‘So, if you don’t go back to work with Jax, what will you do?’ asked Thelma. None of the three friends liked to say it, but they all felt losing the cleaning work would inflict a financial hit that Chelsey could barely afford. Plus, it was seeming more than likely that before long Jax would ditch the business and move on to something else.
Chelsey shrugged. ‘I dunno,’ she said. ‘Something will turn up.’
‘What are you like with horses?’ Ffion’s voice was back to its usual brusqueness.
‘Horses?’
Again, Chelsey shrugged. ‘I mean, I used to have riding lessons when I was little,’ she said.
‘Only Lib needs someone on a weekend to help out,’ said Ffion. ‘Mucking out and so on.’
‘Like cleaning stables?’ said Chelsey.
‘It’s not for everyone,’ said Ffion. ‘And I suppose if you gave up riding—’
‘Only because my dad lost his job and we couldn’t afford the lessons anymore,’ said Chelsey. ‘I used to love it.’
‘It’s a lot of mucky work,’ said Ffion. ‘Shovelling ess aitch eye tee.’
‘I wouldn’t mind that,’ said Chelsey. ‘It can’t be worse than some of the stuff I’ve found when I was cleaning. I mean aside from dead bodies. Oh God—’ She stopped, clamped her hand to her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Hilton, that came out all wrong.’
‘Don’t worry, love,’ said Ffion with a grim smile. ‘And it’s Ffion.’
On her way out, having taken Lib’s phone number and said a nervous goodbye to Donna Dolby, Chelsey paused in the doorway. ‘So, it’sreallyokay then?’ she said. ‘About Mr Hilton?’
‘It’s fine,’ said Ffion. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘And that yellow line on the wall? What was that about?’
The remaining five women exchanged glances.
‘Nothing important,’ said Ffion. ‘Nev must’ve been trying out colours to repaint or summat.’
Chelsey nodded. ‘I am sorry,’ she said to Ffion. ‘About Mr Hilton. I’m sorry he died on his own like that.’
Ffion nodded but no one spoke. After all, what was there to say?
* * *
Once Chelsey had gone, and Ffion returned with a fresh cafetiere of coffee. DS Donna slapped her hands on her knees. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘I have exactly twenty-two minutes before I need to be heading elsewhere. And remember – I am not here; I never was here.’ She reached for her cup and spooned in brown sugar. ‘So, speak.’
‘Well,’ said Thelma. ‘Whatever Bun Widdup might have said to you, she had this whole thing meticulously planned. From booking an earlier stay at the cottage, to setting up the whole fake Zoom scenario.’
Donna nodded. ‘When do you think she decided all this?’ she asked.
Thelma stirred her coffee. ‘Probably when Neville got the job at Lodestone. Here was the man who had effectively destroyed Pity Me school, landing a top job with one of the leading academy chains in the country.’
‘And a top-whack salary,’ put in Pat. ‘When there were people like Chloe Lord potentially facing being out of work when the school was closed.’
‘She had tried a smear campaign,’ said Thelma. ‘Spreading rumours about Neville, but that didn’t work. Neville still landed the job. So, I imagine it was around then, in her rage and grief over everything that had happened – the school, and then Davey Fletcher’s death – she decided she was going to kill the man.’ She looked at Ffion. ‘I can imagine this must be very hard for you to hear,’ she said, ‘So just say if you want me to stop.’
Ffion shrugged. ‘It’s not easy,’ she said, ‘but then it’d be harder not to hear it, if that makes sense.’
Thelma nodded and continued. ‘Remember,’ she said to Donna, ‘this is for the most part supposition – there’s very little actual proof.’
‘Which is okay as technically a crime hasn’t been committed,’ said Donna. ‘FYI seventeen minutes.’
‘Bun would have used the time she spent here in March finding out the lie of the land, as it were,’ said Thelma.
