‘Eight hundred and ninety-two pounds,’ she said. She held her breath, waiting for some sort of response – she wasn’t sure what. A raised eyebrow? A suspicious frown? But Ross didn’t even bat an eyelid.
‘Let’s get started,’ he said, and began to type into the pad on the desk, inserting her personal details.
Ten minutes later and it was all done. Ross reassured her that her bank card and PIN would arrive in the post in the next few days. Her stomach lurched as he said this until she reminded herself that Simon had a few days lined up in the office and so she could easily intercept the post before he ever had an inkling of what had gone on.
She said goodbye to Ross and left the bank. It was all done. She felt light and free, uplifted that it had all gone so smoothly.
Outside, Hazel was digging into her pocket, about to feed Cooper one of the treats from her tin.
‘Oh no,’ said Lorna. ‘Much as he’d love it, he can’t. He’s putting on too much weight. The vet has told us to restrict treats.’
‘Well, boo to the vet,’ said Hazel. ‘Ruining everyone’s fun. But he’s like me. On a health kick! You know, I’ve lost a stone and a half since the doctor told me to get out and walk more. And I miss Sukey still, of course I do, but I’ve met so many other dogs! And they’ve always got a waggy tail for me.’
Cooper obliged with an enthusiastic wag. Hazel laughed. ‘And I know your wag especially well. It’s one of my favourites; extra friendly.’
‘That’s because you’re his second-favourite person in the whole wide world,’ said Lorna, buoyed with goodwill after her fortuitous meeting.
‘Oh no,’ said Hazel, ‘not before the family. Maybe fifth favourite person. You know, you shouldn’t leave him tied up outside – someone could steal him.’
Hazel was right, thought Lorna. But he’d been fine. She’d been fine. The money had been fine and been deposited in a very fine manner. Everything was fine! Lorna felt as if she had just set up something very clever. Accomplished. She would keep adding to it and who knew how much she could accumulate. As long as she was careful (not like the Christmas gift – Lorna had since put this downto a ‘run-through’, she would not be making any mistakes likethatagain), she was onto a nice little income generator. Payment really, as she kept reminding herself, for all her efforts. And being Chair of the PTA did take a huge amount of effort.
‘You’re right, Hazel, but they won’t let our furry friends into the bank, you know.’
‘Pah,’ said Hazel. ‘Dogs should be allowed everywhere.’
‘Couldn’t agree more. Anyway, it’s not theft we should be worried about around here, it’s the Canine Killer.’
‘I’ve read about him in the paper,’ said Hazel, shuddering.
‘Might not be a him.’
‘Oh?’
‘Some say it’s happening because of the water quality down at Heron Water. One part in particular.’
‘What part?’
Lorna lowered her voice. ‘You know the woman who bought Imogen’s place? Well, she’s gone and dug beneath the water table or something. Upset the equilibrium.’
‘How does that work?’ asked Hazel, puzzled.
‘I don’t know. I’m not a scientist. It’s calmed down a bit recently – but the algae always lessens in winter.’
‘Yes, it does, thank goodness.’ Hazel wagged a finger at Cooper. ‘But still, don’t go drinking from the reservoir if there’s something up with the water there! Or at least keep away from that dangerous part!’
‘He will, won’t you, Cooper,’ said Lorna. She said goodbye and went on her way, a new spring in her step.
SEVENTY-ONE
Monday 18 January
If she was honest, Imogen was a little tired of pizza. She placed the topping on the dough of a recipe she was creating for Valentine’s Day. Red pepper, ham and strawberry. The saltiness of the ham should contrast well with the sweetness of the fruit. It was something a bit different, but every day was pizza. She got a wistful longing for the rarity of the dishes she used to invent when Luna’s was a Michelin-starred restaurant. Also, she couldn’t deny she’d loved the prestige Luna’s had given her. It wasn’t as if Nigel had been on the phone asking to come to The Wood Oven. But then she would remember that this was a means to an end. She was making so much money it didn’t really matter whether she liked making pizza or not. It sold. And that was what counted.
Imogen glanced at the clock. Almost two. She wondered if the police had been to see Nancy yet. No one spoke to her the way that woman had. Once Nancy had had a warning from the cops, maybe she would think twice about ever approaching her again.
She quickly put the pizza into the oven. Imogen had an hour before she had to pick up Rosie. She wondered how the Spring Queen vote had gone. She hoped Rosie had won but suspected that Miss Young might do something to sway the kids in another direction. It was all sounfair.
Before Imogen had dropped Rosie at school that morning, she’d prepped her. Explained that if Lara won the vote and ended up as Spring Queen and riding Lupin, then Rosie shouldn’t get too upset. Life had a way of rebalancing and there were other ways of getting back at someone. She didn’t want to go into the full details of how she’d had a nasty visit from Nancy and so had called the police, but she’d tried her best to get her message across: Lara would get her comeuppance. Maybe not now, but at some point in the future.
