Another lengthy pause. Cedric nodded encouragement at the Commodore. The Commodore thought of the Gates of Heaven and his tainted soul. ‘Lady Sherwood,’ he repeated.
‘Yes?’
‘I had a mole infestation in my garden . . .’
Taran’s expression was so comical Daisy wanted to laugh. She put a hand on her mouth to stifle it. Taran shook his head, as if he didn’t believe the day could get any stranger.
‘Dennis Fane made me a trap to catch them alive. You see, my wife and children were very upset that I was trying to kill them. They love animals, especially furry ones, and to them a mole isn’t very different from a rabbit, say, or a guinea pig. The thing is, Lady Sherwood, that once I’d caught them alive, and very pleased I was too that Dennis’s trap had been so well crafted, just the right sort of trap for catching live moles . . .’
Daisy’s horror showed on her face and Taran had to suppress his laughter.
‘I decided to set them free somewhere pleasant,’ he continued. ‘Somewhere that might be appealing to a mole. One can’t very well catch a live mole, then set it free, say, by a main road, or, God forbid, in someone else’s garden. The nearest and most convenient place, and the most attractive place for a mole, or so I thought, was on Sir Owen’s farm.’
‘I see,’ said Lady Sherwood, who didn’t see at all, but was rather wishing this confession would make its point and the two men would leave her alone.
‘There were quite a large number of moles,’ said the Commodore, focusing on the Gates of Heaven and feeling his soul washed clean of its sin. ‘I must have freed perhaps eight or ten. The trap is a very good one. Far better than I could have expected, but Dennis is a talented carpenter, and my infestation was larger than I had thought. The long and the short of it is, Lady Sherwood—’
‘Yes?’ by now Lady Sherwood was beginning to lose patience and there was a hard edge to her voice that alerted Taran. He stood up and put his hand on the brass doorknob.
‘I believe Sir Owen’s heart attack was caused by . . .’ He hesitated, mentally preparing for the confession. ‘Molehills.’
‘Molehills?’ repeated Lady Sherwood slowly.
‘Molehills,’ added Cedric, keen to be helpful. After all, he had, up until this moment, been silent and quite useless. ‘The Commodore believes it is because of his moles that Sir Owen suffered a heart attack and died.’
Long silence.
Taran rolled his eyes at Daisy. He turned the knob and entered, leaving the door open for Daisy to witness the rest of the conversation.
‘I doubt very much that Dad died because of your moles,’ said Taran, walking into the room, to the relief of his mother.
‘But how can you be sure?’ asked the Commodore, hoping for some small ray of light to relieve him of his guilt.
‘For a start there are no molehills on the farm. Certainly none that draw attention. The manager would have reported it. And secondly, if anything had given him a heart attack, it would have been slugs.’
Cedric and the Commodore stared at each other a moment. No one had said anything about slugs.
‘But the fact that slugs had made their way through most of Dad’s rape would not have been reason enough for him to have suffered a heart attack. Please rest assured that your moles had nothing to do with his death.’
‘Well, that is a great relief,’ said the Commodore brightly. ‘That is to say,’ he added, with a little less exuberance, ‘I’m very relieved that my actions did not lead to the tragedy. I am sorry for your loss, Taran, and Lady Sherwood, and just, well, thankful that my actions did not contribute in any way. Come, Cedric. Let’s leave Lady Sherwood and Taran in peace. I’m only sorry we interrupted it.’
‘Thank you for coming,’ said Lady Sherwood graciously.
‘I’ll see you out,’ said Taran, a little less graciously.
Daisy hurried into the kitchen as Taran led the two men to the front door and saw them into their car. The old Volvo spluttered out through the gates. Taran closed the door and retreated into the hall.
Daisy emerged from her hiding place. ‘Was that really about moles, or did I mishear?’
‘It was really about moles,’ said Taran, trying to keep a straight face.
Lady Sherwood appeared in the doorway to the drawing room. ‘Did I dream that, or did it