleasant garden, slightly left to run wild. Wrought-iron gates stood open but Matthew parked outside in the street. He rang the bell and the door was opened almost immediately by a middle-aged man, tall, attractive, healthy-looking, in jeans. Matthew realized he had seen him a few times before: in their old flat in Barnstaple and at Woodyard social events. He and Jonathan usually kept their working lives