‘His aunt’s at the vicarage with him.’ Jill liked Ella, and instinctively recognized her as someone to be trusted. Her quiet acceptance of things was enviable, and her genuine concern for Michael was touching. People often forgot Michael in all this.
‘That’s a good thing. That will be Alice’s sister, Eve. I’ve met her a couple of times. She’s a lovely lady.’
‘That’s her.’
It was still difficult to believe what had happened. Max had told her that the vicarage had been deserted so he’d wandered across to the church to see if Jonathan Trueman was there. Max had found his body in the porch. Someone had shot him five times.
It was Jill’s turn at the counter.
‘A dozen first class stamps, please, Olive.’
“I was just saying,’ Olive remarked, her voice a dramatic whisper for all to hear, ‘that I’d always thought Jonathan Trueman a strange one. Someone else must have thought the same thing.’
‘People don’t get killed for being strange, Olive,’ Jill pointed out.
‘Who knows? I’ll tell you this, though, Jim Brody is another strange one.’ Her fingers hovered above the postage stamps. “I wouldn’t have bothered giving him the time of day if I’d known I’d get my head bitten off for my trouble.’
Jill suspected Jim Brody had been fully justified.
“I expect he’s miffed because he’s lost his job,’ Olive went on, ‘unless the next vicar wants his garden doing the same, but there’s no need for him to take it out on me.’
‘Indeed. Sorry, Olive, but I’m in a bit of a hurry.’
Olive sucked in her breath at what she interpreted as a snub, gave Jill her postage stamps and took the ten-pound note Jill gave her.
Her change was slapped down in the metal tray. Jill grabbed at it.
‘Thanks, Olive. Bye.’
Olive didn’t respond, which caused Ella to chuckle.
‘I’m in a hurry, too,’ Jill heard her tell Olive as she left the post office …
It wasn’t raining yet, so Jill popped into the baker’s next door. She needed some bread, and she wanted to see if Michael’s girlfriend was about. However, there was no sign of the girl. Molly, the Truemans’ cleaner, was there, being served by Joan. It was clear that Molly had been crying, poor woman.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,’ she was saying as Joan put a couple of custard tarts in a paper bag.
‘That’s what happens when strangers come to a village,’
Joan said. ‘All these holiday homes - you can’t get to know people so you can’t trust them.’
Molly turned, saw Jill, and asked, ‘What harm did they do anyone, eh? First poor Alice and now … What’s the world coming to, that’s what I wonder?’
Before Jill or Joan could respond, Jim Brody walked into the shop and everyone fell silent. Confidences were being shared among women and Jim Brody had broken the circle.
‘Hello, Jim.’ Molly was first to speak. ‘This is a rum do and no mistake.’
‘It is, Molly’
‘Of course, you were never that keen on him, were you?
You were friendly with Alice, not Jonathan.’
Jim Brody shrugged. “I never rated church, so rarely had cause to see the man. There are enough problems in the world without adding religion to ‘em. And he left the garden to Alice.’
‘You saw him the other night,’ Molly reminded him.
“I heard the two of you arguing.’
‘Dear God,’ Jim snapped. ‘You can’t breathe in this damn place without everyone needing to know about it. D’you know what I had for my breakfast an’ all, Molly? If you don’t, Olive Prendergast is sure to be able to tell you!’
With that, Jim turned on his heel and slammed out of the shop.
‘What did I say?’ Molly asked in astonishment.
‘In light of what’s happened, I expect he’s regretting his disagreement with Jonathan,’ Jill suggested. ‘In the heat of the moment, we all say things we regret.’
“I didn’t think of that.’ Molly looked suitably contrite for a moment. ‘He’s a funny one, Jim, but he soon forgets. The next time I see him, he’ll be as nice as pie, as if nothing happened.’ Cheered by this knowledge, Molly turned back to Joan. ‘And a small cottage loaf if you’ve got one, Joan.’
As Nice as Pie? That was running at Haydock Park this afternoon. It didn’t have a hope of winning. The distance was against it, as was the going. Added to that, this would be the horse’s first outing after recovering from a virus.
No, it didn’t stand a chance.
All the same …
‘The village is changing,’ Molly was saying, ‘and not for the better. These young kids - they hang around outside the old library drinking and think nothing of throwing the cans on the ground. You can’t tell ‘em. They’ll mug you as soon as look at you.’
‘It’s the driving that gets me,’ Joan confided. ‘You can’t sleep for young men racing cars through the streets. I was walking past the church and -‘ She broke off and grimaced.
‘Ooh, that’ll have been around the time Jon was being killed.
Thank God I didn’t know that at the time.’
‘What happened?’ Jill asked.
‘Some idiot in a van nearly knocked me down, that’s what happened. I thought at first it were Nigel as drives our van, but it weren’t. Don’t know who it were, but if I catches ‘im ‘
‘A red van?’ Jill butted in and Joan nodded.
‘Going hell for leather, it were.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Andy hated Christmases and birthdays. His own birthdays had always been joyless affairs, but he hated his mother’s birthdays far more. So many hints were dropped that he always felt honour bound to take her out for a ‘nice meal’
and buy her something extravagant and frivolous. This year, he’d bought her a silk dressing gown, flowers and chocolates and, amazingly, Melanie Collins had approved.
She always sent a card and enclosed a book token on his own birthday. When he phoned to thank her, she always said the same thing: ‘It’s no use me buying you a proper present when I don’t see you for months at a time.’
She saw him a lot more often than Andy liked. His life wouldn’t be worth living if he didn’t see her on Mother’s Day, at Easter, today for her birthday and then, three weeks later, for Christmas. Given the choice, he’d never see her again.
‘This soup could be warmer,’ she said now.
‘Mine’s fine,’ he replied.
‘Mind you, the restaurant could be warmer. Looking at the prices they charge, you’d think they could provide some heat for the customers.’
She’d probably only looked at the prices to make sure he was treating her right.
‘Put your cardigan on if you’re cold,’ he suggested, teeth gritted.
God, she was hard work, and they had another two courses and coffee to get through yet. She would be on a diet, she was always on a diet, but it wouldn’t stop her ordering a sweet.
She was wearing a maroon, floral-patterned dress and, after a moment’s consideration, must have decided the cardigan wouldn’t show it off to its best. Give her her due, she was still an attractive woman. She kept herself in shape, and always spent whatever it took to keep her hair looking good. Naturally dark, you’d never catch her looking anything but blonde. Andy sometimes thought she would rather die than let anyone see her with dark roots showing.
“I might in a minute,’ she said.
The restaurant was plenty warm enough, thanks to several radiators and two roaring fires, one at either end of the large dining area.
She was staring at him. ‘Your father used to do that,’ she said, and the criticism was there for all to hear.
‘Do what?’ He was eating soup.
‘Frown,’ she explained. ‘Wore a permanent frown, that man did.’
Andy couldn’t blame him for that. He’d never known him; the mystery man had made an escape several months before Andy was
born. He was never entirely convinced his mother knew who his father was, either.
‘Sorry,’ he said, giving her a broad smile. ‘So what have you been up to, Mum? Still doing your dancing?’
‘What would I have if I didn’t do that?’ she demanded.
‘I’m not like some people who always have family popping round.’
‘At least you have plenty of friends.’
‘It’s not the same as family. Maud - you know Maud who I go dancing with - she has six to lunch every Sunday without fail. At least six.’
Andy let her talk about the lucky Maud. Compared to her, everyone was ‘lucky’. His neck was feeling tense already. He could feel the muscles tightening up. Soon the conversation would progress to his single status.
‘Are you listening?’
‘Of course,’ he assured her, but he hadn’t a clue what she was talking about.
‘Anyway, she’s got another baby on the way,’ she went on. ‘Funny that. She spent six years with you and couldn’t decide if she wanted to get married or not, and then within a year of meeting that Frank, she’s married with a kid.’
So she’d managed to work the conversation round to Tanya already. Usually, she waited until they reached the dessert stage of this ordeal to give voice to her disapproval.
It wasn’t Tanya who caused the disapproval, it was what she saw as his failure to be like her friends’ children.
Without exception, they were married with the obligatory two point four children.
He and Tanya had been together for six years but, for the first three years, it had been a very casual relationship.
They’d gone to the cinema or out for a meal once a month or so. Neither of them had wanted marriage, despite occasionally mentioning it as something they might do in the future, yet Andy’s mother always insisted on laying the blame for their break-up squarely on Andy’s shoulders.
In reality, Tanya had arranged to meet him for lunch unexpectedly one day, and told him she’d met someone else.
‘His name’s Frank,’ she’d said, ‘and I love him.’
At the time, Andy had felt something akin to relief.
‘When I was at the hairdresser’s the other day,’ Melanie Collins said, dabbing a napkin to her lips, “I read an article in one of these trendy magazines, Cosmopolitan or one of those, and it reckoned that most women leave their men because the sex isn’t much cop.’
‘Mother!’
‘I’m only telling you what I read.’
‘I’d rather not know,’ he snapped.
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t.’ She smiled slyly. ‘Course, we both know that you like to treat your women a bit rough.’
“I do not!’ Confound the bloody woman. ‘Now, have you finished with that? The girl’s been across to the table twice to try and clear away our plates.’
‘I’ve finished.’
He kept talking until they were tucking into their main course - her a lemon chicken and him a good-sized rare steak.
‘Don’t know how you can eat that,’ she muttered. ‘You get all sorts of problems from eating food that’s not cooked properly.’
‘It is cooked properly.’ His neck was even more tense now and his jaw ached from gritting his teeth. He took a couple of deep breaths and forced himself to relax.
‘Your Tanya,’ she persisted.
‘She was never my Tanya.’
‘Whatever. Did she know about your police record?’
‘Mother, the charges were dropped.’ He took a swallow of his wine. If he had enough, perhaps he’d drive them both into a ditch. ‘Besides,’ he added tightly, ‘that was years ago, when I was at university’
‘Yes, at least you had the good sense to do it away from home. Well? Did she?’
‘Did she what?’
‘Did Tanya know about it?’
‘Yes,’ he lied. ‘Why shouldn’t she? It was all a silly mistake.’
‘Anyway, she’s happy now. Another baby on the way’
‘So you said.’
‘People talk, you know. If I tell people you’re thirtyfive and still not married, they think there’s something wrong with you. Most reckon you must be gay. That’s all the rage these days.’
She clearly expected some comment from him, but he refused to give her the satisfaction.
‘That chap you lived with ‘
“I shared a flat with other men after uni,’ he said heavily.
‘People do. It doesn’t mean they’re gay’
‘Oh, we know you’re not that.’
Andy refused to rise to her bait.
‘You’re not, are you?’
‘No, Mother, I’m not gay. I’m busy, I have lots of good friends, some male and some female. I simply haven’t yet met a woman I’d want to spend the rest of my days with.’
He was tempted to invent a girlfriend. He could tell her about Jill Kennedy, and how he’d taken her out to lunch, but it wasn’t worth it. Far better to eat as quickly as possible and then drive her home.
Christmas was only three weeks away, and he’d have to suffer this agony again then, but after that, with any luck, he wouldn’t need to endure her company until Mother’s Day in March.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bob Murphy arrived on the dot of ten o’clock on Saturday morning, just as he’d said he would, and Jill couldn’t have been more pleased to see him. Last night, her bedroom window had been rattling in the wind again. In the end, she’d given up and slept in the spare room. Not that she’d slept much. Her mind had been too full.
Michael’s aunt, his late mother’s sister, had come to the vicarage as soon as she’d heard the news, to take care of Michael.
Eve was a lovely woman with five children of her own.
All were older than Michael, though, and all had left home, and Jill thought she saw Michael as someone to mother. She forgot he was eighteen and an adult. For all that, she was a delightful, kind, warm-hearted person. As executor of her sister’s will, written many years earlier when Michael was still a child, it was, she’d said, her duty to take care of Michael. Jill had assured Michael he was welcome at the cottage any time he liked, and he’d chosen to spend most of his spare time with her until the future was more settled. He’d done that without hurting Eve’s feelings, too.
This morning, he had a friendly word with Bob, and then went back inside to his music and his solitude.
‘How’s he doing?’ Bob asked.
‘Amazingly well,’ Jill said truthfully. ‘He has his moments, of course, but he’s coping.’
‘It’s a dreadful thing. Bad enough to lose your parents in an accident or something, but this must be even worse.
I mean, to have both parents - murdered.’
“I know.’
‘It doesn’t sink in, does it?’
That was the essence of it; the horror simply didn’t sink in. It was one reason Michael was coping so well, it hadn’t sunk in, and one reason the local residents were managing to go about their daily business.
‘They say trouble comes in threes,’ Bob murmured. ‘It makes you wonder what’s coming next.’
Funnily enough, exactly the same thought had occurred to Jill. Perhaps that was simply because they were all on edge, all trying to make sense of life.
‘Still,’ he went on grimly, ‘we should be safe enough.
There are more police than residents in Kelton at the moment.’ He stepped back to look up at the cottage’s roof.
‘Now then, what are you needing here? Ridge tiles replacing?
Guttering renewed?’
‘Yes.’
‘There are a few slipped tiles and a couple of cracked ones that need sorting out. What’s the back like?’
They walked round to the back of the cottage and the list of priority jobs grew alarmingly.
‘I’d like all the windows replaced as soon as possible,’
Jill told him, ‘but one, that one there -‘ She pointed to her bedroom window. ‘It’s driving me
mad. It rattles in the wind and keeps me awake.’
‘I’ll have a look at that while I’m here, if you like. I might be able to do a temporary job.’
‘Would you? I’d be grateful.’ She looked at the other windows.
‘They all need replacing soon, though, don’t they?’
‘They do, yes. Don’t look like that,’ Bob added with a rare smile. ‘I’ll work out the cost before we start work.’
‘I’ll probably need a lottery win. I’m having some plans drawn up for the extension,’ she went on, ‘but there’s no hurry for that. I would like the roof making good as soon as possible, though.’
‘No problem.’
‘Come inside, Bob,’ she suggested, ‘and I’ll show you the sort of new front door I want.’
They discussed the options for Jill’s cottage, and Bob almost made her faint by telling her how much her front door would cost.
‘How long have you been in business?’ she asked.
He smiled. ‘Long enough to know what I’m doing.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean ‘
“I know you didn’t. Only joking. It’ll be ten years now.
I did my apprenticeship as a bricklayer, and then started out on my own. It was just me and a van. I like to keep it small, and I still only employ four others. They’re all good, hardworking chaps. You’ve met Len, my roofing man.
He’ll do your roof.’
They could hear the sound of Michael’s music coming from upstairs.
‘Len did the roof at the vicarage last year,’ Bob remarked, as if Michael’s music had reminded him of more unpleasant things.
‘That must have been a big job. It’s a huge house.’
‘It is, but I like plenty of space.’
‘So do I until it comes to cleaning.’
Rabble wandered into the kitchen and immediately went to investigate their visitor.
‘How old is she?’
‘Sixteen,’ Jill told him, ‘and revelling in all the fuss she gets from Michael. I’ve got three about the place. You’ll see them, or Len will, when you start work, but I don’t think they’ll be a nuisance.’
‘Don’t worry about that. Len’s got a zoo. Two dogs, a cat and a cockatiel at the last count.’
Kennedy 01 - Into the Shadows Page 14
