Impurity (DI Gardener 1)

She grew silent. Malcolm noticed her haunted expression. She took his hand. “We all worked hard. The farm prospered. We sold our plants and vegetables. Sidney started working for a newspaper to earn some extra money. We put that into the farm. We were proud people, you see, and we wanted it to work. For Sidney’s father.” She glanced around the conservatory. “I am the only one left, the farm is all mine now.”

Anei scooped up the photos, putting them back in the box. “Tell me about your family, Malcolm.”

He didn’t feel there was much to tell. Certainly nothing compared to Anei’s journey. “My parents were very successful. My father had his own fruit and vegetable business in the heart of Sheffield. Which had been handed down to him from his father, who had started out with a small barrow in one of the markets. But my dad was a workaholic, which was his undoing. Back then, he’d have worked night and day if my mother had let him.

“He won a large contract to supply most of the market traders and some of the local shops. It meant moving premises, something bigger. That’s when he worked all the hours God sent. My mother was not happy. She shouted at him, told him he was being stupid, that he shouldn’t work so hard. She was right. The last time she saw him alive was when she had cooked his evening meal and taken it to his office. He said he was too busy to eat. They argued because he looked so stressed. She left in tears. My mother was beside herself because her last words to him were not good ones. She apparently said she hoped his meal choked him, because if it didn’t, work would.”

Malcolm finished his coffee. “When I finally accepted what had happened, I remember thinking that I’d have to help out my mum seeing as Dad was no longer around. I found a number of jobs. A paper round before school, the village store after school. She made me stop all that. She didn’t want me ending up the same way as my dad. We didn’t need the money. The business had provided us with a good living. My mother downsized and ran the business herself. She said my father would have wanted it.”

Malcolm sighed.

Anei broke the silence that followed once Malcolm had finished. “Mai vrei o cafea?”

He paused, then laughed. She had been teaching Malcolm to speak Romanian. For practice, she often asked him a question in her native tongue, expecting the appropriate answer. He realized she’d asked him if he wanted another coffee.

“Da bine. I think.”

“Very good! You are learning fast.” She poured another. Without asking, she plied him with more cake.

“Do you get lonely out here?” he asked, glancing out the windows at her home.

“I lead a simple life, Malcolm. I ask for nothing. I rise early and bake, spend time with my animals, work the garden. I keep myself busy. The two most important values in my life are never far away. My plants and my niece.”

“That’s something I can admire. I must admit, I thought I knew a lot about plants. You’ve got me beaten, hands down.”

“Please, do not underestimate yourself. You are a clever man with plants.”

“Not as good as you. Take these, for instance.” Malcolm pointed to the Venus flytraps.

“You’ve managed to cultivate those year-round.”

“It is not as difficult as you might think. In its native country, the plant grows in bogs which lack nitrogen. The insects that land inside supply this. So, for me to grow the plant, I need a nitrogen supplement, good compost, and rainwater.”

Malcolm finished his cake, placing his empty plate back on the trolley.

“More?”

“Oh, not for me, thank you. If I eat anything else tonight, I’ll burst.”

Anei smiled. “You’re like Jacqueline. She does not have a large appetite.”

“I can see that you’re proud of your niece, the way you talk about her.”

“Yes. And you are equally as proud of your son. It is time to put our plan into practice, no? Are you sure about my niece and your son seeing each other?”

“To be honest, I’m not.” Malcolm thought back to his conversation with Gardener, who had claimed nothing had happened.

“From what Jacqueline has said, there is definitely something happening.”

“Maybe. It can’t hurt to give them a little help.”

Malcolm left the conservatory and phoned Stewart to tell him he would be out for the night and wondered if he could collect him sometime the following day.

“All set?” asked Anei, as Malcolm returned.

“Yes. He was curious, though.”

“He’s a policeman. He’ll be asking questions of himself all evening.”