The Circle

of Thomasine's weight. Dagmar found the key in the handbag and they let themselves in and opened the bedroom door. Thomasine flopped onto the bed without another word. Dagmar removed her shoes and covered her with the quilt.

On the drive back to the centre of town, Dagmar said, 'She'll be so embarrassed tomorrow. It's not a habit.'

'We've all been there.' Even as he said this to Dagmar, Bob was thinking that a lifelong Appletiser drinker probably had not been there.

Dagmar was still finding excuses for Thomasine. 'It's the shock about Maurice. It affects us in different ways. He's a dear man. He doesn't deserve this.'

He looked at his watch. Too late to return the call. He guessed Miss Snow had seen the item on TV.

He called her next morning after Sue had left for school.

'I've been sitting by the phone,' she said.

All night? he thought.

'You're the only person I can speak to with any confidence.'

'Why is that?'

'Could we meet?'

'What's it about?'

'I'd rather not say over the phone.' She was a lot more discreet than Thomasine.

'Okay. Where?'

'Do you know the women's refuge shop?'

'Charity shop? In that little lane off North Street?'

'That's the one. I'm on duty there this morning.'

'I'll come there, then.'

'We should have it to ourselves if you can get there early.'

'What time is early?'

He met her outside the shop door. She was wearing a black silk headscarf that made her look ready for the confession-box and for a moment he wondered if she was the killer and was about to tell all. But she took the scarf off when they got inside.

He helped her pick up the morning's junk mail and a few paperbacks some donor had pushed through the door. The smell of old clothes was overpowering.

'I don't know how to begin,' she said.

'We could open the door at the back, get the air flowing.' He was thinking he wouldn't work in a charity shop if they paid him. This was poky, dark and stacked high with junk.

'I'm talking about Maurice.'

But Bob hadn't yet got over the smell. 'Some air freshener would help.'

'We'll sort it out, love. Don't let it get to you.'

He put her down beside her Mini and drove home. The speed of things, the way he'd been pitched into this, surprised him. Here he was, not even committed to joining the circle, taking on their problem as if it was his own.

When he got in, young Sue was still up and on the phone. Seeing him, she ended the call and offered to make coffee.

'Tea would do me nicely, love.'

'So have you cleared up the mystery, Dad?'

'Not yet.'

'This murder. Was it someone's house burned down with him in it?'

'Yes.'

'You could be too late, then. It was on the news. They're questioning some bloke.'

'Doesn't mean they've got the right one.'

'Hey, listen to Mr Sherlock Holmes! You want to get one of them funny hats and a magnifying glass.'

'Any more of that from you, young lady, and I'll be asking you what your homework was.'

'All done.'

'I bet. And how long have you been on the phone?'

She busied herself with the teapot.

'You weren't using your mobile, I notice.'

'I can't win, can I?' Sue said. 'If I go out, I'm in trouble for wasting my time, and if I stop in I'm stacking up the phone bill. Do you want to know about the call you had?'

'Who from?'

'Some posh bird.'

'Didn't she leave her name?'

'Big laugh, that was. 'Miss Snow,' she said. 'Tell him Miss Snow would like to hear from him as soon as possible.' Miss Snow! Is that what you call your latest pick-up, Dad?'

'She's secretary of the circle. Did she leave a number?'

'By the phone.'

She said, 'I'm used to it. Leave the door open if you like.'

'And you do this by choice? You're a saint.'

'If you saw the state of the refuge, you'd understand. I'm on the committee, and we need new furniture badly. But I want to talk about Maurice.'

'You're going to tell me he's on the level.'

Nodding, she said, 'They're making a ghastly mistake.'

'The law?'

'Yes. They kept him overnight. It was on local radio. They don't do that unless it's serious, do they?'

He tried to look uncertain.

'He's a good man,' she said. 'Don't misunderstand me. I don't carry a torch for him, or anything.'

Carry a torch. Bob loved that. Miss Snow being racy. Looking at her now, with those worry lines and silver streaks, it was hard to imagine her carrying a torch for anyone. Twenty years ago, maybe.

Get real, Naylor. She could be your age. Probably thinks you're on the scrapheap yourself.

She said, 'I'm just so worried that he's being — what's the word?'

'Fitted up?'

'Exactly.' She switched on a strip light that flickered about ten times before coming on. 'He needs a spokesman. An advocate. You're concerned about him, aren't you? You wouldn't have joined us in the bar the next night if you hadn't wanted to help.'

To help sounded a warning bell in his head. He didn't trust himself to say anything.

'You're one of us,' she said, meaning it as a tribute. 'What is more, you took the measure of us all the other evening. I could tell by the way you conducted yourself that you had us all summed up. You didn't have a lot to say, but what you said was so perceptive.'

'Trying to fit in, that's all.'

'You see,' she said, with a narrowing of the eyes that made Bob feel like a stag being stalked, 'I happen to believe it wasn't pure chance that brought you to the circle that night. There is a destiny that shapes our ends.'

You've lost me now.'

'You were sent, Mr Naylor. The circle needs you, and you arrived, a man with gravitas.'

'Come again?'

'People listen to you because you are who you are. It's about personality. Well, you saw what the others are like. They mean well, but heaven help us if they're all we've got as spokesmen.'

Time to back-pedal. 'Hang about — I'm no spokesman.'

'Too modest,' she said. 'Getting back to Maurice, he is in desperate need of someone to take up his case, and you're the obvious choice.'