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 watching Time Team with my dad when I was a little girl,’ says Eileen.
Ruth has lost count of the number of students delivered to her by Tony Robinson and Time Team.
‘It was a great programme,’ she says. ‘Though things happen a bit more slowly on real digs.’
‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,’ says Eileen. ‘People are saying that there’s going to be a dig in Tombland, and I wondered if I could be part of it.’
Ruth sighs. ‘I’m not planning a dig,’ she says. ‘Tombland’s a popular tourist destination. I’d never get funding.’
‘Aren’t you looking for a plague pit?’ says Eileen, sounding disappointed.
‘There’s no evidence for a plague pit,’ says Ruth, thinking of her conversation with Janet. ‘The skeleton I excavated on Monday was probably originally buried at St George’s.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ says Eileen. ‘If the skeleton was buried away from the other graves, do you think it was someone who committed suicide?’
Ruth looks at Eileen’s open, youthful face. What gave her that idea? she wonders. It’s actually not a bad theory. Suicides used to be buried on so-called unhallowed ground, outside the church walls. She’s not sure of the theological reason. To prevent them posthumously infecting other, less desperate, souls?
‘It’s an interesting thought,’ she says. ‘We’ll do some more research into our skeleton when I have the carbon-14 and isotope results back. Isotope analysis will tell us where she grew up. I think it’s a woman, by the way.’
‘A woman?’ says Eileen.
‘Yes, from the pelvic bones I think the skeleton is female. Also, from the shape of the skull. I’ve sent off for DNA testing but I’m not hopeful given the age of the bones. I’ll send you the isotope results though, if you’re interested.’
Eileen looks pleased by this and Ruth manages to bring the conversation to an end. She’s almost late for her meeting. At the door she thinks to ask Eileen the name of her bearded classmate.
‘Oh, that’s Joe McMahon,’ says Eileen. ‘He was the one who told me about the plague pits.’
Ruth does not know why this information makes her feel uneasy.
Judy and Tanya drive straight to a chip shop. Tanya will do an extra circuit of the gym tonight to compensate. Eating the comforting carbs in the fug of the car, Tanya says, ‘Tina Prentice seemed more of a friend to Avril than her next-door neighbour was.’
‘You don’t always know your neighbours well,’ says Judy. ‘I hardly ever talk to mine, though Cathbad does, of course. I’d be hard put to tell you their names.’
‘My neighbour keeps referring to Petra as my flatmate,’ says Tanya. ‘However many times I say “wife” she still does it. Mind you, “wife” is a terrible word.’
‘It really is,’ says Judy. ‘It’s one reason why Cathbad and I haven’t got married. I was a wife once. Never again.’
‘Do you think Avril Flowers killed herself?’ says Tanya, licking salt off her fingers. Forbidden foods really are delicious.
‘I don’t know,’ says Judy. ‘Suicide does sometimes seem to come out of the blue like that. I’ve been reading up on it. But there are some similarities that bother me. Avril went to church. Like Samantha Wilson. She worked in a library. Like Samantha Wilson.’
‘Lots of old people go to church,’ says Tanya. ‘And to the library.’
‘If there’s a pandemic, churches and libraries will shut,’ says Judy. ‘What will old people do then?’
‘There won’t be a pandemic,’ says Tanya. ‘It’s just the flu. People should take vitamin C tablets and stop complaining.’