‘Which brings us back to why,’ said Liz.
‘Sex,’ said Pat, ticking off with her fingers. ‘Money. Blackmail—’
‘Surely not,’ said Liz. ‘Not Neville. I just can’t see it.’
‘Things happen,’ said Pat. ‘We all know that. He could have had an affair; he could have been helping himself to money from somewhere.’
‘Yes, but if hediddo something like that,’ said Liz, ‘I couldn’t see him covering it up. Not Nev. With Nev Hilton – what you saw was what you got.’
Pat stepped out of the air-conditioned Yeti onto her driveway, heat washing over her. Her mind was puzzling over Neville Hilton and what it was he could possibly have done to warrant someone attempting to blacken his name, and then confront him in a life-ending way. Blinking in the afternoon glare, she fumbled in her bag for her sunglasses. The light really was brutal this afternoon. What she needed was a shower. It had become her habit since the really hot weather had kicked in, to have a long cool shower late in the afternoon. At the moment she was getting through two sundresses a day. Which reminded her, she needed to get yesterday’s ones off the washing line.
Rounding the corner of the house she wondered if Tiffany-Jane would still be outside having some ‘me time’. Surely not; after all it was a good few hours since she had made that last stylish post. But there she was, sitting alone on a sun lounger looking cool and fresh in a way that made Pat feel infinitely stickier and grimier than she was. She was sitting perfectly still, arms clasped round her knees, gazing out across the wide bleached fields that fell away from the house, and though her eyes were hidden by enormous (designer) sunglasses (stylish, practical and VERY affordable, folks!), Pat sensed something steady and fixed in that gaze.
She hadn’t asked Tiffany about her trip to Leeds. Part of her reasoned that it was none of her business, but there had been something else, a bigger reason that had stopped her mentioning seeing the girl to anyone, even Rod. In the split second she’d seen her walking down Scott Hall Road, Pat had readsomethingin her face. What she didn’t know – and seeing her frozen onthe sun lounger Pat sensed that significance again. Whatever was going on behind those sunglasses, Pat instinctively knew it wasn’t something that would appear in her Instagram feed any time soon.
As her foot crunched on the gravel, the immaculate head jerked round and instantly the polished, sunny persona swung back into place.
‘Pat,’ she said brightly. ‘It’s such agorgeousafternoon. I’m just treating myself to some time in the sun!’
Pat smiled. ‘I’ve just got back.’
Tiffany-Jane nodded enthusiastically. ‘Justy’s at work. He’ll be back around seven.’ This was proving to be another feature of their close juxtaposition, Tiffany-Jane’s need to explain where Justin was and when he’d be back – as if justifying her presence in the Taylor home.
‘Do you two want to eat with us?’ said Pat. ‘It’s nothing much, just salad, and farm shop quiche.’
The face composed itself into an expression of rueful regret. ‘I’ve already eaten,’ she said. ‘And I know for a fact Justy’s got to mug up for this interview.’
‘He’s got an interview?’ Pat tried not to feel a surge of hope at the news.
Tiffany nodded. ‘Didn’t he say? That’s typical him!’ She shook her head. ‘He probably doesn’t want to needlessly stack up anyone’s hopes.’
Pat tried not to feel slightly hurt by this; in her book, telling one’s mother they had a job interview wasn’t needlessly stacking up hopes but giving someone information they had a right to know.
‘Is this the Manchester one?’ she said, trying to make her voice enthusiastic.
‘No, the Newcastle one. Eee Pet. The branding firm.’ Tiffany spoke with enthusiasm. ‘It should be a shoo-in, Justy was saying.’
Pat nodded, trying to give the appearance of someone who knew all about branding firms in Newcastle.
‘Anyway, how was your afternoon?’ asked Tiffany. ‘Did you have a nice time with your friends?’ Her tone made Pat feel exactly as if she, Liz and Thelma had spent the afternoon on the swings in Norby Park.
Without giving herself time to think, she found herself speaking. ‘Actually, we were trying to think of reasons why someone would be murdered.’
Tiffany-Jane’s eyes widened behind her big glasses and, for the first time in their relationship, Pat glimpsed something beyond the customary Instagram-veneer of their normal exchanges.
‘Sorry,’ said Pat. ‘That was a bit “out there”.’
But Tiffany-Jane was frowning in thought. ‘I should imagine,’ she said fingering the sunglasses, ‘there’s a whole number of reasons.’
Surprised, Pat nodded.
‘I assume,’ said the girl, ‘that you and your friends discounted the obvious ones – money, sex, love.’ She ticked the words off on those perfectly manicured fingers.
Again, Pat nodded. ‘This person who died,’ she said, ‘seems to have been someone who – well, wouldn’t steal money and wouldn’t have an affair.’
Now Tiffany nodded. ‘Oh-kay,’ she said, considering. ‘So maybe what you need to think about iswherethey were when they were killed – or what they knew … Either of those could be a reason someone would want to kill them.’
Pat frowned, puzzling this out. What Tiffany was saying was making sense. Had Neville maybeseensomething? Or did heknowsomething?
