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When Emma Howarth visits her friend Rosie little does she realise that murder will be done |
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Emma Howarth stepped out of the train and looked around her. ‘Porter miss?’ ‘Oh, yes please. There are just the two cases,’ replied a relieved Emma. The porter disappeared into the Ladies only compartment soon reappearing with Emma’s modest luggage. After showing her ticket at the station gate Emma looked around the small car park. ‘Would you like a taxi calling miss?’ asked the porter as he placed her cases down beside her for it was obvious that there was nobody to meet the young lady. ‘No thanks, my friend should be here soon and reaching into her bag Emma passed over what she thought was the right amount of renumeration. ‘Thank you kindly miss. If you don’t mind my suggesting it, Mrs Wilkes does a real nice cup of tea in the station waiting room. You could wait there for you friend in there. I can easily come and find you when she comes.’ ‘What a splendid idea. Rosie’s always late and a cup of tea would be lovely.’ The porter led the way to the waiting room and soon Emma was seated with a steaming cup of tea and a large home-made scone with lashing of fresh cream and strawberry jam in front of her. There was only one other person in the room and she was talking to Mrs. Wilkes. After she’d eaten Emma took out the letter she’d received from Rosie and read it yet again. She skipped the beginning of it which was mainly gossip about their old schoolfriends that Rosie had kept in touch with and re-read the rest which was the reason she was now sitting here waiting for Rosie. It seemed that someone was out to make trouble for Rosie’s husband Jason, or so Rosie thought. Items had gone missing from the church, nothing large just small things. Plants had been pulled up and just left in both the churchyard and also the Vicarage garden. Then something more troubling had occured. Rosie wouldn’t say what, not in a letter but she begged Emma to come down as soon as she could as Jason was going to some theological conference up country and she didn’t want to be alone. Emma refolded the letter and returned it to her bag. If she was honest Rosie’s letter had been a godsend. After returning to England after two years working in America Emma was finding settling in London hard. She was a country girl at heart and the noise and traffic in the capital was not something she ever thought she could get used to. At that moment the porter poked his head round the waiting room door. ‘Your friend’s arrived Miss and I’ve put you cases in the car.’ ‘That’s very good of you. I do appreciate it,’ said Emma getting to her feet. ‘No trouble at all miss.’ Rosie scrambled out of the driving seat of the old Austin when she saw Emma walking towards her. ‘I say, I’m frightfully sorry I’m late,’ she said taking Emma firmly by the shoulders and bestowing a kiss on her cheek. ‘Got carried away trying to dig up a dead lilac tree stump.’ ‘Don’t you have a gardener to do that sort of thing?’ ‘Not on a Vicar’s pay my dear,’ laughed Rosie, she put the car into gear and it lurched forward and out of the station car park. During the short journey Rosie chatted on about this and that with Emma just listening. Suddenly they came to some wide oak gates. Rosie stopped the car, jumped out and opened them. Once again in the car she drove between the gates and up a long and winding drive flanked on either side by oak and beech trees until she finally pulled up in front of an elegant Georgian house. As they both got out of the car a man appeared from round the side of the house wiping his hands on a bit of old cloth. ‘I’ve reglazed the conservatory door and repainted it,’ he began when he saw Rosie. ‘If that’s all I’ll be on my way?’ ‘That’s wonderful Mr. Moss. Let us have your bill and we’ll settle up with you.’ The man nodded, touched his cap to both of them and then picking up his tool bag which he’d left by the front door made his way down the drive. ‘Reglazed the conservatory door?’ questioned Emma. ‘I’ll tell you all about it over a refreshing cup of tea. You must be parched after that journey,’ and without waiting for a reply Rosie picked up Emma’s cases and walked into the house. Emma, not wishing to inform her friend that she’d already had one, followed. By the time she entered the elegant hallway of the Vicarage Rosie had deposited the cases at the bottom of the curving staircase and was in conversation with a small well built woman of middle years, greying hair tightly permed and wearing a wrap around apron.. ‘Ah Emma,’ began Rosie. ‘This is Mrs Gentle, she comes up most days to help out.’ ‘Nice to meet you Miss,’ said Mrs. Gentle. ‘Likewise,’ replied Emma smiling. ‘I’m so glad that Rosie has someone come and help her.’ ‘We’ll take tea in the sitting room please Mrs. Gentle,’ instructed Rosie, and then turning towards the stairs said, ‘come on I’ll show you your room and leave you to freshen up.’ Once alone Emma looked around her. Rosie had said that the room had been recently decorated and Jenny thoroughly approved of the dusky pink curtains and carpet. The wallpaper was white with pink flowers and the counterpane was a pale green. Walking over to the washstand she poured some of the warm scented water into the bowl and after a quick wash and a brush through her hair made her way downstairs. Upon entering the sitting room she looked around her with pleasure. French doors lead onto a terraced area, two settes were placed either side of an ornate fireplace, some comfortable looking chairs placed haphazardly around the room and then her eyes finally fell upon Rosie’s old upright piano and she smiled. ‘There you are old thing,’ said Rosie. ‘Mrs. G has just brought the tea things in. Take a pew.’ |
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