Small Town Suspicions (Some Very English Murders Book 3) by Issy Brooke

resigned, or taken a sabbatical?”
    “Resigned. I rented out my flat, too.”
    “Oh goodness. On a six month lease?”
    “Yes.” Francine looked up, and her eyes were watery. “Don’t
worry. I don’t expect to live with you for six months. And you’re right. I need
to move out. I suppose I hoped I’d have some kind of epiphany, like you did,
and it would all fall into place. I’m forty-two and it was all supposed to be
sorted by now. You know, life.”
    “I’m older than you and it hasn’t fallen into place for me
yet,” Penny said. “Growing up into an adult is a myth.”
    “But I want to grow up,” Francine said, sounding plaintive.
“I’ve always had men after me, but none of them lasted and I don’t know why.
I’ve worked hard and tried to please but it has never been enough. So I made a
drastic change, like you did, but I still feel adrift. What now?”
    Penny thought about some of the men that had dated
Francine. They had never been very social together in London, but the world of
television was small and so she knew of some of the relationships. To a man,
they had been attracted to Francine’s little-girl demeanour and had soon
revealed themselves to be overly dominant, overly needy or simply overbearing.
    “Stop trying to please,” Penny said. “Be yourself.”
    “I am myself,” Francine said. “That is who I am. I want to
please others.”
    It was true. No one was more herself than Francine. “Maybe
…” Penny said, thinking slowly and carefully, “Maybe you’re just fine as you
are, but London wasn’t ever the right place for you, and it’s going to take
time for you to settle down. Look. Don’t worry about finding somewhere else to
live. Stay here a little while longer.” It was hard to say, but it was the
right thing to say. She was ashamed to find she’d never really considered
Francine to have deeper feelings before.
    “Thank you. Do you mean it?”
    That hurt. “I am always going to be honest with you.
I promise.”
    “Thank you again. I really liked Darrell, too, you know. I
really liked him. I thought he was the one. I thought I was not working hard
enough at the relationship. I thought he was being very kind and generous in
giving me chance after chance.”
    “That sounds really unhealthy.”
    “I think so, now, when I look back. But why was he like
that? Why would anyone be so mean?”
    “People can be horrible.”
    “Why?”
    She thought about Drew and what he’d said about the pupils
at the school. “Perhaps they had issues in their past and they can’t function
properly,” she said, and she saw immediately that she had finally said the
right thing.
    It was easier for Francine to feel sympathy than anger.
“Yes, of course. Poor Darrell.”
    I’d punch Darrell in the face if I saw him , Francine
thought. “Poor Darrell,” she murmured. And then I would spit in his fancy
London coffee.
    Thinking of coffee made her think of Alec Goodwin, and it
seemed a good change of subject.
    “I know I’m not all sweetness and light,” Penny said. “Not
like you. But I admire that in you and I don’t think you should lose it. Don’t
fret too much about people being mean. It’s their problem, not yours. Stay nice
and you’ll always have friends – true friends. What’s the alternative? Darrell
will probably end up like Alec Goodwin, living alone and reclusive.”
    “Maybe he was happy living like that,” Francine countered.
She, too, seemed grateful for the conversational segue. “I wouldn’t want to
judge another’s lifestyle choice.”
    “Perhaps. I wonder why Alec was like that, though? I wonder
what happened? I mean, he used to have friends. Carl Fredericks, for one.”
    “Yes … have you found out anything more about him?”
    Penny shook her head. “Cath’s doing the official digging.”
    “Why wait for her?”
    “Because she’s the police.”
    “Ahh, details,” Francine said, and laughed. She wiped away
a stray tear, and then patted