Shadow Over Southwold by Suzette A. Hill

Author:Suzette A. Hill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2021-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

He was about to signal their departure to Harris, when Joy suddenly said: ‘My sister is right. I fear the deceased was not an easy person. She could be so disparaging. Such a pity. I mean to say, we all have to exercise a little forbearance in our personal relations, do we not? It’s what makes the world go round!’ She flashed a smile of dazzling benevolence, before adding, ‘Fortunately, Gaye and I have learnt to be a little more understanding about the shortcomings of others, but poor Mary never quite developed the knack. She could be very harsh at times.’ She glanced at her sister, still engrossed in the tapestry (presumably brooding upon the frustrated plans). ‘Am I not right, Gaye?’

‘What? Oh yes, yes indeed. She had become extremely disdainful of certain people – including, I believe, ourselves, though I can’t think why – and latterly of some of her lodgers. Admittedly she had doted on that rather boring Dew person who fell off the cliff, but there were others of whom she was less enamoured, especially that last one. Smith or Smy or whatever his name was. She telephoned me the day after he arrived to apologise for not being at the previous meeting – something to do with having to write a letter to that loud brother of hers in Aldeburgh – and was most scathing of the man. Said he was suave and shifty, and had he been a character in a film she wouldn’t have trusted him an inch. Apparently, he had started to give her some very funny looks which she didn’t like at all.’ Gaye, shrugged. ‘Naturally, one wouldn’t know about that. But I mean to say, if you take in lodgers you can expect the worst. It was her own fault.’

Joy nodded vigorously. ‘And then of course there was Mr Hepton, not that he was a lodger, but she was very snooty about him as well. Do you remember?’

‘You mean that gentleman from Oxford who she brought to two of our meetings? No, she wasn’t too keen, said he was pretentious and—’

‘Cambridge,’ Joy corrected.

‘What?’

‘Cambridge, that’s where Mr Hepton came from.’

‘No, it was definitely Oxford. I remember clearly,’ Gaye retorted. ‘However, it really doesn’t matter, one of those places, anyway. Really Joy, must you always interrupt?’

Sensing the onset of further altercation, and feeling rather weary, Jennings terminated the interview. Rather to his surprise the sisters seemed disappointed, and they pressed the officers to stay to lunch. ‘Joy makes an excellent dish of boiled brisket and pickled tripe,’ Gaye said, ‘we serve it to all our friends.’ Alas, the kind offer was regretfully declined and the visitors took their leave.

‘Christ!’ Harris muttered in the porch, ‘that was a narrow squeak.’ He had evidently forgotten to ask about the galoshes. Or gone off the idea, perhaps.

As they returned along the gravel path by the open window, Joy Goodhart’s breathy voice was heard to say, ‘Gaye dear, what is a shop-shagger?’

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