‘She seems to have had an investigative skill all her own, but I don’t think what I do would have suited her particular talents. I don’t want to laugh at her, she’s dead, poor girl.’ But I was touched by the story.
At my gate, I stopped. ‘I’m going back to Windsor tomorrow.’
‘Good idea. May I telephone you?’
‘Yes, please. I would like that. You know where to find me?’
‘I know where to find you,’ he said. ‘I always know where to find you.’
He sketched a kind of salute and walked away.
I lay on my bed too tired and tense to sleep. I didn’t know what lay in the future for me. Humphrey with his distinguished name and his sapphire ring or Clive Barney.
I yawned and closed my eyes. I thought I would take that chief constables course. It was an interesting idea.
In my sleep Ellen Bean was circling above my head, her black cat floating with her. ‘Come back soon, Charmian Daniels,’ she was saying. Wreathed about her head as in a cartoon were the words: I will tell you the real secrets of the village, about the Rector and Dr Harlow and what guilt Crick and David truly have. ‘Come back, Charmian, I like a bit of devilment.’
Copyright
First published 1993 by Macmillan
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Copyright © Jennie Melville, 1993
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Whoever Has the Heart Page 21