Tina Prentice is certainly very upset about Avril’s death. She tells Judy and Tanya this whilst preparing lunch for two children, who look about two or three, feeding a white fluffy dog and making coffee.
‘I have the grandkids on Wednesday and Friday,’ she explains. ‘And my daughter’s dog. I clean on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On Mondays I work in a care home. Oh, and I take in ironing.’ She gestures at a pile of neatly folded clothing on the kitchen table. Tina lives about ten minutes’ walk from Avril’s bungalow in a semi-detached that Tanya at once categorises as ‘ex-council’. It’s very comfortable, though, with a cheerful yellow kitchen and wooden floors. Tanya can see chickens in the garden. She gives the place a solid six.
‘When do you have a rest?’ asks Tanya.
She means it seriously, but Tina laughs and says, ‘I’ll relax when I’m dead. I have Saturdays off. On Sundays I usually do a roast for the family.’
‘How long have you worked for Avril?’ asks Judy, sitting at the table. The children, a boy and a girl, in their booster seats, eye them solemnly. Tina moves the clothes and puts sandwiches and fruit in front of them. Tanya feels her stomach rumbling and hopes Tina hasn’t heard.
‘Like a sandwich?’ asks Tina.
‘No thanks. We’re fine,’ she says. She’ll have to get Judy to stop off on their way back to the station. Tanya is very keen on eating regularly. It’s the best way of burning calories.
‘I’ve worked for Avril since she moved here from Scotland about five years ago,’ says Tina. ‘She and her husband, Tony. Such a lovely man. They wanted to retire on the Norfolk coast but Tony died only a year after they moved here. Cancer.’
‘That must have been tough for Avril,’ says Judy.
‘Very tough,’ says Tina, now preparing chicken feed. ‘But she got on with things. That was the sort of woman she was. She got involved in the community.’
‘Could you tell us what happened yesterday?’ says Judy. ‘Sorry, I know this must be hard.’
Tina shoots a glance at the children, but they are still busy with their lunch.
‘I went round to Avril’s at eleven as usual,’ she says. ‘I remember it was a lovely day and there was a heron by Avril’s pool. I took a picture of it. Avril and Tony loved birdwatching. It was one of the reasons they moved here. Avril wasn’t in but that wasn’t unusual. She worked part-time at the library and did lots with the church. I cleaned the kitchen and hoovered the sitting room but when I went to Avril’s bedroom it was locked.’ She looks again at the grandchildren. ‘Do you two want to feed the chickens?’ she says. She helps them down and sends them into the garden with a pail. Then she turns back to Judy and Tanya.
‘The key was in the lock,’ she says. ‘All the rooms have keys but I was surprised to find it locked. I opened the door and Avril was there on her bed. I went over to her and took her pulse. I work in a care home so I know first aid, but I could see it was too late. I rang an ambulance though, just in case. Even tried CPR. But, like I say, it was too late. Her body was cold.’
Tina sounds sad but her voice is quite steady. She’s seen death before, thinks Tanya.
‘Can you think of any reason why the door might have been locked?’ asks Judy.
‘No,’ says Tina, now sounding troubled. ‘At first I didn’t think anything of it. I was just concentrating on Avril but later, when the policeman called, the one in uniform, I started to think about it. I even wondered if I’d imagined it, but the door was definitely locked. I remember turning the key.’
‘And there’s no way Avril could have done it from the inside?’ asks Tanya.
‘I don’t think so,’ says Tina. ‘And why would she do that?’
So she couldn’t change her mind, thinks Tanya. She is starting to think that lovely community-minded Avril, who didn’t believe in medication, knew exactly what she was doing when she lay down on her bed in front of the mirrored wardrobes. She wonders if Judy has come to the same conclusion.
Judy doesn’t give anything away but, after a few more questions, Tina says, ‘Excuse me,’ and rushes into the garden where her grandchildren have begun pelting each other with chickenfeed.
Time to go. Judy calls out her thanks and they leave.
When Ruth gets back to the university, she finds someone waiting outside her door. This is unusual these days when most students prefer to email their requests for essay extensions and complaints about the curriculum. Ruth composes her face into a welcoming smile although she was looking forward to a few minutes’ peace before her meeting on ‘Pandemic Precautions’.
‘Hi,’ she says. ‘Were you waiting for me?’
Her visitor is a girl. A young woman, Ruth corrects herself. But the figure in front of her really doesn’t look much older than Kate and has the same long, dark hair. It predisposes Ruth in her favour.
‘Yes,’ says the girl. ‘I hope you don’t mind. I’m Eileen. Eileen Gribbon. I was at the excavation on Monday. I just wanted to ask you about it.’
This must mean that she’s one of the first years. Ruth unlocks her office and ushers Eileen inside. Within a few minutes she has learnt that her visitor is from Guildford, she went to Spain on her gap year and that she loves hip-hop and modern dance.
‘But my family were originally from Norfolk,’ she says. ‘Gribbon is an old Norfolk name.’
In Ruth’s experience, people either live in Norfolk for ever or get out as soon as they can. She asks why Eileen chose to study archaeology.
‘I think it was watchingTime Teamwith my dad when I was a little girl,’ says Eileen.
