Page 57 of Murder in the Winter Woods
‘It is a Sunday night, after all. Work tomorrow. Another long day at the coal mines of the library, hey, Tabitha?’ joked Sean.
‘Yes indeed. But then I’m only working half a day on Tuesday, because I’m going to a funeral in the morning.’
‘Who died?’ asked Jono.
‘A woman called Lydia, who worked at the butcher’s,’ said Tabitha, who was at the door, taking her outdoor clothes off the hook, and layering up. ‘Poor thing died quite suddenly.’
‘I’ll be at the funeral too,’ said Sean. ‘She was a patient of mine.’
‘Was she now?’ Tabitha asked. ‘She always looked hale and hearty when she came into the library – apart from bunions, which she complained about endlessly. But I suppose you never can tell what’s going on inside. I heard she went to bed and just didn’t wake up.’
Sean didn’t say anything. There was an awkward moment when everyone remembered that of course, Sean couldn’t comment, being Lydia’s doctor.
‘I didn’t know her, really,’ said Julia, breaking the odd silence. ‘But I was sorry to hear about her death. Such a shock when someone goes unexpectedly.’
‘We really have to cherish every moment, don’t we?’ said Laine. ‘Be kind, be loving, do our best for each other, because, I mean, who knows what might happen to us or to anyone else?’ Her words came out with real sincerity, but were so unexpected that they were met with an awkward silence. ‘Not to be weird or anything…’ she said, with an embarrassed laugh. Her face was flushed.
‘Not weird at all!’ said Julia, patting the girl’s hand. ‘You are absolutely right. Life is unpredictable and uncertain. None of us knows what’s coming our way.’
Julia, for one, could not have predicted how the next morning would go.
28
Julia gazed down at the phone in her hand. On its screen, a mildly perplexing message from DI Hayley Gibson.
I need to talk to you. Can I come over?
Yes of course. I plan to be here most of the day.
12?
That’s fine. Everything okay?
See you later.
On the face of it, it was a simple exchange to make an arrangement for a visit. But a deeper look showed a number of oddities that bothered Julia.
For a start, DI Gibson was not given to consulting her out of the blue. What did the detective need to talk to her about? Julia wondered if it was related to a case. But what did Julia know that could be of any help? Unless it was a personal matter. Something to do with Hayley’s new relationship, perhaps?
But why didn’t the detective just phone? Hayley was a busy woman, with two active cases of unnatural deaths on her desk. And yet, here she was proposing to drive to Julia’s house in the middle of a working day. Itmustbe related to the cases.
The last and most concerning thing was that she hadn’t answered Julia’s question: ‘Everything okay?’
Julia tried on the idea that she was reading too much into the exchange. Hayley tended to be brusque in her communication. The absence of a ‘yes, fine’ didn’t necessarily imply that everythingwasn’tokay.
‘This is ridiculous,’ she told herself, firmly. ‘Hayley will be here in a couple of hours and all will be revealed. It’s probably nothing to get worked up about.’
The thing about giving oneself a lecture was that no matter how reasonable the lecturing self’s position might be, the worrying self didn’t always take it on board. What was required, thought Julia, was a distraction. Something that would occupy one’s time and energy, and keep the worrying mind busy.
Julia had just the job.
The woodpile, which had been neatly stacked for winter, had collapsed on the one side. The logs that were lying about the place needed to be put back. It was a job that required concentration, the application of thought, as well some physical exertion. That should keep her mind off things!
Fortunately, it wasn’t raining, nor was rain expected for the next hour or so. And the weather was a little warmer than it had been. Julia changed into a pair of corduroys that had belonged to Peter, her ex-husband. He had retired them a decade ago, and she’d adopted them for gardening. They were not what you’d call stylish, but they were warm and hardy. She put on thick socks and Wellington boots, a big pullover, and her leather gardening gloves.
She felt less anxious already. She always felt better with a task ahead of her, and even better with a task completed!
Jake had picked up on her energy and was following her around the house eagerly, trying to ascertain whether whatever was happening was in his best interests. Could it be a walk? A drive? A play in the garden? Might there be a snack component to the busyness?
