Free Somewhere to Hide (The Estate, Book 1) by Mel Sherratt

forlorn figure as she left. She sighed: what was eating at her? Becky seemed to be worried about something far more than the fact that she was pregnant, as if that wasn’t enough. Ever since she’d arrived, Cathy had wondered why no one was looking for her. Someone should be missing her. Or else they didn’t want anyone knowing that she was gone. Whatever it was, she vowed to get to the bottom of it before too long. Secrets destroyed the soul: she should know.
    She stood up and gathered together the dishes. Then she smirked. What had she been saying to Rich earlier? My, she had a happy house now: Liz was probably sulking after her outburst, Becky would be wondering if she should have said more and Jess wouldn’t give a stuff if she’d said too much!
    Women, Cathy thought. All of us are different, yet in a way we’re all the same.
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Later that morning, Cathy’s day suddenly became a whole lot brighter.
    ‘Yoo-hoo!’ a voice shouted through the open back door. ‘I’m home. Have you missed me?’
    ‘Like a hole in the head,’ Cathy teased Rose, giving her friend a hug. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
    ‘I hear you’ve been having a few late nights?’ Rose sat down at the table.
    ‘Moaning Archie Meredith got to you already, then?’
    ‘He couldn’t wait. I’d hardly set foot out of the taxi and he was across the road harping on at me. It’s not me you want to moan at I told him.’
    ‘I know, I know. It’s all my fault.’
    ‘I told him that too but he wouldn’t listen.’
    ‘You should stick up for me.’ Cathy nudged Rose as she sat down next to her. But she was smiling. Just the sight of her friend had made her feel contented again. It had been a hard two weeks without her. Cathy felt she could get through most things if Rose was around. She would always listen to her. She’d tell her when she’d been too lenient: she’d tell her when she’d been too stern. But most of all, she would tell it like it was. And it was this that Cathy always needed to hear. It was this that made their friendship so special. Rose was her rock.
    Rose Clarke was sixty-five years old yet looked at least ten years younger. She would never let herself be known as one of ‘those pensioners that looks twenty years older than they are’, and took great care with her appearance. She had short, white-grey hair, blue eyes framed with trendy, red-rimmed glasses, not an ounce of extra flab around her tiny frame and never a cigarette past her lips. She wore the simplest of make-up, most of it unseen on tanned skin at the moment, with a white T-shirt and cream linen trousers, despite today’s rainy weather.
    ‘Come on then, spill the beans,’ she urged Cathy. ‘What’s been going on since I left to go to sunnier shores?’
    ‘It’s been eighty degrees here every day,’ Cathy fibbed.
    Rose flapped a hand in the air. ‘Ha-ha. At least I got to wear my bikini over there. Can you imagine old Mr Percy next door if I wore it here in summer? He’d have a heart attack if he saw me with everything hanging out.’
    ‘Everyone would have a heart attack if you had those out on display.’ Cathy pointed to Rose’s chest. ‘I mean, look at them. They’re huge.’
    ‘You’re only jealous,’ said Rose smugly.
    ‘I am indeed.’ Cathy looked down at her less significant chest with resignation.
    ‘Have you seen anything of Alan this week?’ Rose asked when she’d caught up with everything. Alan was the new community warden over at Harrington Court, a sheltered housing block for the elderly. Thinking he was perfect for Cathy, Rose had accosted him, asking him to do a few odd jobs for her friend. So far Cathy hadn’t been tempted, no matter how hard Rose tried to encourage her.
    Cathy shook her head. ‘Not since he fixed the lock on my door when Liz’s husband kicked it in. Why?’
    ‘Oh, nothing.’
    ‘Rose!’ Cathy chided. ‘Give over.’
    ‘Come off it. He fancies the pants off you. And from what’s