‘I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, Sally,’ Mum said blithely, ‘but I’ll tell Jeremy. I’m sure he’ll know what you mean.’
‘Trust me, he will. Computers for accounting purposes are definitely Jeremy’s territory.’ I fetched my coat and the car keys. ‘It is all right if I take Dad’s car, is it?’
‘You know it is,’ Mum replied.
I drove first to Dad’s friendly computer supplier and picked up my replacement laptop, which he had ready and waiting for me. Then, on the way home, I decided to make a little detour and see if I could locate the warehouse where the auction would be held the following evening. I was determined to go along, partly because I was hoping Alice might be there, and partly because I wanted the opportunity to see Lewis Crighton again, but I wasn’t entirely sure exactly where the warehouse was situated, and I thought it would be a good idea to check it out in the daylight, rather than looking for it in the dark.
In the event, I found the industrial estate more easily than I’d expected. It was on the outskirts of Stoke Compton, in a lane that followed a river valley which had once been quite a beauty spot, but was now marred by sprawling industrial development. Vast, ugly, prefabricated buildings sat behind yards where plant and machinery sprouted like ungainly carbuncles, and the revoltingly sweet smell of animal foodstuff from one of the units mingled with the odour from the nearby sewerage works and was drawn into my car through the air conditioning system. I drove on along the rutted lane, past an engineering works and what appeared to be the parking area and garage of a local coach firm, wondering if I’d got the right industrial estate. Then I saw a board at the roadside bearing the legend ‘Compton Auctions – Antiques and Collectibles’ and a large white arrow pointing straight ahead.
The lane curved over a river bridge and as I rounded the bend I saw it – just another big, faceless edifice fronted by a large parking area. Like the other buildings I’d passed, the plot was surrounded by a high wire fence, but there were overgrown hedges too behind the wire, masking the warehouse from the road. A sign, identical to the one I’d spotted further up the lane, was mounted on a post at the entrance.
OK, I could definitely find this again tomorrow. The lane was too narrow at this point for me to be able to turn, and the sensible thing seemed to be to reverse into the yard. I positioned myself close to the offside bank and swung carefully round until my bonnet was facing back the way I had come. Then, just before moving off, I glanced around – and did a double take as I saw the car drawn up in a corner of the yard, close to the building.
It was hardly surprising, I supposed, that someone would be here today, the day before the auction. It wasn’t that that had made my eyes widen, but the fact that for a moment I thought it was Josh’s car – it looked exactly the same. Then common sense kicked in. Why on earth would it be Josh? There must be dozens of blue Peugeot estate cars in and around Stoke Compton. Besides which, Josh would be on his way now to start his Cotswold Way walk.
I stuck the gear lever into ‘drive’ and headed for home.
Monday night, of course, was one of the nights the Compton Players met, and I had wondered if I would go along. But I rather thought I’d gleaned all the information I could from them, and after spending the afternoon visiting Dad, I was actually feeling very tired. In any case, I didn’t want to leave Mum alone too much and I’d be out tomorrow night at the auction. So I spent a quiet evening transferring my notes from my memory stick to my new laptop, and then sitting down with Mum to watch some television. But I didn’t know the characters or the storylines in the soap Mum followed, and soon my mind was wandering, running over all the details I’d just scanned through again, and wondering if I was ever going to get to the truth.
Was I chasing the impossible? Maybe I’d been wrong all along. Brian Jennings had started the fire, and Dawn’s death was just an unhappy coincidence. And if it wasn’t, did Josh have a point when he said I could end up like her? For the first time, the doubts crowded in around me.
With a huge effort I pushed them aside. I wasn’t a quitter. I was going to keep on going with this until I was sure whether or not Brian Jennings had been wrongly convicted. Whether Dawn’s death had been an accident, or whether there was a murderer walking free. This was more than just a diversion for me now, more than simply another story. I was on a mission.
Next morning I was in the bathroom washing my hair when I heard voices downstairs – Mum and a man. Anxious that it might be Sam with some problem on the farm, I wound a towel round my head and went to investigate. Halfway down the stairs, though, I recognized the voice – Jeremy – and was turning to go back up when Mum called to me.