Page 90 of The Secrets of Dragonfly Lodge
‘And take your phone with you.’
‘Stef,’ Nancy said calmly. ‘Stop treating me like an old lady. I have all my marbles.’
‘Sorry,’ Stef sighed and managed not to say,But you are an old lady!
After she rang off, she paused, still worried. A vision of Aaron entered her mind. Swiftly she found his name. Phone or text? What might he be doing now? Text first, she decided and sent one quickly asking him to ring her. She waited for a couple of minutes, her feet getting wetter, but there was no reply. She gave up and returned to the cottage.
She opened the door to hear the sound of singing. Her mother’s high voice and Ted’s out-of-tune bass belting out a lively Beatles number. She went to the kitchen doorway and stood there, amazed, watching them dance about, Ted brandishing a tea towel and her mother a handful of cutlery. Baxter sat watching by the back door. When Ted and Cara saw Stef, they fell about giggling like a couple of schoolchildren.
Stef rolled her eyes and her mother collected herself enough to ask, ‘How’s Nancy?’
‘Fine, I think,’ Stef said. ‘You carry on. I’m going upstairs to do some work.’
There was no doubt that Ted was making her mother happy, she thought. As she settled down with her laptop, she herself felt lonelier than ever. She shrugged off the feeling and opened a file namedA Curious Nature. It was the proposal for her book. She went to the Contents page and after a moment’s hesitation typed a new entry just before the Conclusion. ‘Chapter 20: Nancy Foster, Zoologist.’ It needed a title. ‘A Life Suppressed’? No, that didn’t sound fair to Nancy, who’d achieved much. She’d have to give the matter more thought. She scrolled to the end of the document and began to type:
‘Nancy Foster (1929–) dreamed of a brilliant future as a zoologist. Following her doctorate, she began work as a researcher for International Chemical Products in 1953, the only woman in her department. Within a year, she found herself edged out and her most important work quietly ignored…’
Stef typed two paragraphs quickly, read them through, then sat biting her lip. Nothing there that Nancy was likely to object to and she did have her approval to include her in the book. But was this the right slot for her in the proposal? It packed a punch as a final chapter and Nancy was, after, all still alive, but the rest of the book was arranged chronologically and the experiences to be covered had taken place in the 1940s and ’50s. She should move it to earlier in the proposal. It only tooka moment. She reordered the Contents and read the whole document through again, making tweaks here and there.
Perfect, she thought. She wrote a brief covering email to Sarah, then pressed ‘Send’, sitting back and stretching as she watched it go with a feeling of lightness. Tomorrow, Sarah might read it. By the end of the day, the proposal might be with her editor and then it would be a matter of waiting. Would Catherine like it? She sighed and closed her laptop. No point in counting her chickens yet.
Her phone lay on the desk. She picked it up and glanced at the screen, but there was no mobile signal. Ten past nine. Over an hour since she’d texted Aaron. Perhaps he’d replied by now. She padded downstairs. Her mother and Ted must be in the sitting room, for the television was squawking through the closed door.
She shuffled on her wet trainers with a grimace. Outside, the rain still poured down, so she grabbed the umbrella and squelched up the lane. At the sweet spot, she stared at the phone, but nothing came in. Aaron hadn’t rung or returned her text.Perhaps he’s busy, she told herself,or doesn’t have his phone with him, but this didn’t stop dejection washing over her. Quickly she sent him another text, this time giving him her mother’s landline number.
It proved difficult to get to sleep that night. There was so much to think about. She was worried about Nancy out there on the marsh in the storm. There was Nancy’s story running through her head. But there was also something else, something eluding her. She was finally drifting towards unconsciousness when she remembered what it was.
It was the stocklist on Josh’s clipboard that she’d seen earlier that day, typed in that unusual font and signed with a handwritten ‘J’. She remembered going into the visitors’ centre and buying the ice creams from Jackie, who as usual was wearing her volunteer’s name badge. And suddenly her eyes flew open. Perhaps the ‘J’ hadn’t been for Josh after all. Perhaps it had been for Jackie.No, she thought again. She couldn’t think of a motive.Why would Jackie, a kindly middle-aged woman, want to frighten an elderly lady like that?It made no sense. Eventually, Stef dismissed the matter, turned over and closed her eyes once more.
Fifty-Four
Stef was awakened at first light by the sound of the house phone ringing downstairs. She heard the stairs creak, then her mother answer it, and lay listening, on full alert.
‘Stef,’ her mother called up softly.
‘Coming.’ Stef rolled out of bed and hurried down, fumbling with the belt on her dressing gown. ‘Who is it?’
Her mother held out the handset with a look of concern. ‘It’s Aaron.’
She took it. ‘Aaron. I’m so sorry, I didn’t need you to ring me so early.’
‘Your texts are not the reason.’ His voice sounded distant, echoey.
‘Where are you? Not Cornwall?’
‘At home still. Has Nancy rung you yet?’
‘No, what’s wrong?’ Her heart sank. She’d already guessed.
‘The house has flooded, Stef.’
‘I feared it might,’ she groaned.
‘She’s marooned upstairs. Says she’s okay, but she’s worried about her bloody animals. The water’s knee-deep in the hall apparently and getting worse. Stef, I’m just getting dressed, then I’ll come. I told her to ring the fire brigade, but she won’t have it. What if she tries to rescue the blasted things herself and falls over?’
‘I think we should ring them. Shall I do it from here? It might be simpler. Being local.’
‘If you wouldn’t mind.’
