Next Door to Murder (7 page)

‘That's all I wanted to know,' Rona said mildly. She didn't dare ask how the evening with Hugh had gone.

Four

T
uesday morning, and Rona was feeling unsettled. It was always the same when she was between jobs, this sense that she should be doing something, but there was nothing to do. In the field of writing, that is. She could give the house an extra clean, take Gus for a long walk, write some letters she'd been putting off, but none of these tasks appealed. The sooner she met Julian Willow and was able to start work, the better.

She glanced dispiritedly at the papers on her desk, brightening as her gaze alighted on a book token, a birthday present from a friend. She decided to go into town and choose a book, then spend a lazy afternoon in the garden reading it.

Gus, asleep on the doormat, looked up expectantly as she came downstairs.

‘Yes, we're going out,' she told him, ‘but only into town. We'll have a proper walk later, when it's cooled down a bit.'

Registering only the word ‘walk', he wagged his tail and waited for his lead to be clipped on. Rona slipped the token into her bag and let them out of the house, mentally running through the reviews in last Sunday's papers, and already anticipating the pleasure of browsing.

They'd gone only a few yards when a voice behind them called, ‘Hello!' and Rona turned to see a young woman hurrying after them. Her first thought was that she must have dropped something; then, as recognition came, wasn't this . . .?

‘We haven't met,' said the newcomer, holding out her hand, ‘though I've seen you coming and going. I'm Louise Franks.'

Rona, slightly bewildered, took her hand. ‘Rona Parish. So – you're Mr and Mrs Franks' daughter?'

‘That's right.' Seeing Rona's puzzlement, she added, ‘Is that a problem?'

Rona collected herself. ‘I'm sorry. No, of course not; it's only that when I met your parents last week, they didn't mention you, and I'd assumed there were just the two of them.'

It was illogical to be surprised, Rona told herself; after all, what more natural explanation for her being in the garden? What
was
surprising was that it hadn't occurred to her; perhaps because Mr and Mrs Franks had seemed so – self-contained, presenting a united and somehow exclusive front.

‘Are you going into the town?' Louise Franks was continuing.

‘Yes, that's right.'

‘Would you mind very much if I came with you? I haven't been out yet, and don't know my way around. Or would I be in the way?'

Though aware this would disrupt her browsing, Rona had little option but to agree. ‘I'm only going to the book shop, but you're welcome to join me.'

‘Thank you.' Louise bent to pat Gus, who was patiently waiting for his walk to resume. ‘I'd love to have a dog,' she said a little wistfully.

‘Perhaps when you get settled?' Rona suggested, as they began walking again.

‘Settled?'

‘In your new home. You're only temporarily next door, aren't you?'

‘Oh, I see. Yes.'

There was a rather taut silence, and to break it, Rona asked, ‘Haven't you been well?'

Again, it seemed she'd said the wrong thing, because Louise spun to face her, her thick hair swinging across her face. ‘Why do you say that?' she demanded.

‘You – said you'd not been out.'

‘Oh, I see,' Louise repeated, but she didn't answer the question.

The flare of tension subsided, and Rona drew a cautious breath. Conversation with her new neighbour was proving unexpectedly difficult. In the hope of avoiding further awkwardness, she decided to act as guide.

‘As you see, we've now turned into Fullers Walk. It leads to the main shopping area, Guild Street, which runs across the top of the road, where you can see the traffic. You'll find most things there, but there are also out-of-town supermarkets within easy driving distance.'

She'd no idea if the Franks had a car; none of the houses in Lightbourne Avenue boasted a garage, but she knew that a rented one in Charlton Road went with the house.

Louise made no comment, though as they passed Dean's Crescent on the other side of the road, she roused herself to ask, ‘Where does that lead?'

‘It curves round and comes out at the east end of Guild Street. There's a good Italian restaurant along there, and some antique shops, if you're interested in that kind of thing?'

The inflection in her voice indicated a question, but Louise didn't reply. This, Rona decided, was like wading through treacle. The only facts her companion had vouchsafed were that she'd not been out before – though she'd avoided giving a reason – and that she'd like to have a dog. If all her opening gambits fell on stony ground, how would she survive the next half-hour?

Guild Street was, as always, crowded, and Louise kept close by her side as they started along it. Once inside Waterstone's, however, she seemed to relax, and to Rona's relief, moved away, leaving her free to browse and not, in fact, rejoining her until, having made her choice, she was queuing at the checkout.

‘Not found anything yourself?' she asked.

Smilingly Louise shook her head.

‘This is the latest by one of my favourite authors. Have you read him?'

A hesitation. Then, ‘I'm – not sure.'

Rona flipped the book open to display the backlist. ‘Any of these titles ring a bell?'

But Louise had turned away. Resignedly, Rona handed over her token and, back on the pavement, freed Gus from the post to which he'd been tied.

They'd started back towards Fullers Walk and her ordeal seemed nearly over, when Louise said suddenly, ‘Let me buy you a coffee. To thank you for letting me tag along. I know I'm not the easiest person to be with.'

‘Oh, nonsense!' Rona lied gallantly. ‘It's been good to meet you, but I really—'

‘Please! I don't know when I'll have the chance again. My parents don't like my going out alone.'

Rona stared at her. After a moment, she said lamely, ‘You're here now.'

‘Only because I disobeyed them.'

It seemed an odd word for an adult to use.

‘Father had a dental appointment,' Louise continued, ‘a root filling – and as he couldn't drive home after the anaesthetic, Mother had to go with him. They wanted to take me, but I refused; so I was given strict instructions not to leave the house.'

Rona frowned. ‘I don't understand.'

‘It doesn't matter.
Will
you come for coffee?'

As luck would have it, they'd reached the iron staircase leading to the Gallery, and since Gus, following his familiar routine, had already started up it, Rona felt further protest would be useless.

‘Then thank you. There's a café up these stairs.'

Luckily, there was a table free. Gus settled himself beneath it, they gave their order, and, seated opposite her, Rona was, for the first time, able to take a proper look at her companion. At a guess, she was in her early thirties, give or take a few years either way. The dark, bobbed hair with its heavy fringe she'd seen from the study window, but now Louise had removed her sunglasses, her eyes were revealed as a vivid blue, a striking contrast to the blackness of brows and lashes. Today, she was wearing an open-necked cheesecloth shirt and designer jeans. There were no rings on her fingers, but she wore a thick silver bangle on her left wrist.

Seemingly unaware of the scrutiny, Louise folded her hands on the table and looked at Rona expectantly. ‘Now – tell me all about you!'

‘There's not much to tell,' Rona fenced.

‘Well, for a start, you're a journalist, aren't you? I saw one of your articles in a magazine.'

‘I do some freelance work, yes.' There was a silence. Louise obviously expected more, so she added, ‘And my husband's an artist.'

‘Ah, so he
is
your husband? We wondered, as you have different surnames.'

Rona said a little stiffly, ‘I kept my own because I use it professionally.'

‘So what kind of things do you write about?'

She was chatty enough now she was asking the questions, Rona thought crossly. ‘Whatever might be of interest,' she prevaricated.

‘The one I read was about some local firm. It must have needed a lot of research.'

‘Most of my work does.'

Louise looked at her thoughtfully from under thick black lashes. ‘You must enjoy it.'

‘Yes, I do. I like tracing threads backwards and seeing where they lead. It can be quite challenging.'

Their coffee arrived, and as she poured it, Rona prompted, ‘You're from Canada, aren't you?' Louise's accent was, in fact, more pronounced than that of her parents.

She nodded.

‘Though you're actually English, your mother said. How long were you out there?'

‘Oh, several years.'

‘It's somewhere I'd love to go. Whereabouts did you live?'

A look Rona couldn't analyse flickered across the other woman's face. If the idea hadn't been ludicrous, she'd have guessed it was alarm.

‘I don't – Toronto.' Louise thrust a plate of biscuits towards her. ‘How long have you lived here?'

‘All my life, apart from university.'

‘Lucky you.'

‘Sometimes I feel I should have been more adventurous.'

Louise shook her head decidedly. ‘You've been able to put down roots, establish your own place in society. In a town this size, you'll know a lot of people, and they'll know you, which must give a sense of security. I envy you.'

‘I've never thought of it that way,' Rona admitted with a little laugh.

‘You probably haven't needed to,' said Louise Franks.

The conversation had become less than comfortable, and by tacit consent, neither of them asked any more questions. In fact, Louise seemed to have retreated into her shell, leaving Rona to keep up a stream of inconsequential chat while they finished their coffee and started to walk home.

As they turned the corner into Lightbourne Avenue, Rona was startled to see Mrs Franks standing at her gate, looking agitatedly to left and right.

‘Oh, God!' said Louise under her breath.

Catching sight of them, the woman stiffened and stood waiting until they reached her.

She gave Rona a brief nod, and turned to her daughter.

‘Louise!' Her voice was shaking. ‘Where on
earth
have you been? We've been worried to death. I
told
you not to go out!
Anything
could have—'

‘Ah, there you are, love.' Keith Franks, the left side of his face swollen, came down the steps from the house. ‘All safe and sound, as I was sure you would be.'

He put an arm round his wife, but she shook him off, turning back to Rona.

‘Thank you for bringing her back, Mrs – Miss—'

‘Rona,' Rona supplied. ‘And I didn't actually bring her back; we went out together for a coffee.'

She was aware of Louise's quick flash of gratitude, but her mother was unconvinced.

‘Well, it was very good of you,' she mumbled, and, taking Louise's arm, led her firmly up the path and into the house, leaving Keith and Rona eyeing each other uneasily.

Rona gave him a cautious smile and would have moved on, but he said quickly, ‘I don't know what she told you – Louise, I mean – but it's not wise to take her too literally. She's been ill, you know, and she still gets – confused.'

Since she could think of no suitable reply, Rona smiled again and, tugging gently on Gus's lead, turned thankfully into her own gateway.

The afternoon in the garden wasn't as relaxing as she'd anticipated. Her eyes kept drifting from her book to the high wall on her left, aware of movement and occasional low voices behind it. From her position close to the house, she could not, she knew, be seen from next-door's windows, yet she felt curiously exposed.

What an odd family they were, she reflected: the parents reserved and, certainly on the face of it, over-protective; and Louise herself a complex mix, shying away from personal questions, yet seeming touchingly eager for some form of contact. Rona hoped fervently that they'd soon find a home of their own, preferably on the other side of Marsborough.

‘What do you think was the matter with her?' she asked Max over the phone that evening, having regaled him with the morning's events.

‘My dear girl, how in the world should I know? I've never even met the woman!'

‘Her father said she was confused, but she seemed all right to me. Well, more or less all right.'

‘Never mind, you're unlikely to be called on to give a diagnosis.'

‘But I'm uneasy about them, Max. I didn't even enjoy being in the garden this afternoon.'

‘Now you're being fanciful. As I told you, I talked to – Keith, I think he said his name was – and found him very affable. I can't see anything unusual about parents wanting to protect their daughter if she's been ill.'

‘But not allowing her out by herself!'

‘Perhaps she has epilepsy or something.'

‘And they've been discussing us,' Rona added indignantly.

‘Well, we've been discussing them!'

‘They wondered if we were married, as we have different surnames.'

‘Reasonable enough. When they've been there a bit longer, they'll notice I don't come home every evening, and they'll probably discuss that, too. Good luck to them!'

‘I wish you were coming home tonight,' she said in a small voice.

‘Sweetheart, for goodness' sake! You'll probably never come across them again. Think how seldom we saw all the other people who've taken that house.'

‘I hope you're right,' said Rona.

There were no more sightings of their neighbours over the next two days, and Rona's initial discomfort eased. Perhaps Max was right, and there'd be no further contact. And now it was Friday evening at last, and they were about to meet the Willows.