We’re going to stay here forever!thought Liz wildly.Her rolling her eyes and me not knowing what to say!
‘Everything okay here?’ Liz had not heard the approach of Zippy Doodah and neither, judging from the slight start she gave, had Ffion. The larger woman regarded the scene, car keys in hand, with, Liz thought, the aura of some inner-city bouncer.
‘I’m not being funny,’ said Ffion. ‘But keep out of this, Zippy. This is between me and her.’
‘Maybe it is, Ffion,’ said Zippy Doodah. ‘But at the end of the day you can’t go round blocking people in car parks. At least’ – she cast a glance upwards – ‘not while it’s on CCTV.’ Both Ffion and Liz nervously jerked their eyes upwards.
‘How would you like it?’ said Ffion angrily to Zippy. ‘Someone going into your house when you’re not there?’ She gave Liz a raking, angry glare. ‘So, what were you up to? Looking for something?’
‘I really don’t know what you mean,’ said Liz.
‘You were in my kitchen!’ The words came out as an angry shout. ‘It’s bad enough having my husband die on me, but then on top of that, to have people thinking it was something to do with me!I did not see Nev the night he died.’ There was an odd quality to the statement, an odd emphasis, a defensiveness – and something else … a certain tone to her voice …
‘Listen, Ffion love,’ said Zippy Doodah. ‘Everyone knows you’ve been through a lot—’
‘So why is everyone looking at me funny?’ broke in Ffion. ‘Saying stuff about me?’
‘People would be a lot nicer to you if you didn’t walk round like you had a stick up your backside,’ said Zippy Doodah in a surprisingly gentle voice.
The effect was dramatic. Ffion seemed to pinch herself in at the waist whilst at the same time puffing her torso up and out. Again, Liz fully expected a puff of violet smoke and a clap of thunder.
‘Don’t youdaretalk to me like that,’ she screeched. ‘Anyway’ –again the talon jabbed towards Liz – ‘it’sherI’m talking to. Her who’s been coming into my house.’
Liz regarded her. Zippy Doodah’s timely intervention had done two things. First it had shown some definite chinks in Ffion’s angry, enamelled carapace. Secondly it had given her a much-needed opportunity to step back, calmly assess the nature of Ffion’s wrong-footing tactics and react accordingly.
‘First of all,’ she said, ‘I only came into your house that once, because Jax was looking for her keys – and I said then how sorry I was about—’ Ffion opened her mouth but it was Liz’s turn to drive on. ‘Ifyou’ll just let me finish.’ There was a steely blade in Liz’s voice, the uncompromising tone of a primary school teacher on the attack.
‘Yeah, for fook’s sake, give the lass a chance to speak,’ said Zippy Doodah. Was that a grudging note of respect in her voice?
‘Go on,’ said Ffion warily.
‘Someonewasin your flat – the Snuggery – the night Neville died,’ she said.
‘Well, it wasn’t me!’ said Ffion.
Liz disregarded this. ‘Whoever this person was, I think they parked up at the back of the playing field and came in through your back gate.’
‘That’s kept locked,’ said Ffion. ‘And I did not see Nev.’ Again, there was that strange quality in her voice.
‘Are you not curious whowasshouting at him?’ asked Liz.
‘Why should I be? The police said Nev’s death was natural causes – a heart attack, for God’s sake. Can you not get that into your head?’
‘Look.’ All at once Liz’s tone became crisp and uncompromising. ‘You can shout at me and box me in all you want, but I am notgoing to stop nebbing in until I’ve found out who was there and what exactly happened in an effort to give that poor girl some peace of mind.’
‘What poor girl?’ said Ffion suspiciously.
‘She means that cleaner,’ said Zippy Doodah with a trace of exasperation. ‘The one who found your husband. In a right state she is, tablets and everything.’
Liz regarded the two women. There was, of course, a good deal she wasn’t saying – about a yellow line down a wall and yellow paper flowers, Pity Me Infants school – she had no desire for any of that to end up whizzing round such a scanty grapevine as existed in Hollinby Quernhow.
‘I know,’ she said, ‘how perfectly horrible all of this must be for you, and you have my deepest deepest sympathies—’
‘I’ve not got time for this.’ Ffion wrenched open the car door and climbed in. ‘It’s not your sympathy I want – what I want is for you and your mate to stay out of my house and keep your big noses out of my business!’ Once more that curious tone. What was it? Ffion Hilton slammed the door and the engine gunned grumpily into life.
‘Ffion love,’ said Zippy Doodah, but the windows were down and the door remained firmly shut.
If it had been an episode ofEmmerdale, Ffion would have driven off with a dramatic roar and squeal of tyres. Thirsk library car park, however, did not lend itself to such dramatics and there followed a good deal of complicated manoeuvring as Ffion extricated the black four-by-four whilst Liz and Zippy Doodah looked on.
