Ashley went next, recounting the Hillary hunt as I squirmed, a heated debate going back and forth inside my head. She brought out the updated detective’s board, and listed the next prime contenders. I concentrated hard on my sunshine cookie, and said nothing.
Sarah hadn’t been on any more dates. ‘Not for want of trying. I dunno what to make of it, to be honest. This guy is dead lovely. He’s a trainee chef, so we’ve loads in common, and when he asks me questions he even listens to the answers. He doesn’t make me feel like a stupid girl who had a kid with a dud, works in her nan’s greasy café and spends her evenings watching crap telly.’
‘Howdoeshe make you feel?’ Ashley breathed.
‘He said I was a talented businesswoman.’ Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. ‘And a good mum. So, he makes me feel bloody fantastic.’
‘Why are you not dating this man in person?’ Ellen asked.
‘Because he won’t meet me. Keeps putting me off. Says he’s working away a lot, and he’s shy.’ Sarah ripped her yellow spotty paper napkin in half. ‘I reckon he might be married.’
‘Perhaps he’s…’ Jamie started to say, when his phone started beeping. He looked at the screen, and swore under his breath. ‘Sorry. I have to take this.’ He stood up, throwing a long, despairing look at Sarah, unable to wrench himself away until the phone beeped again. ‘Ah, damn it.’ He sprinted out of the room, phone pressed to his ear.
All eyes turned back to Sarah.
‘What are you going to do?’ I asked.
‘I dunno.’ She kept ripping the napkin. ‘Maybe it’s time I told him, it’s now or never. I’m not messing about here. I’ve got enough friends and I’m not wasting much more time chasing a man who can’t – or won’t – see me face to face. For all I know it’s a bunch of twelve-year-old girls having a laugh.’
Jamie appeared in the doorway. ‘Sorry, guys, something’s come up. I need to have a chat with a very bad man.’
‘Bye, Jamie,’ we all chorused. ‘Be careful.’
‘Oh, and, Sarah. About that, um, well. Yes. I’ll see you when this job is finished.’ He left, only to poke his head back around the door again five seconds later. ‘I’m glad this guy makes you happy.’ And with that, he disappeared.
‘Well, that’s disappointing!’ Frances said.
‘Yeah, but at least he got to share his baking first,’ Sarah said.
‘That wasn’t what I was referring to,’ Frances said.
‘Jenny?’ Ellen asked, giving Frances a meaningful stare.
‘I think you all know how my challenge is going.’ I managed a smile. ‘I’ve restored a couple of tables, and have started planting seeds in the vegetable patch. Not much else to say yet.’
‘But what about the box?’ Lucille asked. ‘What was in it?’
‘Oh, just some of Charlotte’s journals.’ Flushed cheeks betrayed my dismissive tone. I hoped the last squeeze of Zara’s fifty-quid concealer was doing its job. ‘And not interesting ones. Shopping lists and housework mostly.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Ashley said. ‘After all that!’
‘Yes. A real shame. Ellen? How’s things in the world of midwifery training?’
Ellen kindly took the hint. ‘Wet and sticky, thanks to a labouring woman’s waters breaking all over me. My shoes were squelching the rest of the shift…’
* * *
I cycled to the Common the next morning to pick up a quiche for my lunch with Frances. When I got back, Hillary was staring up at the house.
I didn’t have to ask why.
Speechless, I climbed off the bike and wheeled it over, gazing at the ugly spray paint scrawled across the brickwork.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Hillary said, voice shrill. ‘This is a disaster.’
I struggled for a few seconds to find the right words. Nope, still couldn’t find ’em.
‘I mean, why?’ Hillary said, turning to me. ‘Whydothis?’
