“What’s bringing you to Dartmouth, Angie?” asked Mattie, appearing to have stepped into the role of polite guest.
“I belong to a group of women running local businesses, mostly in the tourist trade. We meet once a month for lunch and support, and we share our experiences.”
“Sounds invaluable,” said Mattie.
Talking and thinking hurt Nell’s head. She closed her eyes and must’ve drifted off, because the next thing she knew, they’d arrived in Dartmouth and Angie was reversing into a parking space. Groggily, Nell gathered her belongings while Angie paid for a parking ticket. She was aware of Mattie hovering, glancing over at Angie and back at her, but she refused to let Mattie catch her eye.
“Nell, I need to?—”
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say, Ms Elliott.” Nell crouched down and made a show of double-knotting the laces on her walking boots.
“Fine.” Mattie sighed, sounding like it was anything but fine.
Nell waited until Mattie’s boots had disappeared from her peripheral vision and were replaced by Angie’s dainty sandals before she stood up.
“Talk about cutting the tension with a knife,” said Angie. “Want to tell me what that was about?”
“It was work-related.”
“About the fire investigation, I presume?”
“Yes.” Nell sighed. For a wild moment, she was tempted to confide in Angie. That happened rarely. During one of their early chats as new neighbours Nell had told Angie that she was“divorced, long story.” Angie hadn’t pried, which endeared her to Nell and now, nearly fifteen years later, she was the closest Nell had to a confidante, but there was so much she didn’t know. Where would Nell even start?Incidentally, I’m bisexual, and on the rare occasion I notice anyone, it’s always a woman. Oh, and I can’t stop thinking about Mattie, the woman who is also a pushy journalist with an agenda who can’t be trusted. She glanced at Angie, looking smart in a pale peach linen suit and white blouse, and full of excitement about her business meeting. “I’m going to walk off this hangover, and you’re going to enjoy your lunch.”
Angie narrowed her eyes. “Take it easy and drink plenty of water. With that hangover, you’re a prime candidate for heatstroke if you don’t.”
Nell smiled. Angie couldn’t stop herself from launching into caring-mum mode. Nell headed out of the car park, her thighs feeling as though she’d hiked ten miles already. Maybe it was a stupid idea to walk at all. She could hide in a cafe and drink espressos all day. Any enthusiasm for hanging around soon withered when she saw the crowds thronging the town centre. Too many people and not enough fresh, cooling air. She’d stick to her original walking route but reverse it by crossing the river and walking up the Dart Valley trail. Yes, it led to Greenway House, but Nell would avoid it by walking around the grounds instead of going into them. Then she’d take the passenger ferry across the river to continue the trail there…if she didn’t die of alcohol poisoning in the interim.
Two hours later, her fit-to-burst bladder was a problem. The forest trail was too busy for her to nip behind a tree for a wild wee. The path veered around a bend, and ahead, a stunning white building of stately proportions came into view. Greenway House, she presumed. It was perched on a hill surrounded by a battalion of mature trees and overlooked the River Dart. TheNational Trust managed the property as a tourist attraction, so there were bound to be public toilets there. Nell quickened her pace, her legs finding energy now that relief was in sight.
Once in Greenway’s grounds, she consulted a map displayed on an information board. She needed to pass the boathouse, which according to the sign, Agatha Christie had used as the scene of the crime inDead Man’s Folly,and then follow the path around. Thankfully, there was no queue, and she virtually ran into a toilet cubicle.Phew.Her hangover was clearing too. Now she was at Greenway, she might as well make use of the cafe facilities. A pot of tea or an iced latte would go down a treat. Outside, she turned left and then saw a sign for the cafe pointing in the opposite direction. She stopped, turned, and inadvertently walloped a child with her backpack.Oh hell. She bent down so she was on the same level as the boy’s face. Going by his height, he was probably about seven or eight years old, and a football fan too, if his red Liverpool FC T-shirt was anything to go by. “Are you okay?”
The boy didn’t answer, and tears brimmed in his eyes.
Nell looked around. No one was rushing over to claim him. Maybe he was lost? She asked him, and he made a flurry of hand and arm signals in response. Nell looked at the side of his head and saw a cochlear implant. Ah, now it all made sense: he was communicating via sign language.
“Nell.”
She frowned on hearing Mattie’s voice close by. Was there no escaping the damn woman?
“I can help.” Mattie smiled tentatively and then signed to the boy.
The boy’s face lit up with relief and recognition. They signed quickly, and Mattie laughed.
“What did he say?” asked Nell, surprised by Mattie’s obvious skill.
“His name is Leon, he’s eight, and he’s lost his mum. Oh, and I look like an angel.”
Nell could make any number of responses to that, but her police antennae demanded she focus on getting Leon reunited with his parent. “Is he happy to come with us to the ticket office? The staff there can keep him safe until his mum claims him.”
Mattie signed with Leon, whose face was incredibly expressive now that he was able to communicate with someone. At the ticket booth, Nell explained the issue while Mattie laughed with Leon. It was only a matter of minutes before he was reunited with his frantic mother, who looked torn between shouting at him for wandering off or hugging him and never letting go. Leon gave Mattie a joyous high-five before leaving.
Nell turned to Mattie. “When did you learn to sign?”
“As a kid. My brother, Simon, was born profoundly deaf. My signing is a bit ropey because I’m not using it every day anymore, but I get by.”
“It’s such a valuable skill. It’s something I’ve always intended to learn but haven’t found the time for.” Nell glanced at her. “Leon’s right; you can be angelic.”
“Just not all the time, right?” Mattie held out her hands. “Nell, I tried to say this earlier. I owe you the hugest apology.”
