The Ambleside Alibi: 2 by Rebecca Tope

them.
    ‘Are you the proprietor?’ asked the foremost one. She was slim, a faded blonde, wearing a black coat well covered with white hairs. Owner of a moulting dog or cat, Simmy concluded.
    ‘That’s right. What can I do for you?’
    ‘It’s about my mother. Mary Joseph.’
    A suppressed giggle told Simmy that Melanie was stillclose by, listening eagerly. ‘Mary – her first name’s Mary?’ Perhaps it was only because of the season that the name seemed so laughable.
    ‘Yes it is. As if that had any bearing. We’ve come to ask you about those damned flowers.’
    ‘You must be Davy,’ said Simmy thoughtlessly. ‘Is that right?’
    The woman clenched her jaw. ‘She’s been telling you all about us, then, has she? When will she ever learn?’
    ‘Too late now, Dave.’ A second woman had spoken up, and everyone looked at her. She was more substantial than the first, and darker. Her hair was curly and unkempt. ‘I’m Nicola,’ she explained. ‘And this is Gwen.’ Gwen was tall and smartly dressed, older than the other two. There was a look of intelligence about her, as if she were a legal advisor or impartial observer. She gave a generalised smile in Simmy’s direction.
    ‘Gwen’s my partner,’ Nicola went on, with a faint suggestion of challenge that told Simmy she meant life partner, rather than business.
    ‘Anyway,’ continued Davy, ‘we need you to tell us exactly who it was who sent those flowers. They’ve caused untold trouble in the family. Somebody’s making mischief for some reason, and you have a duty to disclose their identity.’
    ‘I don’t think I do.’ Simmy stood her ground. ‘It strikes me that that would only cause a lot
more
trouble. The best thing would be just to forget all about it.’
    ‘Not possible. The genie is out of the bottle. That baby I had adopted has come back to haunt us, after all these years. She died, you know. Can you imagine how that makes me feel?’
    Simmy resisted the urge to tell her own tragic story, in direct response to the question. It was, after all, very different. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘Neither does it persuade me to break my customer’s confidentiality.’
    ‘You told my mother it was probably some kind of swindle. Somebody after her money – what there is of it. Or trying to get back at her for something in the past.’
    ‘If there’s no possibility of a granddaughter, then that’s the only explanation I can think of.’
    Davy fell silent. Gwen stepped forward, a hand on Nicola’s shoulder. ‘How did this person know it was Mary’s birthday? How did they know her address? Why would they single her out? What possible
reason
could there be?’ She stared intently into Simmy’s face, as if willing the answers to fall from her lips.
    ‘What about your father? Mr Joseph? It occurred to us that it might be about him – a child he had without realising.’
    ‘You accuse my father of adultery,’ said Davy softly.
    Simmy spread her hands in defeat. ‘It makes sense as a theory.’
    ‘Except he was the most dearly devoted husband any woman could ever wish for. And any suggestion like that could only upset my mother even more deeply than she is already.’
    ‘Poor old Mum,’ sighed Nicola. ‘She thinks I had a baby without telling her, somehow. She’s been imagining all sorts of nonsense about rape or drunken orgies when I was twenty. However she thinks I’d have found time to produce a sprog, I have no idea.’ She gave a choked sort of laugh. ‘It’s not funny, I know, but it certainly is ludicrous.’ Gwen patted her shoulder.
    ‘Well, I’m very sorry to have been part of this whole mess, but I’m still not prepared to give you the name.’ With a pang of guilt, Simmy thought about how close she and Melanie had come to googling the flower sender themselves. That now struck her as a very wrong thing to have done. ‘I honestly can’t see that it would do any good to anybody. If she’s genuine, surely she’ll get in