broadened.
‘She keeps me in touch with the modern world, I suppose.’
‘Did you see
her often?’ Palmer could have bitten his tongue at his use of the past tense, but
she hadn’t appeared to notice.
‘Not really.
She comes down three or four times a year, just for a short visit. I keep a
room ready for her, just in case. The last time was a fortnight ago. I think
she needs some quiet time down here every now and then when life in London gets
too much for her.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s always lovely to see her, though, to
hear about what she’s doing. She’s forever on the go, looking for the next
story. But that’s the thing with young people, isn’t it? You have to keep on top
of things, otherwise they find someone else to take your place.’
‘They?’
‘Well, your
employers. It’s all so cut-throat, these days.’ She sighed regretfully. ‘Still,
Helen seems to manage. Although…’ She paused and gave him an uncertain look.
‘Although?’ Palmer
waited.
‘Well, when she
was here before, about a month ago, she was really excited. She’d picked up an
assignment to do a story – an exclusive, she said. Nobody else had got a sniff
of it. I asked her what it was about, but she wouldn’t say. It was all
hush-hush, apparently, and she wasn’t allowed to divulge anything. I thought it
was silly – I mean, it’s not as if I’d know anything about it, living down
here. I don’t exactly trot off down the pub every evening and gossip, do I?’
Palmer forced
himself to be patient. Was this something important she was about to reveal, or
had it been one of Helen’s other normal jobs she was excited about? ‘But that
sounds good, doesn’t it? Exclusives are hard to come by.’ Even as he spoke, he
began to feel a trickle of unease. Knowing the nature of Riley’s work, he was
aware that one of the big problems about so-called exclusives was that by their
nature, they often entailed risk. Had Helen taken on too big a risk for the
chance of a headline story?
‘Well, if you
say so, dear. But the next time I spoke to her, she sounded a bit down. She’d
been away for a brief holiday, but it didn’t seem to have done her much good. I
asked what was the matter, but she just said it was pressure of work. It was so
unlike her. The last time I’d seen her down like that was almost a year ago, I
think it was, when she broke up with her boyfriend.’ She smiled at the memory.
‘I was hoping it would go the distance, that one. But Helen… well, she’s not
the sort to settle down. Not yet, anyway. A bit like her mother, I suppose:
footloose and fancy free.’
Palmer shifted
uneasily, disturbed by a flush of sadness. It was a mere flicker, but Mrs
Demelzer caught it and eyed him in surprise, as if a switch had been thrown.
‘It was you,
wasn’t it?’ she exclaimed, then nodded without waiting for his reply.
Reassured, she rattled on. ‘God, I must be having a senior moment. Frank. Of
course. She lost her old briefcase…it got damaged. That’s right - and the new
one you bought her had a shoulder strap and nice gold buckles. It was very
smart.’ She squeezed her shoulders upwards in a gesture of enjoyment, eyes
shining. ‘She was so pleased with that briefcase, you’ve no idea. She uses it
all the time, cramming it with all sorts of stuff. Well, she loves being busy,
doesn’t she – although I’ve no idea what she’s doing at the moment.’
Palmer waited,
desperate to push the questions and get away from here. This suddenly didn’t
look as if it would lead anywhere useful. Whatever Helen did when she was down
here was unconnected with her work. And if she had sent money to her friend, so
what?
Then the old
lady gave him a lead in. ‘Still, I suppose you’d know more about that than me,
wouldn’t you?’
Palmer thought
his hold on the cup would snap the handle. ‘Why do you say that?’ he asked
casually.
‘You mean you
haven’t seen your post?’
Palmer shook
his head. ‘I’ve
‘She keeps me in touch with the modern world, I suppose.’
‘Did you see
her often?’ Palmer could have bitten his tongue at his use of the past tense, but
she hadn’t appeared to notice.
‘Not really.
She comes down three or four times a year, just for a short visit. I keep a
room ready for her, just in case. The last time was a fortnight ago. I think
she needs some quiet time down here every now and then when life in London gets
too much for her.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s always lovely to see her, though, to
hear about what she’s doing. She’s forever on the go, looking for the next
story. But that’s the thing with young people, isn’t it? You have to keep on top
of things, otherwise they find someone else to take your place.’
‘They?’
‘Well, your
employers. It’s all so cut-throat, these days.’ She sighed regretfully. ‘Still,
Helen seems to manage. Although…’ She paused and gave him an uncertain look.
‘Although?’ Palmer
waited.
‘Well, when she
was here before, about a month ago, she was really excited. She’d picked up an
assignment to do a story – an exclusive, she said. Nobody else had got a sniff
of it. I asked her what it was about, but she wouldn’t say. It was all
hush-hush, apparently, and she wasn’t allowed to divulge anything. I thought it
was silly – I mean, it’s not as if I’d know anything about it, living down
here. I don’t exactly trot off down the pub every evening and gossip, do I?’
Palmer forced
himself to be patient. Was this something important she was about to reveal, or
had it been one of Helen’s other normal jobs she was excited about? ‘But that
sounds good, doesn’t it? Exclusives are hard to come by.’ Even as he spoke, he
began to feel a trickle of unease. Knowing the nature of Riley’s work, he was
aware that one of the big problems about so-called exclusives was that by their
nature, they often entailed risk. Had Helen taken on too big a risk for the
chance of a headline story?
‘Well, if you
say so, dear. But the next time I spoke to her, she sounded a bit down. She’d
been away for a brief holiday, but it didn’t seem to have done her much good. I
asked what was the matter, but she just said it was pressure of work. It was so
unlike her. The last time I’d seen her down like that was almost a year ago, I
think it was, when she broke up with her boyfriend.’ She smiled at the memory.
‘I was hoping it would go the distance, that one. But Helen… well, she’s not
the sort to settle down. Not yet, anyway. A bit like her mother, I suppose:
footloose and fancy free.’
Palmer shifted
uneasily, disturbed by a flush of sadness. It was a mere flicker, but Mrs
Demelzer caught it and eyed him in surprise, as if a switch had been thrown.
‘It was you,
wasn’t it?’ she exclaimed, then nodded without waiting for his reply.
Reassured, she rattled on. ‘God, I must be having a senior moment. Frank. Of
course. She lost her old briefcase…it got damaged. That’s right - and the new
one you bought her had a shoulder strap and nice gold buckles. It was very
smart.’ She squeezed her shoulders upwards in a gesture of enjoyment, eyes
shining. ‘She was so pleased with that briefcase, you’ve no idea. She uses it
all the time, cramming it with all sorts of stuff. Well, she loves being busy,
doesn’t she – although I’ve no idea what she’s doing at the moment.’
Palmer waited,
desperate to push the questions and get away from here. This suddenly didn’t
look as if it would lead anywhere useful. Whatever Helen did when she was down
here was unconnected with her work. And if she had sent money to her friend, so
what?
Then the old
lady gave him a lead in. ‘Still, I suppose you’d know more about that than me,
wouldn’t you?’
Palmer thought
his hold on the cup would snap the handle. ‘Why do you say that?’ he asked
casually.
‘You mean you
haven’t seen your post?’
Palmer shook
his head. ‘I’ve
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