Skelton's Guide to Suitcase Murders by David Stafford

Author:David Stafford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2021-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Skelton had written to Hughes and Bowers, the estate agent in Slough, and they had sent him details of the new bungalows outside Maidenhead. They were on a bit of a hill above the flood plain, overlooking an expanse of meadow down to the river.

In Hunslet, he showed them to his mum and dad.

‘There’s a proper bathroom and a kitchen and an electric immersion heater for the hot water and the garden’s easily as big as your allotment. And the thing is, I’d only be a fifteen-minute drive away so you can come and have Sunday lunch with me and Mila and the kids, or we could pop over and see you.’

His mum kept staring at the details from Hughes and Bowers, not looking up once. His dad was filling his pipe, very slowly, very carefully. Neither of them was listening, they were just trying to think of the politest way to say ‘no’. But still he persisted.

‘I know from the times you’ve visited before you’ve never thought much of being down south, but when you’re living there you really start to appreciate the differences. The weather for a start. I mean, it gets cold in the winter – everywhere does – but it’s not that sharp cold you get here. D’you remember those times you’ve come home from work and you couldn’t move your face it was that cold? It’s hardly ever like that down south. And the air’s ever so clean. Up London you get the fog and everything, but out by Maidenhead there’s none of that. Bit of river fog, but not the filthy, dirty stuff you breathe in London, and nothing like the soot and smells you get up here. You’ve said it yourself, Mum. All the days when you hang your washing on the line and it comes in dirtier than it went out.’

His voice trailed off. His mum turned the estate agent’s paper over. There was nothing written on the back.

‘They look lovely, don’t they, Ernie?’

Skelton’s dad looked up, slightly alarmed, worried that his wife might actually mean what she was saying. Reassured by the look on her face, he turned back to the fire and said, ‘All right.’

‘Only, the thing is,’ Mum said, ‘There’s our Winnie and everybody, isn’t there? And Amy and Jean pop in nearly every day, and I’m supposed to be making Jean a frock on my machine.’

‘What do you think, Dad?’ Skelton asked.

‘Your mother’s right.’

‘I just thought … you’ve worked hard all your life. I wanted to do something for you. It really is very nice.’

‘Well, it’s ever so kind of you, Arthur,’ his mum said. ‘Isn’t, Ernie? Lovely of Arthur to think of it.’

Dad took a spill to light his pipe but couldn’t get it to catch on the hot coals. He tried in another place and then another, but still it wouldn’t take. Skelton gave him his matches, and Mum saw the look on her son’s face as he watched his father fumbling to strike one. She knew he was worried.

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