Murder in Mind by Veronica Heley

got through it with the aid of throat pastilles. His voice faded out again on the way home. Perhaps he was going down with another of his winter colds?
    The rain had stopped for the moment, but the clouded sky looked as if it might release another downpour any minute, so Ellie installed Thomas by the fire in the sitting room with the Sunday papers, and went off to see about lunch.
    Rose was having one of her busy times, flitting from larder to table to gas stove, and back again. She had no less than three cookery books out, trying to decide what cake she should make for tea, talking through the merits of each as she turned from one to the other.
    Ellie got on with peeling potatoes and putting the joint in the oven.
    A long, persistent ring of the doorbell.
    Ellie and Rose looked at one another. They knew only too well who leaned on the bell like that. Someone who wouldn’t be easily put off.
    â€˜I’ll go,’ said Ellie, taking off her apron. ‘Will you put the potatoes and a couple of onions into the oven in five minutes’ time?’
    â€˜We’re not offering tea or coffee, then?’
    â€˜I hope she’s not staying that long.’
    Ellie opened the front door, and in swept Diana.
    At least, the height and figure and face looked like Diana, but Ellie hadn’t seen her daughter wearing anything but fashionable black since she left school.
    This woman was wearing a superb suit in what you couldn’t call white exactly, because it displayed other colours as the light shifted. Mother of pearl?
    The suit jacket was cut with a peplum, allowing one to imagine a slight swelling of her stomach. The skirt was long but narrow. Kitten heels on her shoes. A pearly handbag on a gilt chain hung over her shoulder.
    What was all this about?
    Diana shivered. ‘You took your time. It’s cold outside.’
    Ah well, her manners hadn’t changed for the better, had they?
    Diana would have swept through to the sitting room, but Ellie stopped her. ‘I think Thomas is in there, asleep. He’s getting one of his colds. Let’s go into the library.’
    The library was supposed to be for Thomas’s exclusive use, but in fact he only used it on rare occasions and it looked more or less as it had for the past hundred years, with books lining every wall, a huge kneehole desk and three large leather chairs for relaxation. The morning had turned darker so Ellie switched the lights on and checked that the central heating was doing its job.
    Diana went to look out of the window at the rain-sodden garden.
    Ellie waited.
    â€˜I’ve just been to church,’ said Diana.
    Ellie blinked. Since when had Diana shown any interest in Christianity?
    â€˜Not that I believe in it. But it seemed politic.’
    Ellie let herself down into one of the big chairs. She supposed it was a good point in Diana’s favour that she never acted the hypocrite. ‘You decided to go to church because . . .?’
    â€˜Don’t be obtuse. I’m carrying Evan’s child. I’m going to marry him. He’s never been married in church so there’s no reason why we shouldn’t do it properly.’
    Properly? Hm. Well. Was Diana about to take on the colouring of middle-class morality to please Evan? Hence the new look, and the attendance at church? Was this a good thing? Well, only if it meant she’d had an equivalent change of heart, which seemed unlikely . . . though one could always hope for the best, and being Ellie, one did.
    Diana tapped on the window pane. Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. Irritating.
    Ellie said, ‘What do you want?’
    â€˜There’s a fine greeting to your only daughter, who’s about to become Mrs Evan Hooper.’
    â€˜Have you managed to get rid of Angelika already?’
    Diana snorted, amused. ‘She’s been asked to go on a photographic shoot to Japan, lasting three weeks. After that she’s hoping for a fashion show somewhere,