by Daisy White
Normally the indoor ice rink is buzzing with chat and the crash of unfortunate skaters hitting barriers, but today there is only one topic of conversation, and everyone is subdued. People whisper in corners and huddle close to their friends. Still, I manage to forget about everything for a little while. I stay upright with the help of Kenny’s hand, and I wave at Mary as we scrape over the ice. The skates give us blisters, but we soon pick up speed before scrambling breathlessly into the side barrier.
“That wasn’t bad, Ruby!” Kenny says, though he can’t help laughing at my struggles to stay upright. “You know, James wants to ask you out on a date, but I said to wait a bit.” He peers closely at me. “Was that right?”
“I . . .” I’m surprised by his intuition. “Yes. I just couldn’t after Linda, but . . . I have some other things to sort out too. Things that I need to deal with before I start seeing anyone.”
“Well, just so you know. James doesn’t let go, if he likes a girl. Takes a lot to distract him from work, and you seem to have done that.”
I grin at him, trying not to blush. “Let’s go around one more time!”
Later we grab a booth, rest our aching legs, and order hot blackcurrant in tiny glass mugs. Mary doesn’t skate because she’s worried about falling over and hurting the baby. She fiddles with her glass necklace, looking worried.
“What’s up?” Johnnie asks.
“I just overheard some girls in the next booth talking about Linda’s—” She stops and glances at Ted smoking and staring into space. “They were talking about Linda, and they’re meeting at Glebe House tonight to do a séance! One of them was really keen on the whole witchcraft idea, but her friend seemed a bit edgy.”
Johnnie narrows his eyes. “Stupid, and risky too, with that bastard still out there. I suppose they got excited after that article in the paper this morning — no, Ken, I’m not blaming you.”
“I seriously doubt if they’ll get anywhere near Glebe House. When we went up this morning with the photographer, the police had cordoned off the entire garden and half the wood,” Kenny tells us. “But you’re right, some people are just idiots.”
“I wonder what the people living in Green Ridges think of all this? I mean, if I’d just spent loads of money on a new home, I wouldn’t be that happy to find out it was bang in the middle of a murder scene and some centuries-old witchcraft curse,” Mary says.
I yawn. “They were nice. At least Angela and Albert were — the ones who let me use their telephone. I’m sure you’re right, though. They can’t be sleeping well at the moment.”
Kenny rustles in his pocket and flips through his battered blue notebook. “It won’t stop the developers, though. We got a press release through today from Ridgeway’s. That’s the firm that built Green Ridges. They just confirmed they’re starting work next week on another fifty houses the other side of the wood at Glebe House. Let’s see . . . there is also a small development of ten houses due for release today. And guess what it’s called? Glebe Farm. How hypocritical is that?”
“Well, I wouldn’t buy a house up there.” Pearl shakes her red head. “I don’t believe in witches, but I do think some places just have bad luck. Don’t tell Victoria I said that though, or she’ll want to do my cards again.”
“You don’t think the Tarot cards really predict the future, do you?” Ted says suddenly.
Pearl pulls him close. “No, sweetheart, I don’t. Victoria just likes to think they give her guidance, but really they’re so vague, they just confirm what she’s going to do anyway. For Christ’s sake, don’t start thinking this was anything to do with the cards.”
We leave early, and I make sure I give little Ted a hug. My throat swells with emotion every time I think of him proposing to Linda, and the way she teased him whenever we were all together. Did she have deeper feelings for him, or maybe even loved him? Sometimes not knowing is worse.
“Did you see him tonight?” Mary asks as we undress, shivering slightly.
“The watcher? No. I was looking out for him, but if he isn’t staring right at me, I could walk past him in the street without noticing.”
I really hope the heatwave is back tomorrow, because I really don’t have the money to go and buy warmer clothes. Mary and I are still wearing some of Pearl’s. We should give them back, even though she assures us she won’t miss them.
* * *
My wish seems to have been granted when I wake up. The sun is out and the windows show nothing but a rectangle of blue sky. As we’re both up early, I make toast on the rusty grill under the stove. It’s a bit burnt but tastes fine with butter and the last scraping of jam.
“Let’s go down and wait for Eve to unlock the salon. We can get the chairs and tables out, and sit in the sun for five minutes.”
In the street, the fresh sweetness that comes with sun after rain is marred by the stench of the dustbins in the alley outside our front door, and the heap of rubbish stacked on the pavement. But the warmth of the golden rays makes me sleepy, and as we sit, smoking, I can feel my shoulders droop.
“Wake up, sleepyhead!” Eve marches past us in her heavy wool coat and bulging handbag. She starts fiddling with the keys.
Mary waves at someone in the street. I turn, blinking in the brightness, to see Johnnie striding down the hill. No car today. I wonder again where he lives when he’s in Brighton? If any of us ask he just dodges the question and tells us he has “accommodation” sorted, thank you very much. I think he probably has a “friend” down here, and stays with him. Still, as I said to Mary, that’s really his business.
“Morning, ladies! Another busy one today, so let’s get cracking. Eve, can you set up in the salon, Mary, the back room and Ruby, you can start by getting us all a cup of tea.” He grins, brushing a piece of dirt from his tailored tweed jacket. A lemon yellow shirt and dark grey trousers complete the look.
The telephone rings as I head off to make the tea and I pause as Johnnie picks up the receiver. He looks at me and makes a “wait a minute” gesture with his hand. I freeze.
“Ruby, it’s Pearl for you.” I almost run to grab the phone. “Pearl? Are you okay?”
“Fine, sweetheart, but I thought you’d like to know that I had a telephone call from Mum and she said Aunt Eve had a baby girl.”
“Oh! That’s great. Is she okay? Is the baby alright?” I stammer. Relief floods through my body, leaving me weak and limp. I hadn’t realised how much I still cared, but it was there, locked in the back of my mind. It was worth it, that terrible trade-off.
“Wonderful, and they’re both doing really well. Mum said she hasn’t seen your mum so happy in ages. Apparently she’s looking after Garnet and Emerald, and a neighbour’s got the younger ones so Aunt Eve can get a bit of rest. And guess what she’s called the baby?”
“Not Diamond, I hope?” I’m beaming into the receiver now.
“No! Amethyst. Poor child will just have to be Amy or something when she’s bigger. You and I got off easy, sweetheart — what?” Pearl says something I can’t catch. “I’ve got to go. Someone else is waiting to use the phone. I’ll see you later. Love you!”
“You too!”
“Good news, angel?” Johnnie is folding the style books back at the new photos, putting one on each chair.
“Yes! My mum had a baby girl.” Everything else fades into the background, and when Mary comes out with more towels I almost shout the news.
She hugs me, with tears in her eyes. “Oh Ruby, that’s amazing! What’s she called?”
“Um . . . well, that’s the bad news. Amethyst.” I grin.
“Really?” Johnnie is wide-eyed with interest, “You never talk about your family, Ruby, but I think I’m in love with your mum already. Amethyst. Destined to be a famous actress or artist, obviously. Gorgeous! Now get on with that tea.”
I’m just pouring boiling water when I hear the bang of the salon door and raised voices. I kick open the door, and take the tray out into the corridor.
“Here,
I’ll take that.” Catherine has arrived, heavy-eyed and yawning. She scoops the heavy tray away from me. “Can’t believe the night I’ve had. Tom and Laura have got some tummy bug, poor loves, and I think I might have snatched about two hours sleep.”
I tell her about the new baby and she smiles. “Lovely. Can you take in a new bottle of conditioner?”
I break open one of the stacked cardboard boxes, and drag out about a gallon of Estolan, following Catherine into the salon.
Kenny’s there, talking to Johnnie. His tie is askew, his white shirt is untucked, and he has mud on his shoes. Both men turn and stare at me.
“Kenny? What are you doing here?” My heart does an uncomfortable flip.
“Oh God, Rubes, sorry but I thought you’d rather hear it from me,” Kenny is pale, and his eyes are shadowed with purple. “There’s been another murder.”
Chapter Thirteen
Before I can respond Mary’s body hits the lino with a loud bang.
“Mary?” I crouch over her, frantically tapping her white face.
“Here’s some water.” Catherine is right beside me. To my surprise, she takes hold of Mary’s hand and gives it a rub. Johnnie proffers his handkerchief. I wipe her face — at least she seems to be breathing okay. Kenny grabs a towel and wedges it under her side. Her small bump is now cushioned from the hard floor, but her face is still milk-white.
“Has she fainted before?” Eve asks.
I shake my head, “Not since we’ve been here. She stopped feeling sick about two weeks ago. But she won’t go and register with a doctor or have a check-up.” I stop, feeling I’ve said too much, and I can feel the others exchanging glances.
“Should we telephone for an ambulance?” Johnnie says, but Mary starts to stir, muttering something under her breath.
“Mary! How are you feeling? Do you have any pains?” I demand. “No, don’t get up, just stay leaning against me for a bit.” I hold her as she props herself up on one elbow, and then slowly eases into sitting position.
“I’m okay. Sorry, I just felt so light-headed and dizzy and then everything went dark.”
“You’ll be fine, love. I expect it’s your blood pressure. Mine was sky high with both my last two, and it does make you keel over.” Eve smiles at her. “I even fainted in the Co-op on London Road once. Right by the fruit and veg!”
For some reason this makes us all giggle, until we snap back to reality when Mary asks about the murder. I almost black out myself.
Kenny frowns. “Someone called it in to the police at five this morning. No idea who the victim is but it’s another girl.” He holds up a hand as we burst out again. “Don’t worry. I rang all of our lot, and got an answer from everyone except Pearl, who was already on the wards — I rang the matron to check — and Victoria, who I think is staying at Leon’s. I don’t know where his place is, but she was on the night shift last night, so I rang the hospital to check what time she left. She was caught up in an emergency on the ward, and didn’t clock off until seven thirty.” He pauses, and takes a deep breath, grabbing a random mug of tea.
“Go on. I’m impressed by your organisation, and thank God all our lot are safe, but there’s more, isn’t there?” Johnnie grabs a mug of his own, He’s clearly glad to hold something hot, wrapping his long fingers around the drink, even though the sun blasts in at the salon windows.
“I’m afraid so. It turns out the police took the cordons down yesterday evening about six. Apparently they had just been waiting for the team searching the wood to finish up. Nobody was guarding the area, and why should they? Then this morning a man out walking his dog discovered a girl tied to the Witch Stone.” Kenny looks sick to his stomach, and blinks rapidly.
“Not another one!” Catherine exclaims.
The phone rings, making us all jump, and Kenny gulps down the rest of his tea, “I’ve got to go. I’ll keep you in the loop. I’m supposed to be up at Green Ridges tracking down this dog walker who found the body. Everyone on that estate is going to be frantic, so I should get some good quotes — I mean — oh dear, look, I’ll see you later. Take care, Mary!”
We watch Kenny rush out of the door with his shirt-tails flying.
“Bloody hell!” Johnnie exclaims. “What’s going on? Right, first I’ll run Mary up to the hospital for a quick check-up. It’s okay,” he adds, seeing her scared look. “You can just say you’re my sister or something. Use my surname.”
She nods, and I see Catherine and Eve exchange a brief look. Johnnie knows the reason we ran away — well, the part of it we can tell anyone — but we agreed not to tell anyone else yet.
“Johnnie, do you remember those girls at the ice rink last night? The ones who said they were going to do a séance?” I say, suddenly remembering what Mary said.
He looks grim. “You can’t help people if they are going to walk right into danger, but it might not be them. Too much of a coincidence. As we said with Linda, just because he leaves the bodies at the Witch Stone that doesn’t mean they were killed there. Come on, Mary, I’ve parked the car in Middle Street to avoid the delivery vans. Can you walk just round the block or shall I drive it round to the front?”
Mary stands slowly with Eve’s help, and Catherine bustles back with another mug of tea.
“Here you go. That one’s got sugar in. Johnnie, you run round and get your car, love, and we’ll have her out front in a minute!”
As soon as Johnnie whisks Mary away — after promising to ring us when she’s seen the midwife — the three of us start preparing for the day ahead. I almost can’t make myself behave normally, and I have to force my stiff limbs to carry towels, measure out little plastic bowls of thickening cream, arrange the magazines and today’s paper on the table, and wash up the tea mugs ready for clients.
“Right, Ruby, you take Miss Appleton. I can see her getting off the bus now. She only needs a quick wash and trim. Catherine and I will do the colours, and I’ll watch you for the cut. With any luck Mary and Johnnie will be back soon. Oh, can you do a couple of manicures later too?”
By mid-morning, the news of another murder has spread across town and all our clients are talking about it, wanting details, asking each other who the poor girl was, and anything else they can think of. A number of them notice that Mary isn’t here, and ask us if she was the victim.
Johnnie telephones, with lots to tell us. “Her blood pressure is a bit high, so she’ll have to take it a bit easier from now on. But the big news is that they think she’s nearer full term than twelve weeks! The midwife said that the baby has turned, all ready to be born and the doctor said some people just don’t ever show that big baby belly at all.” He’s laughing, and I hear Mary say something in the background. “Mary says stop worrying, you’ve got about four days to prepare!”
It’s a relief and a shock at once. I give Eve and Catherine a ‘thumbs up’ signal and glance once again at the busy street.
There are people lingering in the sunshine, smoking or gossiping, and some younger children have their noses pressed to the windows of the ice-cream shop. But no tall stranger with his gaze fixed firmly on the salon. Is that good or bad? Every time the phone rings I wonder if it will be him. Even with the distraction of these murders, I constantly check for tall thin men when I’m out.
* * *
Kenny pops back in just as we’re closing, and starts to update us, but the door pings and this time it is the police after all. He pops back out again as quickly as he can, muttering he’ll see us later. I stay where I am, feeling braver with the reception desk between myself and the law.
Inspector Hammond is sweating, and has shed his suit jacket. His grey hair is wet with perspiration, and I resist the urge to offer to give it a quick cut. But his grey eyes show their usual fierce intelligence, belying his shambolic appearance. Eileen, the WPC, looks as crisp and cool as ever. Even her light but perfect makeup is firmly in place.
“Miss Baker? Can we have a quick word, please?” He is polite, I’ll give him that. H
e moves carefully out of the way of Eve’s furious sweeping, sneezing as a cloud of hair flies up.
“Would you like some tea?” Catherine offers.
“Just a glass of water, if you have one,” Inspector Hammond nods his thanks. “Are Miss Evans and Mr Barton-Shaw also here today? We need a quick chat with them as well.”
I bite my lip, thinking quickly. “Mary, that’s Miss Evans, is in hospital. She’s a bit worried about her baby. This morning she fainted with the shock of hearing about the other murder. And John — Mr Barton-Shaw is with her. They should be back soon.”
“Thank you. Just a few questions. As you will have already heard, from your customers if not from your friends at the Herald—” He pauses as Catherine returns with the glass of water. “Thank you. As I was saying, this morning another body was discovered at Glebe House.”
“Who was it?” I know I would have heard by now if it was someone in our circle of friends, or even someone local, but part of me still freezes, expecting to hear a familiar name, until he answers.
“Her name was Carla Wilkinson. She was nineteen, and worked in a fish and chip shop in Hastings. She was out last night with a group of friends in Brighton. Do you know Carla, or have you ever heard her name mentioned?” He slides the photograph of a pretty girl with long blonde hair across the desk.
I shake my head. I might have danced with her, shared a cigarette in a sweaty bar, or bumped into her at the ice rink. She looks like all of us, just another party girl in her short blue dress. Even though nobody is accusing me of anything, and I’m safe in the hot salon, dog-tired and sweaty from the long day, my secrets rattle through my exhausted brain. To me, the internal noise is so loud that I’m shocked the police can’t hear it.
Catherine and Eve are still clearing up, but they both pause at the name, and when I swing round hopefully, both shake their heads. No connection there, and Catherine seems to know everyone in Brighton.