Chapter Seventeen

Ellie woke up feeling depressed. Perhaps she’d caught Thomas’ cold.

She tried to focus her mind. If she was feeling depressed after waking up in a warm, comfortable house with a cat for company and the knowledge that she could leave it any time she wanted, then what about poor Neil, banged up in prison for something he didn’t do? Well, he had hit a policeman, of course. She wasn’t excusing that. He ought not to have done it however much he’d been provoked, and of course he would have to stand trial for it. Hopefully, if she got him a good barrister, he wouldn’t get a custodial sentence — or would he? In any case, being in prison now should be punishment enough. Shouldn’t it?

She thought about what his daily life must be like. A small cell, shared with someone, probably. Having to come and go as ordered by the warders. Not much exercise. No daily paper delivered for him. No friends popping round to see how you were. He must be worried sick about his gran, too. As for his father . . . least said. Even his last girlfriend had stopped caring for him.

The only person who seemed to care was one silly middle-aged woman with a bad habit of poking her nose in when it wasn’t wanted. Well, the silly middle-aged woman might not be brilliant, but she could at least do something to help. What did it matter if people thought her foolish for trying to help? She would give the police the rumour about the man who had disappeared, and get them to search for Jack.

She would speak to Mr Hurry again, see what information he could give about the gardener who must have been working at Mrs Ball’s at the same time as him. And stifle any doubts as to whether he’d really existed or not. Possibly she could also speak to the nephew, Mr Ball?

She drew back the curtains in time to see Armand drive off to school. He always went in early. It was still pretty dark and drizzly outside. She pulled on whatever clothing came to hand and went down the stairs, ignoring the winking light on the answerphone. She fed Midge and put some bacon on to fry for herself. She really fancied a bacon sandwich, and — though it was a bit of a fuss for one person — some good ground coffee.

She watered the plants in the conservatory while the bacon fried. Had she overwatered the cyclamen? Could you overwater cyclamens?

For some time, she’d been aware of someone or something tapping on the kitchen wall. On Kate’s side. She stopped to listen. Was that Kate calling her name?

How odd. Why didn’t she use her key and come round, or use the phone?

Was that Catriona wailing?

Had something happened?

Ellie went into panic mode. She turned off everything in the kitchen, picked the bunch of Kate’s keys off the hook on the wall and rushed out of her front door, letting it bang to behind her before she remembered that she’d forgotten to pick up her own keys. It was raining, of course. She set the key in Kate’s front door. She could definitely hear Catriona crying.

The morning paper hadn’t been taken off the floor inside the hall. The layout of Kate’s house was slightly different to Ellie’s, but the child’s cries were coming from beyond the kitchen where an extension to the house matched Ellie’s conservatory. Kate’s was heated and tiled and used as an all-purpose rumpus room.

Kate was half lying, half sitting on the floor, with her back to the toy cupboard, feebly banging on to the wall beside her with one of Catriona’s toys, while the child pulled ineffectively at her mother’s hand. Ellie noted the spreading pool under Kate’s hips. Her waters had broken, and the baby was coming early.

Kate’s eyes were closed. ‘Sorry to trouble you, Ellie. Could you take Catriona . . . oh!’

Ellie scooped up the little girl, and gave her a hug. ‘It’s going to be all right, poppet.’ Ellie had learned a lot about keeping young children occupied since she’d had to babysit for Frank so often. ‘Shall we go and put a DVD on for you to watch?’

‘No!’ shouted Catriona, hitting Ellie. ‘Want Mummy! Mummy, get up!’

‘In . . . a minute,’ said Kate, through her teeth. ‘Be a good girl, Catriona. Go with Ellie.’

Catriona shook her head violently. Ellie continued to hold the little girl tightly.

‘Kate, have you phoned for an ambulance?’

A pause while Kate stiffened, and then relaxed. ‘Yes, but I told them there was plenty of time. Just one or two strong contractions about ten minutes’ apart. I was going to ring Armand but Catriona fell and it sounded as if she’d hurt herself, so I rushed in here and . . .’ She gasped. ‘Oh! Oh, Ellie, I think . . . something’s happening. It can’t be so quick, can it?’

Ellie, survivor of more miscarriages than she cared to think about, knew that it could. She sat Catriona down in her own special baby chair, and gave her a biscuit to keep her quiet.

Kate was wearing a brown jumper over brown trousers. Nice and warm for a winter’s day, but not a suitable outfit for childbirth. Ellie dashed to the kitchen for some clean tea towels, looked quickly for some rubber gloves — none in sight — and ran back to Kate, who was very sensibly trying to divest herself of her pants.

Ellie helped her, putting the towels under Kate. Catriona wailed softly to herself, biscuit and fingers thrust into her mouth. Ellie began to pray. If the baby came so early, before the ambulance men arrived . . . oh dear, but Kate was strong and healthy. Perhaps if the baby came now, it would be all right . . . but a lot better if she had it in hospital, in case something did go wrong. Dear Lord, help us!

Someone knocked on the door and rang the bell. Kate’s eyes were closed, and she was breathing in gulps. Ellie ran to the front door to let the ambulance men in — actually two women — and directed them to where Kate lay. ‘I don’t think you’ll have time to take her to hospital . . .’

They didn’t, but the paramedics knew what they were doing. Ellie cuddled Catriona, carrying her into the hall to phone the school where Armand taught. The school secretary promised to find him and send him home straightaway. Who would look after Catriona while her mother was in hospital? Kate would have made arrangements, of course, but perhaps they didn’t cover this week. Ellie tried the babysitter’s number, but there was no reply.

She rushed back to Kate’s side as the newborn child gave its first cry. He looked full-term. Possibly Kate had got her dates wrong.

‘A fine boy, complete with all his bits and pieces.’

Kate was weeping, but her face was smooth and her lips curved in a smile. ‘Look, Catriona. Your baby brother.’

Catriona, safe in Ellie’s arms, was wide-eyed with astonishment. Ellie discovered she had been crying, too. The baby was the very image of his father, narrow-headed, with a fluff of ginger hair.

‘Everything looks just fine,’ said one of the paramedics, ‘but better get you checked out in hospital’. One went off to get a chair from the ambulance.

Could Ellie look after Catriona while her mother was whipped off to hospital? Mmm. Catriona knew Ellie well, but wasn’t used to being looked after by her.

Someone rang the doorbell. It was Felicity, her pretty face sobering when she took in Ellie’s serious expression. ‘What’s wrong? Kate said we’d better work here today because she can’t get into her car at the moment.’

Ellie said, ‘The baby came early. A boy. Mother and baby doing well. In the rumpus room.’

Felicity rushed through to the back of the house and knelt beside Kate. ‘My dear! How wonderful!’ Her face was alight with pleasure as she touched the baby’s head with her forefinger.

‘It’s my baby brother,’ announced Catriona, standing over her mother in proprietary fashion.

‘Indeed it is,’ said Felicity, her voice soft. ‘Perhaps I’ll have a little boy soon, and then they can play together.’

‘That would be good,’ said Kate, smiling.

For a moment Ellie felt envious of the two younger women’s rapport. Of course they would be friends, those two. There was a big age difference between Ellie and Kate, but not so much between Kate and Felicity.

Kate said, ‘He was in a hurry. Just like his father.’

The baby snuggled and snuffled on Kate’s stomach, wonderfully alive and wonderfully himself.

Catriona transferred herself to Felicity’s lap as Kate began to complain about the discomfort of her position, lying on a tiled floor. The paramedic returned with a chair and hot on her heels — having broken all the speed limits on his way over — came Armand.

Ellie felt herself to be redundant. Felicity hovered, with Catriona in her arms. What was it about Felicity that young children would go to her without fear? Armand was ecstatic with joy to see his son, his own mop of ginger hair standing upright on his head from where he’d run his fingers through it.

Mother and baby were put into the chair and removed to the ambulance. Armand said he’d get Kate’s overnight bag and follow on with Catriona. Felicity said she’d let them get on with it and would ring later.

Suddenly the room was empty but for discarded clothing, towels and bedding.

Ellie began to clear up, thinking that that’s really all she was good for. Clearing up after other people.

She chastised herself. What on earth was she thinking, getting depressed like this? She was as bad as Thomas. Then she realized that this sagging feeling was due to the fact that she hadn’t had any breakfast. She must remember to take the keys to her own house with her when she left, or she wouldn’t be able to get back in. Kate kept them on a hook just inside the front door. Midge might well have eaten her bacon by now. He wasn’t normally a thief, but half-cooked bacon left at the side of the stove might have been too much of a temptation.

She returned to her own house and shut the door on the nasty cold day outside. For a wonder Midge hadn’t eaten her bacon, but Ellie no longer fancied it. She’d make herself some good coffee and toast. She’d knelt on the floor beside Kate and her clothes were stained. She’d put them in the wash and have a shower.

Clad in clean clothes, fed, and with her second cup of good coffee at her elbow, Ellie felt able to tackle the messages on her answering machine.

The first was from Diana. ‘Mother, please ring me. I think you’ll have to have little Frank next weekend. I assume that’s all right.’

The second was from Diana. ‘Mother, I wish you’d pick up the phone. I’ve had the most extraordinary phone call from Stewart. He seems to think that I’m not able to look after Frank properly. The very idea! Ring me, soonest.’

The third was from Diana. ‘Mother? Where are you? This is urgent.’

Then there was Thomas. ‘Ellie, Thomas here. I’m out and about today, looking for another place to stay. Maggie’s wonderful, but she’s got such a house full already I don’t want to put more work on her. One of the churchwardens has heard of a place over the other side of the Avenue, and I’m going to have a look at it later.

‘Oh, and by the way, I’ve just been to see an old friend at the retirement home. He’s only recently gone there and is still having a lot of visitors. They tend to fall away after a while, you know. Anyway, he’s also heard that story about someone unexpectedly going round the world. He was told that it came from the man’s next-door neighbour, but he’s a mite confused and couldn’t tell me where the neighbour lived, so I’m afraid that doesn’t get us any further forward. I’ll keep an eye out for this Jack, anyway.’

So maybe there was some substance in Jack’s story. Or maybe not. Maybe he was just a will o’ the wisp, always leading them on, always just out of reach. Was this second-or third-hand story enough to get the police interested? Ellie couldn’t make up her mind.

Ellie didn’t feel strong enough to deal with Diana and her problems, but maybe she could do something for Thomas.

She rang her aunt and explained the situation. ‘Now, if it’s too much trouble or you don’t want to be bothered, I’d quite understand. I haven’t mentioned it to Thomas yet, but . . .’

‘Of course. Send him over. It will provide me with an opportunity to do someone a good turn without lifting a finger to help. Rose said only the other day that she thought he was looking peaky, and she’s sure he isn’t feeding himself properly. He can have the spare bedroom which is big enough to be a bed-sitting room, and it’s en suite. Rose will be delighted to cook for someone who likes a square meal, and I shall sleep better for having a man about the house. Tell him to come any time he likes, though I’d prefer it not to be when I have my rest this afternoon.’

‘Thank you, Aunt Drusilla. I’ll tell him.’

‘Humph. Any news from young Felicity?’

Ellie was guarded. ‘I think we can take it that she is pregnant and hopeful. I don’t think we ought to make too much of a fuss yet, just in case. Oh, but there is some good news about Kate.’ She gave her aunt a blow-by-blow description of the happenings of the morning, which made Miss Quicke chuckle.

‘I like that girl Kate. Strong backbone. Remind me to buy a silver christening cup for the boy.’

Ellie blinked. Did people still give silver christening cups nowadays? Miss Quicke hadn’t bought one for Catriona. Did Miss Quicke think that only boys merited a cup? Knowing Kate, Ellie didn’t think her friend would be best pleased by a gift which took so much looking after. Silver and glass were both labour intensive, weren’t they? Should Ellie hint that something in the premium bond line might be a more welcome gift? No. If that was what Miss Quicke wanted, then that’s what she should do.

It was important to give Thomas the news quickly. Luckily his mobile was switched on, and she got through straightaway. ‘Thomas, do you fancy a large bed-sitting room en suite at my aunt’s house, with Rose to cook for you?’

A long silence.

‘Thomas, are you there?’

‘I can’t talk right now. Can I ring you back?’

‘I’ve got to go to the shops and then the police station. Miss Quicke says she’d be delighted to have you stay. Go round there any time except between two and four when she and Rose have their nap. All right?’

‘Thank you, Ellie.’ He ended the call.

He’d sounded constrained. Ellie hoped he was all right. She’d expected him to be more pleased than he’d sounded. She shrugged. She really must stop this habit of interfering in other people’s lives when they were perfectly capable of getting things done by themselves.

She found Mr Hurry the decorator’s number, and caught him on the job. He remembered her, all right. ‘Hey, I’ve still got your glove in my van. I’m working the other side of Ealing this week, but I’ll try to drop it back to you one evening, right?’

‘Thanks. I’d appreciate it. And Mr Hurry, before you ring off—’

‘Oh, that ceiling you asked me to finish for your friend. I fitted that in early this morning. The client’s happy, I moved her furniture back for her, and I’ll drop the bill in to you when I bring your glove over, right?’

‘You’re wonderful, Mr Hurry. But there is just one other thing—’

‘You don’t know Mrs Ball’s nephew, do you? I could really do with him coughing up for what we’ve done so far. He says it’s nothing to do with him and that I’ve got to sue his aunt’s estate or something. As if I’d know how.’

Ellie crossed her fingers. ‘I’ll ask my solicitor how to go about it. Look, do you remember the gardener Mrs Ball had in?’

‘Not really. I know she said she was going to get someone, but I was working inside and he was outside and that was only for . . . what? A couple of hours, maybe?’

‘You did catch sight of him? I mean, there really was such a person in her garden?’

‘Sure. But he hasn’t anything to do with it, has he?’

‘He might have. Did you tell the police about him?’

Silence. ‘Mebbe not. Can’t remember. I was upset. You know?’

‘I know.’

Mr Hurry thought about it a bit more. It probably weighed with him that Ellie was paying the bill for the ceiling he’d just painted. ‘You think it’s important?’

‘I think it was him who dumped the body there.’

‘Yuk. I suppose . . . yes . . . thinking about it, that could be right. But the police said they had someone else down for it.’

‘I happen to think they’re wrong. Could you tell me something, anything, about the gardener? Don’t think about it. Just give me what pops into your head. For instance, did he dress like a city gent, or in overalls?’

‘Donkey jacket,’ he said, immediately. ‘You know, one of those big heavy three-quarter length coats with leather elbows and that. Jeans, I think. Big boots. Funny . . . I didn’t think I’d noticed. I only caught sight of him through the front door that day when she took him out a cuppa and I was working in the kitchen. Donkey jacket and jeans.’

‘Did he look really scruffy? Like a wino?’

‘No, not like a wino. Not dirty. More like . . . more like an Irish traveller, if you know what I mean. I wasn’t really looking, mind.’

‘Was he taller than you, or a squat little man?’

‘Hard to tell, in that get-up. About my size, I should think.’

Not that big, then. ‘Earrings? Shaved head?’

‘Baseball cap. I didn’t see his face properly. I think, I can’t be sure, the cap was blue, and that his hair was darkish and longish. But that might have been a shadow. That’s all I can remember.’

‘You’ve done wonderfully well, Mr Hurry. Lots of people wouldn’t have remembered that much.’

‘Hang about. I’ll ask my mate, see if he remembers anything.’ A pause, while he yelled at his mate and his mate answered. ‘Sorry, Mrs Quicke. He didn’t see nothing, except once he was out at the van, and he come back just as the nephew arrived and he, the nephew, started yelling at Mrs Ball that he didn’t want to spend no more money on the garden, and she was yelling back, and he — the gardener — he just stood there grinning at them. Or that’s what my mate said. Stood there, grinning. Coupla blackened or maybe missing teeth one side, my mate says. Mr Ball tells the man to go. He pulls down the fence, spiteful like, piles his tools on to his wheelbarrow and off he goes.’

‘Wheelbarrow,’ said Ellie, thoughtfully. ‘You could transport a body in a wheelbarrow, couldn’t you?’

‘Wouldn’t like to try it, myself.’

‘Nor I. But maybe that’s how it happened. Right under Mrs Ball’s nose.’

‘You think it was tied in with her death? That he come back and murdered her? Why would he do that?’

‘Because she could give a good description of him?’

‘So could the nephew. So could my mate, except that he’s not one for noticing things much. He only noticed about the man’s teeth because he’s been in agony himself with a tooth that needs filling only he won’t go to the dentist, and that’s why he noticed.’

‘Point taken,’ said Ellie. ‘I could certainly ask Mr Ball about him. How long after the gardening non-event did we find the body? You might have noticed the odd smell as soon as it happened.’

‘Had a bit of a cold, didn’t notice nothing. My mate’s the same. There’s a lot of it going around. Hold on a sec, I’ll ask my mate again.’ In a minute he came back. ‘We think maybe one or two days. Mr Ball could probbly say.’

‘So he could. Thank you very much indeed, Mr Hurry, and if you’ll let me have that bill, I’ll give you a cheque straightaway.’

‘You couldn’t make it cash, could you?’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Now she definitely had to pay another visit to the Broadway.

First she must make a list of what she needed to do. The library books needed to be taken back for a start. She needed some more washing powder and a congratulations card for Kate and Armand. When she was down at the post office, she must remember to pay the paper bill, too.

Her mobile phone rang, but by the time she’d tracked it down to her handbag in the sitting room, it had stopped. She checked the number on the display. It was Diana, again. Ellie didn’t ring back but struggled into her winter boots, found a warm scarf to go with her winter coat, and let herself out into the worst that a November day could do: driving rain.

First she took the bus to the Broadway, to draw out some money. She didn’t fancy standing in the rain at the cash point in the alleyway, but went inside to get enough to pay Mr Hurry and tide her over. There was a queue of people waiting to be served inside, and several people sitting on the chairs at the side, waiting for their loved ones to conclude their business.

Ellie spotted a man in a donkey jacket, and giggled to herself that she’d be seeing them everywhere that day. It always happened like that, didn’t it? You saw a man walking along with his arm in a sling, and sure enough, you’d see another within ten minutes. This man looked clean and tidy. Not a jobbing gardener.

Stuffing the notes inside her handbag, Ellie took the next bus back to the Avenue. Bother! She’d forgotten to bring her library books. Well, she’d have to return them later. She really must pay her paper bill at the newsagents. She didn’t like to leave bills outstanding. Another queue. She couldn’t help smiling as she saw a man in a donkey jacket pass by the window. By contrast with the first one, this man was fair and looked like a jobbing builder. There was paint on the overalls under his jacket.

She moved into the cards section of the newsagents, to find something suitable for Kate and Armand. Did she need anything else? Christmas wrapping paper, perhaps? Or how about buying some magazines for Mrs Dawes? How could she have forgotten her old friend! She must make time to visit her in hospital this afternoon. And what about the break-in at Mrs Dawes’ house? Had the door been properly secured and what was Angie doing about, well, everything? Ellie thought she’d better try to ring Mrs Kumar, but at that moment she spotted a nice card for Kate, and forgot about it.

She picked up a couple of magazines she thought Mrs Dawes would like, but had some difficulty negotiating around a stolid youngish man who was reaching up to the top shelf for something. She apologized for bumping into him, and he ignored her. The oaf!

She was halfway to the counter to pay for what she’d picked up, when it occurred to her that a lone man who didn’t socialize much, might well get his kicks — to put it crudely — from the soft porn magazines on the top shelf of a newsagents. She never looked that far up, herself. Once, many years ago, an old friend had tried to interest her in a campaign to ban such magazines from newsagents’ premises. Ellie had spoken to the manager and been told that it was a fact of life that men wanted such magazines, and it was his duty to supply what was needed. Ellie hadn’t pursued the matter.

Now she looked along the top shelf with interest. It was much as she remembered it. She supposed even looking at the covers might make some men hot and sticky. She wondered what the magazines were like inside, and decided that she really didn’t want to know. The burly youngish man was flicking through the pages of one of the girlie magazines. His face was blank. He put that magazine back, and took down another one.

Ellie found herself moving slowly towards the counter in the queue to pay. After she’d paid for her purchases, she took a deep breath and asked if she might have a word with the manager. A youngish man was produced from the back quarters. Hard eyes, clean shirt and dark trousers. Polite.

Ellie said, ‘This may sound strange, but I’m trying to trace someone local for an old friend who’s lost his address. He seems to have disappeared off the face of this earth. I know he used to live alone somewhere in this neighbourhood—’

‘Lady, do you know how many—’

‘Of course. But I wondered if . . . you keep records of people who order magazines every week or month, don’t you? I’m not talking about the newspapers you deliver every day, but about the sort of magazines that a single man might buy?’

‘Oh. You mean—’ he jerked his chin upwards — ‘that sort?’

Ellie nodded. ‘Have you by any chance been keeping copies of such magazines for a regular customer, someone who’s failed to come in to collect them recently?’

‘When people go on holiday, sometimes they miss a week. We expect them to pay up on their return, of course.’

‘Of course. The man I’m thinking of is not particularly remarkable in any way. Smallish, glasses, doesn’t drive a car. Maybe he’s been ill and unable to collect his magazines. Perhaps I could settle his bill and deliver them?’

He scratched his chin. Sized her up as a respectable, reasonable customer. Nodded. ‘Sounds like someone we know, yes. I’ll get them for you. It’s quite a pile. I’ll put them in a bag for you, shall I?’

She was rather shocked at how many magazines there were, and paid the bill with a credit card, wanting to save her cash for Mr Hurry.

‘There you are,’ the manager said, handing over a receipt. ‘Name and address on the bill, OK? And remind him there’s another lot due on Friday. Hope he gets better soon.’

‘So do I,’ said Ellie, feeling the weight of her package. She wouldn’t be able to carry much more. Perhaps she’d better leave the washing powder till tomorrow. Perhaps it would be a good idea to call a cab to drop the magazines round to the customer, just to see if it really was the man they were looking for, and then she could take the cab on to the hospital to see Mrs Dawes. And ring Mrs Kumar. And find out what had happened with Angie. And she supposed she ought to tackle Mr Ball as well, but really, there were limits to what she could do and, come to think of it, she was feeling extremely hungry. Hadn’t had much for breakfast, what with Kate’s little drama and all.

Should she go home and rustle up something quickly? The magazines weighed a ton. The bag they were in looked rather flimsy. She did hope it wouldn’t break open and deposit its contents on the pavement. How humiliating that would be!

‘Yoohoo! Ellie!’

She turned round and there was dear Rose getting off a bus, laden with bulky packages.

‘So glad I caught you,’ said Rose, ‘Miss Quicke sent me up to John Lewis to buy some more towels for the guest room. We looked at them this morning when we knew Thomas was coming and decided the old ones were a disgrace. Miss Quicke thinks they may have been bought by her parents before the Second World War, and though of course they’re of the very best quality and do an excellent job of mopping up, there’s no denying they’re getting a bit threadbare. Urgh! This weather! I was going to have a sandwich before I went home as I still have to get some fresh veg. Have you time to join me?’

‘With pleasure.’ Seeking the shelter of the shops, they scurried along to the Sunflower Café only to find that every table was full, and a couple were already waiting to be seated.

‘The new coffee shop?’ suggested Ellie. ‘We can get a panini there.’

The coffee shop was also full, and there were people standing outside under the awning, waiting to get in.

‘Only one thing for it,’ said Ellie. ‘Let’s try the pub at the end.’

‘Oh, but, I don’t think . . . I’ve never been in there,’ said Rose.

‘It’s nice,’ said Ellie. ‘I went there last night, and plenty of women go there alone.’

‘Oh, well. If you’re sure.’

The pub was crowded, too, but there were people leaving after an early lunch and they soon got a table. Ellie, feeling brave, ordered for both of them at the bar, and was pleased to see that they didn’t blanch when she asked for just water to drink.

‘Well!’ said Rose. ‘This is an adventure. I must tell Miss Quicke all about it when I get back. It does perk her up so when things happen.’

‘Like Christmas? Do you think everyone will come?’

Rose held up one finger after another. ‘Roy and Felicity for certain. Felicity’s mother said she couldn’t be sure, that she might have another engagement, but we both know she hasn’t . . .’

‘The very idea!’

Rose grinned. ‘Miss Quicke said arrangements were being made to look after both the children who were coming.’

‘Both the children?’

‘Little Frank and his half-sister Yaz, of course. Stewart and Maria have already accepted. Diana wasn’t best pleased about that, but realizes she’s got to put a good face on it. Miss Quicke’s solicitor, who is a delightful man, and she says he’ll pick out some champagne for us. Thomas says he’ll have to think about it, but we’re sure he’ll come, too.’

Ellie wasn’t sure how she felt about that. ‘Rose, it’s going to mean an awful lot of hard work for you, even if my aunt gets some help in, and who is going to look after the children?’

Their food came. Risotto with sea food for Ellie and chicken pie with vegetables for Rose. Rose tasted hers with the air of a chef checking a trainee’s first offering. Her face cleared, and she set to with an appetite.

‘Well, you know Maria runs a domestic employment agency, though of course she’s so busy with the family now that she has to have a manageress, well, she asked the same question and then she remembered that she has a married couple, quite young, Polish, on her books.

‘They live locally and would be glad of the extra work over the holidays, and of course the great thing is that they celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve with a seven course meal but the main dish is carp, would you believe, or was it some other fish like that? Anyway, they have their presents earlier or later in the month, I can’t remember which, and Miss Quicke is going to pay them enough so that they can do everything I want done in the house and the kitchen, and all I’ll have to do is supervise, and then they’ll have enough money to go back home for the New Year to Poland. So what do you think about that?’

‘I think my aunt never ceases to surprise me. A couple of years ago she wouldn’t have lifted a finger to do anything for anyone else, and now look at her.’

Rose fidgeted with her fork. ‘Ellie, you may not quite like this, but Miss Quicke wants to give you a really good present for Christmas, and she’s thought of all sorts of things and now she’s got it into her head that you’d like a fur coat.’

‘What? Me, in a fur coat? I’d look like a barrel! And anyway . . . I don’t think I’d feel very comfortable wearing one, Rose.’

Rose looked relieved. ‘That’s what I said, but I thought I’d better check. I mean, your dear aunt has continued to wear her own fur coat in the winter, and I don’t suppose anyone thinks the less of her, but there are people who enjoy shouting at those who wear fur. I told her it wasn’t quite the fashion nowadays, and so she’s going to think about something else.’

‘You’re wonderful, Rose.’

Rose gave Ellie one of her brilliant, shy smiles. ‘But it’s you who are brilliant, Ellie. I mean, it was you who got me out of that horrid council flat with those dreadful neighbours, and gave me the chance to look after Miss Quicke, and have my own rooms in my own part of the house, and people to do all the hard work . . .’ She took a sip of water. ‘And it’s not just me you help, but Thomas and Mrs Dawes and everyone. I always think you’re like a knight in shining armour, going round righting wrong.’

Ellie spluttered over her food. ‘Rose! Really! Whatever next?’

‘Oh, I know the sex is all wrong, and I didn’t mean you went around pushing guns into people’s faces or beating them up like the private eyes do in those rather peculiar books in the crime sections at the public library, but somehow when things go wrong, you get busy and try to do something about it, whereas we ordinary people wouldn’t know where to start and probably wouldn’t stir ourselves to take action even if we did think we ought to. If you see what I mean.’

‘What I think is, that we need some strong black coffee to bring us back down to earth again.’

Rose got to her feet. ‘This is on me. Miss Quicke gives me such a big salary, I never get to spend the half of it, you know.’ She hesitated. ‘Do I go and order at the bar?’

‘Do you want me to come with you?’

Rose stiffened. ‘I can manage. I used to go into our local pub with my husband years ago, but he always used to order for me and this is so much bigger, isn’t it?’

Ellie pushed her empty plate aside and while waiting for Rose to return, got out her mobile phone and phoned directory enquiries for the telephone number of Mr Ball. She rather thought Mr Hurry had given it to her but she couldn’t find it in her bag. The phone rang. It might, of course, be his home number, and not that of his office, in which case, he probably wouldn’t be there.

The phone was answered just as Ellie was about to give up. A woman’s voice, hard and sharp. ‘Yes?’

‘Is that Mrs Ball?’

‘Yes. Who is it? I never take any notice of sales calls.’

‘Neither do I. My name is Ellie Quicke, and it was I who stumbled over the body at your husband’s aunt’s last week. I wonder if I could speak to Mr Ball, if he’s not too busy.’

‘He’s at work. What do you want?’

‘There’s some question about the identity of the gardener who Mrs Ball employed to tidy up the front garden at her place.’

‘Oh, him. The police have him in custody, already. A Neil something. If you want to know something about him, you’d better ask them.’

‘No, not Neil. The other man.’

‘If you were wanting him to do some work for you, you’ll have to think again. Now if you don’t mind I’m rather busy.’

‘I wonder if you’d mind giving me your husband’s phone number, so that I could—’

No. Mrs Ball had put the phone down.

Rose returned. ‘Why the long face?’

‘Don Quixote just crashed into a windmill. It’s nothing. I was trying to do something to help young Neil, but . . .’

‘That’s a terrible thing. Poor Neil. We haven’t seen him these last few weeks, of course, but he’s always good for a laugh when he comes round to cut the grass and he put some new trellis up for us at the back and cleared out the old shed for us the last time he came around, and say what you like, I will never believe he attacked Mrs Dawes.’

‘Agreed. She’s coming out of her coma, you know. I must try to get round there this afternoon.’ Ellie sipped coffee, decided that it wasn’t as good a brew as in the coffee shop, but it would do. ‘Rose, you’ve known Mrs Dawes for ages, haven’t you? Even longer than I have? What do you make of her and her children?’

‘Well, now, we do go back a long way, I suppose. We both went to the primary school on The Green, her with her long pigtails and me with my second-hand uniform. She was really skinny in those days, can you imagine, though I wasn’t one of her friends, of course, since she was much older. We always thought she might become a teacher, but she married straight out of school. They had their own little house that he’d inherited from his mother and father when they died, and I was courting myself and ended up in the tower block, which makes it very difficult to be friends with people who own their own homes, if you see what I mean. Angie grew up to be very like her mother, really’

‘And the boy?’

‘Took after his father, who wasn’t much use, as I remember. He worked . . . now where did he work? For the town hall in the street-cleaning department? Never did get ahead, though I can’t talk, can I, seeing as my husband didn’t do much to set the Thames on fire, either. The girl, Angie; didn’t she marry a salesman of some sort? Went north to live and had two or three girls straightaway? The boy married a nice enough girl first time round, though I think it was shotgun, and then they had Neil, and say what you like, Neil’s a good boy and he really cared for his gran.’

‘I agree.’

‘Those two, Angie and the boy,’ Rose shook her head. ‘Mrs Dawes has never said a word against them that I ever heard, but she doesn’t say much for them, either, if you see what I mean. But she’s always ready to praise Neil and one of his cousins, the one who used to work in the Sunflower Café, the one that went to Australia. The best of the bunch, she’d say. I must go in to visit her soon, only not today, of course.’

Ellie nodded.

Rose sighed, and gathered herself together. ‘Well, I must get back, I suppose. Miss Quicke said I should take taxis everywhere to save my feet, and of course I wouldn’t normally be so extravagant, but in this weather I think I might, don’t you? Especially as Thomas is coming round at four o’clock, and I want to put these new towels in his bathroom before he comes.’

Ellie sat on after Rose had gone, leisurely drinking the rest of her coffee. One of the serving staff came to clear away, and gave her an inquisitive look. ‘Was it you here last night? Someone said you was in with Thomas, asking for Jack. You just missed him. He come in after you’d gone. We said Thomas had been asking after him, and he said what for, and we said it was one of his flights of fancy about the man who’d gone to Australia, and he said it wasn’t a flight of fancy, but the honest truth, though he didn’t know if the man had actually gone to Australia or not.’

Ellie looked around. The pub was still doing good business. ‘Is he here now?’

‘Nar. Comes in lateish, not every night, but regular.’

‘What’s Jack’s surname? Do you know where he lives?’

‘Dunno. Up the hill, somewheres. You keep on coming in, you’re bound to catch up with him sometime.’

‘I need to speak to him, urgently, about his friend who’s gone missing.’

‘Not exactly his friend, and not exactly missing. A neighbour, he said, gone travelling.’

‘Medium size, specs, not much to write home about?’

A nod. ‘Sits in the corner over there, usually. Jake the Peg, I call him.’

Ellie looked a question.

‘Jake the Peg, with the extra leg. Remember that song? Rolf Harris? Not that he’s got an extra leg, but one of his legs is stiff. Been in a car crash or something. You having some more coffee?’

‘No, no thanks. You’ll be wanting this table.’ Ellie got to her feet, and hauled the carrier bag on to her seat. The bag fell open, and Ellie felt herself begin to blush, as the contents were laid open to view.

A startled glance, and a quickly hidden grin.

‘I collected them for a friend,’ said Ellie, reddening.

‘Takes all sorts, don’t it?’

She wondered if women did ever buy such magazines, and if they did, what sort of women? She wondered if there were magazines specially for women who . . . ? She shook herself back to the present task, gathered her things together and departed for the ladies cloakroom.

Whatever next? The ladies was spacious enough. No queues. What she really needed was a large, strong paper bag to hide the magazines in. Perhaps she could buy one at the newsagents? One with Christmas motifs on would be good. Meanwhile, she would ring the police, see if she could get hold of WPC Mills and tell her about Jake the Peg, while remembering that that was not his real name.

She got out her mobile and managed to get hold of WPC Mills. ‘Ellie Quicke here. I may have some information for you about the body we found up at Mrs Ball’s. I hear there’s a local man gone missing, supposed to have taken off round the world at a moment’s notice, but everybody agrees it was a most uncharacteristic thing for him to have done.’

‘Give us a minute, Mrs Quicke,’ said the voice of WPC Mills.

Ellie held on, waiting.

‘Go ahead, Mrs Quicke. What’s this man’s name and where does he live?’

Ellie suppressed the words Jake the Peg. ‘He’s local, a loner, middle-aged, unassuming, specs. He has the occasional drink at the pub at the end of the Avenue. I’ve got a lead on him through another local, a neighbour of his called Jack, who’s been going round telling everyone about him.’

‘The missing man’s name, Mrs Quicke?’

Ellie smoothed out the bill she’d got from the newsagents. ‘Mr R Standage, Oaktree Crescent, number 14.’ It occurred to her that this must be one of the roads not far from Mrs Dawes.

‘Mrs Quicke?’ Another voice broke in. A man’s voice. Not WPC Mills. ‘Are you there, Mrs Quicke? Do you know how many calls we receive from the public when we put out a request for information on a missing person? Hundreds.’ She knew that voice, which was that of the much-disliked policeman she’d dubbed Ears.

He continued, ‘You will be glad to know’ — he sounded smug — ‘that our missing person has been identified. His widow came forward after we put out a plea to the public yesterday. He disappeared from his last known lodgings about six weeks’ ago, at the same time as he threw up his job at the supermarket. Even if I can’t spell to your exacting standards, I can’t make his name out to be . . . what did you say you thought it was? Bandage?’

Ellie gritted her teeth. How humiliating! ‘Standage,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘What about the gardener?’

‘Nobody else seems to have seen this mythical gardener of yours. But we have another witness who’s placed Neil’s van at the scene.’

‘Have you asked Mr Ball about the gardener? Or Mr Hurry? They both saw him.’

‘Why don’t you let us get on with the job, Mrs Quicke, while you get on with yours?’

Ellie was silent.

He said, falsely polite, ‘Thank you so much for your phone call, Mrs Quicke. I’m sure you meant well.’ He didn’t mean it. Triumph oozed from his voice. ‘We have, of course, logged your input, along with the hundred other odd calls we’ve received. Do have a good Christmas, won’t you?’

‘Thank you, yes,’ said Ellie, switching off the phone. She glared at the heavy bag of magazines at her feet. So she’d been chasing will o’ the wisps, hadn’t she? The police had traced the missing person without any need for her to put herself out, going into pubs — though that hadn’t been a bad experience on the whole — and taking responsibility for a stack of magazines which belonged, as far as she was concerned, in the dustbin. She wouldn’t put them in the recycling bin, even though Ealing was keen on recycling and had green boxes for collecting household waste of all types.

She wondered about burning them. But they weren’t supposed to have bonfires any more, were they? Should she leave them in the waste-paper bin in the pub’s loo? Well, no. The bin was more than half full already and she didn’t like to think how the staff would react if they found a cache of such dubious material. Besides which, much as she deplored such reading habits, Mr R Standage might appreciate them at some point, even if he had gone off round the world or wherever he’d gone. The best thing would be to drop them off at his place some time later on that afternoon, after she’d been to see Mrs Dawes.

There was just one more thing she had to do before she left the pub. She didn’t like carrying such a large sum of money around in her handbag in case it was stolen. There was an inner pocket in her coat, and she transferred the wad to that. Then she phoned for a cab to meet her at the pub, and went outside to wait for it.

* * *

Lee leafed through his haul. Twenty pounds. Not much for a day’s work. He’d done better working at the supermarket. Sometimes he thought about going back to work. He had the house now and enough to pay all the utility bills. But going back to work meant he’d have to produce evidence of identity, proof of where he’d last worked and how much money he’d earned that year. He couldn’t do that, or his shrew of a wife would be back on his case, wanting back alimony and extra Christmas bonuses and the like.

It was easier this way . . . if only he could work out how to access the bank accounts. The bank statements had come through. He had all that money there for the taking, and he couldn’t work out how to get at it, except in fifty-pound lots.

Twenty quid was all he’d made that day. He’d decided to sit inside the bank, since the weather was so bad. Russell’s winter coat was too tight across the shoulders, so he’d had to wear his old jacket. Sitting in the bank, he’d watched who drew out wads of money. He’d followed a couple of likely targets out of the bank, but one had got straight on to a bus and it had driven off before he could follow her.

The other he’d followed up to where she’d parked her car on the roof of the multi-storey. Luckily it was fairly deserted. She’d put her handbag on top of the car while she’d fastened her child’s seat belt in the back and that’s when he’d lifted the handbag and run with it to the lift. He’d heard her scream, but he knew she couldn’t leave the child to follow him.

A man and a woman had heard the scream, and seen him run, but he’d done the age-old trick of pointing to the stairs, and yelling, ‘There he goes!’ That had put them off, nicely. The woman had been reaching for her phone even as Russell got to the lift and pressed the button.

It was touch and go for a moment. The thrill of it. He grinned, revealing teeth which could do with the attentions of a dentist.

Ah, he was the clever one! He got into the lift and pressed the Up button for the roof. He was the only one in the lift, luckily. He opened the handbag, found the wallet and extracted the notes. He didn’t bother with the cards because he couldn’t use them. Twenty quid. That was all there was in the wallet. He dumped the bag, got out of the lift, and sent it back down again. Someone would find the bag and return it to the woman, who was probably having hysterics by that time.

He’d taken a risk, of course. But got away with it.

What he really wanted was one big haul.