This Saturday was to be no exception. By the time I came downstairs at half seven, Mum had already loaded most of her stock into the boot of her car and was bustling about with a thick coat over her warmest jumper and slacks.
‘Are you coming with me today, Sally?’ she asked.
‘I planned to.’
‘That’s good. It’s a help, having you there to take the money when we get busy. Can you get your own breakfast? I’ve still got a few things to do. Bread’s in the toaster, kettle’s on the boil. And you’ll need something warm on if you’re going to be sitting about it the cold. It really is nippy this morning,’ she added.
She didn’t ask me how I’d got on last night, but given she was so busy, that wasn’t surprising. I knew she’d be giving me the third degree as soon as the opportunity arose, and, sure enough, as soon as we were installed in the car and on our way, it was the first subject she raised.
‘You weren’t late last night.’
I smirked. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It doesn’t mean anything,’ Mum said, affronted. ‘I’m just saying, that’s all.’
‘How do you know what time I got in?’
‘I was still awake. I heard the car.’
I had visions of Mum peeking through her bedroom curtains, seeing me pinned against the car, and Josh kissing me, and felt as guilty as if I were a teenager again.
‘Well?’ she pressed me. ‘Are you going to see him again?’
‘Yes. Tomorrow, actually.’
‘Oh, that’s good. Just as long as you don’t get too involved too soon, Sally. You’ve only just broken up with Tim. I don’t want to see you hurt again.’
‘It’ll be fine, Mum,’ I said. But for just a moment I did find myself wondering – was she right? Might I be feeling this way about Josh because I was on the rebound from Tim? And was Josh just that little bit too keen for it to last?
For the first couple of hours Mum and I were kept very busy. Invariably the people who came to buy eggs, cheese and vegetables were early birds – they liked to make sure they had the pick of the stock. But towards midday things were quietening down.
‘Could you manage without me for a bit if I went down to Compton Properties?’ I asked. ‘They’re sure to be open on a Saturday, and I need to talk to them about the things I took in for the auction.’
I didn’t mention that I was anxious to see Alice, and perhaps find out if she’d been trying to phone me. If I told Mum about the silent phone calls it might worry her. But we had talked about the reserve price we should put on the items I’d taken in for auction, and that was my excuse now to return to the estate agent’s office.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Mum said. ‘Off you go.’
I set out in the direction of the Square, hoping Alice would be in the office. It could be they operated on a skeleton staff on Saturdays, with the girls working alternate weeks. When I pushed open the door, however, I was relieved to find Alice at her desk. She looked up, and the welcoming smile froze on her face when she saw it was me.
‘Good morning.’ There was hesitancy in her voice too.
‘I’ve come to kill two birds with one stone,’ I said cheerfully. ‘First – the candle snuffer and the teaspoons. We’d like to put a reserve price of fifteen pounds on each.’
‘Let me get the paperwork . . .’ Alice rose and crossed to the filing cabinet. I waited while she wrote on the hard copy and pulled up what I presumed was the relevant file on her computer and tapped in an entry.
‘Did your colleague pass on my message yesterday?’ I asked when she finished.
‘Your message?’ Alice might be stalling, I thought. But actually she did look genuinely puzzled.
‘Yes, I left the number of my mobile with her and asked if you could ring me.’
‘You spoke to Sarah?’
‘Yes. Didn’t she tell you?’
‘She didn’t say anything to me about it, no. Why did you want me to ring you? Sarah was dealing with your items.’
This was it. Go for it.
‘I was hoping to talk to you about Dawn. But are you sure . . .?’ I broke off. I’d been so certain my mystery caller must have been Alice. But I didn’t want to alienate her now by pressing the point.
‘Look, I’m sorry, but really there’s nothing I can tell you,’ Alice said. ‘Dawn and I worked together, that’s all. She wasn’t even here any more when she was killed.’
‘But she was here at the time of the fire. Did she ever say . . . did she think Brian Jennings was responsible, or . . .’