‘I thought we’d done that with Libby’s nostalgia article. I thought looking into the past would help to make the present day a bit clearer.’
‘Do you think Freda will say any more about the slapping incident?’
‘I can’t push her on it, she’s very frail. It’s not fair to ask her to remember such an upsetting event.’
‘And you say Freda was involved at the school? Is that your old school? Grosvenor Grammar, where Phyllis taught?’
As I jump up, Charlie lifts his head from dad’s knee and looks at me.
‘You are an absolute marvel,’ I say, as I bend down to give dad a hug.
‘Am I?’ he says, smiling. Charlie stands beside us, looking expectantly.
‘No, Charlie,’ I say, ‘this does not mean an early walk. It means that your master here has once again guided this rookie detective down the correct path.’
‘Pleased to be of service,’ dad says, putting his hand out to rest on Charlie’s head. ‘Keep me posted?’
‘Of course. I’ll go and see her right now, if that’s okay with you boss?’
‘Done all your jobs for the day?’
‘Yep.’
‘Off you go then. I hope Phyllis can help. But Janie, if she can’t, you might need to think seriously about letting this one go.’
Now that the afternoons are getting shorter and the evenings longer, I’m certain I’ll find Phyllis at home, either baking in a warm kitchen, or reading in front of the fire. She takes a few moments to answer the door and when she does, she looks a little flustered.
‘Ah, it’s you,’ she says. ‘Come in, come in.’
I follow her through to the kitchen and notice she is limping slightly.
‘Everything okay?’ I ask her.
She sits down on one of the kitchen chairs and sighs.
‘Hey, that’s not like you. What’s the problem?’
‘Just a stupid moment. I was down the bottom of the garden, moving a few of the pots around. It’s way past the time when I should have got my bulbs in. I must have twisted awkwardly and I felt my ankle give way.’
‘Ouch,’ I say, putting my hand on her shoulder. ‘Have you tried a cold compress? Or soaking in vinegar? That’s supposed to help. Do you want me to take a look?’
‘I should be offering you a cup of something,’ she says, lifting her leg up a little, revealing a swollen ankle.
‘Don’t even think about it. Let me make you a drink. Tell you what, why not go and put your leg up on the settee to rest it and I’ll fix us something hot to drink.’
She nods, gets up and slowly makes her way through to the sitting room. A while later, once the kettle has boiled, I go through to join her, taking a tray with drinks, together with the biscuit barrel.
‘I’ve taken the liberty,’ I say, offering her a biscuit. ‘Something sweet to help with the shock, or the pain, or both.’
I sit in the armchair beside her and for a while we sip our drinks in silence.
‘Tell me something interesting to take my mind off this wretched ankle,’ she says. ‘How is your case going?’
‘Well, funny you should ask,’ I say, smirking.
‘Have you come to quiz me again? I’m not sure what else I can tell you about the Elm boy.’
‘It’s someone else this time. Do you remember Freda Latimer?’
‘Remember her? We’re still friends. Such a lovely lady, it’s a real shame she’s become so frail. She was a veritable powerhouse when she was younger.’
‘She mentioned that she helped out at the school. I don’t remember her, so it wasn’t during my time at Grosvenor?’
‘No, it was much earlier. Back in the fifties. She was a school governor. I don’t know how she found time to do all that she did. You think of a committee back then and Freda Latimer was involved in one way or another. Like I say, a veritable powerhouse.’
‘She’s told me about a run-in with Dorothy Elm.’
‘A run-in? Can you be a bit more specific?’
‘Well, she’s alleging that Dorothy slapped her.’
‘Are you sure? Freda was a fiery sort in her heyday, I can’t imagine anyone getting one over on her.’
‘So, she’s never mentioned the incident to you? It’s not something you remember?’
I take my notebook out and remove the press cutting, passing it over to Phyllis to look at. ‘It happened the day this photo was taken. At least that’s Freda’s memory of it.’
Phyllis examines the newspaper cutting, reading through the short article. ‘It certainly looks like Freda there, although the photo is very faded. And you say that’s Dorothy standing next to her? ‘
‘Well, it’s possible Freda is confused. It was a long time ago, after all.’
‘Do you want me to see what I can find out? I could drop in on Freda and talk to her about it?’
‘I don’t think you should be going anywhere with that dodgy ankle. R and R is what I am prescribing.’
‘And when have you known me to put my feet up? You’ve got me intrigued now. I see what Libby means about this amateur sleuthing lark, it’s quite addictive, isn’t it?’
‘Leave it with me, I’m the one being paid, after all.’
Chapter 18
Hugh is to be discharged from hospital on Thursday.
‘The doctor says he is a little better,’ Mrs Summer says when she calls into the library to let me know. ‘No oxygen now. That is good. Very good.’
‘I’m so pleased to hear it. Will he be able to manage the stairs alright?’ Hugh’s room at number 22 is up two flights of steep stairs of the Victorian terraced property.
‘Yes, slowly, slowly,’ she says. ‘He rings me from the hospital. “Mrs Summer,” he says, “may I come back?” Of course, I say, your room is waiting for you.’
‘Well, I’m sure he’ll be relieved. I’ll call in if that’s alright. Later in the afternoon, let him settle first.’
‘Yes, we can all have tea together,’ she says, looking delighted with the thought of an impromptu tea party.
Hugh’s lodgings are at the far end of First Avenue. Each of the houses have small front gardens, and even smaller walled courtyards at the rear. But as they border the edge of Alexandra Gardens they benefit from a charming outlook. Even though the trees are almost bare now, there is a beauty in their starkness and today the sky is clear and the sun is warm, despite an early morning frost. Thinking about the cold months ahead, my mind turns to Greg. This will be his first winter with the building firm. The weather won’t bother him, after all, before joining Mowbray’s he was a window cleaner, where our British climate presented its own problems. But as a brickie, or at least a bricklayer’s apprentice, I wonder what happens when it’s too cold to lay bricks. Will he still get paid? Maybe any money I get from Hugh should be ferreted away into a snowy day fund, just in case.
I arrive at the Summer household with a packet of jam tarts nestled inside my duffel bag, adjacent to my notebook. I’m hoping the former won’t turn the latter into a sticky mess.
Mrs Summer invites me through to her sitting room, where Hugh is nestled in an armchair close to the coal fire, with a rug around his knees.
‘Well, you look warm and cosy there,’ I say.
‘Mrs Juke, you sit here,’ she points to an armchair next to Hugh, ‘and I will get the tea.’
‘Oh, I’ve brought these,’ I say, digging into my bag to retrieve the jam tarts.
‘Very kind,’ she says.
‘Um, may I have coffee? For some strange reason, since I’ve been pregnant, I haven’t been able to drink tea. Silly, I know.’
‘Not silly. I don’t understand how you English can drink tea with milk. I drink it with lemon, but it was many years before I get used to the taste. Until then, only water. I drink always water,’ she says, holding her hands up with an expression of despair.
‘Ah, I thought I could detect an accent, Mrs Summer. Where were you born?’
‘In Puglia, the south of Italy.
Please call me Rosetta.’
‘How wonderful and you met your husband in Italy?’
‘Yes, in the war. We fall in love and then I come here and he dies, leaving me to your cold English winters.’
I give her a half smile, then turn to see how Hugh is coping with this mention of dying. I’m guessing it’s not the upbeat conversation a doctor would recommend for a recuperating patient.
‘You’re right about the cold winters,’ Hugh says quietly, ‘although it’s a wonderful excuse for a coal fire.’
‘I go to make the tea,’ Rosetta says.
I sit down next to Hugh and look intently at him.
‘Now,’ I say, ‘how are you? You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.’
‘Hospitals don’t encourage wellness. It’s difficult to look healthy when you’re surrounded by sick people,’ he says and smiles. He is still talking slowly, managing small breaths in-between each word. ‘Do you have any news for me?’
I find myself faced with the same dilemma as I did when Hugh was in hospital. I need to choose my words carefully, ensuring I won’t upset him in any way and aggravate his condition. Before I can reply, Rosetta comes back into the room with a tray laden with a teapot, a coffee pot and my jam tarts, set out on a delicate china plate. Interspersed with the tarts are assorted biscuits, which she now offers to Hugh and me before pouring our drinks.
‘Milk, sugar?’ she asks.
Hugh and I speak at once, which makes us all laugh, reducing the tension in the room. Now that Rosetta is sitting with us, I’m wondering how much of a conversation I can have with Hugh. I’m certain he won’t want her to know about the case he has tasked me with.
‘Would you like to return to Italy?’ I ask Rosetta.
‘One day, perhaps,’ she replies, but she seems loath to say anything more.
‘Has the doctor advised you to stay indoors, Hugh?’ I say. ‘I’m sure the cold winds won’t help. It’s freezing out there today.’
He smiles and nods.
‘Was your husband from Tamarisk Bay, Rosetta? Is that why you settled here?’
‘Yes, not far away. His family live in Tidehaven. But we like this house, this area. It is quieter than Tidehaven. I like the quiet.’
‘Are you still in touch with his family?’ I ask, realising that what started out as an attempt at small talk, now sounds like an interrogation.
‘Yes, I go sometimes. His mother, she is very kind to me. His father too. He helps me with my English. Excuse me please. I must look to the supper. I have a chicken in the oven. Mr Furness likes chicken,’ she says and swiftly leaves the room. I feel like breathing a sigh of relief, but suppress it.
Hugh turns to me, his expression is tense. ‘Did you have anything to tell me? About Dorothy?’
‘I do have a little bit more information. It would appear Dorothy was living in Tidehaven after the war. There’s no certainty she’s still there, but it’s possible.’
‘Ah,’ he says. ‘Yes, that would make sense.’
‘I’ve also spoken to a lady who knew Dorothy. A Mrs Freda Latimer. Does that name mean anything to you?’
He shakes his head.
‘Can I ask you something, Hugh?’
He nods and I pause while I attempt to frame the question in the least antagonistic way.
‘You had a conversation with Kenneth Elm, when you were in hospital.’
He nods again.
‘The conversation upset you, quite a lot. Are you able to share any of it with me? Did it concern Dorothy?’
‘I’d rather not say.’
‘The thing is, Hugh…’ I pause. ‘There are some gaps in the information you’ve given me about Dorothy.’
I watch him and monitor his breathing, holding my own breath to see if I have already gone too far, said too much. ‘I know you’re concerned she’s in danger,’ I continue, ‘but you haven’t been specific about what that danger is. From conversations I’ve had with various people concerning the Elm family, well, there are rumours, skeletons in the cupboard, so to speak. Can you throw any light on the rumours? And the press cutting, the one you deposited in the left luggage depot. What relevance does it have?’
Before he can reply, the door opens and Rosetta joins us again.
‘I have learned to do the English roast. I think I am quite good at it.’ She smiles and starts to clear away our cups and plates.
‘Yes, you are an excellent cook, I can vouch for that,’ says Hugh. ‘I have thoroughly enjoyed all the meals I have had since I arrived. Perhaps one day you would cook an Italian supper?’
‘I think English people do not like Italian food. You like your vegetables soft, all covered with sauce.’
‘Gravy?’ I ask and she nods.
‘I would love to try some of your Italian cooking,’ Hugh says.
‘I’m with Hugh, real Italian food by a real Italian cook, now that would be a treat.’
‘Then you must come too, with your husband. I make spaghetti all’amatriciana e insalata tricolore’ she says, flourishing her hands in the air.
‘Well, that sounds wonderful, but now I should go and leave Hugh to rest,’ I say.
‘I’ll speak to you again,’ Hugh says, pointedly, directing his gaze at me.
‘Yes, of course. And thank you Rosetta, for the coffee. I’ll see you again soon.’
If I was a child I would tip my toybox over and fling my toys around the room in frustration. I’m back at my starting point. I know a little more about Dorothy, a little more about Hugh. But nothing that will lead me to a solution. I’m a good librarian. Perhaps I will heed everyone’s advice and leave it at that.
It’s Friday and when Mrs Latimer walks through the door I’m surprised. Framlington Road is further for her to walk. Monday is her usual library day, when I’m parked on Milburn Avenue, just around the corner from her house.
‘I haven’t come about books,’ she says, presenting herself at the counter. Her face is flushed, as though she’s been running. But the thought of Ethel Latimer running makes me think of a Great Dane trying to ride a bicycle, out and out incompatibility.
‘Take a moment,’ I say. ‘Did you want to sit for a minute, have some water? You look a little hot.’
She takes me up on my offer, plopping herself down on the wooden chair I’ve unfolded for her. Each day I bring two flasks with me from home, one with hot water and the other with cold. I pour her a glass of cold water and wait for her to catch her breath.
‘I didn’t want to leave it too long to let you know,’ she says. ‘I had the feeling that when you showed Freda that newspaper article, well, it was important, wasn’t it? What she told you about her run in with that woman; I could tell from your face, you were shocked, weren’t you?’
‘A little surprised, maybe,’ I say.
‘I was too. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard mention of it. It was good of you not to push her for any more information.’
‘I wouldn’t want to upset her. She’s a really charming character, it’s a shame she’s not in better health. It must be difficult for your husband, he must worry.’
Ethel takes a handkerchief from her handbag and wipes her face.
‘I worry. About Arthur, about Freda and then there’s Bobby.’
‘And who worries about you?’ I say, putting my hand on her shoulder.
‘Oh, I’m alright, just having a bad day.’
‘I hadn’t realised that Phyllis Frobisher is friends with your mother-in-law. She mentioned it to me the other day. It turns out they’ve been friends since way back, when Freda was a school governor.’
She nods. ‘That’s what I wanted to tell you. Phyllis called in to see Freda. I was there with Bobby, Arthur had to pick up a prescription from the doctor’s, so I said we’d wait there with Freda. Then Phyllis turned up and I left them to chat. I was fussing around in the kitchen and I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard the name Dorothy Elm and, well, I’ll admit I was curious.’
&nbs
p; ‘Did you find out what it was all about, why Freda and Dorothy had their falling out?’
‘I couldn’t make much sense of it, to be honest with you. But if I tell you what I heard, well perhaps it will mean something to you.’
I hold my breath in anticipation.
‘“I couldn’t leave it alone, after all that their poor mother went through. She would have turned in her grave.” That’s what Freda said.’
‘Couldn’t leave what alone?’
‘I don’t know, but I do know that whatever it was, Freda is still upset about it now, all these years later.’
‘And she said this to Phyllis?’
Ethel nods, then stands up and hands me her empty glass. ‘You are close friends with Phyllis, maybe she can help throw more light on it? I must go now, thank you for the water.’
Perhaps my next visit to Phyllis will help me jump the next hurdle, or at least get me off the starting blocks. I’m starting to think that Phyllis and Libby deserve at least half of any money Hugh has given me to solve this case.
Chapter 19
Aside from some food shopping, Greg and I are enjoying a quiet Saturday.
‘Cheese on toast for lunch,’ I say, putting the last of the fruit into the bowl.
‘Perfect. Did I tell you that dad has offered to help me decorate Bean’s room? If we choose the wallpaper and paint, then he’ll come over evenings and weekends. It shouldn’t take us long if there’s two of us.’
‘That’s really kind and a good idea to get it done early. It’ll mean Bean won’t have to put up with the smell of fresh paint for the first few weeks of its life. Crikey, just imagine, a pretty nursery instead of an untidy box room. It’ll inspire me to sort out all those old books and photos. I’ve got stuff in there from schooldays.’
‘Let me guess, old school reports suggesting you should ‘concentrate more’?’
‘I think I was a bit of a dreamer. What about yours then? I bet you were only happy when you were outside kicking a ball around?’
‘I couldn’t stand being cooped up in a classroom.’
‘George Best probably said the same thing and he’s done alright for himself. By the way, I meant to say, Libby’s calling in this evening, if that’s okay?’
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