Harvey didn’t react but it was noticeable the tips of his ears turned rather red. ‘If you know you’ve got these in your cupboard’ – he brandished the offending packet – ‘is it anywonderyour brain is going to be tapping you on the shoulder every ten minutes saying, “Er, excuse me, what about those bad boys we’ve all got stashed away!”’
Liz felt a flush of shame remembering those two packs ofVegan Moments. It’d been just after she’d come back from Hollinby Quernhow, as her headache was subsiding and she’d been getting Jacob’s room ready. After the exertions of the afternoon, she’d been assailed by a sudden powerful craving for something sweet – and as if in answer to a prayer they’d just fallen out of his Greenpeace duvet cover, two glossy brown packets … Even now she could taste the glorious chocolatey sweetness on her tongue. Surely, it couldn’t have caused any real harm. With a shock she realised Zippy Doodah was looking directly at her, a significant glint in her eye. It was almost as if she knew in some way. Which was, of course, ridiculous …
It had to be that other thing – whatever it was.
Liz thought back to the start of the session. As she had been on the scales being weighed by Happy Harvey, Zippy Doodah had come up almost offensively close – so close Liz suspected her of sneaking a glance at the reading.
‘At the end, don’t disappear,’ she’d said grimly, giving Liz’s arm a firm little shake.
Don’t disappear indeed!Liz had felt indignant, not just because of the invasion of her personal space, but the tone of her voice – as if Liz was in the habit of running out of the sessions, hand clapped to her mouth sniggering in mischief! What on earth could the woman want anyway? Presumably to ask her how she was getting on with finding things out – in the same way she had in that brazen way in Tesco. Possibly in the normal way of things Liz might have stayed and talked to the woman, but she was feeling tired and drained after her expedition to Hollinby Quernhow, sorely in need of some space and peace to reflect on the afternoon’s events.
So tonight, despite the muzzy vestiges of her earlier headache, she was determined to stop off by the allotments to give Billy’s bench that long-promised coat of preservative. Everything she needed was stashed in the boot; she could be at the allotments and painting in less than ten minutes without any need for Derek tostand over her with an umbrella. It’d take, she reckoned, the best part of an hour so the last thing she needed was any interrogation from Zippy slowing her down.
‘Okay, peeps!’ Happy Harvey smiled round at the group. ‘That’s a wrap! Avoid those triggers. Keep those food diaries and step counters going, folks, and I’ll see you in three weeks’ time when we’ll be immersing ourselves in the dizzy world of Carbs Carbs Carbs! I’d say maybethemost important session so far.’
‘More bad news,’ said Zippy Doodah in a gloomy undertone.
Even as Harvey had been speaking Liz had been discreetly gathering up her things – notebook, food diary, pen – in order to make a quick getaway. While Zippy was talking to the coven she was able to duck out of the room unnoticed, stifling down any feelings of guilt with the thought that that bench really did need its coat of green preservative.
Don’t disappear indeed!
The white Fiat was where she’d left it in the car park, now partly obscured by a large, black four-by-four. There was something off though, and it took her a second or two to register what it was. The black four-by-four wasn’t just obscuring the white Fiat – it was parked close against it, making it impossible for Liz both to get in, and manoeuvre it out of the library car park.
A flurry of panicky thoughts swelled up in her mind. There would be no one in the library, no one official, not at this time. She certainly didn’t want to alert Zippy or even Harvey. She could ring Derek, but what could he do? The AA ditto? Could some crane or truck pull the offending car away? Alongside these thoughts she was aware of a growing, blooming flower of familiarity.
Black?
The door of the four-by-four opened with a chill waft of air-conditioning.
‘I wanna word with you.’
Black hair, black T-shirt, black leggings – bronze smooth face, eyes obscured by black shades, and an aura as deep as the lengtheningshadows. Ffion Hilton was obviously not in a good place. Looking at her, Liz was reminded of the Bad Fairy in a pantomime; all that was needed was a puff of purple smoke and a clap of thunder.
‘You and I.’ Ffion jabbed an accusing purple-taloned finger at Liz. ‘We need to talk.’
Liz felt icy adrenalin kicking in, as one of her all-time dreads materialised – a scene. ‘What about?’ she said weakly.
‘What about?’ Ffion kicked the words scornfully back at Liz. ‘What about?’
Yes, what about?Liz didn’t dare utter the words aloud, and besides she had a pretty good idea.
‘I want you to tell me one thing,’ said Ffion. ‘Why are you going round my village sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong? Why are you spreading rumours about me? And why have you been coming into my house?’
Liz could have pointed out that this was in fact three things, but of course she didn’t. Ffion’s angry questions, her accusatory tone, her stunt with the car – were all designed to wrong-foot and fluster. And whilst Liz fully recognised this, she was still both wronged-footed and thoroughly flustered.
‘We’re not—’ she began to say but Ffion cut her off, which was just as well, as Liz had no idea how she was going to finish that sentence.
‘Are you trying to tell me it wasn’t you round the back of my house today? Not you sneaking round my kitchen? Putting all them lies on the village website? Coming in when I’m not there?’ Ffion lobbed the words with the force and precision of cricket balls aimed at pads and stumps. Liz shut her mouth and regarded Ffion, hands on hips, shades glinting in the fading sun. What could she possibly say to someone who wouldn’t let her speak more than two words together before angrily interrupting?
‘So go on then,’ said Ffion. ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’
‘What lies on the village website?’ asked Liz.
‘Do not give me that!’ The words were hard and scornful.‘Donotgive me that! Do not pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about!’
‘I don’t,’ protested Liz.
Ffion raised her half-shut eyes to the sinking sun. ‘Give me strength!’ she said.
