Lashing out was what Maud Gribble always did when anyone upset her. This was why she kept her distance from people. Mostly, the lashing out was just shouting abuse or throwing something. Any form of physical violence she generally managed to control. But Sylvia’s words cut right into her, and she couldn’t hold back.

She sprang at Sylvia, catching hold of her two upper arms and shaking her like a rag doll. She must have done that hundreds of times while Sylvia was growing up. But, this time, she couldn’t stop.

Sylvia’s head began lolling to one side, and Miss Gribble let go of her arms, took her head in her two hands and slammed it backwards.

It was the horrible crunching sound that alerted her to the fact that she’d banged Sylvia against the edge of the stone mantelpiece and not the wall. She let go of the girl and she dropped to the hearth like a sack of potatoes, leaving a trail of blood across the fireplace.

Panic took over. She glanced out and saw Christabel and Petal happily chatting in the back of the car. They hadn’t come to try and take Petal away, but she knew it would make Christabel very happy if they could drive away with the child.

‘So that’s what I did!’ Miss Gribble said, finishing up her story. ‘I collected up a few bits of Petal’s from upstairs and picked up a diary of Sylvia’s, because I thought it might have some information about her in it. Then I went to the car. I said I was driving Petal down to the village party and that her mum would follow on when she’d done her hair.’

DI Pople was astounded at the way Miss Gribble had graphically described the scene, both seeing and then killing Sylvia. It was almost like hearing a play on the wireless. There was no doubt that what she said was the absolute truth. He thought she was utterly mad, in as much as she had no real conception of the evil of what she’d done.

He was so astounded he felt faint.

‘Tell me, then,’ he said, pulling himself together so as to continue. ‘Did Christabel have any idea of what you’d done?’

‘None. She did ask why she couldn’t say goodbye to Sylvia, but that was all. Petal got a bit anxious when I didn’t stop at the village hall, but I said it was too early for the party and we’d have a little ride in the car. Later I told her that her mother was following us down to our place the next day on the train.’

DI Pople gulped. ‘And what did she say to that?’

‘She starting crying and making a fuss because she hadn’t got her fancy-dress costume and she was missing the party. I had to smack her.’

‘You casually killed the mother and took the child away?’ DI Pople was incredulous.

‘I didn’t mean to kill Sylvia, and I certainly didn’t want to take the child. But I had to, didn’t I? I couldn’t leave her there.’

‘So when did you tell Christabel that you’d killed her daughter?’

‘I didn’t. I told her that Sylvia had admitted she was struggling to keep body and soul together and couldn’t get a decent job because of Petal. I said I’d suggested we took Petal home with us, then, once she’d found a good job, Sylvia could come down to see us.’

DI Pople shook his head, amazed that Christabel would believe this. But, clearly, she’d been conditioned since she was a small child into doing whatever Miss Gribble said.

‘And, once you got home, how did you explain away the need to keep Petal hidden from view?’

Miss Gribble gave him a pitying look. ‘Because of her colour, of course.’

‘How long did you think you could keep her hidden? What about school? If she became ill? Surely Christabel isn’t so crazy she wouldn’t consider these things?’

‘I told you, she’s always relied on me to make decisions.’

‘And what decisions had you made about the child’s future?’

‘I’d already realized I would have to kill her.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

‘I hate September,’ Molly sighed as she looked out the ballroom window at the rain lashing down in the street. ‘It’s a sort of preview to all the grim stuff winter’s got in store for us.’

Evelyn, who was sitting at one of the tables behind Molly planning the seating arrangements for a wedding party at the weekend, laughed.

‘Oh, you doomy thing!’ she said. ‘We often get lovely weather right through October. You’re only feeling that way because the weather has been so good and, now Petal is back at school, you feel a bit lost.’

Molly looked round at her employer. ‘Maybe. I do feel a bit lost without her, but the way I feel isn’t to do with Petal.’

Caring for Petal had been the best thing that had ever happened to Molly. From the moment she got her up in the mornings right through till she kissed her goodnight and tucked her in, she felt happy. She couldn’t really put a finger on what it was that made her feel this way. Perhaps it was just a need in her to care for someone, or a substitute for a family of her own. But she loved taking Petal to the beach, reading to her, playing dolls with her, everything about being with her. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled, of course, that she’s settled down so well and the nightmares have stopped, but –’ she stopped suddenly, too embarrassed to go on.

‘But what?’ Evelyn asked.

Molly shifted her weight from one foot to the other and wrung her hands.

‘Come on, tell me,’ Evelyn insisted. ‘After the stuff you’ve been through I can’t believe you can’t tell me the reason you’re feeling down in the dumps.’

‘It’s just stuff that I can’t get out of my head, and it’s driving me mad. Like, why did Charley pack me in? Was it something I did or said? One moment he was talking about marriage and then crash, bang, wallop he’s changed his mind. It doesn’t make any sense.

‘Then there’s George. When he was here, I got the feeling he wanted to take things further, but in his letters since there’s nothing, not a hint he might want me to be his girl. And my parents seemed to care when I was in hospital, but that seems to have faded since.

‘And, to cap it all, there’s the trial for Miss Gribble and Mrs Coleman. When’s that going to happen? And what sort of things am I going to be asked?’

‘Sounds like you feel you’re shut in a waiting room and there’s nobody to tell you how long you’ve got to wait,’ Evelyn suggested.

‘Sort of.’

Evelyn thought for a moment. ‘As far as George goes, maybe he thinks you’re still smitten with Charley and haven’t ever thought about him in that way. My suggestion is that you go home, perhaps stay with George, and make it very clear to him that you’re interested. While you’re there, you could try and make the peace with your father, show both him and your mum you’re prepared to meet them halfway. As for the trial, that isn’t something you should concern yourself with. It will only take place once the police have gathered all the evidence.’

‘You don’t have any idea why Charley packed me in, then?’

‘Why do you need to know why? It won’t help you.’

‘It might stop me making the same mistake with another man.’

Evelyn frowned. ‘It wasn’t a mistake on your part. The fault lay with him.’

Molly looked at her employer hard. They had become much closer since Petal had come to live at the George, and she now had a keen intuition when Evelyn was hiding something. She had it now: Evelyn was avoiding eye contact.

‘You’ve said that before, and Mr Bridgenorth has, too,’ Molly said sharply. ‘If you know something, you should tell me.’

Evelyn laughed, a light little trill that might mean she felt she’d been caught out. ‘Oh, Molly. You didn’t use to say boo to a goose, and now you’ve found confidence enough to pick me up on things I say. I’m glad of that – you were once far too meek and mild. I like this new assertive person.’