TWENTY-ONE

Corinne answered the door with a pink chiffon scarf clutched to her face. ‘Oh, Jane, oh, thank you. I’m so glad to see you. I don’t know what to do.’

‘I wondered if you’d like to accompany me to the Portuguese café? It would do you good to get out of the house. Have you had lunch?’

‘No. Nothing,’ Corinne was wearing a black dress that stopped just above her knees, and her silk scarf was a subdued lavender and grey. ‘The police think I must have been the last person to see him ...’ She broke off, unable to say the word “alive”.

‘Come along then. Do you need a jacket? It’s overcast but not cold.’

‘Do you think I do?’

‘We’re not going far.’ It was like a conversation with a child. ‘Have you been in touch with your ex-husband?’

‘Gerard?’ She twisted the ring on her left hand. ‘We’re still married. He wouldn’t agree to a divorce. I mean, he would have done in the end. The house. What will happen to the house? It’s always about money, isn’t it?’

‘Tends to be. Come on, we can talk over lunch.’

‘Oh, Jane.’ Her hand shot up to her mouth. ‘It’s your swimming day.’

‘I’m having a rest from swimming.’

‘Because of Noel.’

‘Come on.’ Jane took her arm. ‘Fish pie. Mrs Cardozo makes an excellent fish pie. A Portuguese recipe. She says they eat a lot of fish in Portugal, something to do with having such a long coastline I expect.’

Corinne swayed on her high heels, almost falling against the wall, and Jane reached out to steady her. On the opposite side of the road, Willa was shouting at Tricia Tidewell.

‘Why do you let them? Don’t you know what’s happened? A death in the street and they’re still shouting and pulling at each other. Leave the honeysuckle alone!’

‘I’m sorry.’ Tricia took hold of Pippa, but there was no need since she and Liam were staring, open-mouthed, at the “mad woman”.

‘Wait there, Corinne.’ Jane crossed the road. ‘Hello, Liam. Pippa. Where are you off to?’

‘The playground.’ Tricia raised a hand to Corinne and whispered to Jane. ‘Is she all right? I don’t know what to say. We’d gone out for the day and when we came back ... Ian thinks the balcony must have given way.’

‘I’ll explain later.’

‘You’ll come round.’

‘Yes, if you like.’ There was a faint possibility Tricia might have seen something.

Liam was trying to stamp on a beetle and Pippa was pulling leaves off a shrub. Tricia came closer and lowered her voice. ‘It was an accident, wasn’t it? Only someone said ...’

‘Who?’

‘That man who lives by himself. I don’t know his name.’

‘Mr. Owen?’

‘His wife took an overdose.’

‘No, she went to live with her tennis coach.’

‘Did she?’ Tricia’s expression brightened. ‘Anyway, he said the police had been asking questions. Liam wants to be a policeman when he’s grown up. He said he’d seen someone going into your neighbour’s house.’

‘Mr Owen did.’ Jane glanced at Corinne but she was waiting patiently, pushing up her hair with both hands and holding it in a bunch on top of her head.

‘No, Liam. Liam said he saw ... I don’t know what he saw. He loves cats. Your cat, the one with a funny name. Willa shouted at him.’

‘Yes, I heard. What did he see, Tricia? I mean, who did he see?’

‘I don’t know. He didn’t know. I think it was her.’ She jerked her head in the direction of Willa.

‘What makes you think that? We should all make an effort not to gossip, it doesn’t help. Poor Noel’s death was an accident. He must have leaned too far over the balcony. It’s a tragedy. Everyone’s upset. Especially for poor Corinne.’

Willa had walked away. Jane returned to Corinne and took her arm. ‘Take no notice of all that. Everyone’s upset.’

‘What are they called?’

‘Tricia’s children? Liam and Pippa, and the baby in the buggy is called Ada.’

‘Ada? I had a cleaner called Ada but she cut corners. Gerard gave her the sack and I wished he hadn’t because we used to have coffee together in the kitchen.’ Corinne’s voice had reached a pitch of near hysteria. ‘We were friends but she never moved the furniture when she vacuumed. She’s so lucky.’

‘Lucky?’ Jane had lost the thread. If there had been one.

‘Mrs ... I’ve forgotten her name. Liam and Poppy. I’d give anything for a baby.’

‘Pippa,’ Jane corrected.

‘I saw her car. It had a sticker – “Little Princess on board”.’

‘I don’t think it was Tricia’s car. I don’t think she drives, but I know what you mean about the sticker. One hopes the “little princess” will be a tomboy, fond of model railways and toy guns.’

‘I’d love a little girl.’ And the tears streamed down her face.

Jane handed her a tissue. ‘Tricia’s finding it difficult to cope, especially now it’s the school holidays. Come along then. I hope the café’s not too crowded.’

It was, but Jane managed to find a table for two, and hoped they still had fish pie on the menu, something Jane liked but rarely bothered to cook for herself. All those exotic meals she and Eddie had planned to sample. Together they had looked up Senegal online and discovered rice was the staple food, cooked in a peanut sauce or baked in a thick sauce of fish and vegetables. Côte d’Ivoire sounded mildly alarming, something that had appealed to Eddie, but less so to Jane. It had expensive hotels and glitzy high rise buildings, but strolling down the street you were likely to meet soldiers with guns. West Africa was only to be the start of their journey. After that they were to visit Australia, and New Zealand and ...

‘People used to say he was a sensation seeker.’ Corinne dabbed her eyes, being careful not to smudge her pearly eye-shadow. ‘They enjoy activities like skydiving and scuba diving. He never sat about doing nothing, he was always on the move, making plans. Sometimes I could hardly keep up with him.’

‘He was very happy with you, Corinne.’

‘Do you think so? Oh, thank you, Jane, except that makes it even worse, doesn’t it? He told me he had something he needed to check.’ She closed her eyes and rocked backwards and forwards. ‘They’d put the bathroom in but the balcony in the main room wasn’t finished and he was afraid the men had skimped on the paint. I’d gone to Yvonne’s house.’

‘Yvonne?’ Jane beckoned to Mr Cardozo.

‘She sells lingerie. You can try things on. I was choosing something special and all the time ... a negligée, I was buying a negligée.’ Her last words had come out as a wail and Mr Cardozo, who was handing each of them a menu, took a step back.

‘The fish pie, Corinne?’ Jane stared at the photograph on the wall, a picture of the Castelo de Almourol, a castle on an island in the middle of the River Tagus. Mrs Cardozo had told her about the history of it. No point telling Corinne. At the best of times she would have had no interest. Just now, she was studying her nail varnish, bright pink with one silver nail.

‘I’ll have whatever you’re having, Jane.’

‘Very well. Two fish pies, please.’ She smiled at Mr Cardozo. His first name was Andre and he had an interesting face but liked to keep himself to himself. ‘Now.’ She turned back to Corinne. ‘Do you know if Noel made a will? I’m sorry, but at a time like this one has to be practical. And if you need anyone to help with the arrangements for the funeral ...’

‘I saw that Mrs Emerson in the distance and she crossed the road so she wouldn’t have to speak to me.’

‘She didn’t know what to say. No, that’s no excuse. It’s the same with Eddie. People use all kinds of euphemisms. A bit forgetful. Feeling her age. She has vascular dementia but people dislike the word.’

‘Do you think I should phone Barnaby again?’

‘He hasn’t been to see you yet?’

‘Something to do with his bike. He likes cycling. He’s very fit.’

‘I’m sure.’ These days “fit” was synonymous with attractive, but not in Jane’s world, or Corrine’s. ‘You must be proud of him.’

‘Do you think he’s glad?’

‘Glad?’ Jane felt obliged to look puzzled. ‘Oh, you mean ... no, of course not. He must be worried about you.’

‘He didn’t say much. When I phoned.’

‘That’s because he’s a teenage boy. When I was at the school, the girls used to come to us with their problems, but the boys hardly ever.’

The new owner of number twenty-two had come into the café. She was still wearing her woolly hat, and had a friend with her, a small, blonde woman in her late thirties or early forties – it was hard to tell these days. Jane would have liked to introduce herself but they were talking animatedly and gave no indication they had recognised her. And it would mean she had to introduce Corinne too and that might be awkward. Hello, I believe you’re moving into Faraday Road. My name’s Jane Seymour and I live next door to Gus. And this is Corinne. You probably heard how her partner ...

Corinne was studying the back of the menu. The café was not licensed but sold soft drinks and bottled water. Was Corinne hoping for something stronger? She looked up and there were tears in her eyes. ‘He never cried.’

‘Noel didn’t?’

‘It wasn’t because he didn’t care. His mother died before I met him. Sometimes he told funny stories about her – she called the loo “the lavatory” and she didn’t like talking about that kind of thing. It was because he wanted to remember her as she really was, if you know what I mean.’

‘I do.’ The woman from number twenty-two had asked for six pastries and Mrs Cardozo was putting them in a box.

‘I wish I’d met her.’ Corinne was still talking about Noel’s mother. ‘Do you think she’d have liked me? You saw that portrait of her upstairs. She looks a bit fierce, doesn’t she, but Noel said she adored him. Once we visited her grave. Not near here – we had to go in the car. It was my idea and Noel laughed when I suggested it. He thought I was being sentimental but he was quite sentimental himself, only not about his mother, about poor animals in other countries that are taught to do tricks. Things like that.’

Let her talk. Some people thought mentioning the dead person upset the bereaved. As if he or she was not on their mind twenty-four hours a day. Eddie wasn’t dead, but she might as well be.

Mrs Cardozo had arrived with the fish pie. Her dark, wavy hair was held back by two metal clips and she was wearing a jumper with a picture of a Scottie dog on the front. Jane said ‘Bom-dia’ and Mrs Cardozo smiled, but avoided her eyes. No doubt the pronunciation had been incorrect, but she had tried. Bom-dia in the morning and boa-tarde in the afternoon and evening. Jane wanted to thank her again for bringing Eddie back but now was not the time.

The two women had left and were collecting a black Labrador that had been tied up outside. Would it be coming to live in the road or did it belong to “number twenty-two’s” friend? When Jane left home, Gus had been out in the street, listening to the noise coming from his house. Not the builders this time, it was Simmy, shouting. Dave had come out, on his way to his workshop, and in no mood to pass the time of day. Had Simmy been having another go at finding out how her mother had died? Or was she still upset about Noel, and Dave was disinclined to talk about it?

To Jane’s relief, Corinne was tucking into her fish pie with gusto. Gusto – where did the word come from? Gostar was the Portuguese word for “to like”. Probably no connection, but Jane’s interest in language was as keen as it had ever been. Fish pie was bacalhau com natas and it was made with salted cod, onions and cream, and, according to Mrs Cardozo, in the fourteenth century cured fish had been kept in ships’ holds for years. This explained why the cod had to be soaked overnight, a throwback to the days when fish needed to be dried because there was no refrigeration.

‘Jane?’

‘Yes?’ Something about Corinne’s tone of voice made her pull in her chair and sit up straight.

‘Eddie was with you, wasn’t she?’

Did she mean when she found Noel’s body? ‘Only for a short visit.’ Had Mrs Cardozo told people how she had found Eddie trying to cross the road?

‘Does she know?’

‘I took her back to The Spruces. She’d been having a rest.’ Lies came so easily. Some people were more convincing liars than others but even small children could make quite a good job of it, although some were more adept than others. ‘She’s not very strong.’ Once she had started she was unable to stop. ‘Quite shaky on her feet.’ Another lie. During her visit, Eddie had given her a hefty push and she had fallen against the sharp corner of the table and still had a purple bruise on her hip.

Corinne’s finger was in her mouth. ‘I’ve swallowed a bone.’

‘It’ll only be a tiny one.’

‘I think it’s stuck!’

Heads turned and people stopped eating. ‘Here.’ Jane broke off a corner from one of the soft rolls in a basket in the middle of the table. ‘That usually does the trick.’

‘Noel says I fuss.’ Fresh tears filled her eyes. She had spoken about him as though he was still alive. ‘The love of my life, Jane. We were made for each other. I wanted a baby – I told you that, didn’t I? If I was pregnant I’d have something to remember him by. I thought I might be but it was a false alarm. What can I do? I don’t know what to do.’

Jane waited. Ever since she arrived at Corinne’s house there had been one question she needed to ask. ‘Corinne?’

‘Yes.’ She had taken a small mirror from her handbag and was checking her hair.

‘Can you remember what time Noel left your house?’

‘Just after two o’clock. Later, we were going to buy some paint. For the bathroom. It’s rather dark. You probably noticed. Noel wanted ...’

‘You’re sure about the time?’ She sounded like a police officer, and no doubt the police had asked the same thing.

‘He had one of those watches that make a pinging noise. It always made me jump. It pinged at two and he told me he had to check the balcony. Then we discussed what colour the bathroom should be. Noel wanted white but I thought chameleon sounded attractive and we laughed because paints have such silly names.’

‘Chameleons change colour.’

‘Do they? What are they?’

‘Lizards. They adapt according to the foliage they’re sitting on.’ In the circumstances, a pointless piece of information, and even Corinne was looking a little mystified.

‘They sit on foliage?’

‘It’s nothing, Corinne, forget I mentioned it.’

‘Then I said I wouldn’t be long.’ She closed her eyes, remembering. ‘And Noel said there was no rush and I said ... if the balcony wasn’t safe, the workmen should be sued. Do you think they should?’

Jane was thinking about Corinne’s “alibi”, her lingerie party. Had it taken place somewhere nearby? Had it taken place at all? Supposing Corinne had discovered Noel was having an affair, or several affairs. ‘He must have leaned over too far,’ she said, ‘and lost his footing.’

‘Yes, that’s what I think.’ Corinne’s face flushed with anger. ‘How could he be so careless? Honestly, Jane, I could kill him!’