Frozen Charlotte
Page 24
‘Desperate people. Desperate measures.’
‘Quite.’
He’d finished all he had to say but DI Alex Randall didn’t move. He smiled at Martha. ‘This isn’t the first time you’ve helped me out,’ he said. ‘I’m really grateful.’
‘My pleasure.’
She had thought he might say more but he didn’t. He simply smiled, shook her hand and left.
She sat for a minute or two then picked up the telephone. Perhaps it was time she had a little bit of fun in her life. Being a coroner was interesting. As was being a mother but her life was slipping away all too fast. No one is more aware of the swift flow of the sands of time than a coroner. She’d been promised dinner. Why not?
She dialled the number and was soon connected.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
When I was a child I inherited my grandmother’s doll’s house. Called Nora’s Villa, dated 1894, my usual Saturday job was to clean and tidy it out. It was fully furnished with some lovely furniture and had a lead fireplace, even an ebony piano. My aunt had had it before me but had only sons so I inherited it. Coincidentally I too had sons so it went to my nieces, Lucinda and Alicia.
In the house were porcelain dolls. Two of these I felt particularly sorry for. Porcelain, made from one piece, unable to move either their legs or their arms. These dolls, I was to learn, are known as Frozen Charlottes. As always, a story leads to yet another story. Surfing the Internet, I discovered that Frozen Charlottes are named after Fair Charlotte, the unwise heroine of a poem by Seba Smith, a Maine humorist (1792-1868). Fair Charlotte, setting out for a New Year’s Eve Ball elected to travel in a silken cloak. By the time she reached the ball she was frozen solid! A warning to young ladies who put glamour ahead of warmth on snowy nights.
We’ve all done it!
Priscilla Masters
***
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