The Shortest Journey by Hazel Holt Page B

of them on the floor as well as a
dirty coffee cup (me), a dog bowl (Tris), an empty saucer (Foss)
and a half-chewed Bonio (Tessa).
    ‘Oh dear,’ I said helplessly, ‘I’m afraid I haven’t
got around to clearing up this morning. Do, please, sit down.’
    She removed a pile of newspaper cuttings from one of
the chairs and sat down cautiously.
    ‘Oh, I quite understand. You intellectuals have your
minds on higher things.’
    I ignored this remark and offered her coffee.
    ‘No, thank you. It’s very kind of you but I haven’t
much time. Goodness...’ She broke off and brought out from the seat
of the chair an old cabbage stalk.
    ‘Oh, how awful! It’s Tess – she keeps thinking she’s
a retriever and bringing things in from the compost heap! I do hope
it hasn’t marked your skirt.’ It was just my luck that she was
wearing a pale coffee-coloured suit which probably showed every
speck.
    She cast the cabbage stalk to the ground with some
distaste and said impatiently, ‘Never mind, I expect it will clean.
I wanted to talk to you about Mummy.’
    ‘Oh dear, yes. It must be such a dreadfully worrying
time for you. I was absolutely appalled when Mrs Wilmot told
me.’
    ‘You really have no idea where she is? I know she
used to confide in you and I did hope that you might have a clue as
to where she might have gone.’
    ‘I’m sorry. She never gave me any sort of hint that
she might be going anywhere. And anyway, it really does sound as if
she meant to come back – I mean, she told Ivy that she’d be back
for tea. I am most horribly afraid that there must have been some
sort of accident. I suppose you haven’t heard anything else from
the police?’
    ‘No, nothing. I don’t know what sort of enquiries
they’ve been making but it does seem most peculiar that no one
seems to have seen her. Can you think of anything at all that might
have happened to her?’
    ‘No,’ I said. ‘Nothing.’
    Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to tell Thelma about
the sleeping tablets. She was Mrs Rossiter’s daughter and she did
seem very anxious about her mother’s disappearance, but I had the
feeling that the concern was somehow for herself and not for her
mother. It was concern, but not distress.
    ‘It couldn’t have happened at a more difficult time,’
Thelma said.
    ‘Yes, of course, you’ve got all these new commitments
you were telling me about, those splendid new clients.’
    ‘Yes, there is that – and it really hasn’t been easy
finding time to come down here and try and sort things out. I blame
Mrs Wilmot. What is the use of a matron who lets her old people go
wandering about like that, without any sort of check on them?’
    ‘Oh, come now, they’re not in prison.’
    ‘Well, you know what I mean. It’s quite
irresponsible. I shall be writing a very strong letter of complaint
to the Managing Director. I suppose I could sue, if something has
happened to Mummy.’
    Her voice became more animated at the prospect and
she continued, ‘No, all that is inconvenient enough, but what’s
really awkward is that she should be missing now that Aunt Maud is
dying.’
    ‘Oh dear, yes. I do see that it must be very
upsetting for her. If they’ve told her, that is. I mean, they may
just have kept it from her.’
    ‘What on earth do you mean? Oh, I see. No, it’s not
that. No, the problem is that if Mummy’s still not been found when
Aunt Maud dies, it’s going to be absolute hell trying to sort out
the Trust.’
    ‘The Trust?’
    ‘Yes, my grandfather was a most peculiar old man and
he left his money tied up in a really tiresome way.’
    ‘Oh dear. I know that Trusts can be rather odd. Peter
used to tell me about some very eccentric ones he had to deal
with.’
    ‘Gordon says that all Trusts are set up simply to
make money for the lawyers,’ she said.
    I laughed, though I don’t think she meant it as a
joke.
    ‘Anyway.’ she continued, ‘the whole thing is
thoroughly ill-conceived. I suppose I’d better