The Lady in the Street by Emmy Ellis

Author:Emmy Ellis [Ellis, Emmy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-02T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Fifty-two Welbeck Avenue was a grand affair that must have cost a pretty penny. It was set at the end of a wide drive, majestic-looking with its own Victorian streetlamp to the right, spilling white light onto the asphalt and splashing on the brickwork. The lead-paned windows gave it a luxurious air, and bushes pruned to within an inch of their lives sat stoutly beneath the two front windows either side of the black front door.

Helena rang the bell, and a light flickered on next to the door, another Victorian effort, the shade black with a fleur-de-lis on top. A figure approached, the shape indistinct through the stained-glass portions of the centrepiece—red roses on winding green stems.

Red roses.

Helena shivered.

The door opened, and a woman appeared, blonde, blue-eyed, and slender, and Helena’s mind zipped to the description of the lady in the street at Felicity’s. This one had red jeans on and a long grey jumper that reached her knees, her feet snuggled inside cream boot slippers with satin ribbon bows on the sides.

Another woman popped her head out of a room at the end of the wide hall, an older version of Natasha Simons, and that was handy. Helena wouldn’t have to ask Natasha if there was anyone they could call to sit with her once she’d broken the news.

She disliked herself for that thought.

“Hello. I’m DI Helena Stratton, and this is DS Andy Mald.” She held up her ID. “It’s better if we come in. You are Natasha Simons, yes?”

Natasha nodded. “What’s going on?” She paled and stepped back to allow them entry, her hand shaking by her side, a fuck-off massive diamond ring twinkling on her finger. “This is my mum, by the way.”

“Hi,” the mum said, walking closer, her grey shoes shushing on the wooden flooring. “I’m Iris Banks.”

Helena and Andy stepped inside, and Natasha closed the door.

“Can we go and sit somewhere?” Helena asked, casting her gaze around at the large hallway, big enough to accommodate a black two-seater sofa to the left, a white side table with flowers and greenery in a yellow vase beside it. Their scent perfumed the air, and she thought about the funerals to come and how the smell of flowers wouldn’t be the same for this family anymore.

“Of course.” Natasha gestured to a panelled door. “What’s happened? Did Mark have an accident on the way home? My husband…”

“Best we sit down.” Helena walked through the doorway into a plush living room, the sofa and chairs burnt orange, the walls cream, a white coffee table reminiscent of IKEA in front of the sofa, and a cream-and-orange geometric-patterned rug sitting in the centre on dark laminate flooring. It was all posh yet didn’t have Helena feeling out of place. She hated homes where she thought if she breathed it would make a mess.

Natasha and Iris sat on the sofa, close to each other, and Iris grabbed Natasha’s hand. Helena and Andy chose the chairs opposite.

“We’re here about Mark and your father-in-law, Den,” Helena said, looking at Natasha.

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