White Lies. Rachel Green
still don’t follow. He was a good salesman, aye.”
“One of the best.” Meinwen tapped a coffee stained newspaper sporting the headline “Police Abandon Search For Missing Student.”
“Did you see this?”
“No. What about it?” Jimmy picked up the broadsheet and scanned it. “Some kid goes missing from college and there’s a hoo-har about it? I bet that happens all the time.”
“He was a local lad. He’s disappeared completely. There’s been an appeal for witnesses but no one’s come forward. His mam’s even been on the television asking for help.”
“He’ll be on a bender somewhere. He’ll turn up.” He handed her the paper. “Perhaps he went to Thailand.”
“I hope so. He hasn’t been heard of for three months. Not so much as a Facespace status update.”
“He’ll be fine. Probably failed a couple of exams and just said ‘sod it.’”
“No. He was a good student. Not the best, but doing well.”
“Did you know him?”
“No. Kevin was studying engineering. Not the sort to come looking for witchcraft to solve his problems. It’s generally the arty types who come in looking for love charms and cannabis. It still counts though. I hope nothing bad happened to him.”
“Don’t worry so much.” Jimmy smiled. “He’s a boy becoming a man. Odds are he’ll turn up with sunburn and a nasty rash.”
“Let’s hope so.” Meinwen sighed and put the paper down. “It’s been preying on me. I half recognize him but I don’t see how I could. There’s something I’m missing, something nagging.”
“It’ll come to you. Wait.” Jimmy crooked his head. “You sell cannabis?”
“Of course not.” She looked again at the photograph of the missing lad. He was reminiscent of her old friend, Richard Godwin. “But I do sell earrings and necklaces with the leaf on. That sort of thing. Some people assume I sell the herb, too.”
“You should sell t-shirts. Bob Marley pictures and band names in jagged writing. That’ll help pull the students in.”
“And be part of the Madding crowd?” Meinwen shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Jimmy held up the box of herbal tea bags. “What’s your poison then? Berry Blush, Invigorating Elderflower, Fantastic Fennel or Ravishing Raspberry?”
Meinwen felt the blood rush to her cheeks, as well as more intimate areas. Had Jimmy guessed that being ravished was high on her list of goals? “I’ll have the berry, please.” She bit her lip wondering how to broach the next subject. “Talking of ravishing, did John ever tell you the name of his lover?”
“No. I told you. I’ve no idea who she was.” Jimmy dropped a berry bag in the second mug and topped them both with boiling water. He put the kettle down. “Why? Did that girl at the office know?” He turned, his eyebrows raised. “Was it her? I could see that being a problem. You should never shag someone you work with, pardon my French.”
“You’re quite right, and no, it wasn’t her.” Meinwen took a deep breath, her heart sinking like an anchor in the Sea of Dashed Hopes. “No milk for me.”
“I would’ve asked first.” Jimmy set the two mugs down and sat again. “So, have you any idea?” He picked up the ring she’d taken from the personnel effects bag. “Is this something to do with it? It looks like a wedding ring, only I know John wasn’t married. He’d have told me.” He held the ring up to the light, squinting at the mark inscribed within. “What’s this mean? A spaceship? You recognized it when you looked at it. Is it a posh designer or something?”
“I did.” Meinwen took a sip of her Berry Nice. It wasn’t. “It’s the mark of a man I know quite well, who runs a rather unique house here in Laverstone.”
Jimmy shrugged. “John was an estate agent. So?”
“Not that sort of house. This is a place where everybody loves everybody else.”
“Oh bloody hell.” Jimmy put the ring down. “You mean John got religion?”
Meinwen frowned. “Religion? No. Not that I know of, anyway. The people at The Larches are a polyamorous unit based on dominance and submission. A sort of pack of people that function as a family unit. The ring means he was part of that unit, though I’m surprised he didn’t actually live there.”
“Perhaps he did. Perhaps this Larches place is in Chervil Court.”
“No.” Meinwen took the ring back and slipped it over her finger but it was far too big. She put it back on the table. “Trust me, I know the place. I applied to join once. It was the reason I moved to Laverstone from Aberdovey in the first place.”
“So why didn’t you?” Jimmy took a long swallow of tea. “Join this Pollyanna place, I mean.”
“I moved into the cottage instead. I wanted to experience the place before I committed myself.”
“Sounds sensible.” Jimmy grinned. “They do that with prison an’ all. It’s called school.” The smile left his face when Meinwen didn’t laugh. “So what happened? Didn’t you like it?”
“I didn’t get the chance. The head of the household, the alpha male if you like, was murdered shortly after I arrived and I ended up being asked to investigate. By the time you’ve poked into everyone’s business and discovered all the little secrets they’d rather keep hidden the last thing they want to do is take you in as part of the family. Not for want of trying. Richard, his replacement, offered to honor his father’s promise but he was too young for me to take seriously. I couldn’t see myself on my knees to a lad younger by a decade.”
“On your knees? Why?” Jimmy’s mouth widened into an “O” of understanding. “Ah. Never mind.” He coughed. “Sooo...”
“Not fellatio.” Meinwen laughed. “Well, not just fellatio. Dominance and submission. Wanting to be somewhere where you’re loved completely. Where all you want to do is serve someone. To see a genuine smile of appreciation for service. To hear a softly spoken thank-you that isn’t just words but genuine appreciation. And more than that, to do something to the best of your ability, even if the person you do it for never sees or knows about it, because it’s the right thing to do.” She smiled, looking away to hide her blush. “I can’t explain it very well.”
“I think I get the gist of it.” Jimmy leaned back in his chair to flick the kettle switch again. “It’s a bit like being in the nick. Each block has factions with a chief and his two or three lieutenants and often a boy to take care of things around the cell and there’s a strict hierarchy from the chief to the poor bastard who mucks out the bogs. Everybody knows their place and the block ticks along nicely.”
“Yes, I suppose it is a bit like that. The model for it was the post-War leather scene, where ex-soldiers in civilian life reverted to the hierarchy they had in their platoons. Here it expanded to include straight men and women and all the range in between. Last time I was there the people at the Larches had got it sussed very nicely.”
“And everybody has sex with everybody else?”
“Not exactly, but all needs are catered for, you might say.”
“And you think John was into this?”
“I do. It’s funny, though. I don’t remember anyone else wearing rings.” Meinwen bit her lip. “Mind you, I was never party to the mechanics of joining. All the people living there had this design tattooed onto their necks. It was quite sweet, really. It gave everyone a sense of belonging.”
“Like this one?” Jimmy tilted his neck to display an eagle tattoo, its once-black ink faded to blue.
Meinwen grinned. “A little more