Page 73 of The Chapel of Bones

Again in unison, they shook their heads. ‘Not while we were there.’

‘You don’t recognise the name?’

‘No.’

‘You lived there before Tim Fontescue-Burns bought the premises; when the house was known as St Julian’s and was owned by a bookseller called Ethelred Bingley. Mr Bingley’s daughter had your name – Aphrodite – on the list of tenants. But you were there too, weren’t you, Mr Chalmers?’

Betsy smiled. ‘Apollo’s name wasn’t actually on the rent book Mr Bingley insisted on giving us, but he lived there with me and we stayed on after Tim bought the house. He changed the name from St Julian’s to Casa Mirabilis.’ A faraway look appeared in her eyes, as though she was recalling her lost youth. ‘We were young and idealistic and we thought we could change the world. And Tim was charismatic. We’d have followed him to the ends of the earth.’

‘So he was your commune leader?’

‘We called it a community of souls. Tim was a very spiritual man and Casa Mirabilis was on a ley line. He said there was an ancient sacred well in the grounds, probably pre-Christian.’

‘I know,’ said Wesley. ‘I’ve seen it.’

Barnaby looked surprised. ‘It was just an overgrown pile of stones when we lived there, but the ground around was waterlogged so you could tell there was a spring. Tim was planning to restore it, but he died before he had a chance.’

‘There was a chapel in the gardens. Ruined.’

Betsy nodded. ‘We saw some stones that looked as though they belonged to some kind of building. Tim said it was an ancient chapel; a sacred place on a ley line.’

‘Was any building work done while you were living in the house?’

‘A toilet was fitted under the stairs,’ said Betsy. ‘That was Tim’s idea, because there was only one for the whole house before that and there were five of us. Tim said five was a perfect number.’

‘Were you aware of any other building work being carried out before Tim moved in – when the house was owned by Mr Bingley? I’m thinking about the small dining room next to the kitchen.’

Betsy shook her head. ‘Nothing like that. And we never went in that room. It was just used for storage.’

‘Who else was living there at that time?’

The couple had a brief hushed conversation before Betsy answered the question. ‘We had a whole wing to ourselves, so we hardly saw them.’

‘Who are you talking about?’

‘Carlo. He was a student. He wanted to be a writer.’

‘Carlo what?’ Gerry was beginning to sound impatient.

‘It was something Italian, but I don’t think he was Italian. Maybe his parents were.’

‘Was his surname Lanzani?’

Her eyes lit up with recognition. ‘Yes, that was it.’

‘What can you tell us about him?’

The pair exchanged another look. ‘He only lived there for a few months, before the place was sold to Tim at the end of May. He came and went. We didn’t have much to do with him.’

‘Is there anything else you can tell us about him?’

Barnaby raised a hand. ‘He once told me Carlo Lanzani wasn’t actually his name. But before you ask, I don’t know what his real name was. He said it was boringly English – he even had a bit of a local accent – so I thought he must have chosen a more exotic name to make himself more interesting.’

‘You never told me that.’ Betsy sounded a little hurt.

Barnaby shrugged. ‘Didn’t I? Must have forgotten. Giving ourselves exotic names was the sort of thing a lot of us did in those days.’

‘Hence Aphrodite and Apollo?’