Murder My Neighbour by Veronica Heley

they had. And he knew that . . .
    Oh well. On with the day. It promised to be another fine, bright day, if perhaps a trifle on the warm side. A light summer dress would be in order.
    Thomas’s side of the bed was empty since he was an early riser. He had usually showered, dressed and made his way along the corridor to his Quiet Room before Ellie managed to open her eyes. He would spend time with his bible and God, and appear downstairs ready to cook breakfast for all of them if Rose were not up yet – and of late she hadn’t been.
    Mia was another slowcoach in the mornings. Ellie understood that completely. Sometimes, if Thomas were away on one of his lecture trips, Ellie and Mia would prepare and eat breakfast in complete silence.
    Mia would soon be gone. Ellie was delighted that the girl felt able to move on, of course, but they would miss her.
    Ellie sat on the edge of the bed, considered getting down on her knees to pray and decided against it.
    Dear Lord, please forgive me for not kneeling. I’m feeling creaky this morning. I hope you don’t mind. I could do with some courage today. You know what I’m up against. What am I going to do about Diana? Suppose I sold off part of this great house . . . ? But then it wouldn’t be our home any more. I could mortgage it, I suppose, but how could I afford the repayments? I couldn’t.
    Then there’s Rose . . .
    And an interview with the police, which I can’t see being pleasant. If you could see your way to prompting me, so that I don’t make a complete fool of myself . . . ? Though I suppose that really doesn’t matter, does it? I am what I am, and I can only do my best. Apologies. Feeling sorry for myself. Stupid. Take no notice.
    It’s a lovely day, I see. Thank you for that.
    The roses in the Pryce garden yesterday – what a delight.
    I must get on with things, mustn’t I? Thanks for listening.
    There was a wail from Frank’s room. He’d probably woken in alarm, wondering where he was . . . and then remembered.
    There was a snuffling at her bedroom door, and Frank shot in. He dived into bed with her, and clung. There, there! He was far too thin and anxious for his age. She held him tight. There, there. She checked, but he didn’t seem to have wet the bed. Praise be.
    If she kept the thought of Diana locked away at the back of her head, she might get through the day all right. One thing at a time. Soothe Frank off to school and give Stewart a progress report on how his son was doing . . .
    Ellie tidied the sitting room. She cut and arranged some more flowers to replace the peonies, which were past their best. She darted into the kitchen to check on Rose and Mia, who said they were perfectly all right, thank you, and what was all the fuss about? Rose was developing some spectacular bruises, but said she’d had a good night.
    The gardener came and complained about the mutilation of his flower bed. Ellie gave him a Look and said that if he’d tied the rambler rose back when it had first come loose, Rose wouldn’t have had to put her life in danger by going up a ladder, so would he please see to it before he mowed the lawn that day. He said that that was all very well, but he wasn’t Mr Whip-it-Quick, was he? And what did she expect when she was only paying him for four hours a week?
    â€˜I expect value for money, that’s what,’ said Ellie, folding her arms at him. He stumped off, muttering to himself. The cat Midge stalked past her to leap on to the staging in the conservatory, which the sun was heating up nicely.
    The moment her hands were idle, Ellie found herself replaying yesterday’s dramas in her head – which did her no good at all. Worrying didn’t get you anywhere. She knew that. Of course she did. Which didn’t stop her doing it.
    She still hadn’t told Thomas about Diana’s visit, and she had