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Authors: Janie Bolitho
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with her.
Now, of course, it was only a matter of time before she got what she wanted.
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you’re crazy.’ Laura was studying the enlargements Rose had made of the view of the Milton house, concentratingon the right-hand side of the photographs. ‘It’s just a blur. It could be anything.’ But Laura was prepared to humour Rose today. She had not forgotten the date. ‘Does it matter?’
‘I don’t know. Barry agrees with me, though.’
‘Ah.’ Laura grinned. ‘Barry would.’
‘Should I show it to the police?’
‘What for? It was days before she was killed. Besides, it’s probably the gardener or Doreen.’
The idea of a gardener had not crossed Rose’s mind. ‘You know Doreen?’
‘Of course I do. She was at school with …’ Laura ran a hand through her dark curls. ‘I keep forgetting you weren’t at school with us. Shows how you’ve become part of the scenery.’
‘Doreen’s the same age as you?’
‘Yes. Hard to believe, isn’t it?’ She was not being vain – it was simply that Doreen looked years older than her age. ‘Could be to do with marrying a man some years her senior, but she doesn’t seem to bother what she looks like.’
Nor do I these days, Rose thought, looking down at the worn jeans. ‘What’s she like? The first time I met her she gave me the creeps.’
‘What? Doreen? She’s all right. She resents outsiders, that’s all, and to her you’ll always be one.’
‘But she worked for the Miltons and they’ve only just moved here.’
‘That’s different. There’s money involved. She’s had to keep Cyril for years now since the mine closed down. Rose? You’re not thinking she killed her, are you?’
Rose shrugged. ‘Well, I didn’t, nor did Barry. Why not her?’
‘When I said crazy, I meant it. You’re not thinking of acting detective, are you? Anyway, I don’t see any signs of liquid refreshment. What’s up with you, woman?’
Rose looked at her depleted wine rack. There was enough for tonight.
Laura was studying the few lines in a national newspaper which were all Gabrielle’s death seemed to warrant. Once it would have made headlines. There were times when Roseenvied Laura, with three grown-up children and two grandchildren; at others she was glad she had not had any. She was better able to enjoy the years she had with David alone.
‘What is it?’ Laura glanced up and caught Rose smiling.
‘I was thinking of you as a grandmother. It doesn’t seem possible.’
‘Come on, we’re supposed to be deciding where we’re going at the weekend.’ Trevor would be at sea, Laura and Rose would have a night out.
‘There’s a film – God, who’s that?’ Rose frowned. The front door again. Had Dennis Milton decided to pay another visit?
Standing on the bottom of the three steps, and thus appearing the same height as Rose, was Inspector Pearce. ‘I wondered when you’d turn up,’ she said, realising she sounded rude but not caring. ‘Come in.’
‘Well, well,’ Laura said from her chair at the kitchen table. ‘They’ve put you in charge, have they?’
Rose looked from one to the other. Was there anyone Laura didn’t know?
‘Another of your school chums?’
‘No. But his sister was. How are you, Jack?’
‘Fine. You?’
‘Surviving. I was just leaving.’
‘But …’ Rose did not have time to complete what she was about to say because Laura had swung her handbag off the back of the chair and waved from the other side of the kitchen door.
Rose took a seat but did not invite her guest to do the same.
‘These photographs,’ Jack Pearce said without preamble, ‘the ones you claim you delivered to Mrs Milton –’
‘I did deliver them,’ she interrupted. ‘I left them in the small room opposite the lounge.’
‘We can’t find them.’
‘What?’
‘They’re not in the house.’
‘They must be.’
‘Are you sure you didn’t take them with you? You might’ve forgotten,
Now, of course, it was only a matter of time before she got what she wanted.
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you’re crazy.’ Laura was studying the enlargements Rose had made of the view of the Milton house, concentratingon the right-hand side of the photographs. ‘It’s just a blur. It could be anything.’ But Laura was prepared to humour Rose today. She had not forgotten the date. ‘Does it matter?’
‘I don’t know. Barry agrees with me, though.’
‘Ah.’ Laura grinned. ‘Barry would.’
‘Should I show it to the police?’
‘What for? It was days before she was killed. Besides, it’s probably the gardener or Doreen.’
The idea of a gardener had not crossed Rose’s mind. ‘You know Doreen?’
‘Of course I do. She was at school with …’ Laura ran a hand through her dark curls. ‘I keep forgetting you weren’t at school with us. Shows how you’ve become part of the scenery.’
‘Doreen’s the same age as you?’
‘Yes. Hard to believe, isn’t it?’ She was not being vain – it was simply that Doreen looked years older than her age. ‘Could be to do with marrying a man some years her senior, but she doesn’t seem to bother what she looks like.’
Nor do I these days, Rose thought, looking down at the worn jeans. ‘What’s she like? The first time I met her she gave me the creeps.’
‘What? Doreen? She’s all right. She resents outsiders, that’s all, and to her you’ll always be one.’
‘But she worked for the Miltons and they’ve only just moved here.’
‘That’s different. There’s money involved. She’s had to keep Cyril for years now since the mine closed down. Rose? You’re not thinking she killed her, are you?’
Rose shrugged. ‘Well, I didn’t, nor did Barry. Why not her?’
‘When I said crazy, I meant it. You’re not thinking of acting detective, are you? Anyway, I don’t see any signs of liquid refreshment. What’s up with you, woman?’
Rose looked at her depleted wine rack. There was enough for tonight.
Laura was studying the few lines in a national newspaper which were all Gabrielle’s death seemed to warrant. Once it would have made headlines. There were times when Roseenvied Laura, with three grown-up children and two grandchildren; at others she was glad she had not had any. She was better able to enjoy the years she had with David alone.
‘What is it?’ Laura glanced up and caught Rose smiling.
‘I was thinking of you as a grandmother. It doesn’t seem possible.’
‘Come on, we’re supposed to be deciding where we’re going at the weekend.’ Trevor would be at sea, Laura and Rose would have a night out.
‘There’s a film – God, who’s that?’ Rose frowned. The front door again. Had Dennis Milton decided to pay another visit?
Standing on the bottom of the three steps, and thus appearing the same height as Rose, was Inspector Pearce. ‘I wondered when you’d turn up,’ she said, realising she sounded rude but not caring. ‘Come in.’
‘Well, well,’ Laura said from her chair at the kitchen table. ‘They’ve put you in charge, have they?’
Rose looked from one to the other. Was there anyone Laura didn’t know?
‘Another of your school chums?’
‘No. But his sister was. How are you, Jack?’
‘Fine. You?’
‘Surviving. I was just leaving.’
‘But …’ Rose did not have time to complete what she was about to say because Laura had swung her handbag off the back of the chair and waved from the other side of the kitchen door.
Rose took a seat but did not invite her guest to do the same.
‘These photographs,’ Jack Pearce said without preamble, ‘the ones you claim you delivered to Mrs Milton –’
‘I did deliver them,’ she interrupted. ‘I left them in the small room opposite the lounge.’
‘We can’t find them.’
‘What?’
‘They’re not in the house.’
‘They must be.’
‘Are you sure you didn’t take them with you? You might’ve forgotten,