The Ryder and Loveday Series Books 1–3 by Faith Martin

Author:Faith Martin [Martin, Faith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2020-09-09T22:01:11+00:00

Chapter 15

‘So this is the motorway,’ Trudy said the next morning. ‘I’ve never been on it before.’ The MI had opened the previous year, in 1959, a masterpiece of engineering, or so her dad had always maintained. When she’d told him she and the coroner would be using it, he’d been almost jealous, and had confessed he’d like to take his old bus on the new road, just to enjoy the sensation of wide-open road and fast, free-flowing traffic.

Now, as she looked around the vast expanse of almost traffic-free space, she glanced at the speedometer of the coroner’s car and saw with a thrill of excitement that it was nearly touching sixty!

‘Like it?’ Clement said, with an appreciative grin for her excitement. She was wearing her uniform, of course, but her cap was off, and with the windows open on yet another warm day, her long, curly, brown hair was flying back from her face. She’d also, at his insistence, left her black jacket draped across the backseat, and had rather daringly rolled the white sleeves of her blouse up to her elbows.

‘It’s smashing!’

‘At this rate it won’t take us long to get where we’re going,’ Clement agreed, looking at the long, empty road ahead of him. ‘This is the future of motoring and no mistake!’

The Chadworths lived in a mock-Tudor house on one of the new little housing estates that had sprouted up on the edges of towns the length and breadth of Britain just after the war.

Both Anne and Paul Chadworth were waiting for their arrival, the boy’s father having arranged to take time off from the small solicitor’s office where he was a partner.

‘Please, won’t you come in?’ Derek’s mother was dressed in a plain, navy-blue summer dress with white trim, but her face looked exhausted underneath the layer of carefully applied make-up. The dead boy’s father was dressed in lightweight summer trousers and a shirt and tie. He had a tight-lipped expression that never once wavered during the course of the interview.

The coroner, after doffing his hat in the hall, and Trudy, now appropriately dressed in her full uniform, followed the couple to a small front room that was obviously seldom used.

The couple sat on a small sofa, and Trudy and Clement took the two matching armchairs that were offered. The room smelt of furniture polish, and Trudy could imagine Mrs Chadworth or her daily woman whisking around in here to make sure everything looked spic and span.

‘Thank you, we won’t take up much of your time,’ Clement began, addressing Paul Chadworth, who nodded briefly. ‘As you know, an open verdict means the inquest was unable to come to any definitive conclusions regarding your son’s case. As a result, it is still being investigated. I’ve come with my police liaison officer—’ here he nodded at Trudy, who had brought out her notebook ‘—because we’d like to learn a little more about your son.’

Anne Chadworth, who was clutching a handkerchief in one white-knuckled hand, sighed softly, but said nothing.

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