Free Every Woman for Herself by Trisha Ashley Page A

out, and he’d probably keep a healthy distance from me, too, now he knew I was armed and dangerous, if only to fruit.
    But the most interesting thing about our encounter was that I’d noticed him just as I’d lifted the pan above my head ready for the swing, and I still hadn’t managed to stop it or even divert it. If I could try that again with the heights properly measured …
    It would be a bonus if the sound was right, too. If I could hear it once more outside my head instead of in. It was all pretty cathartic, but I felt that if I could find one that made the right sound, I’d be exorcised to the point where I could at least paint again, especially if I could convince myself without doubt that it really had been an accident.
    I’d never be able to forget I’d killed someone, but at least I’d know I hadn’t intended to do it.
    I tried melon number three, a smallish watermelon, but it still didn’t make quite the right hollow, meaty noise. Then I took the battered fruit upstairs to the Parsonage kitchen and put them on the table.
    ‘Canst tha not bash something more useful than a melon?’ demanded Gloria Mundi. ‘A turnip, maybe? There’s none here will eat melon.’
    Em, who was removing perfect loaves from the oven, said over her shoulder: ‘I’ve got a recipe for melon and ginger jam. I’ll make it later. We all like ginger – and you’re forgetting, Gloria, that Bran likes melon.’
    ‘Yon Branwell’s one on his own.’
    ‘Rob’s set off to fetch Branwell from the university. I told him to make sure Mr Froggy doesn’t get left behind this time.’
    ‘How is he?’
    She shrugged. ‘Talking a bit fast. Then yesterday he told one of his students that a spirit ordered him to speak in only ancient Amharic from now on.’
    ‘Not too bad then – he’ll be right as rain after a little rest at home.’
    Jessica stuck a cautious head through the doorway. ‘I’m just off to school with the girls and …’ She stopped, and looked from the battered melons on the table to me. ‘You know, when I looked out of my bedroom window just now, I could have sworn I saw you hitting one of those with a pan.’ She laughed uncertainly.
    We stared at her. Gloria gave an audible sniff and went out past her with her mop and bucket.
    ‘Well,’ said Jessica into the silence, ‘I’d better be off and – oh, that’s what I came to say: Ran says he’d
love
to try a pasta dish tonight – perhaps with a big salad, and some garlic bread and—’
    ‘He’ll get what he’s given,’ Em said shortly.
    ‘If you don’t know how to cook it, I’ve got a recipe book you could borrow.’
    ‘Hark at Lady Muck!’ said Gloria, briskly and sloppily swabbing down the flagged passage round Jessica’s feet so that she jumped back. ‘She’ll be giving out the household orders next!’
    ‘Mummy!’ shrilled the girls. ‘We’ll be late!’
    With another uncertain look Jessica went, skidding on the damp floor with a certain coltish grace. I bet she can ice-skate.
    ‘I wonder if we could put something in her food?’ mused Em.
    ‘Not unless you can coat a lettuce leaf in it – she doesn’t seem to eat anything else.’
    ‘Well, I’ll have to take some action – our Ms Tickington-Tingay’s getting on my wick.’
    ‘Is that her real name? Jessica Tickington-Tingay?’
    ‘Oh, aye,’ said Gloria. ‘Double-barrelled names are breeding up here.’
    ‘Look at the time!’ Em exclaimed. ‘You should be on your way to the nursery. You’re supposed to be there well before the children, to set things up, aren’t you?’
    I shifted uncomfortably. ‘Em, I don’t really think I can do this. I mean, they can’t know about the Greg thing, and I’ve had no experience with children.’
    ‘Forget about the accident with Greg, and as to the experience with children, you’ll pick that up as you go. You need the money they’ll pay, until you start painting again.’
    I glared at her a bit resentfully. She’s never had