‘And what made you decide that? More proof?’
‘No, nothing like that. I’m just mentally in so much better a place that I can tell reality from hallucination. And what I saw in that store room was real.’
‘Good. I’m glad your confidence has come back.’ There was a silence. ‘Does this mean that you’re thinking of going to the police about what you saw?’ A firm shake of the head. ‘Why not?’
‘For the reason I just told you. I’m mentally in so much better a place that I don’t want to threaten my new-found mental equilibrium by getting involved in police interviews.’
Carole might not have approved, but it was a good enough answer for Jude. ‘And have you still got your one piece of solid proof? The handkerchief with Amos Green’s blood on it?’
‘Yes. I’ve kept thinking of throwing it away, but every time something stops me.’
Jude didn’t comment on this but was secretly pleased. She had a feeling that that piece of evidence might at some stage prove vital to the investigation. The thought prompted another: that what she and Carole were doing hardly qualified for the title of an ‘investigation’. Though they had assembled a number of tantalizing details, their enquiries were lacking a sense of forward momentum. She wondered if it was just because Christmas had put everything on hold, but she was rather afraid that wasn’t the reason. The case was just slipping away from them.
She grinned at Sara. ‘Anyway, I’m glad to hear that everything’s going well with Kent. And that you’ve come through the baptism of fire.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Meeting his ex-wife and children.’
‘Ah. Yes. Well, you’re right. It was quite stressful.’
‘So your back told me.’
Sara chuckled. ‘I have a very articulate back.’
‘You certainly do. So … with Kent in place … there are no clouds on your horizon?’
‘Fewer clouds, anyway.’
‘How do you mean?’
Sara grimaced. ‘Well, the fact is … yes, with Kent things’re going fine. Better than I ever imagined things going with a man. Certainly better than they were with the last one.’
‘Not difficult, from what you’ve said about him.’
‘No, you’re right. Now it seems incongruous that I stayed with him so long; that I actually wanted to have children with him. It’s amazing how volatile we are, how we can totally convince ourselves of the rightness of something that is so obviously wrong. I do find human nature confusing.’
‘I think we all do.’
‘Hm. Anyway, so as regards my love life, no clouds on my horizon.’ Thinking perhaps this was too bold an assertion, she backtracked a little. ‘Well, no clouds at the moment. Probably some will come floating by soon.’
‘No reason why they should. Some things in life just work.’
‘Sadly that hasn’t been my experience too often.’
‘But your life is changing.’
‘Hope so.’ The grin that accompanied these words twisted itself into a grimace. ‘It’s my work life that’s not so good, though. Well, nonexistent. And that does frustrate me. I’ve been working for myself ever since I left school. And not having a project of my own to concentrate on is really getting me down.’
‘I see that Binnie and Hammo are working out their notice at Polly’s.’
‘Yes. And you’re wondering why I’m not doing the same …?’
‘Had crossed my mind, yes.’
‘I’ll tell you why. Because Phoebe Braithwaite is the rudest woman I have ever met!’
‘Ah.’
‘She made no secret of the fact that she thought I ought to forgo my earnings during my month’s notice. She said, “It’s different for Binnie and Hammo – they’re ordinary working people. But you’re a different class from them. You should be taking part in this Community Project, not leaching away funds from it. If you are still keen to work here, then I can put you on my Volunteer Rota.” “Unpaid?” I asked. “Of course unpaid,” she replied. “That’s what ‘volunteer’ means. Don’t you have any sense of community?” And I’m afraid that was when I really lost my rag.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘I told her I had always earned my own living, and my hands-on experience in the catering business meant that I was extremely highly qualified. And nobody was going to get the advantage of my skills for free. Then she had the nerve to say, “I don’t know why you’re getting so het up about it. Now you’re shacked up with Kent Warboys, it’s not as if you need to work.” Well, that did it. I stormed out – and will probably never go into Polly’s Cake Shop again!’
‘I can understand that,’ said Jude.
‘But at the same time,’ said Sara, quickly calming down, ‘I’m quite sorry about that.’
‘Oh?’
‘I really enjoyed working at Polly’s. Even under Josie. She wasn’t the most friendly of employers, but she recognized what I could do. She kept giving me more responsibility. I think I could have ended up managing the place … if this bloody Community Project hadn’t come along.’
‘And is this a source of friction between you and Kent? Because, after all, he’s been a great supporter of running Polly’s as a Community Project.’
‘So far we’ve managed to keep off the subject.’
‘Long may that last.’
‘You betcha. I’m not going to threaten the best relationship I’ve ever had by arguing over Polly’s Cake Shop. No, once everyone has gone back to work after the long Christmas break, I will seriously set about the business of finding myself a job.’
Jude couldn’t let it alone. ‘And you’re still not planning to tell the police about what you saw?’
‘I’ve told you, no. And in fact now I have a much stronger reason to keep what I saw to myself.’
‘Oh?’
‘It wouldn’t just be me who’d get caught up in the police questioning.’
‘Really? Then who?’
‘Kent told me he used to know Amos Green.’
TWENTY
The decision had been taken that Polly’s Community Café would not open during the long Christmas break, and this was generally thought to be a good idea. Though most of Fethering’s residents and a lot of the village’s weekenders would be around over the holiday, most of them would be staying in their homes. It made sense for the café’s Volunteer Rota to enjoy their own Christmases and then reopen in the New Year with refreshed energy.
It was on the morning before New Year’s Eve, the Sunday, that Jude had a panicked call from Carole asking if she could look after Gulliver. She’d just had a call from Fulham. Her new granddaughter Chloe had been rushed into hospital with a respiratory problem. Granny’s services were required to look after Lily.
Jude could hear how terrified her neighbour was and she knew the reason. Memories of her own stillborn second child had made Chloe seem particularly vulnerable to Carole. She still had a terrible fear of history repeating itself.
But of course Carole didn’t mention this on the phone. And Jude was far too sensitive and diplomatic to raise the subject herself. She just rushed straight round to High Tor to take charge of Gulliver while Carole, uncharacteristically slapdash, threw some clothes into a bag and drove off in the Renault at a pace far beyond the sedate speed limit of Fethering. Jude had made her promise to let her know when there was any news of Chloe.
Gulliver seemed quite content to snuffle around the unfamiliar smells of Woodside Cottage. Carole hadn’t got the message from Fulham until after she and the dog had returned from Fethering Beach, so he wouldn’t need another walk till the late afternoon.
Jude had a couple of clients booked in that morning (more refugees from tense family Christmases) and she didn’t think either of them would object to the dog’s presence during their sessions. She was removing its disguise of throws and cushions and assembling her treatment bed when the phone rang.