‘Did Neville ever say anything to you about Ffion?’ she asked. ‘Like she was threatening him or angry with him?’
‘He didn’t have to.’ Jax stood up and applied spray to the glass shower screen. ‘I knew Nev. He didn’t love her – and from what I’ve seen of her, she weren’t capable of loving him. He’d say to me, all jokey like, “She only married me for my money.”’
Jax resumed rubbing the shower screen. ‘You only have to look at their house to see there’s a shedload of money they must have.’ Her rubbing intensified; her voice was high and angry. ‘And now it’s all hers.’
‘Did you talk much to Neville?’ asked Liz gently.
Jax didn’t look up. ‘A bit,’ she said. ‘From time to time. When I’d bump into him.’
She sighed, her eyes suddenly distant, and Liz found herself remembering the photo of Jax and Neville taken so many years ago.
‘I tell you something, I talked to him more than that Ffion ever did. All she cares about are those blumin’ horses of hers.’ Jax absently squeezed her cloth, her eyes sad. ‘I tell you something else,’ she said, ‘I know he was there for me. Whatever had gone on – he was looking out for me.’
She wrung out the cloth.
‘I was wondering,’ said Liz, ‘whether he’d ever mentioned anyone elsebeing angry with him?’
‘Apart from Ffion, you mean?’ said Jax. ‘Like who?’ The thought had obviously never occurred to her.
‘I don’t necessarily mean in the village,’ said Liz. ‘I mean through his work. The Ofsted inspections he did, for instance.’ She deliberately didn’t mention Pity Me; she didn’t want Jax posting the suspicions she and her friends had all over social media.
Jax frowned. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘I thought it was Ffion you were finding out about.’ She picked out the last of the coleslawand stood up. ‘Because I tell you, Liz, it was her! Had to be. She didn’t care about him – she certainly didn’t care about what he wanted. And’ – she snatched up the bin bag with a quick, angry flick of the ponytail – ‘she was the one shouting in Nev’s face and she’s the one got all his money.’
How you hate all this, thought Liz in a moment of insight.How you hate all this cleaning up after people.
‘Everything okay?’ The interior of the mussel-blue Corsair ventilated, Teddy and Thelma sat side by side letting the stale, cool air play over their necks and faces. ‘I wasn’t sure whether to intervene,’ he said.
‘You did exactly the right thing,’ said Thelma. ‘She was angry and needed to vent; hopefully she feels a bit better.’
‘And she’s a teacher from the school?’
Thelma nodded. ‘The school that closed today,’ she said.
‘I think,’ said Teddy, turning on the satnav, ‘that all in all you did very well. With her, of course, but with Annie Golightly too. What a remarkable woman. Having spoken to her, I can absolutely see why her school was outstanding.’ He placed the key in the ignition. ‘Now,’ he said, voice firm, ‘I think you should drive us home.’
Thelma’s head dropped. ‘No,’ she said in a small voice. ‘No, I’m sorry.’
‘You can stop if you want to,’ he said. ‘Just try a few miles?’
Wordlessly Thelma shook her head.
‘I’m going,’ said Teddy with an edge of impatience in his voice, ‘to say another prayer.’ For the second time that day he took her hand. ‘Loving Father,’ he said, ‘thank you for my beautiful, lovely wise wife. You know what a good person she is, and the shame she feels. You love her and you know the truth, that being caught doing thirty-seven in a thirty-mile zone does not make her a bad or dangerous person. Stand alongside her and help her confront the fear, shame and guilt she feels at having to attend a speed awareness course. Amen.’
Chapter Eighteen
Wednesday 23rd July
From the Ripon and Thirsk Local History Society Facebook Page:
Tonight’s talk: Mental maths and a robust bladder! Twenty-five summers of manning the ice-cream stall at Newby Hall by Geoff Hall.
At about the same time as Thelma and Teddy were setting off home, Pat was waking from a sweaty doze, mouth dry, to find the bleached fields of North Yorkshire giving way to one of the brick and concrete estates fringing Stockton-on-Tees. In spite of the air-conditioning in the car, the mere sight of the sun-baked pavements and bleached pockets of lawn was enough to bring back that dull woozy surge behind her eyes. She closed them again.
‘And you’re sure you’re feeling okay?’ Tiffany-Jane shot her a concerned glance from the driving seat.
‘I’m fine!’ Pat snapped her eyes open and spoke firmly, brightly, as if the strength of her words could drive away the remnants of that muzzy head.
‘Just let me know if you need to stop.’
