Free Framed in Cornwall by Janie Bolitho Page A

if we don’t go today? I’m really not up to it.’
    ‘Of course not. Want me to come over instead?’
    They had planned to go to a car boot sale which was one of Laura’s current crazes, then to a film in Truro.
    ‘I, uh …’
    ‘Rose, I’m coming anyway. I won’t stay long, I just want to see for myself how you are.’ Laura hung up. From the tone of her friend’s voice she feared she might be slipping into a similar depression to the one she had suffered after David’s death.
    Although it wasn’t far, Laura took the car, parking it untidily in the drive.
    ‘What’s it all about?’ she demanded as soon as she arrived, dressed in ubiquitous leggings over which she wore a long silky shirt. Her hair was curling wildly around her shoulders. ‘It’s not just Dorothy, is it?’
    Rose shook her head. ‘No. It’s everything.’
    ‘Then sit down and tell Auntie Laura all about it.’
    Rose did so, pouring out her fears that someone had murdered Dorothy and that Martin, who was confused, would get the blame and Gwen and Peter inherit everything. ‘Jobber phoned me this morning. He’s keeping an eye on Martin. I meant to go over myself but he doesn’t know me that well.’
    ‘Well, you can trust Jobber to see he’s all right.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘Oh, Laura, it’s Jack.’
    ‘Yes. And dear devoted Barry, no doubt.’
    Rose smiled weakly. ‘How well you know me.’
    ‘Just tell ’em both to bugger off. You’re usually quite good at that sort of thing.’
    And although Laura had promised not to stay long it was over two hours before she left and Rose was decidedly more cheerful.
     
    It had been a dreadful weekend for Gwen and Peter Pengelly. Peter had arrived home on Friday to find his wife white-faced and almost incoherent. ‘I’m sorry,’ she kept repeating although he didn’t know why. She had never liked his mother. ‘I didn’t want to contact you on the train – I mean, there was nothing you could do until you got home.’
    He understood that. He’d have had to stay on the train anyway, even if they found another conductor to join it.
    ‘Do the children know?’
    ‘No, I thought it’d be better coming from you. They’re next door. I didn’t want them to overhear.’ Gwen wondered how they would react to their first encounter with death although they had not known their grandmother very well. She had given no thought to Martin or to Dorothy’s pets, her only concern was for Peter and how this would affect them all. Herself especially. Especially, she thought, after what she’d done.
    Nothing mattered to her but her own family. From the time her own mother had died and left her and her brother in the care of a brutal, drunken father she had vowed that when she got married things would be very different. Peter, she adored, and she had made a career out of caring for the children and maintaining the solidarity of her family. Nothing was going to get in the way of that or stop her achieving her ambitions of a better life for all of them.
    Only one thing nagged at her conscience. Peter was unaware of the visit she had made and it had to remain that way. Surely out there no one would have seen her car? But it was too latenow to alter things, what had happened had happened and it just meant the money came to them sooner. I’m strong, she thought, strong enough for all of us. I must keep telling myself I didn’t kill her and everything will be all right.
    There had been no easy way to tell him. She had told the police she would do it herself, that he would want to hear it from her.
    Peter’s eyes were still wide with shock, he hadn’t taken it in at first. ‘When? When did she die?’
    ‘They think it was some time last night.’
    He shook his head in disbelief. ‘No, not Mum, she can’t be. It’s a mistake. Mum was fitter than most women half her age.’ He sank into a kitchen chair.
    ‘It’s true. They think it was probably her heart.’ Gwen reached over and touched his