Page 26 of Murder in the Winter Woods
‘It’s okay, Gill, you can move forward into this space,’ Milly said, indicating a big gap that had been left open in the front centre.
‘What about Poppy? That’s where she likes to stand.’
‘She’s not coming today.’
‘Go on Gilly, it’s safe,’ said one of the others, and they all laughed. The laugh of shared understanding of something ridiculous and annoying – doubtless, in this case, Poppy’s territorial behaviour.
The class was more pleasant and less humiliating than Julia had feared. She’d done some yoga and Pilates on YouTube, and between what she’d learned, and keeping a close eye on Milly, she managed to approximate most of the poses. Of course, Milly was small-boned and delicate and deceptively strong, and instead of old tracksuit trousers and T-shirt, wore matching sage green leggings and a crop top, with her shiny black hair plaited and hanging down her back. She made everything look graceful and effortless, but in a way that was soothing, rather than intimidating.
Julia was surprised to find how well she was able to focus on the instructions and give herself over to the moment. She was determined to wait until the class was finished to think about what she’d heard about Poppy’s car.
She left the class walking on air. ‘I will definitely be back!’ she said to Milly. ‘It was wonderful, thank you!’ She felt great! Her hamstrings felt soft and pliable. Her stiff neck had eased. The oxygen was flowing through her veins. This was the new Julia, a supple, calm and happy yogi! She would definitely keep it up.
Once in her car, she turned her attention to the matter of Poppy’s accident. There wasn’t much to think about, actually. She would simply tell Hayley Gibson, and the police would follow it up. No time like the present, she thought, taking her mobile from her bag. She phoned Hayley’s number, but the detective didn’t answer. Knowing how Hayley disliked listening to messages, Julia didn’t leave one, but sent her a text message to call when she could.
With that behind her, she drove home, enjoying the feeling of cruising through the countryside, with the fresh-released endorphins and yoga-oxygenated blood pulsing through her body. The trees were bare, but beautiful, and today the sky was an icy blue, but clear. She decided to take a different, slightly longer route home, for a change of scene through a different village. She kept her wits about her – it was Friday, and the weekend traffic was already building – but enjoyed the views, singing along to the music playing through the sound system.
The traffic slowed suddenly as she entered the next village, and she soon saw why. Traffic cones lined the road to accommodate a crew working on the grassy verge, narrowing the road considerably.
‘That’ll teach me to take a pleasant detour to stop and smell the roses,’ she said to herself, out loud. It didn’t matter though; she had nothing pressing to get back to. Julia looked about her as she crawled through the outskirts of the village. From this approach, at least, it seemed bigger than Berrywick, more modern and less charming. There was a small industrial strip with a few workshops, a hardware store and a panel beater.
Julia almost slammed on her brakes when she saw it. A car, a big old Mercedes, parked in the panel beater’s yard. And a sticker on the car, a sticker saying:The Butter Nuts. It had to be Poppy’s car.
Julia pulled in behind the Mercedes and got out.
A thin, balding man in blue overalls emerged from the workshop. ‘Can I help you with something?’ he asked, looking at her car. ‘I could fix that up in a jiffy.’ He pointed to a scratch that Julia had made a few months ago, when a shopping trolley had slipped from her grasp in the wind and made a desperate bid for escape. Every time she looked at it, it annoyed her.
‘Oh, hello,’ she said. ‘That would be super. Can you do it while I wait?’
‘If you can wait five or ten minutes, then that would be a yes.’
‘I can definitely wait ten minutes.’
‘Glad to hear it. Everyone seems to be so busy and impatient these days.’
‘Not me,’ she said. ‘I’m taking the slow road home.’
‘That’s the way. I’m Geoff.’
‘Julia. Pleased to meet you.’
Geoff wandered back into the workshop and emerged with a couple of cloths and an aerosol tin of something.
‘Isn’t that Poppy’s car?’ Julia said casually, looking at the Mercedes.
‘It is indeed. She just brought it in for that dent on the bumper. It’ll be here for a couple of days, so it makes no difference if I sort out your scratch first.’
Geoff sprayed a foam onto Julia’s car and set about rubbing it with hard, circular movements.
Julia stepped closer. There was indeed a dent on Poppy’s car’s bumper.
‘It doesn’t look too bad. I wonder what she hit.’
‘Ah, she didn’t say. Poor thing was quite upset, though. Stressed. Some people get like that about their cars. I always say, as long as no one’s hurt, everything else can be fixed. She’s gone to get a sip of water, to settle her nerves.’
Julia squatted down. There was something dark on the bumper. She took a hankie out of her pocket and touched the dark patch gently with the corner. The fabric came back with a tiny, dark red spot on it.
Unless Julia was very much mistaken, it was blood.
