Inside, she found that Zofia Jankowska was not yet back from the Crown and Anchor (where, though Ted Crisp would never admit it, she seemed to be becoming an essential member of staff). Jude didn’t wait up for her. She was totally exhausted by the events of the day, so got to bed as quickly as she could and passed out.
? Blood at the Bookies ?
Thirty-Five
Gaby rang back at eight-thirty. Lily had slept well and, though a bit grizzly, no longer had such a high temperature. The doctor’s return visit had been put off. Stephen had gone off to work. They were all right.
She hadn’t rung her mother-in-law earlier because she hadn’t wanted to wake her. To Carole, who’d been sleeplessly entertaining the most ghastly speculations all night, this was an unhelpful thing to say. But she didn’t mention the fact, just said how relieved she was about Lily’s improvement and asked for regular updates on the tiny girl’s progress.
At least one cause of her perturbation was diminished. The other, she thought, might never be resolved.
Waiting for the call from Gaby had kept her at home when she would normally have been taking Gulliver down to Fethering Beach, so her next priority was giving the dog his walk.
As she opened the front door, dressed in her smart Burberry, thick scarf and hat, Carole found herself face to face with Jude, who had been on the verge of lifting the knocker.
“Good morning,” said Carole coldly. “I’m just taking Gulliver for his walk.”
“Well, I’ll come with you. Just give me a moment to get a coat.”
“I don’t think it’ll be necessary for you to come. I’ll be fine on my own.”
And with that, Carole Seddon, with Gulliver in tow, stalked off down Fethering High Street in the direction of the beach.
Open-mouthed, her neighbour watched her go. But it wasn’t in Jude’s nature to let wounds fester. If something had come up between her and Carole, then she had to find out immediately what it was. She got her coat and set off after the figures of woman and dog dwindling into the distance.
Though not overtly looking back, Carole was aware of the pursuit. When she reached the edge of the beach, rather than going left towards the estuary of the River Fether, she turned right and strode firmly away, Gulliver off his lead and performing eccentric circles around her. That way the beach stretched on for miles. Carole’s long stride took her ever further away from her pursuer, who not only had shorter legs but also had a lot more weight to carry.
After walking about a quarter of a mile and not making any inroad into her neighbour’s lead, Jude stopped and sat on the end of a wooden breakwater where it nuzzled into the high shingle of the beach. There was no alternative route; Carole would have to come back the way she had gone. It was just a matter of waiting.
Jude sat there for over an hour. Carole must have known that she was making a fool of herself, but when she finally did come to where her neighbour sat, she looked all set to walk by without acknowledging her.
Jude wasn’t having any of that. She stood up and blocked Carole’s way. “Look, will you please tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing’s going on,” replied Carole icily.
Gulliver very much let the side down by going up to Jude and enthusiastically licking her hand.
“Carole, I have done something to offend you. I don’t know what it is, but I can assure you it wasn’t deliberate.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a problem.”
Carole once again tried to manoeuvre herself past, but found her arm grabbed. “Look, we’re friends. And it’s stupid for friends to split up over something trivial.”
“People have different definitions of trivial,” came the sniffy reply.
“Listen, Carole, I have actually got a lot of new information on the murder case. You won’t believe what has happened.”
Though clearly tempted, Carole wasn’t going to succumb to curiosity. “I’m sorry. I must be on my way.”
“No.” Jude kept her neighbour’s arm firmly in her grasp. “I am not going to let you go until you tell me what’s bugging you.”
“All right,” said Carole with exasperation. “You’ve just said we’re friends. Well, I would have thought it was a rather strange person who moves house without telling her friend about it.”
“Moves house?” Jude looked at Carole with incomprehension. Then slowly the penny dropped. “Oh, no…the valuation? You didn’t think…? That was not because I was really selling the house. I set it up just to get some information out of Hamish Urquhart. And it worked. He confirmed that Sophia had been in Leipzig last summer, which is where she must have met Tadek.”
“Oh,” said Carole, suddenly feeling rather small.
“You idiot!” said Jude affectionately. “You absolute idiot! Now will you please let me tell you what has happened in the last twenty-four hours?”
As the two women walked back up the beach, Carole heard everything, about the second stabbing and Jude’s uncomfortable evening with the police. By the time they got back to Woodside Cottage, her bad mood had dissipated and she was once again totally caught up in the murder investigation.
“You haven’t had any news as to how Andy Constant is?”
Jude shook her head. “There was a lot of blood. I don’t have the medical knowledge to assess how serious it was. The police said they’d keep me informed, but I doubt if they’ll bother.”
“I’ll put on the radio when I get in – and check the television…see if there’s anything about the attack.”
“Yes, well, if I hear anything, obviously I’ll let you know as soon as possible. And, Carole,” Jude went on as her friend moved towards High Tor, “don’t ever imagine that I would sell my house without telling you.”
“But are you thinking of selling it?”
“Not today,” said Jude enigmatically. And Carole had to be content with that.
¦
The phone in Woodside Cottage rang at about five that afternoon. “Is that Jude?” asked a well-spoken woman’s voice she did not recognize.
“Yes.”
“You don’t know me. I’m Esther Constant. Andy’s wife.”
“Ah,” said Jude, fearing the worst. “How is he?”
“Surprisingly good, actually. He’s out of intensive care.”
“Wow, that was quick.”
“Yes, although there was a lot of bleeding, the wound itself wasn’t very deep. He’s still quite weak because he lost so much blood, but no, he’s basically on the mend.”
“I’m delighted to hear it.”
“Yes.” Esther Constant was silent for a moment, as though uncertain how to phrase the next bit. “Andy… he…he said he’d like to see you…”
“Oh. Really?” Jude was thrown. Was Andy’s wife aware of his interest in her? “Why is that?” she asked.
“He said so that he could say thank you.”
“Thank me for what?”
“Andy reckons it was your arrival which frightened his attacker off. He thinks you may have saved his life.”
¦
The wounded lecturer was in a private hospital not far from the University of Clincham campus. Whether he had been put in there for reasons of security or because he had a good private health insurance, Jude didn’t know. She’d gone by train along the coastal line to Clincham and got to the hospital’s reception round seven-thirty. They were expecting her and when she asked for Andy Constant, a smartly suited woman directed her to a suite of rooms on the fourth floor. The decor of the hospital was all soothing pastel blues and greens. There were tasteful photographic prints on the walls and gratuitous reproduction coffee tables on the landings.
A nurse sitting behind a reception desk on the fourth-floor landing led her to a door which had a card marked
