She looked again at the mosaic of facts that lay before her.So many! Just like with Neville Hilton – so many facts, both contradictory and unresolved … The fact that someone was shouting at Neville Hilton about Pity Me school and the fact that no one from Pity Me school could have actually been there. And then Caro’s urgent insistence that Chloe had gone straight home after the service. What was it again? She’d seen the car on her way to a PCC meeting – and then again on the way back.
Thelma frowned. The way Caro’s hand had clasped almost absent-mindedly round the knife … Her words –I wonder if he really ever knew the pain he caused.
A knife …glittering in the dishwasher … that jumble of plates …
She shook her head.Come on, Thelma, focus on the job in hand.
Taking a deep breath she said a prayer. ‘Father, you say your word is a light for my feet. Make that light shine brightly now and show me the bits of the Highway Code I need to get my head round before tomorrow.’
Her phone rang. Thelma felt a pang of irritation. She had to make headway with absorbing at least some of these facts before Teddy came in, she wanted a quick supper so that she could have another go before she got too tired. She shook an impatient head at the ringing phone – it was probably Verna asking her to change shifts at the charity shop.
But it wasn’t Verna.
‘Thelma Copper?’ The accented voice was familiar. ‘Am I speaking to Mrs Thelma Copper?’
‘This is Thelma Cooper,’ said Thelma cautiously.
‘Mrs Cooper, this is not a cold call. This is Oorja Kaur. I’m nurse to Annie Golightly.’ An image of a plait waving determinedlybetween the shoulder blades of a marching figure appeared in Thelma’s mind’s eye.
‘Oorja,’ she said. ‘How can I help you?’
‘You can’t help me,’ said Oorja. ‘I’m fine. It’s Annie. I’m ringing on her behalf; she gave me your number. I have a message from her. She wants to see you.’
‘She wants to talk to me?’ The distance between College Gardens and Newton-under-Roseberry spooled out remorselessly in Thelma’s mind. ‘Can I call her?’
‘No.’ Oorja was emphatic. ‘She has to see you – face to face. I think she’s too weak to speak on the phone, my poor angel.’
‘Would some time tomorrow be convenient?’ She could always ask Teddy to rearrange his deliveries again.
‘No.’ Again the voice was emphatic. ‘I would not leave it that long. You need to come now!’
‘Now?’ Thelma could feel the panic swelling at the thought of the long drive. Could she maybe call Liz or Pat? But how long would it take for them to get here?
‘Yes please,’ said Oorja. ‘I fear time is short for my lovely woman.’
‘Have you any idea why she wants to talk to me?’ she asked.
‘All she said to me several times was: “I have to see Thelma Cooper. I need to speak to Thelma.”’
Although way down the sky, the sun still hammered relentlessly on the back of Liz’s neck as she cupped her hands and peered through the glass frontage of the Old Barn.
‘It’s the milk see.’ Sidrah hovered anxiously behind her. ‘Delilah – she’s the lady as brings the milk – she said the milk she left yesterday hadn’t been touched, and had gone off so she left some more. Only when I was out doing the watering just now, I saw it was still there … I thought maybe Ffion had gone away but the car’s sitting on the driveway, and there were lights on last night …’
Liz peered into the dim hallway. Should she ring the bell again? She took a step towards the study window but paused. Knocking ona door was one thing, looking through windows quite another … She steadied herself and peered in cautiously remembering that figure framed in the glass on the CCTV. The study looked very much as it had that last time she’d seen it – no, hang on … She leaned in closer until her forehead was touching the warm pane. There was something different about the drawers. Whereas before they’d been flush with the unit, now they were slightly pulled out, and stuffed paper could be seen in the gap – as if someone had pulled paper out and then stuffed it back in again.
‘D’you think everything’s okay in there?’ asked Sidrah worriedly.
Liz moved back to the front door and gave a smart double ring accompanied by a sharp rap on the iron-studded wood, again expecting the appearance of an angry Ffion breathing smoke and ire.
But no one came.
‘I’m getting a really, really bad feeling about this,’ said Sidrah.
Liz frowned, worry overtaking her trepidation at once again upsetting Ffion. Where was the woman? Was she even inside? She considered the options. Calling the police at this stage very definitely felt like overkill. But on the other hand, walking away didn’t feel right either. If only Hollinby Quernhow were different! She thought of the Old Police House, the deconsecrated church, the converted pub – all hubs of activity where one could have gone for help and advice. All now a series of anonymous holiday lets full of oblivious strangers.
‘Is everything all right there?’ Liz turned at the sharp interrogative tones and felt a wave of unexpected relief at the sight of Zippy Doodah accompanied by the ludicrously small shape of Buddy Dog.
It was just after seven thirty when once again the mussel-blue Corsair pulled up on the wide brown verge in front of Bretton. More parched leaves were drifting down, giving the lane an autumnal atmosphere, eerie in the baking afterglow of the day. Thelma turned off the engine and the air-conditioning. For virtually thewhole drive from Ripon, her mind had been turning over and probing the same question – what could Annie Golightly possibly have to say that was so important that it seemed to amount to some sort of death-bed confession? There was obviously something very important she wanted to share. Couldshesomehow be the person who had confronted Neville that night? Fired up by the memorial service, driven at implausible speed from Pity Me to Hollinby?
