‘Of course, I didn’t really think anything of it to start with,’ she went on, sitting down on the edge of one of the leather chairs opposite us. ‘Being trapped in a terrible fire like that would be enough to upset anyone. She must have been so frightened, and she lost everything, all her lovely clothes, everything. But she seemed to be taking it in her stride, trying to get on with her life. She even got her old job back, the one she left when she went to Stoke Compton. They were only too happy to take her back – that’s the sort of girl she was.’
Another pause; she bit her lip.
‘Yes,’ I agreed, but said nothing more. Grace seemed eager to talk, to just let all of it come pouring out, and I was anxious not to interrupt the flow.
Once again Grace recovered herself, and sighed.
‘Oh, if only she’d never gone to Stoke Compton! It didn’t even work out, you know, between her and George. But by the time they broke up she’d settled there, had her flat and her job and new friends – she’d even met someone else, I think.’
Yes, Lewis Crighton, I thought, but I said nothing.
‘She seemed so happy,’ Grace went on, ‘even though, of course, Brian Jennings was making a nuisance of himself. Had been from the moment she went to work at Compton Properties.’
I frowned. What did Compton Properties have to do with Brian Jennings and his obsession with Dawn? For the moment I was afraid to ask, but Rachel couldn’t resist jumping in.
‘Brian Jennings worked at Compton Properties?’
‘Well, yes – I thought you knew that . . .’ Grace looked a little puzzled.
‘Sorry, it’s just me . . .’ Rachel put in quickly.
‘Brian Jennings worked as a sort of odd-job man,’ Grace said, addressing Rachel. ‘Mostly he helped out with the house clearances and auctions, shifting the heavy furniture, and so on – just manual labour. He wasn’t bright enough to be trusted with anything else.’
The job Jason Barlow had been doing last night. Jason Barlow, who had been a witness for the prosecution at Brian Jennings’ trial . . .
‘Lewis got rid of him, of course, when he developed this fixation on Dawn,’ Grace went on. ‘It didn’t stop him, though. He still went on pestering her. Lisa, her flatmate, persuaded her to report him to the police, but what could they do? There’s no law against walking up and down a public street, and they didn’t think he was in any way dangerous.’
‘Until the fire,’ I said.
‘Exactly. They went after him then, all right, and when witnesses came forward to say they’d seen him hanging about, and all the photographs of Dawn and so on were found in his flat, they were convinced they had their man. Then, of course, traces of petrol were found in his jacket pocket, and that was it. He never stood a chance after that . . . well, really he probably never stood a chance at all, someone like him . . .’
‘But even after he was convicted and locked up, Dawn was still frightened,’ I prompted her.
She nodded. ‘I don’t think Dawn ever really believed Brian Jennings was guilty. She said he was annoying, scary, even, but she didn’t think he’d ever do anything to harm her. And there was something else about the fire that was worrying her, too, something to do with Lisa, her flatmate . . .’
At once I was remembering the feeling I’d had when talking to Lisa Curry that she was hiding something.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘Dawn said that that evening – the evening before the fire – Lisa was really jumpy and strange. “Perhaps she’s psychic” she said, “Perhaps she knew something bad was going to happen”. That was her way of explaining it. Lisa was her friend, after all. But I’m not sure whether she really believed that. It was Lisa who realized the shop was on fire, too, and woke Dawn – she saved her life, not a doubt of it. If they’d both been fast asleep and overcome by smoke, they’d never have been able to get out of the window when the baker fetched the ladder. And I can tell you, too, that it was after Dawn went back to Stoke Compton to see Lisa that she came back really upset. And I’ve often wondered if it was something Lisa told her that got her into the state she was in.’
I could feel prickles of excitement beginning in the pit of my stomach. A scenario was suggesting itself to me. Was it just a little bit too convenient that the baker had been passing at exactly the right moment? Not to mention that a ladder just happened to be at hand? A baker who was now married to Lisa, with her successful business established in the refurbished shop that had been the seat of the fire? Had it all been an elaborate ploy to get their hands on a prime High Street location?