7 Sorrow on Sunday Read Online Free PDF Page B

as she’s concerned.”
    Lois’s mobile phone rang. She picked up her shopping and went outside, where the signal was stronger. “Hello? I thought it might be you. What d’you want?”
    “A word with you, Lois, if you can spare a minute.” Lois did not reply, and Cowgill smiled at the other end of the line. His Lois. “Just checking in,” he continued, “to find out how you are.”
    “You don’t fool me,” she said. “That’s
not
what you want to know, is it? You want to know what Derek has said about that road smash involving a white van.”
    Cowgill sighed. “Right as usual,” he said. “I know Derek has made a statement, and a very good, detailed one, too. But people often remember things later.”
    “Then why don’t you speak to him? I’m getting cold standing here, so if that’s all—”
    “No, no, wait a minute, Lois. The young man killed in the crash was Haydn Nimmo. Straightforward accident with a loose horse, it seems. Still, anything that happens to the Nimmos has to be checked. A few years ago, his father, Handel Nimmo, drowned in those gravel pits down the road from you. Do you remember?”
    “We’d only just moved here,” Lois said. “I only remember it because of the ridiculous name.”
    “Nimmo Senior fancied himself as a joker,” Cowgill said. “Practical jokes as well as funny names. Played one once too often. We couldn’t pin his death on anybody, but we reckon it was in the family. Now there’s Haydn. It is almost certainly a genuine accident, but just could be something to do with the old feud. Keep it to yourself, Lois.”
    “Don’t I always?” Lois said angrily. “Anyway, what can I do? They’re not exactly among our circle of friends,” she added.
    “Talk to Derek. Listen to Derek. Ask Josie to keep her ears open in the shop. I don’t have to spell it out to you, Lois. Now go and get warm. Talk soon. And don’t forget, officially the police are satisfied there were no suspicious circumstances.”
    Lois walked home fuming.
If he thinks I’m grilling my own husband, he can think again. And if Josie hears anything interesting, well and good. But I’m not recruiting her into Cowgill’s private army.
She reached home to find Gran making leek and potato soup, and propped herself up against the Rayburn. “You’re a wonder, Mum,” she said, and Gran nearly dropped her wooden spoon in surprise.
    “Feeling all right, Lois?” she said.

E IGHT

    H AZEL SAT AT HER DESK IN N EW B ROOMS IN S EBASTOPOL Street and looked at her watch. Soon it would be time for Maureen to bring Lizzie for a hug and kiss before her morning rest. Maureen was an old school friend, and by great good fortune lived next to New Brooms. When Lois offered Hazel the job of managing the office, the baby girl had been a problem. The two grandmothers could help out, but not all the time. Then Hazel met Maureen, who had her own child, and the perfect arrangement was made. Baby-minding suited single mum Maureen, and she and Hazel devised a rota so that Lizzie could see her mother several times during the day.
    “Here she comes!” said Hazel, opening the door and taking her daughter from Maureen’s arms. “Been a good girl?”
    “As always,” Maureen said. “She’s an angel most of the time. Hey, Hazel,” she continued, “you know them Nimmos up the street? Chronic lot, all of ’em. I’ve had trouble with smashed windows and graffiti on the door. The cowards know I’ve got no man in the house. It was a while ago, but I ain’t forgiven them. Well, look at this,” she said, handing over the morning newspaper.
    “I saw a bit in yesterday’s late edition. About whatsisname Nimmo being killed in a crash. A horse ran in front of his van. Police were not regarding it as suspicious. Is that what you mean?” Hazel asked.
    “This is a follow-up story,” Maureen said, and pointed to a picture with a few paragraphs. It was an interview with Mrs. Nimmo, and the photograph must have been taken years