“That’s what we intend to find out, Mum. We’ll have a list of questions to ask, and Derek’s checking out what else we need to do. He’s done a job for an estate agent over Waltonby way, and he’ll help, Derek says.”
“Not likely!” said Gran. “Estate agents are a crafty lot. He’ll want to take over the selling, and then you’ll be in for percentages, an’ all that.”
“Yes, Mum,” said Lois, and retreated to her office.
*
Lunch hour in the shop was usually quiet. The morning shoppers had gone, and the big afternoon rush, when the schools turned out, was yet to come. Josie had a quick sandwich in the stockroom, listening to Radio Tresham for any news of the zoo accident. Pettison, being interviewed, was furious that the reporter asked how a visitor could be sure to see the vicious chimp attacker, and was comforted only by the fact that ticket sales, booked ahead for when the zoo opened again, were spiralling up to full capacity.
So he’d been released by the police, thought Josie. They must have been satisfied with his denials of having anything to do with the cleaner’s unfortunate accident. He certainly sounded genuinely upset when the interviewer asked him about the victim.
“Listening to the news?” Dot Nimmo had come in, and was grinning at Josie. “I reckon they’ve got a real problem on their hands. They can’t very well take a chimpanzee in for questioning, can they!” She laughed loudly, and then asked if anything new had come up.
“Don’t think so,” said Josie. “That Pettison man was just being interviewed. He sounded very sorry for himself. Clearly on the side of his monkey person! But a very smooth operator, I reckon.”
“You can say that again,” said Dot. “If you saw what I saw every week, rain or shine, opposite my front door, you’d see just what a smooth operator he is! Mind you, that woman is a right disgrace. He’s not always been the only gentleman caller, I can tell you! But he is now. Must cost him a bit. Ted Brierley—he takes care of her and he’s no fool. Clerk at the gasworks don’t bring in much. Now, Josie, can I have my raisin loaf and a pound of dairy butter? Thanks, dear. I’m off to see your mother now. I’m hoping to go cleaning at Cameroon Hall as soon as the fuss dies down.”
“Bye, Dot,” said Josie, returning to her sandwich. Dot Nimmo was her mother’s favourite among the team of cleaners, she knew, and hoped that it would be safe to let Dot loose up at Pettison’s. After her mug of coffee, she thought it would be a good idea to have a quick look around the flat upstairs to make sure all was tickety-boo, as Gran said. No dead rats or squashed frogs. Or live chimpanzees. She steeled herself, and went upstairs, carrying an old golf club she kept handy, just in case.
Seventeen
At exactly six o’clock, Josie opened the shop door and greeted the prospective tenant.
“Good evening,” he said. “So kind of you to allow me to see the flat. I am sure you must be tired after a long day in the shop.”
“Not really,” said Josie, taken aback by the familiar young man stepping into her shop. “It’s not exactly a supermarket.”
He laughed. “Well, that’s good for a start! I don’t think I could manage with a supermarket below me all hours of the day. No, this village looks very tranquil in the evening sunlight. I imagine in summer it is full of children and families?”
“Depends,” said Josie, unwilling to let down her guard. “Most of ’em are indoors watching the telly. Anyway, if you don’t mind, we’ll wait for my Mum to come down from Meade House, up the road. And don’t I know you? Aren’t you the man with the theatre fliers?”
She watched him closely as he wandered round the shop. When he smiled at her, saying she had a good stock of necessaries, which would be very useful, she saw that his eyes were a deep blue. Cornflower blue, she said to herself, and then felt awkward, as he continued to smile.
The door opened, and she was relieved as Lois came in, breezily apologising for keeping them waiting.
“Not at all, Mrs Meade,” said Justin, holding out his hand to shake hers. “Justin Brookes,” he introduced himself. “How do you do. Please don’t apologise. I am not in a hurry this evening.” To Josie, he made it sound as if every other evening he would spend in his club, or dining at the Ritz. She supposed it was because he was an actor.
“You’ll know the village from your trips around,” she said, as they went upstairs to the flat. “But I don’t think you met my mother before.”
“Not as far as I am aware. I tend to daydream, so my mother tells me. Do forgive me if we have met.”