The Loner Read Online Free PDF Page A

down the path to his van.
    Jess switched the kettle on. Hearing an electric hum and rattling she looked out of the open door.
    He had unhitched a small box trailer loaded with metal frames and thick planks, coupled it to a jockey wheel, and was pushing the trailer up the path.
    â€˜That’s a useful bit of kit.’
    â€˜Battery-powered caravan mover. Worth every penny for places like this when I can’t get the van any closer.’
    â€˜Tea or coffee?’
    â€˜Tea’d be ’andsome.’
    Jess went back inside. She recognised the frames as a scaffold tower on wheels. Fred had used one when painting the fascia boards and putting up new plastic gutters to replace the old rusted iron ones. The planks provided a platform from which to work and would hold the slates stacked on edge so they could be replaced in the same order. The trailer also contained a roll of roofing felt, a bag of tools and a ladder.
    She made a pot of tea and filled a mug, then put a slice of cake on a small plate and took them outside. ‘Do you take sugar?’
    He laid the ladder down and lifted a heavy frame with wheels attached out of the trailer. ‘Don’t need it, my ’andsome. I’m sweet enough.’
    Oh please. Jess hid a sigh. ‘I’ll leave you to get on.’
    He grinned again. ‘Proper job.’
    She went back inside and shut the door. PC Davey wouldn’t be available until that afternoon. Until then she would look for Marigold.
    Armed with the address she looked up street and trade directories for the 1940s. In 1944 Marigold Mitchell was the tenant and the ground floor ‘shop’ was listed as a soup kitchen.
    Jess’s next search was in local newspaper archives where she found an article praising Marigold Mitchell, former star of the Fal Operatic Society, for reopening her café – forced into closure by rationing – as a lunchtime soup kitchen for the needy. The article continued with her calling on all past and present cast members who had a garden or worked on farms to bring in any vegetables they could spare. Shotgun owners who had permission from farmers and landowners to shoot rabbits and pigeons were asked to share their catch. Times were hard for everyone. But for women struggling to bring up families after losing husbands, fathers, and sons during the conflict, life was especially difficult. Contributions of any kind would be greatly appreciated.
    Colin Terrell knocked then opened the door. ‘I’m going for my dinner.’
    Jess glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. It showed 12.30 p.m. The morning had flown. She clicked ‘save’ and closed her laptop. ‘Now you’ve got the slates off –’
    â€˜â€™Tidn too bad. There’s only one bit where the water’s got in. But I’ll put felt all the way along. Once that’s done, you won’t have no more trouble.’
    She blew out a breath. ‘That’s a relief.’
    â€˜Right, I’m gone.’

Chapter Four
    As he closed the door, Jess stood up and stretched, releasing muscles tightened by concentration, and decided a cheese omelette would be quick to prepare. She was washing up when Colin Terrell opened the door and put his head in.
    â€˜Thought I’d let you know I’m back in case you heard noises and wondered what’s on.’
    â€˜Thank you.’ She’d have preferred him to knock but saying so would sound petty. She put on a smile. ‘Cup of tea mid-afternoon?’
    â€˜Proper job.’ He winked and closed the door.
    Jess put the dishes away and checked the time: three minutes to two. She phoned PC Davey. ‘This is Jess Trevanion. I was hoping to catch you before you went on duty.’
    â€˜How can I help you, Mrs Trevanion?’
    â€˜We think it’s unlikely Mr Preece had any family in the area so Sandra and Gerry Eustice in the village shop have started a fund to pay for his