Sophie glanced up from checking the fridge just as Sam was carrying the last of the bags downstairs. ‘Can we collect some more of Laura’s toys tomorrow, before she starts to miss them? And I’ve also got to sort out my things for going back to work. I haven’t even thought about it with all this going on. There’s only two weeks before I’ve got to turn up looking professional. And I don’t think any of my pre-pregnancy clothes will fit.’
Sam dropped the bags and walked through to put his arms around her. ‘Why, have you grown taller?’
‘No, just a little wider around the waist. And possibly the boobs. Although that will probably change when I stop feeding. In fact, I’ll probably do that before I go back.’
‘That’s a shame,’ said Sam. ‘I’ve quite enjoyed it.’
Sophie poked his shoulder. Then she frowned. ‘Sam, what’s the National Crime Agency? Is it like Special Branch?’
Sam stepped back and furrowed his brow. ‘I think they deal with things like computer crime and drug trafficking. Child prostitution. Things like that.’
‘And they think Jonah was…?’
‘Like Blake said, he might not have realised what he was getting himself into. He might not even have been involved anyway. Come on, let’s go.’
When they arrived at Greenfields, Sophie went straight to Jesse to provide a crisis update. He listened without interrupting. Eventually, she paused for him to respond.
‘Sophie, you’ll be safe here. Please stay for as long as you can bear to live with my brother’s chaos. And there’s a lot of storage space above the middle garage if you need it.’
‘Jesse, that’s very kind of you.’
‘My pleasure. And, to be honest, I have a vested interest. I’ll be able to call you down if Katie starts to frighten me. She’s coming over to stay for the weekend.’
By the following morning, Katie had managed not to reduce anyone to rage. Indeed, over breakfast, Sophie was intrigued to witness her trying her hardest to avoid provocation. But at the back of Sophie’s mind there was a constant, low-level dread about how Jonah’s clandestine affairs seemed to be unravelling her previously uncomplicated life and how they might adversely affect the people she was currently breakfasting with. Sam interrupted her thoughts.
‘Sophie, shall we nip back and collect your things? Then we’ll be free to enjoy the rest of the weekend. Jess, would you and Katie mind Laura?’
Sophie’s new security system registered no intrusions. In fact, everything looked the same as it had when they’d left those few hours ago and, as Sophie watered her plants, she began to feel that Sam might have overreacted about the threat to her safety. Back inside, she selected various uninspiring office outfits and a few extras for Laura. But, as she was forcing yet another stuffed toy into an IKEA bag, she remembered Jesse’s offer of space above his garage and thought of her mother’s jugs and teapots and vases. She didn’t think it likely that gangsters would be interested in such a collection but she felt uncomfortable leaving them there, abandoned in their spidery larder. She hurried downstairs to find Sam watching the local news on mute. She asked him if he thought Jesse would mind her mother’s collection of china being stored above his garage.
Sam gave a cautious smile. ‘Is it a big collection?’
‘It’s five boxes in the back of the larder. Some of the vases are vintage Moorcroft.’
‘Wasn’t that Sherlock Holmes’s brother? Oh no, that was Mycroft.’
Sam excavated the boxes, carried them one at a time to the back road, tessellated them into the Range Rover, then came back for the IKEA bags, by which time Sophie had decided that she would also like to store her mother’s Victorian vanity unit.
‘You mean the one that’s screwed onto the bedroom wall?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did Jonah have a toolkit? Apart from the one that took his ear off.’
‘I don’t think so. There’s a mini set of screwdrivers that came out of a Christmas cracker. In the pot on the mantelpiece.’
Sam rolled his eyes. ‘I’ve got one in the car. I’ll take these round and fetch it. I’ll have to unload everything. Do not open the door to anyone, under any circumstances. Right?’
‘Right.’ She watched him leave then returned to the larder to check for overlooked teapots. The doorbell rang. Sam must have forgotten his keys. She hurried through and opened the door. ‘Oh! Hello, Mrs Davies.’
‘Hello, Sophie. I saw you were here and I thought I’d drop round with this dear little dolly for Laura.’ She handed Sophie a small gift bag. ‘Handmade by the natives in Sardinia.’ Sophie invited Mrs Davies inside, asked if she would like a cup of tea. Mrs Davies said that would be lovely then walked ahead of Sophie into the kitchen, bustled herself into a chair and made ready. ‘Well now, how are things with you, dear? Mrs Bartram, number 58, said Mr Royston had a bit of an accident. Right outside his door. Such a dangerous road. You keep your eye on little Laura when she starts her walking. Don’t want her running around in the traffic, do you? And Mrs Bartram said you’ve had trouble with the police coming. More than once, she said. I hope it’s nothing serious?’
Mrs Davies’ partiality for gossip was legendary and Sophie was aware that this gift-bearing visit was in part a contrivance to glean transferrable information. She also realised that it was within her power to decide exactly what Mrs Davies would have on offer in the days that followed. She decided to opt for the entire package. ‘It was terrible, Mrs Davies. Jonah was just packing his case into his car and he fell onto his toolbox and fractured his skull. He’s been in Southampton General ever since. He was in a controlled coma for a couple of weeks. But he’s slowly improving. I’ll just make the tea.’
Sophie filled the kettle. Decided to let her neighbour fester a little. Eventually the wait became insufferable. Mrs Davies leaned forward, her eyes bright with enquiry. ‘I told Mrs Bartram, the police were probably here because they needed to sort out all those little bumps and scrapes with people’s cars. And, my goodness, she said there was a huge lorry right across the road.’
‘Yes, there was. But, mostly, the police have been coming here about Jonah.’ Mrs Davies moved even further forward, like a vacuum cleaner eager for dirt. And Sophie felt that all the dirt should be about Jonah. ‘I’ve discovered that Jonah is not who I believed him to be. His real name is Robert Perrin. And he has a wife and two daughters. Living in Exeter.’
Mrs Davies’ eyes widened at the prospect of scandal beyond expectation. ‘Good Lord. How terrible for you, Sophie, dear. And with nobody for you to turn to, what with your poor mother being gone.’
Sophie continued to make the tea. She could feel Mrs Davies watching her, waiting for the next nugget of gossip. Finally, she handed her a mug and sat down opposite. ‘I must admit I did feel a bit shell-shocked for the first few days.’
‘Dear, dear. Mrs Bartram said she would have popped in, but Mr Bartram has been in bed with the doctor, and she was worried you might think she was interfering.’ She took a sip of tea. ‘And where is dear little Laura? Is she having her nap?’
‘Er, she’s not here at the moment. We’ve been staying with a friend.’
‘With that nice young girl that helped me with my letter to the gas board?’
‘Katie? No, not Katie. We’ve…’
Just then the front door opened and Sam strode in carrying a toolbox. ‘Sophie, the car’s full. There’s just room for you and me, the vanity unit and possibly a book of postage stamps… Oh, hello!’
Sophie jumped up. ‘Sam, this is Mrs Davies from next door.’
Sam offered his hand and Mrs Davies accepted it, with all the delight of a woman full to the brim with enough information to establish her primacy for the next month. And Sam performed perfectly: he poured himself tea, offered Mrs Davies an in-date packet of chocolate digestives and agreed with her about the escalating price of food. And to top it all, as he saw her to the door, he asked her to keep an eye on Sophie’s house whilst she was away. When he stepped back into the kitchen, Sophie was still seated and waiting.
‘Sam Barnes, you are an elderly-lady tart.’
He folded his arms. ‘And you are totally hopeless. I asked you not to open the door to anyone. What if she’d been one of Jonah’s partners in crime?’
‘Well, she wasn’t, was she? And you’re still a tart.’
He bent over and kissed her cheek. ‘Be that as it may, I must now prove my handyman skills by removing your mother’s shelves, without demolishing the wall.’