The Shooting in the Shop (10 page)

Jude stopped pushing the swing for a moment
and reached across to touch the girl’s arm. ‘And how
are you coping?’ she asked.

‘With difficulty,’ came the reply. And, as Mabel
shouted for more pushing on her swing, tears welled
up into her mother’s eyes.

On the local television news bulletin that evening, as
well as the normal Christmas Eve stories about the
last-minute rush to the shops, there was a sobering
update on the tragedy at Gallimaufry in Fethering.
Forensic examination, the police announced, had
revealed that the victim, Polly Le Bonnier, had not
been killed by the fire. The cause of her death had
been a single bullet wound.

An accident investigation had suddenly become a
murder inquiry.

 

Chapter Thirteen

Of course, Christmas Day, when it happened, was
fine. Stephen and family arrived soon after noon, as
anticipated. Lily had slept most of the way in the
car, but had woken before they reached Fethering, so
was at her most wide-eyed and enchanting to greet
her grandmother. Gaby said that Father Christmas
had left a stocking for her that morning and, as was
expected – indeed demanded – of someone her age,
when opening its contents, Lily had been much more
interested in the wrapping paper than she had been
in the presents.

Needless to say, Carole had overcatered in every
area of the lunch, particularly the alcohol. Stephen,
as the designated driver, wasn’t drinking. While his
mother saw the wisdom of this, particularly since
he now had the additional responsibility of a baby
in the car, she did wish he might just have had one
glass to celebrate the occasion. But she didn’t put
any pressure on him; she knew Stephen was doing
the right thing. And Gaby, now that Lily had been
weaned, was very much up for drinking a lot. So the two women managed to get through a bottle of
champagne and most of a Chilean Chardonnay.

The food went down very well. Lily was tried on
a bowl of specially puréed turkey and sprouts, but
turned her nose up at it, preferring a familiar jar of
her Lamb and Tasty Vegetables. But when they got
to the mince pies, she was much more enthusiastic,
nearly consuming a whole one – or at least spreading
its contents over her face and high chair tray.

The adults enjoyed their food, though, and Gaby
raised a glass with ‘compliments to the chef ’. It was a
long time since Carole had cooked such an elaborate
meal. Going through the processes reminded her of
dinner parties in her early married life, and of the
satisfaction she had sometimes got from seeing David
and Stephen well fed. The success of her Christmas
lunch gave her confidence a boost. Carole Seddon was
actually quite good at cooking. She ought to do more
of it. Maybe give the odd dinner party, expand her
Fethering social network . . .

The only threat to the harmony of the occasion
was a phone call on the dot of one o’clock. Unable
to think of anyone likely to ring on Christmas Day,
Carole went to the hall and answered the phone in
some bewilderment. She was not happy when she
recognized the voice at the other end of the line as
that of her ex-husband.

‘I just . . . erm . . . rang to say “Happy Christmas”.’

‘Happy Christmas,’ his ex-wife replied shortly.

‘And I gather that you’ve got the . . . erm . . .
family with you . . . ?’

‘Stephen, Gaby and Lily are here, yes. Having
drinks, we’re just about to have lunch.’

‘Could I have a word with them?’

Carole couldn’t stop herself from asking, ‘Why?’

‘Because I want to wish them a Happy Christmas.’

‘Stephen,’ she called through to the sitting room,
‘your father wants to speak to you.’

‘Can’t you bring the phone through here?’

For some reason she didn’t want to do that, she
didn’t want David intruding into the closed magic
circle around Lily. But she knew she was being
unreasonable and took the handset through to
Stephen.

He seemed to her to spend an unnecessarily long
time chatting with his father. Also it was just chat,
almost light-hearted banter, the kind of dialogue
Stephen very rarely exchanged with her. Then
David wanted to speak to Gaby, and he seemed to
have plenty to say to her too. From what could be
heard at the Fethering end, it sounded as though
David was being flirtatious with his daughter-in-law.
Carole didn’t know why she found the idea of her
ex-husband being flirtatious quite so repellent.

Then, to annoy her even further, David apparently
insisted the handset should be brought to Lily so
that her grandfather could coo at her and hope to
prompt some responsive gurgling.

Carole was extremely relieved when the phone
call ended. She reckoned it was a simple demonstration
of power play from David. All right, she’d won
the prize of having the family for Christmas Day, but he was going to ensure that no one forgot about his
existence.

‘Good,’ she said, brightly brittle. ‘I think we can go
through for lunch now.’

‘Dad sounded OK,’ said Stephen, ‘though it must
be a bit lonely for him spending Christmas with
strangers.’

‘I’m sure he’s coping.’

‘But, Mother, he doesn’t know these people in
Swiss Cottage very well.’

‘Mother’. And David was ‘Dad’. Carole wanted to
ask why her son couldn’t call her ‘Mum’, as he sometimes
did. But of course she didn’t say that. Instead,
she just almost snapped, ‘I’m sure Christmas lunch is
giving him an opportunity to know them better.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘I think, if we could go through for our lunch . . .’

The awkwardness passed, of course. And once
they were into the meal, and Lily was providing the
cabaret by smearing her Lamb and Tasty Vegetables
all over everything, the atmosphere relaxed. But
Carole did not forget what she regarded as David’s
shabby behaviour.

After lunch it had been thought that Lily might be
ready for another sleep, but she seemed to be responding
to the occasion and was very wakeful. So Carole
led the way through to the sitting room to gather
round the tiny tree for the ceremony of present-giving.

Obviously they started with Lily. A lot of her
presents were still up in Fulham, but Stephen and Gaby had brought with them what they were giving
her. They also produced, to Carole’s further irritation,
David’s present for his granddaughter, which she
noted was much bigger than her own.

But Lily avoided a one-upmanship contest
between her grandparents. With even-handed tact,
she again did what was expected of her, ignoring
the presents completely and appearing to find the
wrapping paper much more interesting.

Carole was expecting what she usually got from
Stephen, which was – though she hadn’t dared mention
the fact to Jude – Lily of the Valley toilet water.
She’d never, before her neighbour raised the issue,
thought that it might make her feel old and unglamorous.
But then a lot of the time Carole Seddon did feel
old and unglamorous.

She was therefore surprised to open a small parcel
containing a diamanté brooch in the shape of a snow-flake. Carole didn’t as a rule wear much jewellery, but
she rather liked the look of what she’d been given and
immediately pinned it on to her front. She was almost
effusive in her thanks, particularly to Gaby, who she
felt sure had done the actual shopping.

Then it was her daughter-in-law’s turn to open
her present. Carole watched with some trepidation as
the careful wrapping was dismantled and its contents
revealed. ‘That is marvellous!’ shrieked Gaby, immediately
wrapping the boa round her neck, then going
to wrap its loose end around Lily’s neck too. The baby
gurgled and pushed a bit of the feathery stuff into her
mouth. Once the choking hazard had been averted, Stephen whipped out his camera to record the photo
opportunity.

‘It’s bloody great!’ said Gaby. ‘One of those presents
where I had no idea what I wanted, but now
you’ve given it to me, I know it’s exactly what I
wanted. A bit of glamour – God, I need that after
the last year. Carole, you must just have seen this
in the shop and thought, “That boa has Gaby written
all over it”’!

‘Well, yes, that’s more or less what happened,’ her
mother-in-law lied.

Then came the moment for Stephen to open his
present. Carole had put everything in the same
parcel, which inevitably had the bulk and shape of
two shirts. He picked it up and weighed in his hands.
‘Now I wonder what this could be . . .’ he said archly
before starting carefully to undo the ribbon.

The third object had been placed between the two
others, so the first thing he saw was a shirt. A Marks
and Spencer’s shirt, no less. Sober, pale blue, no
pattern. And beneath it he could see another shirt.
Sober, white, no pattern.

‘Oh, Mother, that’s great,’ he said. ‘Just what I
wanted.’

‘Well, you can never have too many shirts, can
you, Stephen?’

‘No, that’s true.’ He made to put them down on the
floor.

‘There is actually something else.’

‘What?’

‘Between the shirts. There’s something else.’

‘Oh.’ His brow furrowed as he reached into the
space and pulled out the packet containing the Glow-in-the-dark Computer Angel. ‘Ah,’ he said, his brow
furrowing even more. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s what it says, Steve,’ his wife prompted him.
‘A Glow-in-the-dark Computer Angel.’

‘Right.’ Puzzled, he turned the packaging over in
his hands. ‘And what does it do?’

‘Read what it says on the front,’ Carole suggested.

He looked at the words and slowly read, ‘“Your
Computer Angel deals with all your computer problems,
glitches and viruses. Just wind her up and her
flapping wings will spread her protection over your
desktop or laptop. And when you turn the lights off,
your Computer Angel will glow in the dark.”’ His
face turned blankly to his mother’s. ‘How does it
work?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, is it an anti-virus protection? Because I
don’t see any software with it.’

‘No, no, it’s—’

‘And there doesn’t seem to be a USB connection.’

‘No, there isn’t.’

‘So how can it deal with all my “computer problems,
glitches and viruses”?’

‘Well, it may not actually be able to do that.’

‘But, Mother, it says it can.’

‘Yes, but it’s more . . . It’s just a nice thing to stick
on your computer.’

‘Why?’

‘Well . . . Because, when you wind it up, its wings
flap.’

‘Why would you want its wings to flap?’

‘And it glows in the dark.’

‘But what use would that be? You wouldn’t be
using a computer in the dark, would you?’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Steve,’ said Gaby in some
exasperation, ‘it’s a joke.’

‘A what?’

‘It’s just a fun thing to have on your computer.’

‘A fun thing?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it
is
!’ snapped Carole. And as her son
continued to look with befuddlement at his extra gift,
she went on, ‘Anyway, you can change the shirts if
you don’t like them.’

And normal Christmas service was resumed. Oh
well, you can’t get everything right with presents,
thought Carole. And Gaby was very pleased with her
boa.

They left soon after four. Lily, her mother
reckoned, would be asleep before the car reached the
end of the road. And as she tidied up the substantial
remains of the lavish lunch, Carole reflected that it
had really all worked very well. A family Christmas
Day, just like proper families had. A perfect day,
except for a couple of details.

One was the call from David, which still rankled.

And the other cause of disquiet was the news
she had received the day before, about Polly Le Bonnier having been shot. Even when she was at her
most relaxed with her enchantingly adorable granddaughter,
Carole Seddon had been unable to clear
her mind completely of thoughts about the unsolved
murder.

 

Chapter Fourteen

She woke the next morning still glowing with success.
The relief that she normally experienced on reaching
Boxing Day was a much more positive sensation than
she had felt in recent years, and she decided to put
into action a plan she had been toying with for the
previous twenty-four hours.

Boxing Day might be a fine time for professional
policemen to pursue murder inquiries, but amateurs
found things more difficult. Everyone battened down
their hatches over the Christmas period; it was not
the ideal opportunity for casual calling on people by
those with investigative intentions.

But certain imperatives overrode seasonal considerations
and, as Carole was never left in any
doubt by Gulliver, dog-walking was one of them. The
rhythm of a dog’s life cannot be interrupted by public
holidays or international events. When a dog needed
to be walked, it very definitely had to be walked.

Carole was banking on the fact that her quarry’s
dog had the same sense of priorities, and in this conjecture
she was proved to be correct. Though she had
woken soon after six, she resisted Gulliver’s heavy hints that he wanted to go out for his walk at the
normal time and waited till just before seven-thirty.
At that time, given the fact that it was Boxing Day,
she knew the only people on Fethering Beach would
be dog-walkers.

And, as she had hoped, one of them was the
owner of a West Highland terrier with a Black Watch
coat on. It was Anna from Gallimaufry, her blonded
hair again hidden by a thick scarf. Normally, on
seeing someone she knew – and even more someone
she didn’t know – on Fethering Beach, Carole
Seddon’s reaction would have been to take a route as
far away from them as possible. But on this occasion
she led Gulliver straight towards the woman. The two
dogs circled each other warily.

‘Hello. Anna, isn’t it?’ said Carole.

‘Yes, that’s right. I recognize you from the shop,
but I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.’ The woman
spoke strangely, almost surprised at hearing her own
voice. From her own experience, Carole knew this
was because she had not spoken to anyone for the last
twenty-four hours. Anna had spent Christmas Day on
her own.

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