The Riddle of the Dunes by James Andrew

Author:James Andrew [Andrew, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: THE BOOK FOLKS best-selling British historical crime fiction publisher
Published: 2019-09-14T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

The place where Jane had lived – which was her parents’ house – looked substantial from a distance, being a large stone cottage, but, with more than one front door and several lines of washing, it was obvious on closer approach that it was split into more than one dwelling. It was Martha herself, Jane’s mother, who answered the door; an alarmed look appeared on her face as soon as Blades showed his card.

‘Has something happened?’ she asked.

Blades didn’t want the interview to take place in such a public place as a doorway, so he didn’t answer the question. Instead, after a moment’s pause, he asked, in the gentlest tone he could manage, ‘Is it all right if we come in?’ which perturbed Martha even more.

She answered her own question. ‘Something has. It’s Jane, isn’t it?’

‘It would be easier if we came in,’ Blades said.

Martha took a deep breath and put her hand on the doorway as if to support herself, then turned. ‘Come on in,’ she said. Then she stopped and turned again. ‘It’s not John, is it? His boat hasn’t gone down? Whenever it blows up and he’s out at sea, I worry myself half to death. But it hasn’t been stormy so, it can’t be John, can it?’

Blades was trying to work out the best way to reply, when Martha rescued him by ushering them inside. Blades could see how cramped the Proudfoot’s quarters were, though they were well enough furnished with mahogany pieces that might have seen better days but had been built to last. Two wally dugs stared at them from the fireplace. Above them, a delft black-and-white china plate urged them to think of their sins, which Blades duly did.

‘Have a seat,’ Martha said as she heaved herself into an armchair and waved an arm in the direction of a couch, but Blades and Peacock remained standing. This was no social call.

‘I’m sorry,’ Blades said. ‘I didn’t want to tell you outside.’

‘I knew it. I knew it.’ Martha put her hands to her face, which was collapsing into a mass of folds and lines. Blades struggled for the words. He could imagine Jean in this situation, and how it would affect her if anything happened to their son. ‘Tell me,’ Martha said.

Blades could see Peacock was starting to look at him with impatience.

‘We have no news of your husband,’ Blades said. ‘We’ve no reason to suppose anything has happened to him. I’m sorry, but this is about your daughter, Jane.’

‘She’s dead?’ Martha said.

‘I’m afraid so,’ Blades said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Oh no. You can’t mean it? Dead?’ Martha was obviously shocked and struggling to take this in. She continued talking for what seemed the sake of it. ‘I’d hoped and hoped she was staying the night with Alice. And she’s dead? She doesn’t always tell me beforehand she’s visiting her. And I thought she must be there. But it’s what I wanted to think, isn’t it? How did it happen? I always told Jane to be careful.

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