Killed in Cornwall by Janie Bolitho Page A

not if what her mother told Mrs Freeman is true.’
    Cyril shook his head. There was no stopping Doreen. ‘Shall we have some more tea? Nathan, another cup for you?’
    ‘No. I’d best be off.’ He stood, his hands in his jacket pocket. He seemed to be trembling. ‘Nice bit of dinner, thanks’ he said as Doreen let him out of the back door.
    ‘I can’t imagine what’ll become of that one,’ Doreen commented when he had gone. ‘He don’t make no effort, that’s his trouble. Always relied on Phyllis, you see. That’s why he needsa job, without her to tell ’im what to do he’ll be lost.
    ‘Cyril, I do believe it’s stopped raining.’
    Cyril peered out of the window. ‘I think you’re right. I might as well tidy the beans.’
    To Rose the garden looked immaculate but the Clarkes had their own way of doing things. Doreen wanted him out of the way and Cyril was more than pleased to be so.
    ‘Now, tell us what you know,’ Doreen said as she leant on the table, her chin in her hands.
    But Rose could not break her promise to Jack. As much as she liked Doreen and valued her as a friend she knew that anything she said would be repeated. Instead she turned the conversation to Phyllis and learnt a little more about the woman’s personality.
    No wonder Nathan’s like he is, she thought as she drove home beneath the grey sky. The rain had stopped but the roads were still wet. It was a respite, no more than that, it would rain again later.
    Before she reached Newlyn she had thought of a way in which she might be able to speak to Samantha Jago without arousing her suspicions. Rose rang her at five and was rewarded by an affirmative reply to her request.
    It was dry when she left the house although she could smell the damp soil, and droplets of water still glistened on the grass. The earlier rain had cleared the air, it was fresh and heady as she made her way along the Promenade before turning off for the gallery where Samantha Jago was waiting outside. ‘My goodness, you’re keen.’ Rose had not been certain she would turn up.
    ‘Am I dressed all right?’ Sam was wearing a long, black skirt, clumpy shoes and a top which left an inch of midriff exposed.
    ‘Of course. It’s only your face they’ll be interested in.’ Over the telephone Rose had asked Sam if she would be prepared to model for the class, head and shoulders only, in return for a small fee. The girl had great bone structure.
    ‘I feel embarrassed already.’
    ‘Well, don’t. You’ll be fine.’ Rose unlocked the door. ‘Come on, we’ve got time for a cup of tea before the others arrive.’ She plugged in the kettle and dropped teabags into two chipped mugs. ‘Your mum seems a bit worried about you, Sam. Is everything all right?’
    Sam reddened. ‘Not really. I think one of my friend’s is in trouble. The police came to see mebut I’m not sure why and Lucy won’t return my calls. We’ve been friends since infants’ school and it hurts that she’s dropped me for Jason Evans.’
    ‘Surely things aren’t that bad?’ Rose was referring to the friendship, Sam obviously didn’t know what had happened to Lucy.
    ‘They are to me. Nobody understands.’
    Rose sighed. How much the young took for granted. They assumed they were the only ones who could love or be hurt or even have a sex life. ‘What else is bothering you, Sam?’
    ‘Will you promise you won’t say anything?’
    ‘You have my word.’
    ‘I think Lucy’s been raped. No one’s said as much but I read that report in the paper. I was supposed to be with Lucy at the time. Anyway, after the police came and she wouldn’t speak to me it just seemed to add up. I wish I could help her in some way.’ She bowed her head. ‘I think she lied to me. She said she was meeting Jason and that she was using me as an excuse because her mother doesn’t like him. It just seems so feeble now.’
    It struck Rose as odd, too. Surely no seventeen-year-old who earned her own living needed a