Marigold almost smiled. So it was Charlie, now, was it? ‘I’ve said it before – it doesn’t do to rake up the past, Molly. Too many dark secrets come out of the woodwork, along with the creepy crawlies. I know it’s a cliché but sleeping dogs should lie and not be disturbed.’
Molly, who was determined to enjoy herself tonight, said, ‘Well, as you say, it’s all over.’
Later, they all met in the foyer of the theatre. Charlie couldn’t make it as he had to work but Alice was there with Sandy, a quiet looking man with thoughtful eyes. Edna was with John, and Molly was pleased to see them looking so happy together. Mary had a nice looking lad with her. His name was Stan and he was another quiet one. Maisie and Jean were on their own as Jean’s husband was a golfer, not a theatre lover.
They had good seats and they all settled down. The play was extremely funny and Molly felt the tears running down her cheeks but there was no sign of Deanna. At the interval, Maisie said, ‘Is she in this play, Molly?’
Molly nodded. ‘She’ll have her part in the second act.’
The actors ran about the stage in various costumes. The plot was that the main actor’s wife had gone away for a week and all manner of misfortunes had befallen him since. Three minutes before the end, a maid rushed on stage. It was Deanna. ‘Mr Baxter, your wife is coming up the drive.’ She stood by the door while all the various actors ran about, falling over each other.
Then the wife appeared and she bellowed, ‘Albert, what’s the meaning of all this?’
At this point, Albert’s trousers fell down and he tripped over the sofa and landed on Deanna. The audience were appreciative and they burst into a volley of applause. The actors lined up on stage and bowed. Deanna looked fabulous in her maid’s costume and she got one of the loudest encores. They all gathered in the foyer and waited on Deanna to come out. When she did they all clapped and said, ‘Well done.’
She tried to look modest but failed. ‘I know it was a small part but I hope it’ll lead to other things.’
Maisie almost had the last word. ‘If it had been any smaller, Deanna, then you would have been a bloody statue.’
But it was said in fun and Deanna laughed along with them. Marigold said, ‘It takes a good actress to fall on the floor elegantly and you did it superbly.’
Deanna blushed with pleasure and they all applauded her again.
Charlie sat in his office with Constable Williams. ‘You have to admit it, sir, that Molly McQueen always seems to get some bizarre cases – like last year and now this one. It beats having to lock up petty thieves and shoplifters.’
He nodded. ‘You’re right, constable. She seems to attract trouble like a bee attracts honey.’ He smiled when he thought about his meeting with the queen bee tomorrow.
Bella Jameson, a pensioner who lived in Victoria Road, threw the empty nail varnish bottle in the bin. Her granddaughter from Canada had left it behind after her holiday in the summer. Being brought up during the war years with the motto of ‘Make do and mend’, Bella had been loath to throw it away. So she had spent the time painting her nails and reliving her youth when she always had red nails on her fingers and toes. She often thought of the woman who had been in the near-accident, the one whose daughter was missing, and she sometimes wondered about going into that agency place every time she passed it. However, she didn’t want to ask any personal questions, she just hoped that the woman had been reunited with her girl. Thankfully, she had no idea she had once been a suspect in an attempted murder.
Also by Maureen Reynolds
Voices in the Street
The Sunday Girls
Towards a Dark Horizon
The Sun Will Shine Tomorrow
Teatime Tales from Dundee
McQueen’s Agency
COPYRIGHT
First published 2011
by Black & White Publishing Ltd
29 Ocean Drive, Edinburgh EH6 6JL
www.blackandwhitepublishing.com
This electronic edition published in 2013
ISBN: 978 1 84502 675 2 in EPub format
ISBN: 978 1 84502 676 9 in Mobipocket format
ISBN: 978 1 84502 342 3 in paperback format
Copyright © Maureen Reynolds 2011
The right of Maureen Reynolds to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Ebook compilation by RefineCatch Ltd, Bungay
Private Sorrow, A Page 30