Securing the lead in a knot, Phyllis hurried into the center to see Cynthia striding down the corridor. Phyllis followed, keeping at a safe distance.
“I want to see the manager,” Cynthia demanded, barging into the office with the entitlement of a person who was used to getting her own way.
“That would be me, Sandy Reynolds. How can I help?”
“My name’s Cynthia Watkins, and I want to make a formal complaint against members of your staff,” Cynthia said. “They’ve been harassing me.”
“My staff?” Phyllis could hear the surprise in Sandy’s voice. “Goodness…What’s happened?”
“Yesterday, a woman who claimed to be from the St. Tredock Community Center invaded the private wake of my mother-in-law and then hid in a wardrobe to spy on me.”
“What?! I’m so sorry to hear that.”
Even without being able to see her, Phyllis knew Sandy’s face would be going bright red and her eyes starting to water. That woman was as limp as a lettuce leaf.
“Can you describe this person to me? Only I can’t imagine any of my staff would do something like this.”
“She was an old lady: fat, blue hair.”
“Ah, right,” Sandy said, the relief evident in her tone. “The person you’re talking about isn’t an employee here, she’s just a woman who comes to the center. Between you and me, she’s a rather sad character. I don’t think she has any family or friends so she’s quite lonely, and as a result, she can let her imagination run a bit wild. I can have a gentle word with her, but I’m afraid she’s not my responsibility.”
“It wasn’t just her,” Cynthia snapped. “Last week, she came with two others, and they harassed me on my doorstep, only twenty-four hours after I discovered my mother-in-law had been killed and my husband went missing.”
“Hold on, did you say your name is Cynthia Watkins?” Sandy said. “Are you any relation of Michael Watkins?”
“He was…is my husband.”
“I see. And you said there were two others; can you remember what they looked like?”
“There was an old man with a big white beard, and a younger woman in a horrible furry red coat, plus a foul-smelling English bulldog. They said they were from a book club here and accused Michael of stealing something.”
“A woman in a red coat?
“Yes, it was an old, cheap-looking thing. She didn’t say much, butshe was clearly trying to intimidate me into revealing goodness knows what.”
“Oh dear…” Sandy said slowly. “I’m afraid she might be a member of my team. Can you leave me your contact details and I’ll investigate this and get back to you?”
“I want your assurances that these troublemakers will be dealt with. It’s completely inappropriate that they should have repeatedly turned up at my house, harassing me while I’m going through a very traumatic period. I’ve brought this to you first as a common decency, but if you don’t take action then my next port of call will be the police.”
“Yes, of course, I understand. Thank you.”
There was a noise in the office, and Phyllis just had time to dart through the open door of an empty room before she heard Cynthia step into the corridor, her heels clicking on the floor as she marched out.
Phyllis sank into a chair, her chest tight.
No friends or family…
Quite lonely…
Lets her imagination run wild…
Is that what people really thought of her? She’d always known she was seen as something of an eccentric: people were deeply suspicious of unmarried, childless women, plus the fact she still lived in the house she was born in always raised some eyebrows. But still, she had a family in Craddock, and she never let her imagination run wild; she was extremely rational and methodical.Rather sad character, Sandy had called her, each word landing like a punch.
Phyllis wasn’t one for emotions—her mother had knocked them out of her at a young age—but it was still several minutes before shewas able to breathe properly again. As soon as she could, she left the meeting room and headed toward the exit. Nova was walking out of the main hall, carrying a large box, but she stopped when she saw Phyllis’s face.
“Are you okay?”
Phyllis pushed past her without answering. As she reached the door, she heard Sandy’s voice calling out.
