‘Are you going to take me out again then?’ I asked cheekily.
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you might ask . . . and I might just say yes.’
‘Oh do you now!’ He was nibbling my ear, his tongue flicking. Then he drew back, becoming more serious. ‘It won’t be until the middle of the week. I’ve got assignments tomorrow and Tuesday. How would Wednesday suit you?’
Wednesday. One week from the day I first met him. One week! I could hardly believe it. The days had flown by. But at the same time I felt I’d known Josh forever.
‘Wednesday? Just let me check my diary,’ I joked. ‘No, I don’t think I’ve got anything on . . .’
‘Good. And in the meantime, just take care of yourself, do you hear?’
‘I will.’
‘I mean it. Try not to upset any apple carts at Compton Players, do you hear?’
‘Honestly, Josh!’ I exploded. ‘What on earth harm can I come to in the town hall with a bunch of thespians?’
‘None, I hope.’
But the grim note was there again in his tone.
‘Shut up and kiss me,’ I said.
Ten
Monday dragged by almost as slowly, it seemed, as the first days following my accident had done – and that was saying something! There was really nothing I could do at the moment. At some point I would go down to Dorset and speak to Dawn’s parents, but that was going to be horribly difficult, and I didn’t feel I was quite ready yet to face them, or the long drive. Always provided Dad was agreeable to me taking his car so far!
I wasn’t able to do anything about getting myself a laptop either – by the time I came downstairs, Dad had eaten his breakfast and was out and about again on the farm. Mum wasn’t sure of the name of the local computer sales firm he dealt with, so that had to go on hold until I was able to ask him for contact details.
I tried several times to ring the membership secretary of the Compton Players, whose number the junior reporter at the Gazette had given me, but my calls went straight to voice mail. At the third attempt, I left a message simply leaving my number and saying I was interested in joining. This was the way I was going to play it this time – so far it had seemed that the moment I began asking questions about Dawn, the barricades went up, and I thought a more subtle approach might yield more fruit. If I pretended to be just another new member I’d get to know the others in a more natural way. I could listen to conversations, and, when the opportunity arose, mention Dawn casually. It might take longer, but I reminded myself of the fable of the hare and the tortoise. Rushing in with all guns blazing wasn’t always the quickest way to get information – in fact in this case it was proving to be counter-productive.
I had high hopes of the Compton Players, though. In my experience, people who were involved in amateur dramatics – or professionals, come to that – weren’t usually reticent types. Just as long as I didn’t put them on their guard they’d probably be quite happy to talk.
It was always possible, too, that one of them was the perpetrator I was looking for. Once again I ran over the list of possible motives for someone wanting to be rid of Dawn, and wondered if any of them would be a fit for a member of the Compton Players. I’d already marked out the man Katie had referred to as ‘the gorgeous George Clancy’ as being of special interest – he sounded exactly the sort that Dawn might set her cap at, or perhaps have an affair with. But I mustn’t let that blind me to everyone else in the society. Besides the other actors there would be the directors – awash with power! – and the backstage crew, the sound and lighting team, the carpenters and electricians who built the sets. Any one of them could have been involved with Dawn, and, if they were married, then all kinds of explosive situations could result.
I couldn’t rule out the women, either. A woman could set a fire every bit as easily as a man, or drive a car that could be used as a murder weapon. A cuckolded wife, an ambitious actress, resentful of the fact that Dawn always got the best parts, a girl whose boyfriend she had stolen, or who wanted a boyfriend of Dawn’s for herself, any one of them could have been pushed over the edge by powerful emotion.
So far, though, I hadn’t even managed to find out if Dawn had a boyfriend at all, never mind an illicit lover. Yet I was convinced the clue to the mystery must lie in a personal relationship and I kept coming back to what Alice had suggested – Dawn made lots of enemies. Unfortunately that was often true of the beautiful or stunningly attractive – people were always resentful of a girl who seemed to have everything. Perhaps Dawn had been a spoiled little madam, but, then again, perhaps she had just been an ordinary, nice girl who happened to have been blessed with good looks, talent, and a vivacious personality.