Midge considered this before holding the door wider. ‘We could walk back together.’
‘OK,’ sighed Rona, putting the medical bag back on to the chair.
‘You’ve left the pump,’ observed Midge.
‘Right,’ nodded Rona. ‘I’ll leave it for now. Don’t want to get the wrong thing, do I? Oh Midge, what are we going to do?’ She sniffed suddenly. ‘I feel so unsafe knowing that one of us is a murderer. I don’t know how I’m going to cope until Andrew brings help.’
‘Andrew?’ queried Midge, remembering the argument she had overhead between them before. ‘Are you and Dr Mortimer on good terms?’ The lack of formality with the doctor surprised her,but then Midge had called her own mother-in-law Mrs McGowan, right up until her death.
‘Not particularly,’ shrugged Rona. ‘He’s a bit of an arse. No idea what Gloria sees in him.’ Midge privately agreed. ‘Anyway,’ continued Rona, ‘I’m more annoyed at my colourings.’
‘Colourings?’ said Midge, who was beginning to wish she had just gone to bed when Bridie had first suggested it.
‘My auras! I told you on the first night that I couldn’t place Rendell’s colour,’ she said. ‘But it was you that turned the Death tarot card. Do you think I may be a bit off?’ Rona, who didn’t seem to be expecting a response, suddenly sighed. ‘I’m just feeling so bloody trapped here.’
Midge nodded, albeit with no idea of what she was talking about. It was a trick that she had learned through years of enforced interaction with the HR department.
‘And, I don’t know –’ Rona waved her arm around – ‘I’ve got a terrible feeling, like before I used to do a concert but without the fun.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Like a nausea.’
‘You haven’t been eating the hummus, have you?’ asked Midge. If the doctor was double-dipping with the marmalade, God knows what debauchery he employed with the actual dips.
‘I can’t eat a thing,’ shuddered Rona. ‘This always happens when I’m psychically worn down. I can’t get rid of this feeling...’ She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘I don’t know, like maybe I’m next, or something?’
‘What do you mean? Next at what?’
Rona reached into her dressing gown pocket and pulled out a cigarette. ‘It’s like I’m being watched, even inside my own room. It’s worse than when I hooked up with one of the Swedish princes for a night and all the paps camped outside my flat for days. You know?’ Rona lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. ‘It’s this bloodyankle. It’s swollen right up and I can’t fit any of my shoes on and, quite frankly, I don’t feel myself when I’m not wearing heels.’
‘You could try a pair of mine,’ suggested Midge, adding, in case Rona had forgotten, ‘They’re extra wide.’
‘Good grief, no!’ exhaled Rona. ‘I mean, big, sensible shoes are OK if you, you know, are a lesbian or canvassing for the Jehovah’s Witnesses... no offence.’
Midge, who couldn’t for the life of her think why she would be offended, replied, ‘They’re specially made.’
Rona grabbed at her hair with her hands. ‘It’s not just the shoes... I... don’t even know what clothes to wear tomorrow... Willow, my PA, it’s her job to style my outfits and now it’s just me, it’s like I don’t even know who I fucking am on my own.’
Midge scuffed at the floor with the end of her cane, frowning down at the carpet’s printed pattern. Two squares, a diamond and two squares. She shifted her weight, covering the isolated diamond with her foot. ‘You have good taste in lipstick.’
‘Willow buys it in for me!’ wailed Rona.
‘But you chose it for me,’ pointed out Midge, whose knee had started to throb in protest at standing still for so long.
‘Oh.’ Rona smiled. ‘Yeah, that’s true. Looks good on you, too!’
Midge felt an unfamiliar pang of pleasure that her efforts with Rona’s orange lipstick had been noted. Other than the pop star, no one had taken an interest in her appearance for a long time. Bridie tended to treat her as a rather disappointing accessory to her own outfits, in the manner of a neckerchief that often needed adjusting. To prolong the unexpected feeling of companionship, she gave Rona some advice as they were about to leave the room. ‘When the police do come, there will be a lot of questions. You really should make sure that you have all your answers ready...’
After she had got into bed, trying her level best not to take up too much of Bridie’s side, Midge neatly refolded her remaining handkerchiefs inside the drawer, this time taking care to hide Rendell’s photograph, the key and her assorted collection of objects in case Bridie should happen to see. She sighed at the gap in their ordering. The missing hankie bothered her. Very much like this whole weekend had. She lay on her back, listening to the slow ticking of the grandfather clock. Suddenly the shelf of objects in her mind began to rattle... and she gave a soft gasp of exclamation.Of course! The clock.
It was like a gong going off in Midge’s head. Thunderstruck, she sat upright, allowing her thoughts to reorder themselves. Unwittingly, Bridie had unlocked the secret of another foreign object – and that meant Midge was one step closer to finding therealkiller in the house. Bridie was right. The grandfather clockwasindeed slow, because it needed to be wound up regularly, by the same key. A small brass key, in fact... a key currently in Midge’s possession after retrieving it from the bathing room floor. First thing in the morning, she would show the others. It was time to stop chasing phantoms and shadows.
She sighed, regretting her earlier behaviour towards Bridie over bedtime. Wanting to make it up to her by sharing her breakthrough, she rolled over, but Bridie was already fast asleep, the dark smudges under her eyes finally disappearing as her face relaxed. Midge watched her for a while, enjoying the sound of her breathing, and decided that it could well wait for the morning.
Chapter42
Extract fromThey Do It With Stringspodcast
