White Lies. Rachel Green
“Yes. She died when we were kids. She ran across the road and ended up in a tree forty yards away. They said it was an accident but nobody was ever blamed for it. It happened up by the park.” He pursed his lips. “Funny. People said it was safer in them days but it wasn’t. Not for her.”
“Did you witness it?”
Jimmy shook his head. “John did. He was supposed to be looking after her but was showing off to his mates, doing chin-ups on the bus shelter.” He swallowed and looked away. “She never knew what hit her, they said. Died instantly. Wouldn’t have felt it.”
“I’m sorry.” Meinwen moved around the landing to squeeze his arm. “She looked to be a lovely little girl.” She pressed the picture into his hands. “She deserves more than to be shut away, though. Find somewhere for her downstairs among the living.”
“Yeah.” Jimmy gave her a thin-lipped smile. “You’re right. There’s just me now. No need to worry about John’s guilt any more.” He traced the girl’s face with his fingertip. “You can stay with me now, Faye.”
“Was she cremated or buried?”
“She’s buried in St. Pity’s, next to Mam and Dad.” He looked up, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. “And John soon, I suppose.” He took a deep breath, blinking several times. “Are we finished up here?”
“Yes, I think so. If you ever sell up, give me the option of buying the bed, won’t you?”
“If you like. I don’t know how you’d get it out, mind. I bet it was built in situ.”
“That’s okay. I know someone with a big tool.”
Jimmy laughed, turning off the lights in his old room and the bathroom before following her down. “Another cup of tea, or should we get off?”
“What time is it?” Meinwen pulled out her mobile but Jimmy responded with “ten past three” before she’d even unlocked the keypad.
“Best get off, then. I’ll ring for a taxi. Chervil Court is right over the other side of town. It’ll take an age to walk.”
“With any luck we’ll find John’s car at the other place. I could drive you home.”
“Not without insurance, you won’t. You’re on parole, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. You’re right. Not that insurance ever bothered me before.”
“If you go back inside, there won’t be much I can do for your brother.” Meinwen dialed a number, holding her hand up to stifle another reply from Jimmy. “Hello? I’d like to book a taxi from fifteen Ashgate Road to Chervil Court please. As soon as possible.” She listened to the reply and put the phone away. “It’ll be here in five minutes.”
“Mind if I have a cigarette while we wait?”
Meinwen shrugged. “It’s your house. You can do what you like.” She picked up her bag from the floor next to the table. “I’ll just go outside, though. I don’t care for it.”
“Oh. Right. Of course, sorry.” Jimmy picked up his coat. “I’ll go outside, you stay in the dry. I’ll give you a shout if the taxi comes.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She sat again while he picked up John’s keys and phone, his own phone and his pouch of tobacco and lighter.
“I’ll see you outside in a minute. Just pull the door shut when you come out, will you?”
She waited until the door had closed and opened her phone again. She dialed a number she hadn’t had occasion to use in a couple of years, biting her lip while it rang, remembering the phone on the hall table, polished daily.
“The Godwin Residence.”
“Oh, er...Hello.” Meinwen couldn’t believe how much her heart was pounding over such a simple matter of a telephone call. “May I speak to Master Richard Godwin, please?” She made an emphasis on the word “Master,” thus displaying her knowledge of the underlying management of the household.
“I’m afraid the master is away at present. May I direct you to another member of the house?”
“Oh.” Meinwen felt crushed. She hadn’t anticipated Richard might be away. “When will he be back?”
“He’s expected later this evening. Would you like to leave a message?”
“Actually, I’d like to speak to him about quite a serious matter. Is Nicole Fielding still his personal secretary?”
“I’m afraid not. Nicole left to pursue a different career last year. May I help? I now handle all of Master’s appointments.”
“Oh, yes, please then. I need to see him as a matter of urgency.”
“I can fit you in tomorrow? Eleven o’clock?”
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
“I’ll pencil you in. What name is it?”
“Meinwen Jones. We’re old acquaintances.”
The woman on the other end lost all her aloofness, her voice becoming warm and familiar. “Oh! Manny, darling. It’s Jennifer, from the vicarage?”
“Of course. How lovely.” Meinwen smiled as she recalled the outspoken author of several erotic novels. “How’s the writing going?”
“Rather well, actually. Richard’s quite strict about how much novel writing I do. I’m more productive than I ever was and of course, now I get to do some proper research.”
Meinwen chuckled, imagining just what kind of research Jennifer was doing, since her genre was erotica. “I’m glad it’s going well. We’ll have to meet up for a coffee one of these days.”
“I’d love to. You can tell me all about the witchcraft you’ve been doing and the gossip about the Women’s Guild. I get Thursday afternoons off at the moment.”
“That would be splendid. Look, I have to go. I’ve got a taxi waiting. I’ll try to say hello tomorrow when I come.”
“Spiffing. I’ll let Richard know.”
“Great. Thank you, Jennifer.”
“Okay. Byses.”
Meinwen disconnected the call with the smile still on her face. It was odd to think of her prim and proper friend succumbing to the carnal desires of the flesh. The death of Jennifer’s brother had made the world of difference to her outlook on the concept of morality and sin.
A rap on the door startled her from her reverie. Jimmy. “The taxi’s here.”
Meinwen raised her voice as she stood. “Coming.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and plucked her umbrella from the sink. At the door she turned, went back to the table and slipped John’s gold ring into her pocket.
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