talk about Sally Gilbert’s death. The thought
of it depressed him. ‘Apart from Della’s little bit of excitement, how was your day?’
‘Not too bad. Only one more day to go till the end of term. I should be crossing off the days to my release like they do in
prison.’ She looked up suddenly and smiled. ‘Mind you, things are looking up. The end-of-term presents have started to come
in. The score so far is three soaps, two scented candles, an embroidered hanky and a bottle of bubble bath. And one of the
kids gave me this.’ She reached for her handbag and took out a small oblong box. She opened it and took out a gold chain with
a small oval locket set in its centre. ‘Isn’t it pretty?’
‘Lovely,’ said Wesley, giving the object a quick glance. ‘Is it real gold?’ he joked.
Pam laughed. ‘Hardly. Probably came out of a Christmas cracker.’ She put the necklace down and read from the card that lay
inside the box. ‘To Mrs Peterson. Thank you for being my teacher and good luck with your new baby. Love from Kayleigh Dilkes.
Isn’t that lovely?’
‘It’s an improvement on an apple for the teacher.’
‘I know. It’s really sweet of her. I mean, Kayleigh’s mum can’t be well off. I think she works as a cleaner and I don’t think
there’s a dad about.’ She looked at the necklace and smiled. ‘At least I know Kayleigh didn’t pinch it out of her mum’s jewellery
box – I saw her mum hand it to her as she came into school.’
Wesley smiled and said nothing. Michael was grizzling,ready for sleep, so Wesley trudged upstairs with the baby in his arms to do a spot of father–son bonding.
When he had left the room Pam poured herself a glass of orange juice before picking up the necklace again to have a closer
look. She ran her index finger over the delicately carved pattern, a flower with a tiny blue stone at its centre. She opened
the locket and peered inside. And when she spotted what looked like a tiny hallmark near the hinge, her heart began to beat
faster. After a few seconds she snapped it shut and threw it down on the coffee table as though the thing were too hot to
hold.
She stared at it for a few moments then picked it up again, running its fluid chain through her fingers. The more she looked
at it the more she was convinced that it possessed the mellow sheen of real gold rather than the brash glitter of a cheap
imitation. There was a small dent on the back, but even if it was damaged surely no hard-up single mother would give away
such a treasure – unless it hadn’t been hers to give in the first place. Easy come, easy go.
She held it, wishing the hallmark would disappear, wishing that the necklace would transform itself into what she had assumed
it was – a worthless piece of costume jewellery. Perhaps she should show it again to Wesley, seek his advice. But then he
was a policeman and would feel compelled to ask awkward questions about its origins. And the last thing she wanted to do was
to hurt Kayleigh’s feelings, to betray the child’s trust.
She put the necklace back in its box. There was no need to mention it to Wesley for the moment: she’d deal with it in her
own way.
She took a sip of her drink, wishing that the glass contained red wine instead of healthy orange juice. There was nothing
she could do about the necklace tonight, even if she wanted to.
Robin Carrington stood at the door of Old CoastguardCottage and inhaled deeply. The air was good here, unpolluted. Not like London. The dark was gathering now; not the street-lit
electrical glow that passed for darkness in the city, but a dense, velvet darkness, all enveloping. A darkness that hid all
imperfections, all wickedness.
He thought about taking a walk to the pub. But Neil Watson might be there and he feared that he had said too much already.
He left the house, glancing back at the telephone on the hall table. When he reached the lane he stopped and listened.
of it depressed him. ‘Apart from Della’s little bit of excitement, how was your day?’
‘Not too bad. Only one more day to go till the end of term. I should be crossing off the days to my release like they do in
prison.’ She looked up suddenly and smiled. ‘Mind you, things are looking up. The end-of-term presents have started to come
in. The score so far is three soaps, two scented candles, an embroidered hanky and a bottle of bubble bath. And one of the
kids gave me this.’ She reached for her handbag and took out a small oblong box. She opened it and took out a gold chain with
a small oval locket set in its centre. ‘Isn’t it pretty?’
‘Lovely,’ said Wesley, giving the object a quick glance. ‘Is it real gold?’ he joked.
Pam laughed. ‘Hardly. Probably came out of a Christmas cracker.’ She put the necklace down and read from the card that lay
inside the box. ‘To Mrs Peterson. Thank you for being my teacher and good luck with your new baby. Love from Kayleigh Dilkes.
Isn’t that lovely?’
‘It’s an improvement on an apple for the teacher.’
‘I know. It’s really sweet of her. I mean, Kayleigh’s mum can’t be well off. I think she works as a cleaner and I don’t think
there’s a dad about.’ She looked at the necklace and smiled. ‘At least I know Kayleigh didn’t pinch it out of her mum’s jewellery
box – I saw her mum hand it to her as she came into school.’
Wesley smiled and said nothing. Michael was grizzling,ready for sleep, so Wesley trudged upstairs with the baby in his arms to do a spot of father–son bonding.
When he had left the room Pam poured herself a glass of orange juice before picking up the necklace again to have a closer
look. She ran her index finger over the delicately carved pattern, a flower with a tiny blue stone at its centre. She opened
the locket and peered inside. And when she spotted what looked like a tiny hallmark near the hinge, her heart began to beat
faster. After a few seconds she snapped it shut and threw it down on the coffee table as though the thing were too hot to
hold.
She stared at it for a few moments then picked it up again, running its fluid chain through her fingers. The more she looked
at it the more she was convinced that it possessed the mellow sheen of real gold rather than the brash glitter of a cheap
imitation. There was a small dent on the back, but even if it was damaged surely no hard-up single mother would give away
such a treasure – unless it hadn’t been hers to give in the first place. Easy come, easy go.
She held it, wishing the hallmark would disappear, wishing that the necklace would transform itself into what she had assumed
it was – a worthless piece of costume jewellery. Perhaps she should show it again to Wesley, seek his advice. But then he
was a policeman and would feel compelled to ask awkward questions about its origins. And the last thing she wanted to do was
to hurt Kayleigh’s feelings, to betray the child’s trust.
She put the necklace back in its box. There was no need to mention it to Wesley for the moment: she’d deal with it in her
own way.
She took a sip of her drink, wishing that the glass contained red wine instead of healthy orange juice. There was nothing
she could do about the necklace tonight, even if she wanted to.
Robin Carrington stood at the door of Old CoastguardCottage and inhaled deeply. The air was good here, unpolluted. Not like London. The dark was gathering now; not the street-lit
electrical glow that passed for darkness in the city, but a dense, velvet darkness, all enveloping. A darkness that hid all
imperfections, all wickedness.
He thought about taking a walk to the pub. But Neil Watson might be there and he feared that he had said too much already.
He left the house, glancing back at the telephone on the hall table. When he reached the lane he stopped and listened.
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