Dotty had previously worked at Akemans, and learned her trade there, so Keya was relieved that her two friends wouldn’t be falling out over the new business venture.
“I’m just doing the foundation course at the moment, and it’s hard enough. Who knew there was so much to think about with your own business? Do you do your own accounts?” Dotty asked.
“No way. I have too much to do. But Zivah, and now Millie, always check the day’s takings against the customer invoices, and we send everything to a company in Cheltenham who compiles our tax returns. They tell me we’ll need to register for VAT soon, which is a pain. I can’t charge customers more to cover it, but most of my supplies, being fresh food and ingredients, are zero rated, so we won’t be able to offset their costs.”
“You see, that is just the sort of thing I need to know,” said Dotty, indicating right.
They drove along the Fosse Way, an old Roman road which cut straight across the Cotswolds.
By the time they arrived at Dover’s Hill, to the west of Chipping Campden where the Olympick Games were being held, the National Trust’s gravel car park was nearly full. Dotty managed to squeeze into a space, half on the gravel and half on a grassy bank.
“That was lucky,” Dotty admitted. “Otherwise, we’d have had to find somewhere else to park and walk back.”
“I noticed a sign for the Cotswold Way. Did you know Ryan and Millie are planning to run it?” Keya asked as she lifted a small rucksack onto her back, containing her waterproof coat, a water bottle, and snacks.
“No,” Dotty replied, as they joined a steady stream of people making their way up the hill.
Keya spotted the Wimsey family and she and Dotty sat down with them on the edge of a grassy slope overlooking a roped-off area where two men were facing each other. Both were wearing white smocks, and gripping each other’s shoulders, pushing back and forth, and frequently swinging out a foot and attempting to hit their opponent’s shins.
“Ow!” Dotty exclaimed when one particularly vicious kick hit home.
Gilly’s sixteen-year-old son, Thomas, clapped, but fourteen-year-old Olivia turned to Keya and Dotty, who were both sitting on their waterproof coats, and explained, “It doesn’t really hurt. Their trousers are stuffed with straw.”
Keya peered at the men’s legs and realised that one man had stalks of golden straw poking out of his white socks, which were pulled up over the ends of his jeans. She found the whole thing rather bizarre.
“I thought Sujin might be with you,” Gilly probed.
Sujin was the station’s crime scene technician, and he and Keya were friends.
“No, he’s playing at a pub in Stow-on-the-Wold tonight.”
Dotty turned her head and said, “I didn’t know that. Do you want to pop in on our way home?”
“Maybe,” Keya mumbled.
She liked Sujin. Maybe more than just liked, but she didn’t trust her feelings and, besides, she had far too much to do at the moment without getting into a romantic relationship. But then, she wasn’t getting any younger …
“I heard his band, the Celtic Twisters, play recently,” Dr Peter said. He pushed his black-framed glasses up his nose and added. “They’re very good, and I was impressed by Sujin’s fiddle playing. He’s quite the dark horse.”
At work, Sujin was quiet and unassuming, but he came to life when he played his fiddle, or electric violin, for the band, which played a mixture of Scottish and Irish music, folk songs, and ballads.
“It’s nice to see you out enjoying yourself, Dr Peter,” Dotty said. Keya felt her wince as another kick landed on one of the men’s shins. A man in a white coat, presumably the referee, poked one of the men with his long stick and the men parted and stepped back. Then the contest began again.
“It’s so freeing to have Erwin working with me. I don’t know why I didn’t look for an associate earlier,” Dr Peter reflected.
Keya had met Erwin Carter when Gilly had seated them next to each other at a dinner party. Gilly didn’t exactly admit she’d been trying to set them up, but both she and Keya knew she had.
“Because,” Gilly said, “you didn’t believe anyone could look after your patients as well as you can.”
“Well, I’m not sure about that,” mumbled Dr Peter, turning his attention back to the two men who tumbled to the ground.
Gilly rolled her eyes at Keya as the white-coated man walked towards the two men and blew a whistle.
Everyone, including Keya, clapped.
Next it was the turn of two women, both clad in white frocks and black leggings. Their legs looked too thin and uniform to have protective layers of straw, as the men had done.
“I’ve persuaded Aunt Beanie to come with me for the summer solstice at the standing stones. Do you want to join us?” Gilly asked.
“We’re going to watch A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Rococo Gardens, aren’t we, Dotty?” Keya replied.
“Yes,” Dotty answered, inattentively. “Oh, why would you want to do this?” she asked, watching the two women attack each other’s legs.
“That sounds far more pleasant than sitting around in the cold and dark waiting for the sun to rise,” Dr Peter remarked.
“They are planning to have a small fire this year,” Keya remembered.
“See, Peter. It’ll be a lovely night and I know it’ll help me feel closer to my Celtic ancestors.”
This time, Dr Peter rolled his eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On Tuesday 20th June, the eve of the midsummer solstice, Keya arrived back at Cirencester Police Station in the mid-afternoon.
“Arrest any aliens?” Stan asked as he followed her into the team room, but then he asked more helpfully, “Would you like a cuppa?”
