“Well, sadly I’m not sure I’m going to be able to use any of that in my English lesson,” Ash said. “My teacher would think I’d lost the plot if I started comparing Shakespeare to Star Wars.”
“Oh, but you never know. And maybe Dan’s a fan too?”
At the mention of the other boy’s name, Ash’s face grew serious.“I don’t know why I’m bothering with any of this, Arthur. Even if I do manage to say a coherent sentence in class, it’s not like Dan would ever like someone like me.”
“Why ever not?”
“You’ve seen him. He’s captain of the school football team, a prefect and one of the most popular kids in school. And I’m just a loser who likes science fiction and computer games.”
“So, haven’t you ever heard of opposites attract? Just look at Anthony Bridgerton and Kate Sheffield.”
Ash smiled, but it was a half-hearted one this time. “Sadly, this isn’t a romance novel; we’re not guaranteed a happily ever after.”
“Maybe not, but let me tell you a true story. The first time I plucked up the courage to talk to Esi, it quickly became clear she was totally out of my league. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was the smartest person I’d ever met. Her father had been a successful Ghanian businessman who’d sent her to this fancy English boarding school, and when he died, she and her mother moved here permanently. Esi was well-read and well traveled, whereas I’d barely left St. Tredock my whole life and smelled of manure. I didn’t stand a chance.”
Ash didn’t say anything, but Arthur could tell he was listening.
“All my friends told me to forget about her and find myself a local lass who’d be happy with the simple life I could give her. But I couldn’t get Esi out of my mind. And so instead of giving up, like everyone told me to, I focused on the one thing I had in my favor.”
“Which was?”
“Books.I knew that however different we were, we could have books in common. And here we are, almost sixty years later, happily married and still arguing about books every single day.”
Ash smiled. “That’s a lovely story, Arthur.”
“Well, all I’m saying is that you shouldn’t give up on this Dan justbecause he’s different from you. Sometimes, these differences are the very things that make a relationship work.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I’m living proof of it, lad. Now come on, let’s see if we can make sense of thisMuch Ado About Nothingmalarkey together.”
Chapter Fourteen
Phyllis
The funeral dragged on for what felt like hours. Phyllis was desperate to slip out to try and find the man, who she was now sure must have been Michael, but she was trapped in the pew next to the silver-haired man and couldn’t escape without drawing attention to herself. So instead, she sat there, kicking herself for getting distracted and allowing her chief suspect to get away for a second time.
Finally, the service drew to a close and the congregation stood up to leave. Immediately, Phyllis pushed past the posh man and hurried out of the church. As she’d feared, Michael was nowhere to be seen; he’d probably be miles away by now. But still, the fact he’d come to the funeral was very interesting indeed. For one, it proved Phyllis’s theory that Michael running off with a lover was nonsense, as he and Cynthia had looked pretty cozy in the church. And it showed that the man was getting overconfident, willing to take risks; a classic mistake that had been many a fictional murderer’s undoing. Yet there were still many questions left unanswered, and it was these Phyllis pondered as she walked away from the church.
“Hello! Yoo-hoo, wait up!”
Phyllis glanced over her shoulder. The silver-haired man was hurrying after her, waving his order of service in the air like a flag.
“I was wondering if you’d like a lift to the wake? I’ve got my car parked round the corner.”
“No thanks, I’m not going.”
“Why not?” The man had reached her, panting a little. “I saw the caterers going in this morning, the afternoon tea looks like it’s going to be quite a spread.”
Phyllis opened her mouth to say she had to get home, but stopped. It would be highly risky to go in case Cynthia recognized her as the woman from the book club who’d been sniffing around about Michael. But equally, this wake gave her the perfect opportunity to investigate the house and look for clues. Phyllis paused, weighing it up. And then she remembered4.50 from Paddington, where Miss Marple gets herself invited for afternoon tea at Rutherford Hall so she can pretend to choke on a fish paste sandwich in order to entrap the killer. Although Phyllis hoped she wouldn’t have to go that far, the invitation to visit the scene of the crime was too tempting to turn down. Besides, like Miss Marple, she was rather partial to a fish paste sandwich.
“Very well. Thanks for the offer.”
It was only a ten-minute drive from the church to Mountfort Close, during which Phyllis gently pumped the silver-haired man—whose name was Richard—for more information on Michael and his mother. It turned out that Eve had lived in the house for forty years, and Michael and Cynthia had moved in with her nine months ago, after they were forced to sell their own home in Bristol.
“Michael was very secretive, but from what Eve could work out, he’d made some bad investment decisions and got himself in a spotof financial bother,” Richard said, as they drove along the coast. Last week’s storms were long forgotten, and a low autumn sun hung over the glistening sea. “Eve and I were friends, and she confided in me that Michael had not only lost his home but all his and Cynthia’s savings too. And from the sounds of their argument last week, I imagine there were other debts Eve had only just found out about.”
“And so Michael wanted his mother to sell her house?”
