Bun Widdup shielded her eyes against the rays. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love the sun but it can be a bit of a nuisance in summer – at this time of the afternoon, it shines straight in from the west.’ She half stood and reached for something off screen, adjusting what must have been a blind or curtain. The sun’s glare muted to a uniform warm glow that seemed to make the red and orange drapes pulsate with colour, vivid against the sliver of wall visible behind.
‘It looks a bit on the warm side,’ said Pat.
‘No, honestly, it’s fine.’ Bun had a way of making every statement sound like a sort of stirring pronouncement. ‘We’re right on the cliffs above Robin Hood’s Bay, so there’s always some breeze going on.’ She smiled. ‘I once worked in Kenya, believe you me what we’re experiencing now is nothing like the heat there! Anyway, I’m blessed living in this lovely place. These days I do all my work from home, with its sea views.’ She looked appreciatively over to her left. ‘I wish you could see it!’ She smiled contentedly. ‘You know, I haven’t had to set foot outside of Robin Hood’s Bay for four months or so!’ she said. ‘Gone are the days of belting up and down the country from staffroom to staffroom!Anyway—’
Now there was a crispness to that pleasant voice, a tone that unmistakably said, ‘Down to business, ladies!’ Pat found herself remembering Chris Canne nervously pulling at his collar.
‘Thank you for agreeing to see me. Especially so late on in the afternoon. I understand from Annie Golightly that you’re asking questions about the death of—’ She looked down at an iPad in front of her.
‘Neville Hilton,’ supplied Thelma.
‘The man who led the Ofsted at Pity Me school,’ said Liz.
Bun Widdup nodded. ‘Of course – apologies, it’s been a long day.’ She yawned slightly. ‘I did speak to the gentleman myself a few times, in the course of my work,’ she said. ‘Neville Hilton was …’ she paused delicately, a frown clouding her face, ‘… someone with interesting views. However, didn’t he die of a heart attack or have I got that all wrong?’
‘He did,’ agreed Thelma.
‘So the police say,’ put in Liz.
‘Well, he either did or he didn’t!’ There was faint laughter in her voice.
‘He did die of a heart attack,’ said Pat. ‘But he had a visitor beforehand.’
Bun frowned, nodded, as if to say ‘and?’
‘There was a lot of argy-bargy going on,’ said Liz. ‘A lot of shouting.’
‘And whoever it was, was heard saying the name of Pity Me school,’ said Pat.
Bun nodded as if light was dawning. ‘So you think this person was from the school and might have been in some way responsible?’ she asked.
‘We don’t exactly know what to think,’ said Thelma.
Again, Bun nodded. ‘And you say someone saw this confrontation?’
‘No,’ said Liz. ‘They heard it. They were in the snicket outside.’
Bun smiled at them. ‘Well, all I can say,’ she said, ‘whoever this person in the snicket is, they’ve got jolly good hearing!’ She looked at them for a long moment, allowing the point to register.
‘Okay,’ she said finally. ‘So I think I see where you were coming from. Assuming itwasthe name of the school this person heard being said.’ She smiled and they smiled back. ‘Suppose that someone did confront this Neville Hilton. And okay, suppose he subsequently had a heart attack? So what? I mean, it’s all very sad and tragic, but it’s not like any actual crime’s been committed?’
Such was the sheer common sense in Bun Widdup’s tone that it was hard to disagree with her. Pat was reminded of INSET training days, when she found herself being told what she was doing was not up to scratch, and what she needed to do instead.
Hey, Mrs Kohl Panda, what do you see? I see three retired lady primary school teachers making tits of themselves!
She glanced at her friends. Thelma was frowning and Liz looked like she was on the point of apologising and ending the call.
It was Thelma who spoke. ‘Can I ask,’ she said, ‘why it was you wanted to speak to us?’
‘Cutting to the chase!’ Bun Widdup gave a merry laugh. ‘I like that! Well, it’s about Pity Me school – the late, much-lamented Pity Me school. Or rather the staff. I gather you visited there?’
‘Thelma and I did,’ said Liz.
‘Well, you don’t need me to tell you what a brutal – and I chose the word deliberately – what an absolutely brutal time they’ve all had of it recently, what with Annie, and poor Davey Fletcher and that awful Ofsted inspection and now the school closing and those lovely people being scattered to the four winds. I just can’t but help feel a bit protective of them. As someone who’s worked with them, I’m telling you, ladies, the very last thing they need is a lot of questions about some deceased Ofsted inspector.’
The three nodded in silence.
Bun nodded back, satisfied her point had been made, then picked up her tablet.
