Joyce Devlin, wearing the same olive green dress with ruching and cap sleeves that she wore every year to the Llanelen agricultural show’s gala dinner, greeted Penny and Victoria with a friendly hello as they entered the function room of the Red Dragon Hotel. At her side stood her ruddy-faced husband, Dev, looking out of place and uncomfortable in a navy blue suit that fit him as if it had been borrowed for the evening from a bigger brother.
“So pleased you could make it,” Joyce said, extending a tanned, freckled hand. “Do go in”—she waved a hand toward the centre of the room—“and I hope you enjoy the evening. I’m sure you’ll see lots of people you know.”
Silver trophies and plates, returned by last year’s winners and polished in readiness to be presented to those who had earned them this year, were arranged on a draped table along one wall. Although ribbons and rosettes had been handed out on the day of the show, the top awards, including Best in Show, were presented at the banquet. Because the winners were named at the show, there were no surprises, but the organizers felt that handing out awards at the banquet gave the top winners a little extra recognition, added purpose and focus to the evening, and ended the event on a high note.
Penny and Victoria paused to admire the prizes, then moved deeper into the room.
Round tables seating eight, covered with dark green cloths, were grouped in front of a small portable riser stage. A centrepiece of yellow roses, complemented by bright yellow cloth napkins at each of the eight place settings, graced each table.
The tables were filling up quickly as Penny and Victoria scanned the room, searching for Mrs. Lloyd. They recognized Gareth Davies, seated at a table with a RESERVED sign in the centre of it, near the stage. He was facing away from them, one arm draped lightly along the back of the chair of the blond woman seated next to him. Gareth said something to the woman and she turned to him, then smiled broadly and leaned into him with a familiar, easy manner. Gareth raised his hand from the back of her chair and placed it lightly on her shoulder for a moment, then dropped it back onto the chair.
“I wouldn’t mind speaking to him later, if we get the chance,” said Penny. “He might be able to tell us something about how the Gaynor Lewis investigation is going.”
Victoria smiled. “He might.”
As they were about to move on, Mrs. Lloyd stood up to get their attention and waved them over to her table.
“Oh, there she is,” said Penny. They threaded their way between the almost-full tables to join her.
Florence, sitting on Mrs. Lloyd’s left, acknowledged their arrival with a friendly nod and a warm smile.
“You can sit here beside me, Penny,” Mrs. Lloyd said, indicating the empty chair on her right. “And Victoria, let’s have you over there on the other side of Florence.” Satisfied with her seating arrangements, Mrs. Lloyd sat down. “Now, as I mentioned to Penny at the Spa this morning, several members of the Women’s Guild were assigned to our table, so let me try to introduce you to Mari and Delyth.” The size of the table, combined with the volume of the background din, made conversation across the table difficult, and Mrs. Lloyd had to raise her voice to be heard. “Mari and Delyth were helping out with refreshments at the meeting, so we didn’t see too much of them.” Penny recognized them as the two white-haired women performing the washing-up after the tea service, when she entered the kitchen to retrieve Florence’s cake tin. She smiled at them as Mrs. Lloyd moved on to the attractive woman sitting next to Mari. “And of course you remember Elin Spears, vice president of the WG. She chaired the meeting we attended.”
“Of course.” Penny offered an all-encompassing smile across the table. She thought back to the exchange she’d overheard, when either Mari or Delyth had said something along the lines that Elin had spoken her kind words about Gaynor Lewis almost as if she meant them. She wondered whose side Mari and Delyth were on. Were they friends of Elin’s, or had they been friends of Gaynor’s? Or both? Or neither?
Having managed the introductions the best she could against the background noise, Mrs. Lloyd took a sip of water and turned slightly in her chair to contemplate her fellow diners. She always made an effort with her appearance, and she was looking particularly smart this evening in a cranberry brocade evening suit shot with metallic gold thread. Penny was about to compliment her on her outfit when the conversation level dropped as the guests realized the event was about to begin. Joyce Devlin and her husband, followed by a couple Penny didn’t recognize, Barbara Vickers, and Michelle Lewis, made their way to the table where Gareth and his companion were seated. Michelle’s blond hair, piled on top of her head and held loosely in place with a red plastic clip, sprouted loose strands that bobbed in time with her steps.
When the little procession reached the table reserved for show officials, Joyce’s entourage took their seats, while Joyce herself continued walking to the small stage. As she stepped onto the riser, the room quieted further and all eyes turned expectantly toward her.
“Good evening, everyone,” she said. “My name is Joyce Devlin, and it’s my pleasure to welcome you tonight to the Llanelen agricultural show’s gala dinner. Dinner service will begin in a few minutes, and following the dinner, we will have the presentation of this year’s Best in Show awards. Bottles of wine are available for purchase, along with individual drinks, at the bar. So please enjoy your dinner, and I’ll be back to speak to you later.”
Was it strange that she didn’t mention Gaynor Lewis in her opening remarks? Penny wondered. Probably not. There’d be time for that later.
“I suppose we should get some wine,” Mrs. Lloyd said.
“I’ll go,” said Penny. “Would we like red or white?”
“There’re enough of us at the table to do justice to both. How about a bottle of each?”
Penny made her way to the bar as the diners tucked into the salads that had been set out at each place. A small queue had formed by the time she reached the bar, and she had to wait a few minutes to be served. Just as she finished asking for two bottles of wine, a familiar figure came to stand beside her.
“Hello again,” said Andrea Devlin.
“Well, hi. You’re looking very smart this evening,” Penny replied, taking in the cut of Andrea’s wide-legged black trousers and the smooth, shiny fabric of her floral-patterned jacket.
“Always nice to have a reason to dress up a bit,” Andrea replied.
“And get your nails done.”
Andrea laughed and held out her arms to display her nails. “You were right about the colour. This suits me much better.”
“Good. And now here you are with nothing better to do on a Saturday night than attend the agricultural show dinner.” Penny grinned.
“I might say the same for you.” Andrea grinned back. “But yes, my niece Michelle mentioned the dinner, and as you’ve just pointed out, I didn’t have anything better to do, and there were a few extra tickets available, so I thought I’d come along. Haven’t found a place to sit yet, though. Where are you?”
“Oh, there’s room at Mrs. Lloyd’s table for you.” Penny pointed out the table just as the barman brought the bottles of wine she’d ordered. “You’ll find us right over there. You’d be welcome to join us, if you like.”
“Okay, great, thanks. I’ll just get my drink and see you in a few minutes.”
Penny returned to her seat, and after sending both bottles of wine on their way around the table, she leaned over to Mrs. Lloyd and said, “I bumped into Andrea Devlin at the bar. The tables are full, so I invited her to join us. We’ve got an extra place.” She looked toward the bar, and before Mrs. Lloyd could reply, Penny added, “Here she comes now.”
Carrying a glass of beer, Andrea Devlin approached the table, nodded a reserved greeting to everyone, and then slid into the seat beside Penny. With Mrs. Lloyd’s help, Penny tried above the din of conversation to introduce her to the rest of the table, and when she’d finished, Mrs. Lloyd leaned forward and spoke over Penny. “Hello. I remember when you”—at this, Penny leaned emphatically on Mrs. Lloyd’s arm with her own—“when you painted the sitting room in my house on Rosemary Lane. Wonderful job you did, even though you were just, erm, young. It was one of your first jobs, I believe. In fact, I don’t think it’s been painted since. Are you still in the decorating business?”
“Yes, I am,” said Andrea.
“And where are you living now?” Mrs. Lloyd continued.
“Oh, you know. Here and there. I’m not sure, really. I’m at one of those stages in life when a change of scenery seemed like a good idea. Pastures new, and all that.” She took a sip of beer and picked up her fork, ready to make a start on the salad. “I’m toying with the idea of coming back to Llanelen to live. Maybe buying an old property and doing it up. I’ve seen a couple of places I quite like.”
“Really?” said Mrs. Lloyd. “Well in that case, it would be pastures old rather than new, wouldn’t it?” She buttered a piece of bread. “You know, Andrea,” she enunciated the name deliberately, with just the slightest hesitation, as if she’d just been introduced to her, which in a way, she had. “You might be experiencing what we Welsh call hiraeth.” She pronounced it here-eyeth, rolling the r a little, in a breathy sort of way. “Are you familiar with that?”
Andrea stabbed a couple of lettuce leaves. “I don’t know what that word means.”
“There’s no real equivalent in English, but loosely translated, it means an acute longing for a home place. A place that you yearn to return to, and when you are away from it, you feel incomplete. Not homesick. It’s deeper than that.” She offered Penny a conspiratorial smile. “We know that you don’t experience that for Canada.”
“No, I can’t say I do. But I might if I were away from Llanelen for too long. I’m happy here. This is my home, and it has been for a long time. It’s where I belong,” Penny said. “Funny you should mention this. Andrea and I were talking about it just this morning.”
They continued eating for a few minutes in silence, and then, against the backdrop of scraping cutlery, Penny asked Andrea, “How long have you been back?”
“Oh, not very long,” she said with a vague, airy wave. “I’m not stopping here in town, though. An old mate in Betws is kindly putting me up while I weigh my options. I’m doing a little decorating for him in return.”
“I expect he’s glad of that. I know I would be,” Penny replied.
“Why? Do you have some painting or decorating work that needs doing?”
“Well, no.”
“Didn’t think so. Your spa looks beautiful. Lovely colours, if I may say.”
“Oh, well, thank you. I just meant that if I did need work doing, I’d be glad to have you do it. My cottage was done up a few years ago, and the Spa was renovated even more recently. So even though I’m not in the market right now for painting and decorating services, I’m sure there’s no shortage of work in the area.”
“That’s true. I get my jobs through word of mouth and usually have two or three lined up. But that’s not my real area of interest.”
“No?”
“Not really. You see, when I was in Berlin, we worked on beautiful centuries-old properties that had been neglected or altered during the Communist years, and it was a real thrill seeing them restored. So what I really enjoy is working on older buildings. I love the paint colours, and I like working with heritage paints. And don’t get me started on vintage wallpapers.”
“But is there much of that kind of work to be had around here?” asked Mrs. Lloyd. “On old buildings, and such like.”
“There are quite a few National Trust properties in the area, if you include Liverpool and Manchester, and a few private homes, too, in need of that kind of restoration and maintenance work,” said Andrea. “But it’s not just painters and decorators. There’s a great demand for all the traditional building trades, such as carpentry, joinery, stone masonry, brickwork, and plasterwork. If you’re good at what you do, word gets around, and there’s always work available. More work than you can handle, really.”
“So with your sister Gaynor’s death, do you think you’ll stay in Llanelen, then, or had you been thinking about stopping here anyway?” Mrs. Lloyd asked. “What I’m wondering, I guess, is did that change things for you?”
“Well, I’m not sure what I’m going to do, to be honest, but obviously when Michelle—that’s my niece—called to tell me about Gaynor, well…” Andrea raised an elegant shoulder in a little shrug, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken, and open to whatever interpretation Mrs. Lloyd chose to put on it.
“And Michelle. I’ve been thinking about her,” said Penny. “How’s she coping?”
“I’m not sure, really. She’s got a lot on. She’d been planning a move before all this happened, and, well, with her daughter to worry about, it’s an emotional and stressful time. Her partner left a little while ago, so Gaynor had been helping out with the child minding. If nothing else, Michelle will miss that.” Andrea’s tone was neutral, and she spoke without a trace of the bitterness in her voice that Penny had heard when Andrea had discussed Gaynor during her manicure that morning.
Before Penny could respond, servers moved around the table, removing the salad plates and setting the entrées in front of them. She had chosen the vegetarian option, stuffed portobello mushrooms with rice and maple-glazed carrots.
“Not having the lamb, Penny?” Mrs. Lloyd asked.
“I couldn’t possibly. I like them in their fields but not on my plate.”
“Well, that certainly sets you apart around here, surrounded as we are by hardworking farmers raising the finest Welsh lamb for the nation’s dinner tables.”
Penny laughed lightly. “True, but I just can’t eat lamb.”
When dinner was over, plates cleared, coffee and tea poured, and chairs pushed back from the table as the diners made themselves comfortable, preparations for the prize giving began.
Joyce Devlin returned to the stage and Barbara Vickers positioned herself beside the trophy table. Just as Joyce unfolded a piece of paper, Elin Spears excused herself and headed for the exit. Joyce glanced down at her from the stage as she passed below her. Penny sensed a sudden change in the atmosphere, although she couldn’t tell if it was because the prize giving was about to start or because the audience anticipated that Joyce might be about to tackle the elephant in the room and say something about the death of Gaynor Lewis. Reading from the paper, Joyce opened her remarks with a brief but somewhat impersonal tribute to Gaynor Lewis. She concluded by saying, “And a fierce competitor she was, until the last. She would have been so proud to know that her splendid marmalade won the last competition she ever entered.”
“And how did that happen, I’d like to know,” muttered Mrs. Lloyd. Florence shot her the stern, hushing look often used by mothers in church.
As Joyce wrapped up her comments about Gaynor’s untimely death and prepared to present the awards, Elin returned to the table.
Interesting, thought Penny. I wonder if she really had to go to the loo or if she ducked out so she wouldn’t have to listen to Joyce say nice things about Gaynor in death, when neither one of them had liked her in life. Still, that happens when someone dies. A dark curtain of politeness descends to hide misdeeds, misunderstandings, and transgressions once thought unforgivable. And there are certain polite conventions to be observed. After all, Joyce had to say something about Gaynor, and it had to be positive.
Penny refocused her attention on the presentation of awards. “And the winner of the Bodnant Silver Salver for Best in Show, floral exhibits, once again is Heather Hughes.” Heather was given a hearty round of applause, as she was every year, when she stepped forward to accept the trophy. Mrs. Lloyd had been right when she’d remarked that the same people won year after year.
“Moving on now to the animal husbandry awards,” Joyce continued. “The show committee is delighted to present the highly coveted Countryside Cup to our very own Haydn Williams, in recognition of his outstanding contributions to the breeding and rearing of Welsh mountain sheep right here in Llanelen.”
Haydn made his way from the back of the room and accepted the cup, an elaborate creation with a silver sheep on top. He hoisted it in front of the crowd, who acknowledged it with good-natured clapping and shouting, then returned to his seat.
“The award for Best in Show in the poultry category, and this includes ducks, chickens, turkeys, and pigeons, goes to Carwyn Lewis for his Silkies,” Joyce announced.
Elin rose from the table and stepped onto the stage, where she shook hands with Joyce and accepted a silver trophy.
“Why is Elin Spears up there accepting his award?” Penny asked.
“Because she’s his partner, and Carwyn couldn’t make it tonight,” replied Mrs. Lloyd. “That’s why we had an empty place at our table. It was meant for him. I’m not sure why he’s not here, though.” She adjusted her handbag in her lap. “Perhaps he thought Joyce would have to say something about Gaynor, and he just didn’t want to be here for that, so he offered to mind little Macy so that Michelle could be here.”
Elin returned to the table, carrying the silver cup by its two handles. She set it down at her place and threw everyone at the table a satisfied smile on Carwyn’s behalf. A few minutes later, she herself was called back to the stage to accept the Best in Show award for her prizewinning rosette cake.
When the remaining awards had been presented and everyone congratulated, a last rush of conversation broke out as the event wound down and people prepared to depart.
“I meant to ask you earlier why Carwyn isn’t here to accept the award himself this evening,” Mrs. Lloyd said to Elin Spears across the table. “I’ve never known him to miss the dinner, so I wondered if he might have been looking after Macy so that Michelle could be here tonight.”
“Oh, no, nothing like that. He’s working tonight. Told me not to expect him back until late, but he wasn’t sure what time.”
“Working?” Mrs. Lloyd looked puzzled. “On a Saturday night? Working where?”
“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Elin said, a hint of smugness enlivening her smile. “Well, I’m sure you would have heard all about it in a day or two. Carwyn’s bought Maggie’s Coaches. You know, the coach company that does the day trips around the area? of course, he’s fully qualified, got all the proper operating licences and permits. So he’s been out and about all week, driving. Today he took a group to Manchester for a fancy lunch someplace, then an afternoon concert, then high tea. The trips are really popular, and when we bought the company, of course we agreed to run all the outings already scheduled, so as not to disappoint those who’d already booked. They’re mostly seniors and they count on Maggie’s Coaches for their day trips. And overnights, too. We’ve a lovely four-day excursion to Dorset coming up in March. You and Florence might want to get in on that. There’s a few seats left. I’ll be handling all the bookings, so if you want to go, just let me know.”
“Oh, I see,” said Mrs. Lloyd. “Well, we’ll certainly think about it.”
“And I hope you’ve all signed up for our Women’s Guild trip to Speke Hall on Wednesday. Maggie’s Coaches will be providing the transport services for that, naturally.”
“Naturally.”
“Did she just say Speke Hall?” Andrea asked Penny. “What we were talking about earlier. I’m going to be doing some work there.”
“Oh, really? Maybe we’ll see you there. I’ve never been to Speke Hall, so Victoria and I decided to go along on the outing. We’re both looking forward to it.”
Mrs. Lloyd stood up, signalling that as far as she was concerned, both the conversation and the evening were at an end. The rest of the table followed suit, and with polite good nights exchanged, everyone began filing out of the room. The procession was slow as people stopped to exchange a quick word with those they hadn’t had a chance to speak to during the course of the evening.
At the exit, Victoria and Penny caught up to Gareth Davies and his dinner companion.
“Hello Penny, Victoria,” he said. “You remember Fiona Barton, of course.” He gave the woman beside him an appreciative, reassuring glance.
Gareth had been introduced to Fiona a few months earlier when she visited Llanelen with two friends of Penny’s. Fiona and Gareth had hit it off over the course of several rounds of golf, and after the visit ended, they had continued seeing each other in Edinburgh, where Fiona lived. A few weeks later, Gareth had told Penny during an awkward and halting conversation that he was developing strong feelings for Fiona. Rather than being upset or hurt, as he had feared, Penny had been relieved. She liked Gareth, and wanted him to be happy, but they had both realized that the kind of deep, romantic happiness he craved was not hers to give.
“Yes, of course I remember Fiona. Nice to see you again. How are you?” Penny said with a sincere smile as Fiona slipped just a little bit closer to Gareth. He placed his arm around her trim waist and she rested her fingertips possessively on his chest. “I was wondering if there’s any news on the Gaynor Lewis investigation,” Penny asked Gareth.
“Oh, I’m sure there is,” he replied smoothly. “But I’m afraid I can’t tell you what that is. Bethan hasn’t asked for my help, and I’m no longer in the loop.”
“And that’s a good thing, too,” said Fiona in a light, educated Scottish accent. “He’s got more than enough on his plate right now while we’re getting his house ready to sell. You have no idea how much work is involved. There’s simply masses of stuff to be cleared out.”
“Oh,” said Penny, “you’re selling your house? Finally getting around to downsizing, are you?” A widower with two grown children who had long since moved away, Gareth had spoken occasionally of selling the family home and moving to a smaller house or apartment. But he was attached to his garden, in the same way Penny was attached to her cottage, and could never quite bring himself to commit to moving. But now, apparently, in Fiona, he’d found the motivation he needed. Gareth gave an embarrassed little shrug. “Sorry, I meant to tell you.”
“He’s moving to Scotland,” said Fiona, tucking her arm into his and beaming up at him.
“Oh, right, well…” Penny’s voice trailed off. She hesitated, unable to find the right words. If she seemed too enthusiastic about Gareth leaving, he might think she was glad to see him go. On the other hand, if she seemed distressed or upset that he was leaving, he might misinterpret that to mean there was still hope of a deeper emotional relationship with her. And she had to be especially tactful with her response in front of Fiona. Penny’s initial reaction, however, bordered on relief that Gareth’s leaving meant a clean break, and neutrality. As she and Gareth had been growing steadily apart and were not spending nearly as much time together as they used to, it really wouldn’t make too much difference in her life if he did move away. But she would need more time, she realized, to sort out her feelings and determine how she felt. Fortunately, Florence and Mrs. Lloyd had joined them just in time to catch Fiona’s last sentence and saved her the necessity of replying.
“Moving to Scotland!” Mrs. Lloyd exclaimed. “Whatever for? Don’t tell me you’re moving there for the golf! We’ve got perfectly good golf courses right here in…” Her words trailed off as she read the meaning behind Fiona’s triumphant look and took in the possessive grasp on Gareth’s arm. “Oh, I see. Well, that’s lovely, and I hope you’ll…” She glanced at Florence, who stood behind her, head tipped slightly to one side as a soft smile played at the corner of her lips. “Well, we’d best be off home,” said Mrs. Lloyd, attempting to recover from her little Scottish gaffe. “Florence doesn’t like a late night.”
When Mrs. Lloyd and Florence were safely out of earshot, Penny, Gareth, and Victoria burst out laughing. Fiona, who didn’t share a history with Mrs. Lloyd as Penny, Victoria, and Gareth did, smiled awkwardly and shot Gareth a questioning look.
“‘Florence doesn’t like a late night,’” Gareth repeated. “That’s one way to extricate yourself from a conversation.”
As Gareth and Fiona said good night and left, Heather Hughes approached Penny and Victoria, carrying the Best in Show trophy for her floral entries. Victoria congratulated her, and then stifled a yawn.
“Look,” said Heather to Victoria, “you’re tired. Why don’t I drive Penny home? It’s practically on my way.”
“That would be wonderful,” said Penny. “Victoria doesn’t like a late night!”
* * *
“I’m parked just over this way, Penny.” Heather pointed with her car keys to the last row of vehicles in the Red Dragon Hotel’s car park.
“It’s good of you to give me a lift home.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble. As I said, you’re practically on my way,” Heather replied as she unlocked the doors. “Jump in.” She laid the silver salver she’d been awarded for her gardening efforts on the backseat, started the car, and they soon joined the orderly queue of vehicles exiting the car park. A white coach with Maggie’s Coaches splashed across the side in purple script idled across from the hotel.
“There was a lot of interest at our table in your dinner companion,” Heather said as she pulled out onto the main road that ran through Llanelen.
“My dinner companion? Oh, Andrea, you mean.”
“Oh, is that what she’s called?”
“Yes. And I can imagine her presence would cause a stir. It must take some courage to return to the town that knew you as someone else after you’ve undergone such a major transformation.”
“I’m not sure of the correct language,” said Heather, “but that’s something we’re all going to have to learn.”
“You’re not the only one. Mrs. Lloyd is also trying to find her way around that,” said Penny.
“I don’t want to say the people around here are cruel, because they’re not, but I’m quite sure for everyone in Llanelen this will be the first time they’ve encountered a transgender person. You might see that in more cosmopolitan places like Manchester, but we’re not that sophisticated.” She laughed lightly. “We’re just a small, rural farming community. What do we know? And when confronted with things they don’t quite understand, the people here can be, oh, I don’t know, unsure what to do or say. As I said, I don’t think they intend to be cruel. So they come across as insensitive. They might lash out. And of course, the gossip! That can be devastating. When my daughter’s marriage didn’t work out, the things people said and the questions they asked! The poor girl was afraid to show her face in town.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Penny.
“Anyway, I saw Andrea Devlin in Betws over a week ago. Wasn’t sure at first who it was, and it took me a few minutes to work it out. Something about her looked familiar, and when I realized it was Andy Devlin, as was, I was a bit shocked. I had no idea that he’d undergone something like that.”
“I don’t think anybody knew. The family seems to have kept it all very quiet. So you knew her of old, then?”
“Oh, yes. We went to school together. She’s been gone for a long time, though, and a lot of water under the bridge since then. In all our lives.”
“And you say you saw her in Betws. I’m curious about that. She mentioned she’d been stopping with a mate who lives there. What day was it, do you remember?”
“Let me see. Thursday or Friday, it must have been. Toward the end of the week.” She thought for a moment, then added, “It was definitely Friday, yes, because first I dropped off my entries to the agricultural show. You and Victoria took them in, actually, but you were really busy at the time. And after that I delivered bunches of fresh herbs to the hotel in Betws. I decided to stop in at the café for a coffee before heading home. I was a bit tired, and thought the coffee would perk me up a bit. And that’s where I saw her. In the café.” And then, almost as an afterthought, Heather added, “She was with Gaynor Lewis.”
“What? Wait!” exclaimed Penny. “Are you saying you saw Andrea in the café in Betws with Gaynor Lewis?”
“That’s right. They were seated in one of those booths at the front. I ordered my coffee at the counter and then I took a table toward the rear, so I walked past them. Andrea looked up at me, and as I said, her face seemed familiar, but it took me a while to place her. To realize who she was. It puzzled me the whole time I was drinking my latte, actually. Anyway, I had a good view of them from where I was sat, but they took no notice of me. They seemed to be arguing, or at least engaged in a lively discussion.”
“And you’re quite sure it was Gaynor that Andrea was with? Couldn’t have been someone else?”
“No, it was definitely Gaynor. I’ve been a guest speaker at the WG meetings a couple of times, talking about getting your garden ready for winter, and she introduced me once. The other time I was introduced by Elin Spears, I think it was.”
“Could you hear what they were saying? Gaynor and Andrea?”
“No, I was too far back, but you could tell from the look of them—the hand gestures and the tension in the shoulders and so on.”
“Oh, right. And what time would this have been?”
Heather hesitated. “Oh, it must have been about sixish, maybe a bit later. Anyway, the café was just about to close and the place was almost empty. Why? Is it important, do you think?”
“I think it’s terribly important,” said Penny. “You do realize that Gaynor died sometime Friday night, or early Saturday morning. The police will be very interested in tracing her movements on the day she died. Have you called them?”
“No. But you think I should?”
“Definitely. You have to call them in the morning. Ask to speak to Inspector Bethan Morgan. She’s the detective in charge of the case, and she’ll be glad to hear from you.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“That’s okay. Call them anyway. A murder investigation doesn’t stop because it’s Sunday.” Heather pulled up in front of Penny’s cottage, and after thanking her for the lift home, Penny let herself in to a cool greeting from Harrison, who didn’t really approve of her going out of an evening. He much preferred that she stay home and have an early night with him.