name.’ The woman
spoke strangely, almost surprised at hearing her own
voice. From her own experience, Carole knew this
was because she had not spoken to anyone for the last
twenty-four hours. Anna had spent Christmas Day on
her own.
‘Carole Seddon.’
‘How nice to meet you properly. And I’m Anna
Carter.’ She seemed almost pathetically grateful to be
talking to someone. Gulliver and the Westie had
reached a mutual conclusion that the other dog was
no threat. Not even very interesting. They had loped
off in different directions to snuffle about in separate
piles of shingle.
‘I hope you don’t mind my just coming up to you
like this, Anna, but I did want to say how sorry I was
about what happened to . . .’ Carole couldn’t bring herself
to say ‘Gallimaufry’ – ‘the shop.’
‘It was terrible. God knows where I’ll get another
job around here.’
Carole hadn’t considered that consequence of the
fire. ‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll be able to find something.’
‘I don’t know. It took me a while to find the
vacancy at Gallimaufry. No one’s been recruiting
much recently, and I’m sure it’ll be worse after Christmas.’
‘Something’ll turn up,’ said Carole, doing a passable
impression of the kind of person who always
looked on the bright side. ‘Do you live here in Fethering?’
‘Yes, I moved in in September. I haven’t met many
people yet.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you soon will. You’ll find we’re a
friendly bunch.’ Carole didn’t know why she found
herself saying things like that. In her own mind she
had formed many descriptions of the denizens of
Fethering. The one she had never come up with was
‘a friendly bunch’.
‘Have you moved here from far away?’
‘Quite a distance.’ Carole recognized the intonation
Anna used on her answer. It was one she’d often
resorted to herself and was designed to deflect further
questions. Well, that was fine. Carole didn’t particularly
want to know the woman’s life history. She did
want to know, however, any information Anna might have that would shed light on the recent tragedy at
Gallimaufry.
Without discussing where they were going, they
both seemed to agree to walk in the same direction,
while the two dogs made ever wider loops around
them. The tide was low, the sea a sullen sludge-green
with small scummy waves that lapped against the
shore. The air was cold enough to give their faces a
light scouring. ‘I’m sorry to ask you the question that
everyone in Fethering must have been asking you for
the last few days . . .’
‘I haven’t seen that many people,’ said Anna,
confirming Carole’s perception of her loneliness.
‘Oh. Well, I’m afraid it still is an obvious question.
Do you have any idea what started the fire?’
‘Not really.’
‘I was assuming some of the draping stuff must
have caught alight from being too close to all those
candles and fairy lights.’
‘I’d be surprised if it was that,’ said Anna. ‘The
candles were all put out when we closed up the shop.
And those lights are special ones, you know. Passed
safety regulations. They give out very little heat.’
‘Then do you have any idea what might have
started it?’
The woman shrugged under her layers of coat and
echoed Gerald Hume’s diagnosis. ‘Maybe an electrical
fault.’
‘You don’t think it was started deliberately?’
‘Why should it be?’
‘Insurance? From all accounts the business wasn’t
doing that well.’
‘So who might have started it, then?’
‘The owners?’
Anna stopped in her tracks and looked incredulously
at Carole. ‘Ricky?’ Instinctively she added,
‘Ricky wouldn’t ever do anything like that.’ She
seemed affronted by the suggestion.
‘Or Lola, I suppose.’
‘No way. There is just no way either of them
would have done that. Ricky’s loaded. I think Gallimaufry
was almost a game to him, a bauble he tossed
the way of his bored young
spoke strangely, almost surprised at hearing her own
voice. From her own experience, Carole knew this
was because she had not spoken to anyone for the last
twenty-four hours. Anna had spent Christmas Day on
her own.
‘Carole Seddon.’
‘How nice to meet you properly. And I’m Anna
Carter.’ She seemed almost pathetically grateful to be
talking to someone. Gulliver and the Westie had
reached a mutual conclusion that the other dog was
no threat. Not even very interesting. They had loped
off in different directions to snuffle about in separate
piles of shingle.
‘I hope you don’t mind my just coming up to you
like this, Anna, but I did want to say how sorry I was
about what happened to . . .’ Carole couldn’t bring herself
to say ‘Gallimaufry’ – ‘the shop.’
‘It was terrible. God knows where I’ll get another
job around here.’
Carole hadn’t considered that consequence of the
fire. ‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll be able to find something.’
‘I don’t know. It took me a while to find the
vacancy at Gallimaufry. No one’s been recruiting
much recently, and I’m sure it’ll be worse after Christmas.’
‘Something’ll turn up,’ said Carole, doing a passable
impression of the kind of person who always
looked on the bright side. ‘Do you live here in Fethering?’
‘Yes, I moved in in September. I haven’t met many
people yet.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you soon will. You’ll find we’re a
friendly bunch.’ Carole didn’t know why she found
herself saying things like that. In her own mind she
had formed many descriptions of the denizens of
Fethering. The one she had never come up with was
‘a friendly bunch’.
‘Have you moved here from far away?’
‘Quite a distance.’ Carole recognized the intonation
Anna used on her answer. It was one she’d often
resorted to herself and was designed to deflect further
questions. Well, that was fine. Carole didn’t particularly
want to know the woman’s life history. She did
want to know, however, any information Anna might have that would shed light on the recent tragedy at
Gallimaufry.
Without discussing where they were going, they
both seemed to agree to walk in the same direction,
while the two dogs made ever wider loops around
them. The tide was low, the sea a sullen sludge-green
with small scummy waves that lapped against the
shore. The air was cold enough to give their faces a
light scouring. ‘I’m sorry to ask you the question that
everyone in Fethering must have been asking you for
the last few days . . .’
‘I haven’t seen that many people,’ said Anna,
confirming Carole’s perception of her loneliness.
‘Oh. Well, I’m afraid it still is an obvious question.
Do you have any idea what started the fire?’
‘Not really.’
‘I was assuming some of the draping stuff must
have caught alight from being too close to all those
candles and fairy lights.’
‘I’d be surprised if it was that,’ said Anna. ‘The
candles were all put out when we closed up the shop.
And those lights are special ones, you know. Passed
safety regulations. They give out very little heat.’
‘Then do you have any idea what might have
started it?’
The woman shrugged under her layers of coat and
echoed Gerald Hume’s diagnosis. ‘Maybe an electrical
fault.’
‘You don’t think it was started deliberately?’
‘Why should it be?’
‘Insurance? From all accounts the business wasn’t
doing that well.’
‘So who might have started it, then?’
‘The owners?’
Anna stopped in her tracks and looked incredulously
at Carole. ‘Ricky?’ Instinctively she added,
‘Ricky wouldn’t ever do anything like that.’ She
seemed affronted by the suggestion.
‘Or Lola, I suppose.’
‘No way. There is just no way either of them
would have done that. Ricky’s loaded. I think Gallimaufry
was almost a game to him, a bauble he tossed
the way of his bored young
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