‘In that case, inside, in the sports centre coffee shop. But the forecast is good.’
‘I’ll be there,’ I said.
And I felt a spiral of jubilation.
Dad was recovering, Josh was coming to dinner, and Alice Benson wanted to talk to me. Perhaps, at last, things were actually moving in the right direction!
And they continued to do so. A phone call from Mum was upbeat – Dad was still making good progress – and Josh and I spent a lovely evening together. In fact, he ended up staying the night.
He was still worried about me, I knew, but neither of us mentioned that as we climbed the stairs to my room, and certainly not as we lay together in my bed. Josh was a wonderful lover, gentle and considerate – well, with my injured leg he would have had to be a sadist not to be – and I thought that Mum and Rachel couldn’t have been more wrong when they warned me against getting too involved too soon.
This was right – so right – and I’d never been happier. Why delay when my heart was telling me that Josh was the one I’d been waiting for all my life?
Falling asleep in his arms, I felt rosy and content and cherished. If nothing came of my investigations, at least I’d met someone very special.
It was a good place to be.
Next morning I woke to find myself alone. I hadn’t so much as stirred when Josh got up, but now I could hear the clatter of china in the kitchen, and when I padded downstairs I found him fully dressed and busy with mugs and tea bags.
‘Hey, what are you doing up?’ he greeted me. ‘I was going to bring you a cup of tea in bed.’
‘Nice thought, but too late,’ I laughed.
Today, Saturday, was market day, but Mum’s pitch would have to remain empty today. There was no way I could cope with running it, and I was anxious to get to Bristol to see Dad again.
This time it was Josh who took me. On the way we stopped off to update Jeremy and leave him a spare door key in case of any emergency occurring. I was delighted to find Dad was still steadily improving – the fact that he was insisting there was no need whatever for Mum to keep a bedside vigil clear evidence that he was beginning to think like his old self. It was Dad all over – he hates fuss – and in any case, he was worried about the farm. All very well to assure him that with Jeremy’s help I had everything under control – he still wanted Mum back in the saddle, so to speak.
She was torn, I knew, but after some discussion it was agreed that she would come home with me and Josh today, and drive back tomorrow, after I’d had my meeting with Alice. Should there be any crisis – which, please God, there wouldn’t be – then obviously I’d have to cancel my appointment.
Apart from that brief encounter in the hall when he called for me on our first date, this was the first time Mum had met Josh. But from the outset they seemed to get on really well. He’d earned brownie points for bringing me to the hospital, of course, but he was also a very easy person to like, with his laid-back, friendly manner, I thought, feeling pleased and rather proud. Mum gave me a furtive nod of approval when his back was turned. ‘A great improvement on Tim’ that look seemed to say.
‘So you’re still managing to go on with your investigation in spite of what’s happened?’ Mum said as we were driving home.
‘More’s the pity,’ Josh muttered.
‘Actually Alice came to me,’ I said, ignoring him, but Mum picked up on it.
‘What do you mean, Josh?’ she asked.
‘I keep warning her – she could be disturbing a hornet’s nest,’ Josh said. ‘She won’t listen to me, though. Perhaps you can talk some sense into her before she ends up like Dawn Burridge.’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake!’ I exploded. But I could see he’d got Mum worried.
‘Oh my goodness – surely you don’t think . . .?’ she said anxiously.
‘Sally knows exactly what I think.’ Josh’s tone was grim. ‘I think she should leave well alone.’
‘You are so melodramatic!’ I said crossly. The last thing I wanted was for him to alarm Mum. If she thought I might be playing with fire she’d be reluctant to let me use Dad’s car again. ‘If there’s anything at all to discover, it’s all to do with emotional entanglements, not some kind of gang war between Mafia godfathers. This is Stoke Compton, not New York, or even London. And I’m going to talk to a girl who works in an estate agent’s office, not Mata Hari.’
I didn’t add that I was beginning to be more and more certain that Lewis Crighton was behind what had happened to Dawn, and that Alice was frightened to death of him. If I wanted to continue following my story, the less said the better.