probationer police officer,’ she told him, in an effort to convey some sort of explanation. At the same time, she hoped Jessica would show more flexibility, more imagination, if faced with the same circumstances.
‘Really? You don’t seem old enough,’ he said, less from gallantry than genuine surprise. Then he remembered that he was supposed to ask her full name, address and date of birth. ‘Actually, I ought to get your details,’ he said, opening a new page of his notepad.
‘I had her when I was twelve,’ joked Thea, beforerealising this was a big mistake. The dratted youth was perfectly capable of believing her and finding it dubious when she explained. ‘No, no, forget I said that,’ she amended quickly. ‘I was twenty-two. Jessica’s that age now, actually.’ She trusted him to do the arithmetic.
The arrival of reinforcements stirred things up in a number of ways. Neighbours further along Vineyard Street began to realise something was happening and emerge from their houses for a look. With a glance of confused apology, Thea’s solicitous constable returned to the scene to convey her story to any newly arrived detectives. She promised to stay in the house and went to make herself some coffee.
She should phone her mother as a matter of some urgency. It was close to nine o’clock, and she wanted to abort the expected visit. If that caused difficulties for the police, then too bad. The prospect of playing host to the distraught father and unpredictable mother was not to be borne. She tried the landline first, expecting her mother to be gradually waking up over toast and tea. She lived sixty miles from Winchcombe – the journey could not take more than an hour and a half. But there was no reply. Quelling any thoughts of a night spent in Fraser Meadows’ bed, or at a romantic B&B somewhere, she tried the mobile.
Her mother had taken well to the new method of communication, on the whole. She liked texting, and would make experimental calls from unusual spots –such as her husband’s graveside. But she had a dread of draining the battery and switched the thing off much of the time. ‘I like to be in control,’ she asserted. ‘The idea of it going off when I’m in the middle of something is awful. If something’s important, they can leave a message. I check it every day or so.’ Thea and her siblings had to accept that there was sound good sense in this attitude.
It was off. With no great optimism, Thea left a brief message – ‘Mum, something’s happened. Please ring me as soon as you get this.’ Her own experience of telephones was that they almost always let you down when you really needed them.
So far, her mother had not regarded widowhood as any sort of liberation. She had not taken herself off on foreign trips or circled the country visiting long-neglected friends. She had remained in the house she had occupied for the past twenty-five years and treated herself gently. There was a sense that she was testing herself, pinning down her own identity as a woman alone, and reviewing her options. She discussed these with her offspring, especially Damien, the eldest and the only son. The sudden acquisition of something alarmingly like a boyfriend was impossible to absorb. It had never once occurred to Thea that this might happen. It made it frighteningly difficult to guess the next steps and act accordingly.
She had to accept the strong possibility that her mother and Fraser would arrive at eleven-thirty orthereabouts, entirely ignorant of the drastic turn of events. She wanted to take her dog and drive away somewhere and let things develop as they might, with no input from her.
But then a slim figure appeared in the doorway, trying to focus on the shadowy interior. ‘Is it really you?’ came a familiar voice. ‘Can this be the Thea Osborne I know and love?’
It was Detective Superintendent Sonia Gladwin, and Thea almost threw herself into her arms.
Chapter Six
Gladwin was businesslike
‘Really? You don’t seem old enough,’ he said, less from gallantry than genuine surprise. Then he remembered that he was supposed to ask her full name, address and date of birth. ‘Actually, I ought to get your details,’ he said, opening a new page of his notepad.
‘I had her when I was twelve,’ joked Thea, beforerealising this was a big mistake. The dratted youth was perfectly capable of believing her and finding it dubious when she explained. ‘No, no, forget I said that,’ she amended quickly. ‘I was twenty-two. Jessica’s that age now, actually.’ She trusted him to do the arithmetic.
The arrival of reinforcements stirred things up in a number of ways. Neighbours further along Vineyard Street began to realise something was happening and emerge from their houses for a look. With a glance of confused apology, Thea’s solicitous constable returned to the scene to convey her story to any newly arrived detectives. She promised to stay in the house and went to make herself some coffee.
She should phone her mother as a matter of some urgency. It was close to nine o’clock, and she wanted to abort the expected visit. If that caused difficulties for the police, then too bad. The prospect of playing host to the distraught father and unpredictable mother was not to be borne. She tried the landline first, expecting her mother to be gradually waking up over toast and tea. She lived sixty miles from Winchcombe – the journey could not take more than an hour and a half. But there was no reply. Quelling any thoughts of a night spent in Fraser Meadows’ bed, or at a romantic B&B somewhere, she tried the mobile.
Her mother had taken well to the new method of communication, on the whole. She liked texting, and would make experimental calls from unusual spots –such as her husband’s graveside. But she had a dread of draining the battery and switched the thing off much of the time. ‘I like to be in control,’ she asserted. ‘The idea of it going off when I’m in the middle of something is awful. If something’s important, they can leave a message. I check it every day or so.’ Thea and her siblings had to accept that there was sound good sense in this attitude.
It was off. With no great optimism, Thea left a brief message – ‘Mum, something’s happened. Please ring me as soon as you get this.’ Her own experience of telephones was that they almost always let you down when you really needed them.
So far, her mother had not regarded widowhood as any sort of liberation. She had not taken herself off on foreign trips or circled the country visiting long-neglected friends. She had remained in the house she had occupied for the past twenty-five years and treated herself gently. There was a sense that she was testing herself, pinning down her own identity as a woman alone, and reviewing her options. She discussed these with her offspring, especially Damien, the eldest and the only son. The sudden acquisition of something alarmingly like a boyfriend was impossible to absorb. It had never once occurred to Thea that this might happen. It made it frighteningly difficult to guess the next steps and act accordingly.
She had to accept the strong possibility that her mother and Fraser would arrive at eleven-thirty orthereabouts, entirely ignorant of the drastic turn of events. She wanted to take her dog and drive away somewhere and let things develop as they might, with no input from her.
But then a slim figure appeared in the doorway, trying to focus on the shadowy interior. ‘Is it really you?’ came a familiar voice. ‘Can this be the Thea Osborne I know and love?’
It was Detective Superintendent Sonia Gladwin, and Thea almost threw herself into her arms.
Chapter Six
Gladwin was businesslike
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