The Moment She Left by Susan Lewis

to make.’ This was the truth, there were, but at this stage she didn’t want to go into detail just in case the police had already been there and she hadn’t yet found it in the files.
     
    Rowzee’s eyes were taking a while to open. She knew where she was – on the floor next to her desk – butshe didn’t know yet how long she’d been there, or how badly she’d hit her head in the fall. It was definitely hurting, but not unbearably. It was just making it difficult to get a full grip on her senses for the moment.
    It didn’t matter. There was no rush. She was quite sure she wasn’t expecting anyone, so she could take her time getting up. She mustn’t go too fast or she’d end up making herself dizzy again.
    When at last she was on her feet, she righted the chair that had tumbled with her and took several breaths as she brushed herself down. How very silly of her to go and black out like that without realising it was coming. She must have been concentrating so hard on the email she was sending to Victor’s agent about a rights issue that she hadn’t spotted any little black tadpoles swimming about in front of her eyes, or connected with the light-headedness that made her feel as though she was floating out to sea. Those were the usual signs of something untoward occurring, although they didn’t always come to anything. However, just in case, when she realised they were there, a bit like putting an umbrella in her bag on a stormy day, she could take precautions, such as sitting on a sofa, or going to lie on the bed. Today she’d gone and toppled right off her chair, clunk, bump, out for the count, straight on to the wooden floor.
    Checking the clock she saw to her relief that she’d only been out for a couple of minutes, hardly any time at all. And she really didn’t feel any the worse for it. In fact, she was feeling absolutely fine, she decided, apart from the little headache that was already passing.She’d just get herself a drink of water, or maybe a nice cup of tea, check there were no visible injuries to her face or head then carry on with what she’d been doing.
    To her delight, when she returned to her computer, she found four emails accepting the invitation to the party on Friday evening. She was especially thrilled to discover that Charles Stamfield, owner of Burlingford Hall and the whole of the estate, and their local MP until a spell of bad health had forced him to resign, was ‘happy to attend’. She frowned. Maybe he’d lost his seat in the last election and that was why he wasn’t in Parliament any more? Yes, she was sure that was it, but he’d been ill as well, so hopefully this acceptance meant he was on the mend. They hadn’t seen him in far too long, or his lovely wife Gina. It was such a shame that he was no longer representing their community; everyone was agreed that he’d done a splendid job as their champion. Well, clearly not everyone, or they’d have voted him back in again.
    Disappointingly, there was no mention of Gina coming with him. She was one of Rowzee’s favourite people and not because she was such an accomplished actress, though Rowzee was naturally impressed by her talent, but because she was such good company and had always been so generous with her time. Over the years she’d often helped stage school drama productions, had even taken a cameo role in a few. She’d done the same for the local am-dram society, of which Rowzee was president; and on several memorable occasions she’d brought famous guest speakers to town for the WI to ooh and aah over.
    Could it be true that she hadn’t seen Gina since the last election? Time flew by so quickly these days that it was hard to keep track of everything, but now she came to think of it she felt sure that the last time Gina had been in Kesterly was for Victor’s funeral. The election had been just after that, although Rowzee couldn’t remember much about it now, she’d been in such a fog of grief at the time.