Free Hushabye by Celina Grace Page B

doorknocker, already loose on its nail.
    Gemma was slow in answering the door. She peered somewhat suspiciously through the gap between the frame and the door, frowning a little when she saw Kate standing there.
    “Good morning,” said Kate briskly, stepping forward. This was almost always the easiest way to get in a house quickly – most people didn’t have the nerve to hold their ground. Gemma was no exception. She stepped back and Kate pressed on.
    “Lovely morning,” she said, now fully in the hallway. “I was hoping to have a chat with you about a few things, as I said on the phone. Could we sit down somewhere?”
    Obviously accustomed to taking orders, Gemma turned obediently and led her into the small living room. Kate’s heels clacked on the laminate flooring. The cheaply smart theme was echoed here in the interior decoration. There was a feature wall of gaudy wallpaper, large silver flowers and red tendrils entwined. There was a glass coffee table, a small black leather sofa and matching armchair. No books, but a pile of glossy magazines in a heap by the armchair. A large flat screen television dominated the small room.
    Kate perched herself on the armchair. Gemma sat down hesitantly opposite her. She was wearing black leggings and a fluffy white tunic, belted tightly around her tiny waist. She looked odd in casual wear, not quite comfortable, as if her natural inclination was to be strapped into tight-fitting and uncomfortable suits.
    “Do you want tea?” said Gemma, after a moment.
    “Yes, lovely, thanks,” said Kate. She almost always agreed to a drink in these circumstances – it gave you a good opportunity to have a look around. As Gemma jumped up and left the room, Kate allowed her gaze to drift about. It snagged on a large cardboard container resting at the side of the sofa, one of the bags which upmarket shops give to their customers to carry their goods away. Kate leaned closer. Very upmarket. She noted the Mulberry logo, the satin ribbons that tied the top.
    “You’ve got a new bag?” she asked, as Gemma came back with two steaming mugs of tea.
    Gemma nodded, after a moment’s hesitation.
    “May I see it?” said Kate. “I love Mulberry.” A lie, she didn’t know a Mulberry from a raspberry, but it might put the girl at her ease.
    Gemma hesitated again. Then she pulled out the bag and extracted the handbag from within, all padded sides and gleaming clasps.
    “Lovely,” said Kate, examining it. “Quite pricey, though, aren’t they? Thought you’d treat yourself?”
    Gemma nodded. After a moment, she said, “I got my bonus. From Nick.”
    “Great,” said Kate. Then feeling it was time to cut to the chase, she handed the bag back to Gemma and leaned forward.
    “I was hoping you could help me, Gemma. In cases like these, it’s important that we cover all the angles, so to speak – the background detail, the minutia – you know, in case there’s a small point that’s really important. Something that otherwise we might miss, but could be vital in solving the case. Do you see what I’m saying?”
    Gemma was holding the Mulberry bag on her lap like a shield. She nodded, biting her lip.
    Kate went on.
    “It’s useful to us to get a sort of picture of the people involved, their histories, their habits and so forth. As you’ve worked for the Fullmans for some years, I thought you’d be able to do this, give me an idea of, well, the sort of people they are. Are you able to do that?”
    Gemma was still for a moment. Then, exhaling, she put the bag back into its container and sat back in her chair, crossing her long legs. “Yeah, I can do that,” she said. “What did you want to know?”
    “Can you tell me about Nick – Mr Fullman? What’s his history? Where did he grow up?”
    Gemma laughed. “He’s an Essex boy. Funny, isn’t it? You’d never guess it from the way he speaks. His dad was a builder, but he made money, enough money to send Nick to private school. That’s