drink and a spot of lunch somewhere and sort things out.â
âAll right, if you feel up to it . . .â
âMight as well get it over with,â I said. âThen we can both get on with our lives.â
Things were reasonably civil between us by the time Tim took me home to Rookery Farm, and weâd sorted out a lot of the practical issues. Tim would move out of the flat we shared, and would be gone by the time I was fit to return. I was still stubbornly refusing to accept any financial help from him with regard to the rent and so on, and I knew Iâd have to sit down and do my sums as to whether I could afford to keep it on alone or whether Iâd have to look for a flatmate â something Iâd really prefer to avoid if at all possible.
Mum was in the kitchen, cleaning eggs ready for her stall at the farmersâ market on Saturday morning.
âNo Tim?â she enquired as I went in.
âNo. Nor likely to be again.â
âYouâve decided to call it a day.â Though she was trying to sound non-committal, I could tell she was actually relieved.
âTim beat me to it,â I said ruefully. âHeâs involved with someone else.â
âI knew it!â Mum stripped off her Marigolds, leaning against the big stone sink. âI told you he was making excuses about why he wasnât coming to see you. Well, good riddance, I say.â
âI know . . . I know . . .â
âSo who is she? How long has it been going on?â
âMum â I really donât want to talk about it any more right now. Iâll tell you all about it later.â
Though I could see Mum was bursting to hear all the details, she simply nodded.
âWhen youâre ready, my love. But I will say this. Youâre a lot better off without that one, so donât go upsetting yourself. Now, why donât you sit down and have a nice cup of tea?â
âA cup of tea would be good. But . . .â Not only did I not want to talk about what had happened with Tim, I didnât want to think about it, either. And there was one sure fire way of taking my mind off the break-up.
âIs Dad using his computer?â
âNo. Heâs out seeing to one of his cows. He had to have the vet to her this morning.â
âOh dear!â
âYes, heâs a bit worried about her. So you can be sure he wonât be wanting to get on the computer for the next couple of hours, at least. Go on, you have it. Iâll bring your cup of tea in to you.â
âThanks, Mum. Youâre a star.â
I logged on to Dadâs computer, pulled up the notes Iâd made so far, and read through them. Mum brought me the promised cup of tea and a slice of her famous lemon drizzle cake and I nibbled on it as I added the information Iâd gleaned from Rachel last night, including the name of the estate agency where Dawn had worked, and the fact that Lisa had married Paul Holder, the baker who had rescued the girls. I also made a note of the thought that had occurred to me that it might have been Lisa, not Dawn, who was the intended victim of the arson attack, and, armed now with her married name, I had another look for her on Facebook. This time I found her, but her page stated that âLisa only shares some information publiclyâ, and her photograph wasnât a photograph at all, but a white silhouette on a blue background. Could it be that she was a bit paranoid because of what had happened? I didnât know, but it was important that I kept an open mind.
I sat back in Dadâs comfortable swivel chair, nursing my mug of tea, and trying to think about this logically. Top of my list of people to see had been Brian Jenningsâ sister, Marion, but I was having second thoughts about that. It was unlikely that she would be able to tell me anything more than the basic facts, which I already knew â if sheâd learned anything of any interest, then almost
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